Hello all! Second chapter, yay!

So, I checked up on the status of my little experiment, and I have only one review and 28 actual views? Please guys, I really REALLY need you to drop a line and just tell me what you think of it so far and if I should even forge ahead with it. A major shout out to Huddybuddy for being my first and only reviewer! Oh, and to Lunar Nightshade for following!

Without further ado, enjoy!

Fire & Ice and Everything Nice

Chapter 2: A Sunbeam in the Darkness

Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.

- Dale Carnegie

"Nia."

I groaned from my throat and ignored the voice next to my head, which just so happened to be throbbing. I snuggled back into the sheets, hoping to reclaim Dreamland. It was not to be; a warm hand with calloused fingers brushed my hair out of my face and feathered over my cheek.

"Niaaaa...Sweetheart. Wake up."

I whined and tried to bury my face in my pillow, which worked for about as long as it took me to start suffocating. I felt him move off the bed and speak firmly.

"Verañia. I have a bucket of ice water and I'm not afraid to use it."

I shot up faster than one of my arrows with a wild-eyed look. "You wouldn't." I hissed.

He smirked and held up a metal pail by its handle. "I would."

With a shriek, I scrambled to get out of tossing range and was nearly off the bed when his hand latched onto my ankle and started dragging me towards him with a triumphant cackle (which he is too good at in my opinion), me squealing in protest/delight.

"Gotcha! Oh, I never lose at this!" He boasted, and grabbed me by the waist. I didn't even mind the tiny twinge in my side - it would finish healing in another hour or so; one of the perks of immortality.

I twisted in my dad's arms, giggling in abandon and scrambling for a witty retort.

"Y-you are too old for this!"

"Ha! That's rich, coming from you!"

"You're still older and you know it you creaky old sot!"

"That is low! Impudent little stripling- take it back!"

"ACK! Nonononono! Not the ribs, no, mercy! MERCY!"

"Take. It. Back!"

"NEVAAAA-OW! NOT THE RIIIIII-HEHIBS!"

"TAKE IT BAAACK!"

Well, you get the idea. In my opinion, you're never too old for a tickle fight with your dad. Even if you are a 1,000-plus-year-old nature spirit.

After a battle of epic proportions (in which we both had a taste of that ice water), he finally desisted and flopped back on the bed, me tucked into his chest like a football and giggling so hard there was no sound coming out of my mouth. My cheeks and side ached ecstatically.

"O...okay...I-I surrender!" I wheezed, still shaking against his chest. He chuckled and kissed my cheek.

"So that leaves the score at...347 for me, two for you?" He asked sarcastically, voice dripping with victory. I stuck my tongue out at him but giggled.

"Sounds about right...but you fight dirty!" I proclaimed, sticking my nose in the air. He smirked and mussed my hair.

"Since when does the Boogeyman fight fair?" He sneered, and then hauled us both to our feet. He clipped my chin and nodded towards the door with a soft smile.

"Go cause havoc for a while - I'll only be a moment."

I flippantly saluted him and smiled the sly smirk we shared. "Aye, aye sir," I said, and turned to go but not before calling out over my shoulder, "just don't be alarmed if you hear something collapsing!"

He only snorted. "Coming from you? I'm used to it." He jibed and disappeared into the nearest shadow. I chuckled and collected my bow and boots from the wall and exited the rooms, back into the labyrinth. I hardly knew exactly how to navigate it, but I figured Dad could find me in a heartbeat if he wanted to - nothing happened in this place that he didn't know about.

I was in the middle of a particularly ragged bridge when a chilling sound stopped me dead in my tracks. The clomp of iron-hard, razor-sharp hooves. A testy snort. But most importantly, the telltale hiss of shifting sand. I slowly looked over my shoulder and scowled at the Night Mare as she pawed at the ground between us, amber eyes glowing hatefully.

Even though they certainly look like horses, Night Mares are not actually animals. They are ethereal spirits given form and consciousness by the will of a more powerful being (my dad). I doubted attempting to calm one as I would a normal horse would work for anyone other than my dad.

I turned to face her as she nickered a warning. I sank into a crouch and looked her in the eyes - something I knew would intimidate her. Where wolves see eye contact as a challenge, animals like horses see it as being marked for prey. She reared and kicked her hooves in warning; I was pissing her off. I stood my ground and curled my lips back, growling low and letting her see my teeth. I have odd teeth; they were normal, back before I was a spirit. Now they're shiny white, and the canines are perceptively long and sharp. Not enough for people to try to throw garlic at me (if they could see me, that is), but enough for anyone to be wary. Whenever I smile, Dad says I look like a smug wolf.

The sight of my fangs seemed to push the Mare over the edge; she whinnied in outrage and charged at full gallop. I was ready. The coiled muscles of my legs let me spring two feet over her head in a somersault. I swung my bow in a controlled arc and caught her right in the middle of her spine with the sharpened gold caps. Oh, yeah - my bow isn't just pretty - it's functional!

She reared, shrieking in pain, and kicked hard with her muscular hind legs, nearly clipping me in the head. I rolled out of the way and popped back into a crouch, bow poised at my side. I hissed at her and she snorted with a toss of her head.

"C'mon!" I snarled, feinting a charge. As expected, she reared up and tried to kick, but I ducked under the flailing, sharp hooves and in one swift motion, drew my huge hunting knife from my thigh, and slashed in a backwards grip across her exposed belly. The Mare roared in agony and tried to crush me under her hooves, but I'd already leapt away.

I let my knife flash and hissed from deep in my chest. Just as she charged she froze, snorted, and leapt off the bridge, hooves cutting through the air like terrain as she made a speedy getaway. I straightened and turned around frowning. Dad was scowling in the direction the Night Mare had left. He gave me a half-scolding look and shook his head.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?"

I shrugged and flashed my teeth. "What can I say? I got used to picking fights. And you didn't need to butt in." I added with a sniff and a flip of my hair as I sheathed my knife. He snorted and rolled his eyes. He looked better this morning; not as tired. It was either the whiskey or my visit.

"Sometimes I have to wonder if I did right raising you almost like a boy."

"Hey! It kept me from getting married off, didn't it?"

He laughed and tucked me into his side again. His long black coat almost enveloped me. "That it did, little lioness. But I would've felt more sorry for your husband than for you. Poor bastard would've had to deal with a half-wild wife."

"Only half?" I cooed teasingly as we walked along. He reconsidered.

"Alright, two-thirds."

I laughed.

..:oOo:..

We spent three days together. We talked, laughed, joked and tussled around all day before falling into bed together. The way we moved about, you would've needed a pry bar to tear us apart. But I guess that's normal when you haven't seen your only living (semi-accessible) family for sixty years.

On my last day in the labyrinth, we practiced sword fighting, just like old times. He'd had me practicing from the time I was big enough to hold up a blade. And don't think they were those dainty fencing swords - those foil things? No. These were gorgeous Greco-Roman, leaf-shaped swords with Ancient Greek and Latin inscribed on the blades and a bit of heft to the balance. The pommels were solid gold, inlaid with jewels, with aged leather grips and elegant crossguards. The style was a mix of Ancient Greek and Roman, with a bit of Agrippina* and Samurai technique thrown in just for kicks. We slashed and stabbed and rolled under each other's legs, doing backflips and jumping off walls. We could've reduced seasoned professionals to tears. I was reduced to pants. When we finally took a break on one of the bridges, swinging our legs out over the abyss, we were sweating and leaning on each other. But I was smiling like no tomorrow. I loved staying with my dad.

"You still haven't gotten that parry down." He stated tiredly. I only chuckled and rearranged myself so I could rest my head on his lap.

"Whatever. You're just still sore from when I nicked your butt a few years back, remember? That was bloody hilarious."

"Oh yes, for you! I couldn't sit down for three days!"

"You've handed my ass to me a fair few times, though, don'tcha think?"

"Of course. Like when I threw you into the wall so hard you had a concussion and started singing that gods-awful song. Tonelessly, by the way."

"The Spice Girls song?"

"Yes, that abomination." He drawled with a roll of his eyes.

So of course I started howling Wannabe at the top of my lungs. Until he started trying to suffocate me.

"Okay, okay, okay, never again!" I relinquished, half choking half laughing.

Out of nowhere, he was suddenly crushing me to his chest. He was very quiet against my hair. I stroked his hair, the way Mama used to.

"Daddy...?" I whispered very carefully. He sighed against my head and squeezed me for a moment before pulling back just so he could lock eyes with me and kiss my forehead.

"Oh my little lioness. My jewel...If only I tell you just how proud I am of you. You've become a woman of your own out there in the world with only yourself. I wish I could've been there to see you grow and change and...and no doubt kick some serious unsuspecting ass." He chuckled, smiling thinly at me, the expression dulled by the obvious sadness in his eyes. "Our Tsar was wise in saving you and your sister...As for me, well," He sighed and stroked my cheek, his eyes consumed with such a sadness, such resignation, I felt my heart leap in anguish. "I have accepted my fate. You have become a great fire, burning bright and glorious, but high above where I will ever reach you. You are my daughter Verañia - I will love and protect you from all I can until my dying breath. Even if I must do it from afar."

"What?" I gasped, my voice breaking. My gut told me this was quickly going someplace I would look back on and hate with all my might.

My father took me in his arms and told me sincerely,

"I'm dying Nia. Not my body - my self. The man you have only ever seen me as and not...the other one."

White panic flashed in starbursts in front of my eyes. I was hyperventilating. This wasn't possible. My father could not be dying. That was like saying the sun would go out! He couldn't leave me! He'd been there since the moment I took my first breath in life. He'd been there the day I'd died! He'd saved my life more times than I should've been entitled to, he'd given me his advice, his comfort, his smile and his laugh. I knew him like I knew the palm of my hand! To never see that flash of humor or intelligence in his eyes, to never feel his arms around me in a hug worthy of a homecoming prodigal and not a wayward daughter...

No. No, my father could not die.

"If you're joking, it isn't funny Dad." I growled warningly, drilling my eyes into his. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"If only I was, my dear...But I can feel it. Sometimes it slows, others it quickens. It...feels like a headache behind my eyes. Or like a tugging on my veins." He murmured, rubbing at the inside of his forearm like it was bothering him now. The thought panicked me and I grabbed his hand to stop him.

"No! No, you're stronger than that! I know you Kozmotis Pitchiner, and you would never, never let something as simpering as Fearlings crumble you!" I snarled, tears welling in my eyes threateningly.

His eyes flashed as they met mine again.

"I lost the right to bear my name the day I went against the Tsar, Verañia."

I shook my head, practically desperate. "Father-"

"Listen to me, Verañia," he interrupted, his voice like stone, hands gripping my shoulders firmly. "My days as your father are numbered. I am ordering you to leave me now, and to never seek me out again. If you do, I fear what may become of you."

"I don't care, dammit!" I shrieked at last, jumping to my feet, my bow coming into my hand as it always did when I got upset, seemingly of its own will. "You're all I have, Father, I'm not going to abandon you."

As always, he towered over me, regal and imposing. "You will not abandon me, Verañia! Not if you obey me and carry on what is left of our family! As long as you go on, Verañia, the man I was will never die. Live on in my stead and carry out the life the Tsar granted you. You are my legacy, daughter. Live on. Honor your name, Verañia." He ordered, eyes burning bronze with his fervor as he clutched me. His words left me dumbstruck and mute, and I couldn't even react when he crushed me to his chest and whispered his last 'I love you' in my ear before sweeping a shadow over me.

When the rush of darkness slid from me, I dropped to my knees from dizziness, but instead of the stone of the Nightmare Realm, I grasped lush tall grass and rich soil. I panted in growing panic. My father's words echoed in my brain, heavy and dooming.

My father was dying. My guiding hand, my teacher, my mentor, the man who had made my very existence possible...was fading away. And knowing him, now that he had sent me away, that labyrinth would be sealed from top to bottom to keep the Boogeyman contained for as long as Kozmotis could manage. The entrances would collapse and vanish. I would never find them again, never.

My scream at that moment made even the mountains cower.

I shrieked myself hoarse. The world was reduced to a pinprick of blinding, white-hot pain deep within my chest. It was my heart, shredding and clawing itself apart.

No, no, no, no, this was impossible. I had seen my mother be murdered. My brother had vanished from my arms. My sister died beside me and was perpetually trapped by the immensity of her charge like Atlas under the Firmament. My father couldn't possibly fade away. He had been fighting and praying for a chance at redemption for centuries.

I set my swimming eyes on the glow of Tsar Lunanoff's starship, suspended and beautiful in the starry velvet sky.

"Tell me what to do...PLEASE!" I shrieked, rocking and pathetic in the dirt, miserable in my heartbreak. "Do as you will with me! Break me into a million pieces if you damn please! JUST SAVE MY FATHER!" I begged, my voice dissolving into ugly, hitching sobs.

Huntress...dry your eyes, child.

My blood ran cold. I lifted my head and tripped to my feet, staring up at the moon in shock.

"Tsar Lunanoff...?" I breathed.

It's been a long time since I've heard that title, Chuckled the smooth baritone voice. I could just see a faint shimmering to the moon's aura. I was dumbstruck; I hadn't heard that voice since my first moments as a spirit. He had whispered my new name and my title in my mind and then vanished.

"Tsar, I beg you, give me your council at the very least. Please, Majesty, you owe it to me after so many years fulfilling my duties!" I pleaded instantly. If the Tsar was taking the effort to speak to me, he would not be able to very long. I reverted to the formal speech my mother had trained me in, my accent - the same as my father's - becoming more pronounced. My language teetered on jumping to the lost tongue I had spoken as a Constellation.

You speak the truth, child. When I saved you, I feared you would lose yourself to your grief, and yet you have risen as a magnificent and worthy force of this world. You honor your ancestors, Verañia. I will help you save your father - despite his past actions, he is still the man my parents trusted with their lives all those years ago.

My blood sang. All was not lost.

"You need only instruct me, Your Highness. I will do anything to save him." I swore.

I could feel MiM's smile in my head.

What your father told you is true; his essence has been battling the darkness within for too long - simply put, he is exhausted. If he is not cleansed by the Winter Solstice, he will be lost forever. The only one who holds the magic that will purge his mind and body is Nightlight.

That name hit me like a battering ram. My breath whooshed out of my lungs and I nearly choked on my own tongue.

Nightlight (that's not his real name, by the way, but his real one is some ridiculously long monstrosity) was the moon spirit who had once been charged with guarding Tsar Nova Lunanoff's only son, now known as MiM. My father had known him, back when he was General of the Golden Army. Nightlight had hidden away MiM when Dad was possessed and went after the Tsar and Tsarina (supposedly, but that's a particularly long story). When the young new Tsar was safely ensconced on the Moon Clipper, Nightlight and my father met in a battle of astronomical proportions. Many stars were snuffed out that day, their songs of possibility and magic forever silenced; that battle won my father a particularly vicious nickname: the Star Slayer.

His warped starship, renamed the Nightmare Galleon, ran aground somewhere in modern-day Europe, and my father was pinned to a boulder within a warded cave, a dagger through his heart, Nightlight's essence trapped within the diamond tip to sustain the wards.

However, a few centuries later, the essence enchanting the dagger wore thin, and finally snapped. The Nightmare King was unleashed once more, and that was when the Dark Ages began. By some miracle, a star pilot by the name of Sanderson Mansnoozie crash-landed on the moon, and the first Guardian was chosen by MiM. The rest, as they say, is history.

Except for the little part where Nightlight had practically dropped off the face of the earth. No one had seen or heard of him in centuries.

And for MiM to ask me to find someone who had such history against my own father - someone who, by all accounts, was dead - was a bit much.

"NIGHTLIGHT?! Is this some sort of joke?! How am I - the daughter

of the Nightmare King - supposed to go looking for the guy that imprisoned my dad in the first place?!" I shrieked, gesticulating wildly, my goody-goody dialect slipping. I could've sworn the moon grinned in amusement.

Peace, Huntress. Nightlight will not judge you for your father's actions, but I will warn that he will not be easy to convince.

"It's not his opinion of me I'm worried of," I muttered "But, for

curiosity's sake, why exactly do I have to find Nightlight?" I drawled, crossing my arms and quirking a brow. I was sure this made for quite the amusing scene: an oddly-dressed, sassy teenager standing in a big field, arguing with a enormous rock in the sky. If anyone were to stumble across me now, I might as well kiss my dignity and reputation goodbye.

Nightlight has in his possession the dagger used to bind your father. He has been altering and perfecting a spell that might draw out and destroy the Fearlings instead of simply containing them.

"Hold on," I snarled, throwing out my hands as a right fit bubbled up in my throat and turned my words into rough growls. "You mean to say that these last few centuries, Nightlight had that spell in his possession? Because if that's the case-"

No, child. He never dreamed he could create such a spell, and wracked with guilt and sorrow as he was, it was years before I could convince him to endeavor it.

I paused at that and pouted at the ground. That changed things a bit; it was hard to be mad at the guy when I thought about how he'd lost just as much as I had. Not one to shrug off the words of one such as MiM (he was the Tsar - I was a descendant of the Pitchiners. I was honor-bound to serve him) I sighed and looked up at the moon once more.

"Very well, Excellency. I shall trust your word. How must I seek Nightlight?"

You must first seek out the Guardians of Childhood. Ally yourself and your father with them - you will need their gifts as well as their support to survive the journey that awaits you.

I found myself floored in shock once again.

"Th-the Guardians, Majesty?" I choked out. "But-but, my Tsar! They'll never agree, they know nothing of my father's history! They hardly know of me!" I objected, knowing it was true. My brushes with the four Legends had been brief and completely one-sided. Well, except for Bunnymund - but I hadn't seen him in two years.

Do not be so self-deprecating, Huntress. You are a force of the Earth herself. Without your essence, you would find that this world would not be half as prosperous and beautiful. If they do not know of you, do not hesitate to show them exactly who you are and just how far your powers extend.

I was amazed at his sincere faith in me. It occurred to me that perhaps he had kept tabs on me all this time - watching as I discovered my powers and evolved as I met new people and experienced new things. A burst of affection and utmost loyalty for my patron blossomed my heart. I would make the Tsar proud.

I stood tall and proud and placed my right fist over my heart.

"Fada beo an Rí Mhór." I intoned in the tongue of the Stars.

Féadfaidh fada do chroí a líonadh le réalta amhrán, Coimeádaí...

My eyes filled with tears. I had my Tsar's blessing - I would need nothing more.

I bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Go with all confidence, my child. I know you will overcome the obstacles that await you. One final word of advice: Do not think like Nightlight. His location has remained secret for millennia. Remember, the greatest of lights are most beautiful in the greatest of shadows.

As the voice of my Tsar faded away, I pondered. And pondered. And pondered some more.

Ah, hell. What was all that supposed to mean?!

I blew my hair out of my eyes and gave the obnoxious rock the worst case of stink eye I could muster, even if he was my monarch.

"For a giant, glowing rock in the sky, you sure can be vague." I muttered. But then I took a breath and rubbed at my eyes. I felt tired; or rather, drained. Too much had happened in such a small span of time.

But, there was no helping it. I had my goal, my deadline, and some clue of how to get started. First stop, the North Pole.

I opened my drawstring pouch as wide as it would go, plunging my arm in up to my elbow and calling up the items I desired. Out came my blue suede parka, gaban-length, lined in silky white weasel fur, with an oversized cowl and clasps of gold shaped like interlocking eagle talons. Man, I loved that parka. Next came my caramel leather, cashmere-lined gloves and my creamy alpaca-wool scarf.

Once I was decked out for the cold weather that awaited me, I turned my face to the breeze and grinned.

"Hey, Notus," I greeted my old friend, the spirit of the South Wind. He was as old as this Constellation, and the first friend I'd ever known in my new life. His warm, playful wings of air and spice rushed around me in enthusiastic greeting. His fleeting voice ululated in my ears; I had strained for centuries to understand the chinooks and gales of his many moods and words. I dared say I was the only living being who could speak with the untamable Wind.

Huntress! Child of Fire! So long, so long!

"Yes, it's been a bit, my friend - I was with my father."

Father of the Huntress? Nightmare King?

I sighed sadly, and let his ethereal feathers slip and catch between my fingers. "Yes, Notus. My king of a dad. He needs my help. So I must ask for yours."

You need but ask, dear child...

My smile spread. Good old Notus; always watching out for me.

"Then to the North Pole, my friend!" I whooped, jumping onto his shoulders with a twirl. He tossed me up and caught me once more with his own giggle of delight.

Great fun, great fun! Sneak to the lands of Boreas, haha!

With that, I streamlined my body and rocketed up and up and up right into the kingdom of the Winds, where only clouds and the souls of the brave dared venture. Where freedom was free and the lost could find themselves. I loved it. Oh, to live my days here - in the bitingly cold, dangerously thin airs. To defy the claws of the Earth's core and live as the gods - untouchable, invincible, eternal.

But I had too much to live for down there.

Still, nothing like a supersonic flight through the stratosphere to get you pumped for a life-or-death mission, I always say!

Ah, and so our plot is revealed! And don't think it'll be so easy as deciphering MiM's little riddle, which, when I reveal it, I hope will induce some face-palming ;)

* I am not alluding to my own username, just FYI! This is an actual swordfighting technique - Inigo Montoya mentions it when he's fighting Westley! Look it up!