So I decided to release this one today instead of yesterday because we all were busy with Christmas yesterday, and I sure as heck am not posting on Sundays, just because that's rude. So, happy Saturday update guys! Hope you enjoy!
(With Pitch)
Pitch had waited.
And waited.
And waited.
The shade had ambled around the manor for hours, then for days. Counting time spent by the shades of color the clouds glared down on him.
Pitch had spells where the silence screamed at him with the might of a thousand voices.
There were days the shade had spent craving fire.
There were days that Pitch revisited the room with the family tree and silently cried for each dead blossom.
The were days where Pitch sat under a hole in the ceiling and counted the blossoms in his palm.
Seven.
Still seven.
Seven again.
Six? Wait there it is, seven.
Seven.
Always seven.
Never six, never eight.
Then came the day when Pitch realized he was losing his mind. Oddly enough, he wasn't disturbed by this. It made his days a little more interesting.
Was this real, or that? Was that a hallucination? Was he dreaming?
He blamed it on the house, full of souls hiding from the Abyss, and doing a damn good job too.
He had been alone before, after all, and it never felt like this. Now he wasn't alone, not really, and they were wearing him down.
The next day Pitch had changed his mind and blamed Iswald.
If he hadn't shown Pitch the world of bliss the king lived in, the shade would be fine here. He hadn't felt the souls presence until Iswald revealed them and their grand lives.
The day after Pitch had apologized profusely to the statue and changed his mind again.
It was the boy's fault! Why did the kid HAVE to go and chase him down? Why had he been waiting for the Nightmare King- that IS what he had been doing after all. The child had fallen asleep by Pitch's footpath, probably plagued by exhaustion from running Moon knew how long, waiting for him.
On the seventh day, but what felt like the seventieth to the lost Ruler of Shadows, Pitch changed his mind for the last time and blamed himself for saving the boy and not turning a blind, ignorant eye to him. Curse himself and his foolishness! Pitch blamed himself for all of it…
With a sigh the shade roamed from one of the empty rooms back to the foyer, where he glanced longily at the statue located there. It was like a hateful reminder, spitefully filling his head with memories of a
Painless...
Glorious...
Satisfied life.
It saluted onward, the stone crow staring down with dead eyes at the lost, living shade.
While the statue seemed to honor him, the souls of the shifters around the room laughed. They laughed at him, no, to put it more accurately they cackled and threw orange and brown petals of outside trees that smelled only of dirt and mildew into the freshening air of the building.
Pitch however didn't get angry at the poor lost souls, in fact the shade had started talking to the attention deprived souls. The spirit's favorite shifter so far to talk to was a man that went by Lucias.
He listened paintly to the souls till he heard the voice of the man, "Lucias, how are you today?"
A smile ghosted onto the shade's face when the man's soul twisted around him, the shifter eagerly conversing with him.
Pitch and the invisible, inaudible soul spent hours talking.
From the stories the old soul whispered to the shade's own Pitch had been able to determine that Lucias was the great grandson of Iswald and had met the great king in person when they were living.
They talked about Iswald a lot.
Which was fine by Pitch, since he loved hearing about the stoic king and learning of the man's valor.
Occasionally though Lucias would turn the conversation to the boy…though it was mostly talk of healing and how close the child was to recovery.
Today was no different, Pitch inhaled when the soul again began speaking of the child. Pitch only paid half attention to what was being said, instead the shade reached into his robe and pulled several shards of broken glass out.
This was all that remained of the cursed collar that had been tight around the boy's neck. Pitch stared at the broken shards, looking at his broken reflection. He wasn't sure why he had kept them and hadn't swept them away…perhaps it was because he secretly enjoyed seeing his face (which was no long gaunt and reflective of a spirit starved).
Pitch was pulled from his musing by a sudden twinge in his heart, the spirit confused by the sensation. The shade quickly waved his hand, signaling to the souls that he was done talking for the day. Pitch hurriedly left the foyer and made his way back to the room where he had left the child. Something was off, Pitch could sense it…and he needed to make sure the child was okay.
Upon reaching the room the spirit instantly went into a state of panic- the couch that he laid the boy on was empty. The room completely silent now, void of even the child's shallow breath.
The Nightmare King began to search like a mad man, looking everywhere for the only other living soul in this thrice accursed "sanctuary". Pitch refused to be alone in this empty, highly populated prison! He wouldn't be able to stand it!
The final place Pitch checked was the enchanted family tree.
He sighed in relief, for there the child was, his lustrous hair laying half down his spine in a ponytail. The boy was facing the tree, sitting Indian style and whispering to the air.
Pitch waited patiently in the doorway, not wanting to disturb the boy's trance.
For a moment those amazing senses returned to Pitch, as if through an open window. The small breeze and the barely heard chimes whispering in his ear. The nutmeg scent vaguely reached him and he sighed in remorse, saddened that he was not fully enveloped within the shifter's heaven as he had been days ago.
Pitch's attention was pulled from his own longing when the boy suddenly jerked and rose to his feet.
"Yes sir." The child murmured as he bowed to the painting. His dainty hands brushed his torn capris and cloak before turning-
Right into Pitch's torso.
"AY!"
Pitch raised an eyebrow in mild amusement at the startled yelp of the boy. But it was quickly replaced by worry as the boy cowered at his feet, shifting uncontrollably.
He watched in sick fascination as individual limbs became different from one another. Pitch rocked back a step or two when a wave of fear hit into him from the quivering child.
"P-p-please..." a human mouth uttered before the boy's face shifted to a silver dog's muzzle and whined.
"Whoa whoa whoa, easy child." Pitch whispered calmly as the shifter contorted into a small feline, raising his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture.
The silver cat at his feet jerked, but the fear began to lessen and the shifting- from squirrel to bird- slowed a tad.
"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you..." Pitch knelt slowly down to one knee as the shape became human once more.
The boy shuffled a safe distance away and eyed him doubtfully, cocking his head and frowning.
"Fine, don't believe me." The shade snorted as he stood. "But you and I are the only ones alive here, so we better learn to get along." And with a huff he marched back down the hallway.
"All of that... for nothing...stupid-" Pitch began a long list of names under his breath. He was about to descend the stairs when he felt like he was being followed...
The Nightmare King whirled around and opened his mouth to tell the kid to bugger off, but he wasn't there. Golden eyes narrowed and he scowled as he glared down to his feet where mercury eyes stared up in curiosity. Why the hell was the boy on his knees?
"Did you save me?" The boy chirped with a voice of innocence.
Pitch nodded slowly.
"Are you..." The boy frowned and he bit his lip in frustration.
"Spit it out, kid." Pitch growled. The boy flinched and instantly the shade felt awful, but stubbornly held his ground.
"You're going to call me crazy..."
"I already do. You sat outside for hours in the snow and waited for the me, the Boogeyman, of all people. You are crazy, so don't stop now." Pitch snorted and began his descent. When he got to the bottom there was a little silver ferret staring at him from atop the railing.
Pitch scowled as it leaped off and morphed into the boy.
"Wait wait wait!" The boy held both hands up and began walking backwards as Pitch marched forward anyways. "You're the Boogeyman? Pitch Black?"
They stopped in sync when Pitch glared down at him.
"Yes. For the last time. And it's Mister Black, to you."
"Oh. My. Stars."
Pitch blinked in surprise as the child whispered one of the shade favorite expressions.
"You're Pitch Black!"
"Yes-"
"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!-"The boy began to bounce in place.
"Well, start-" Pitch took a step back in growing concern.
"I'M TALKING TO MY HERO!"
"Your WHAT!?" Pitch's jaw dropped as the child let out a whoop of delight and began dancing around the foyer.
At his disbelieving voice, the boy ran back to the awe-struck shade.
"You're ONLY the most amazing spirit EVER!"
Pitch stared in at his 'admirer?' in shock.
"You are so... AWWWESOME!" Suddenly he pointed at the black clad torso in excitement.
"Is it true you single-handedly started the Dark Ages?"
Pitch blinked himself into composure.
"Yes, I did, I'm surprised you know about that-" His moment of pride was interrupted.
"Did you really start the witch burnings!?"
"It was actually a joint effort with-"
"Can you really walk through shadows!?"
"Yes, I-" Pitch began to feel frustrated as the boy continuously interrupted him.
"Is it true you have an army of nightmares!"
"Yes, well sort of-"
"Can I see one!?"
Finally Pitch raised a brow and snapped "If you'd like to die today sure I'll show you as many as you like."
"YEAH I WANT TO- wait what?" The boy rocked back and glancing this way in that in fear.
Pitch snorted at the boy's fear before striding away. Why in the nine realms was HE- King of Nightmares, Lord of Fear, Ruler of Shadows- the boy's hero? With a confused sigh Pitch entered the living room and plopped down on the couch, staring dead ahead.
A low thrumming vibration within the cushion of the couch caused him to roll his eyes. Golden orbs narrowed and pale lips frowned before swinging his head to the left to face a lithe silver cat, perched on the arm of the sofa and purring with excitement.
"Look, kid, why are you following me? You're supposed to fear me, not admire me! I not a hero, I'm just the Boogeyman who creeps around at night and scares children and plagues their dreams with nightmares. Go run off and find someone else to believe in."
The cat slunk off the arm of the couch and morphed into the child. He rested across the couch from Pitch, curled into a ball with his chin atop his knees.
"But I believe in you... mister Black. Sir."
Pitch blinked and his hard features softened.
"But why? Why am I your hero?"
"Well... when I was first a spirit I used to hang around street urchins. We always got into trouble, and I was scared we would get caught cause they were pretty reckless-"
"Wait a minute. You had believers?"
"Ummm... I guess so." The boy cocked his head, not really understanding the spirit's confusion.
"What are you the spirit of?" What could people possibly believe in immediately?
"Deception."
Pitch turned his head from side to side in a contemplating gesture "I could see that. Continue." Pitch waved him on and the boy smiled.
"Well, one day we had just stole some bread and I guess somebody saw us cause I saw you show up and I got real scared and tried to make them leave but they said no. So I hid without them and a few minutes later these guards showed up and they..." Iago suddenly trailed off, staring into the distance.
"So... I saved you. Is that what you're saying?"
The boy jerked back into the real world.
"Yes sir. And again and again and again. I always knew to hide when I saw you. I wanted to thank you but every time I tried you were gone."
Pitch cocked his head to the side and stared at the boy, puzzled and touched by the genuine admiration the child held him with.
"W-w-what?" The lad cowered into himself.
"Nobody's ever tried to... thank me... before..." Pitch startled when the boy leaped to his feet.
"Well why not!?"
The Lord of Fear simply blinked in surprise.
"Who else keeps children from running into the street!? Or walking around at night, that's why you do so you can scare them back to bed, isn't it!?"
Pitch's face fell as the boy rambled on about why Pitch did what he did. Pitch had come to find HE didn't remember why he did anything anymore. This... this mere CHILD remembered why Pitch used to walk around at night. Why he used to whisper possible negative outcomes of peoples actions in their ears. Why didn't PITCH remember why he did these things... now it just felt like he did everything he did because... everybody said that's what he did.
"I don't understand it! Who else would keep children safe?" Finally the youngster plopped down to the couch, out of breath after his rant.
"The Guardians seem to think they do a good job." Pitch absently murmured.
"The Guardians? Who are they?"
Golden eyes widened and his jaw dropped.
"The Guardians of Childhood?"
Iago simply blinked in confusion.
Pitch sat up in disbelief. "You know, the Easter Bunny, Sandman, the Tooth Fairy..."
"Ohhh." Iago scowled. "THOSE phonies. Yeah, the other kids in my Master's cells talked about them a lot. It helped the younger ones to not cry at night I guess."
"Are you saying... the Guardians don't exist?" Pitch shook his head in confusion.
"Not to me." Narrow shoulders simply shrugged "I guess they might…But I never believed in them."
Pitch couldn't help the tightening of his heart when the boy continued with a whimper:
"I mean…what 'Guardian' would let children rot away in musty cells…constantly being beaten and taken advantage of?"
It took all of Pitch's strength to not gather the child into his arms as fear and sadness radiated off him, the boy obviously remembering the horrors that he had escaped from.
Hope you all had a Merry Christmas! Please excuse me now while I hold Santa Claus captive for giving me coal.
PS, would you guys drop by and give my editor (frostofsummer) a "Merry Christmas" too? And possibly a thank you. "This chapter was brought to you by the frostofsummer foundation, and by contributions to this reviewing station from viewers like you. THANK YOU!"