I. Am. So. Sorry! I lost my fan fiction journal and found it recently so we are back in business baby and I promise this won't happen again! Enjoy!
(With Pitch)
"Kid!"
The sanctuary resounded with the baritone voice of the Nightmare King, bits of rock and dust falling with it's intensity.
"Answer me!" Pitch rounded yet another corner in a black blur, confusion and panic REALLY working its way into his chest.
A swirling mist drifted towards him, the souls of the Shifters curious as to what had the shade riled up.
"Lucius!" Pitch hastily called for his friend as stopped to take a breath, then he straightened when he felt the soul entwine with his own. "Lucius, have you seen Iago!? I haven't seen him since this morning, he was asleep, I thought he was still..."
Pitch paused when a sense of calm settled over him as the soul attempted to reassure him. The shade frowned when he deciphered the old shifters words, "What do you mean, took a fly?" With an angry huff, the shade stalked back to the foyer, the shadow of the statue crossing his toes.
A tiny sliver of mist broke from the whole when Lucius followed the spirit as the other souls drifted away, now losing interest in the situation.
"Iago!" Pitch's voice cut again into the silence, the shade was beyond concerned now…
A slight twinge in his soul caused his eyes to widened.
"What?" Pitch suddenly stopped, turning on heel and glaring at the hovering soul. "Worried…I'm not worried I'm..." Pitch struggled to find the right word as the soul chuckled. "... Concerned…. For myself." Pitch crossed his arms as if daring the soul to argue. "I need to spread nightmares as soon as I can, and that boy is my only chance of surviving." Satisfied with his rebuttal, the spirit nodded and continued.
Pitch rounded the corner into the living room, just in time to see a little brown bat flap in from the fireplace and land on the couch in a morphing heap.
"There you are!" Pitch exclaimed, startling the boy who yelped and fell to the floor. "Where did you go? Lucius said you went for a fly?"
"Uh w-well... I- was just- I didn't-" Iago stuttered, the boy's eyes darting back and forth wildly.
Pitch frowned when a wave of mastigophobia* reached him.
Unfortunately, the boy misunderstood that frown, and the strength of his fear only escalated. "Yeh-y-yes..."
Pitch sighed as the boy squeaked out the tiny word, and pondered his next move carefully. Pitch knew that what his reaction to this situation could either make or break his chances of ever... getting out of here. As physically relieving as this boy's fear was... The shade still found himself amazed that he wasn't scared of HIM, just his responses. To EVERYTHING.
In fact Pitch had asked just yesterday if there was any water available and the poor lad had rambled on how the spring the fed the house was dry and that he couldn't find any at all and that it wasn't his fault. Pitch had almost toppled over from the sheer amount of fear that had practically radiated in tsunami waves.
Pitch, in a slight state of emotional panic and confusion that he would never admit to, had simply left the child to deal with himself, internally wincing at Iago's fear of rejection and the thought he was going to beaten for the simple fact of there being no water available.
And now again, the child was before him scared that he was going to be punished.
Not a good start to a potential ...ally...
Pitch continued to feel the need to refer to this child as SOMETHING, SOME word that would sum up the tiny spirit in the shade's mentality perfectly. But it was as if someone had put a marble glass window between him and his answer.
"I-I-I'm really sssorry... Mr. Black. Sir..."
Golden eyes blinked back into focus.
"I'm not angry with you, Iago." Pitch found the child's name fascinating. It was a flavorful name, the kind that bounces around your mouth in an almost playful manner, and the mouth had to form itself in just the right embouchure to say it.
"You're nnnot?" Watery, mercury orbs glanced from the tattered brown sleeve of his riding cloak to the ash gray face of his idol. In some ways, the boy had been disappointed when he had met the shade - no fangs or claws, so formal and somewhat elegant, and British? Iago had nothing against the British, but... the British Boogeyman?
If anything, the smooth accent made Pitch seem more appealing rather than dangerous.
Both minds, young and old, had the same, overall thought progression: How do I approach him?
Pitch made his decision first.
"Where did you go?" He inquired, hoping to draw the boy's more charismatic side out with feigned interest.
Suddenly the boy giggled.
Pitch cocked his head questioningly and raised an invisible eyebrow.
However, the boy simply smothered his laughter in a small, cheeky grin that only years' worth of practice could have pulled off.
"You're not ACTUALLY wondering where I went."
In a well concealed bout of surprise, the shade replied only with the action of folding his hands behind him.
"You just what to know what's outside the sanctuary."
Such accurate readings of his interest stunned the shade, to the extent that Pitch lost his cover and jerked back.
"How did you-"
"You were trying to deceive the Spirit of Deception. That was funny."
Pitch's golden eyes narrowed, evaluating his slip-up. That was how he approached unknown environments after all, by inquiring to the liking of the audience. That approach, however, was going to prove difficult here...
Suddenly he was aware of it again, the increasing fears of the child before him. He mentally kicked himself, for Iago was probably viewing his physical reactions as signs of anger, but he wasn't angry at all.
In fact…
Pitch clicked his tongue in resolution.
Silver eyes widened and the boy sat to attention.
The Nightmare King made note of that- the boy's reaction was obviously an automatic response to something...probably some part of his past... something Pitch would possibly need to know... but he would dwell on that later. Right now he needed to address this….
"Since you know me so well already..." the shade strode to sit beside the boy, who scooted away a few inches, much to Pitch's displeasure. "... what IS outside these walls?"
"Wellll..." The boy hunched further into himself, glancing anywhere in the room BUT at the person he was speaking to. "Mostly mountains and evergreens... but there's a river..." The boy uncurled a little bit in excitement as he went on.
"It's really big and wide and kinda fast. And it's really cold too, especially since it's spring cause all the ice is melting , and that makes it even wider and even faster and it makes all the locals downstream get real panicky -"
"Did you say locals?" Pitch suddenly cried.
The boy flinched, suddenly radiating with fear.
"Uh uhh well i..."
"Where? How far?"
"Fffive miles downstream!" Iago squeaked, he flinched when the spirit waved a hand, the boy certain that at any moment it would descend.
"Canyoutakemethere?" Pitch was unaware of the boy's thought as his excitement reached its peak.
Iago's mercury eyes blinked and his fear disappeared "What?"
Pitch sighed and rolled his eyes. "Can. You. Take. Me. There?" His response was stunned silence, accompanied by a stare that bore into the shade as if he had just declared himself half unicorn. "Well?"
The boy shook his head and blinked again.
"I'm sorry... I'm just... nobody's ever..."
Pitch's eyes widened and he frowned as the boy's reasoning dawned on him. "Nobody's ever 'asked' you for anything, have they?"
"Nnn... not in a really long time..." Pale lips trembled and his eyes became watery, but just when Pitch thought he was going to break, the boy smiled slightly. "But I can take you there! I gladly will. By air? Or, would you prefer ground?"
Pitch decided to approach this abrupt change in thought with mild amusement, even though it was slightly worrying.
"Hmph. I'm perfectly capable in the air. My nightmares DO fly, you know."
At this the boy's smile widened even further. "Can I see a nightmare!?" He questioned in awe as his small hand gently clasped the black sleeve, guiding them out of the living room and to the door.
Pitch's mouth opened but it was a moment before he came up with an adequate response. "Maybe some other time." He replied slowly, since there was no way in the Nine Realms that he would let this child know that he no longer controlled the very beings that he was supposed to be King over.
The pair stopped before the huge French doors, it's stained glass filthy from years of 'living' abandonment, but surprisingly still one hundred percent intact.
"Oh, okay!" The young boy oblivious to Pitch's inner conflict.
He pulled at the doors as hard as he could muster, the aging brass hinges groaning in displeasure. Tendrils of ivy snapped outside, followed by another and another until you almost couldn't hear the hinges squeak. A breeze blew in from the outside world, carrying with it leaves and dirt while tossing the spirits' hair about none too gently.
Iago stumbled backwards as the doors swung too far for his little arms to reach, continuing their parallel paths and dousing the two in the light of an overcast day.
Suddenly Iago realized his mistake as Pitch hissed and shaded his eyes with an arm. He was surprised when Pitch didn't melt into a tar black puddle, or burst into flames, or start smoking, or at the very least retreat to the shade of the sanctuary.
Pitch caught the confused, slightly worried glance that quickly looked away. "I'm not a vampire."
The child giggled, glancing back for a fraction of a second before observing the landscape below.
"Contrary to popular belief, I am not harmed at all by the sun, there just is not much work for me to do at day anymore-" Pitch stopped abruptly as he too took in the scene below him.
The sanctuary stood on the higher slope of a mountain valley, their gray and green coated sides surrounding them until the clarity of the trees ended quite suddenly about two or three miles out, and beyond them smudges of dry tans, browns, and occasional greens ruled until they morphed with the blue horizon. This suggested their valley's only exposure was a rather tall bluff.
A beautiful palette of colors spread out below them. Evergreens took up most of the mountainside, standing tall and proud, ancient and as wide as a bus. Every once and while Pitch could spot the dead branches of deciduous trees reaching to the sky.
And carving through the valley, and then further to the horizon, was the mighty river just as Iago had described.
Even from this distance, the river's springtime roar echoed between the trees, faintly heard among the birds chirping here and there.
Pitch turned his attention skyward, where the sun was just setting on the horizon, its golden hue turning the gray clouds a deep orange. The shade inhaled sharply, enjoying the wondrous fragrances of nature that surrounded him, as opposed to the dank dusty scents that had become a constant as of late.
"This place really IS a sanctuary." Pitch mulled aloud. "The only way to get in or out of here is to fly!"
"Or to teleport." Iago quietly added.
"Yeah, what was that thing I fiddled with? The pyramid thing?"
"You got here by that?" Iago spun in Pitch's direction, barely meeting his gaze for a fraction of a second before glancing away again. "I'd assumed you flew on a nightmare."
Pitch decided not to point out he had no idea where they were right now, nor how to get here without that pyramid. Nor was he about to reveal that as of right now he had no transportation other than the young shape shifter.
"How else would I have known where to go?"
The child accepted this rebuttal with a shrug.
Pitch nodded, glad that the boy had not pressed the issue. He turned again and continued his observation of the landscape, golden eyes now admiring the gathering darkness with anticipation.
He was surprised by a sudden crunch of gravel to his left, the sound of some heavy object settling. With a raised brow, Pitch turned to inquire the boy-
"What in the-"!"
Low and behold, there was no child to be seen, but rather a huge, opal wyvern.**.
It stood on two wide legs, ending with three toed feet, a thick, spiny tail about ten feet long lazily waving through the air. The inside toes were larger, the claw arced, resulting in a velociraptor like fashion.
The creature's torso was broad, nearly the size of a S.U.V., the thing's muscled shoulders reaching about twenty feet in height. With a snort, the creature stretched out leather appendages to a forty-something foot wingspan that drifted over the surprised shade, casting him in a relieving shadow.
In the middle of each wing, two thick fingers curled, and as the wings folded to his side, they planted firmly on the ground, lowering the short neck and large head to be eye level with the Lord of Fear.
The nose had some sort of jaw-to-crest bone in the front, as tall as the head was wide, which was about five feet across. The space between the neck and the nose was spent flowing from width to height.
Silver eyes the size of footballs stared at him from the scaled muzzle, blinking as if waiting for the man's approval.
"This is...impressive." Pitch chuckled when the creature let out a rumble, the boy obviously happy that he was happy.
Pitch closed his eyes and let the wind blow his hair about, the cold air numbing his face. It had been so long since he had felt this…the shade let out a sigh.
'Is something wrong?'
Just as in the world of the souls, the thoughts of the shifter were felt more than heard in the shade's mind.
"I was thinking it's nice to have someone do the flying for you."
The wyvern rumbled, its growl vibrating the thick chest. 'I like flying under my own power.'
"Well, that's understandable. You can control your flying. You can't control much else in the world."
There was no reply but the 'fwoom' of air being disturbed under the great wings.
Pitch marveled at the strength under each, slow wing beat, the shoulder muscles behind him flexing to maintain their soar.
'There it is. The village of Vimur.'***
Pitch craned his neck to look past the reptile's head, but could see nothing except for tree tops…"Is that it? That little speck down there?" The Lord of Fear began to feel a twinge of disappointment when he caught sight a tiny dot of houses.
Meanwhile, the left wing muscle compressed, drawing the twenty foot wing closer. In response, they began a sharp, steep bank to the left, approaching the ground in a spiraling formation.
"Are there any children down there?" Pitch frowned, viewing the approaching rows of shacks with contempt.
'Yes. Though only a handful.'
"It'll do... I guess..." The shade huffed in annoyance. Pitch was surprised when the spines lining the side of the head twitched, the head jerking ever so slightly, indicating some sort of instinctual reaction.
Pitch bit his tongue as a brief wave of fear reached his senses before it slowly disappeared.
Before he could reflect on it, they were landing.
Iago coasted in to a grassy field outside the town. He angled back, his massive wings back-pedaling, and the huge animal shuddered in adjusting weight as they touched down to the earth. The grass flattened under the current, brownish green blades laying themselves at the scaly feet. The wings gave one more strong flap before the wyvern brought them close, leaning on his fingered wings.
With a rumble, Iago lowered his mighty head to the ground before his passenger slid off.
'Thank you for flying Dragon Airlines, hope you enjoyed your flight.' The shape-shifter snorted, giving a shudder of laughter.
Pitch narrowed his eyes and frowned disapprovingly until the wyvern noticed.
A low whimper escaped the massive creature as he looked away, silver eyes downcast, every spine lay flat against his head. The wyverns mighty tail drew close and the shoulders hunched as the dragon tried to curl in on himself.
A mixed wave of mastigophobia and agathoraphobia+ reached the Lord of Fear, and it bothered him deeply that he felt stronger as a result.
With a sigh, the shade made a decision he probably would regret making, for the sake of the boy who literally radiated with fear.
"Would you like to watch me work?"
The wyvern flat out SQUEALED, a burst of purple fire escaping the gasping jaw and charring a swath of grass to a brittle black, while the tail spines shot in every direction, thudding against trees and dirt.
The crest spines laid flat against the scaly skull, mercury eyes widening in a guilty stare. The opal scales rippled, the wings folding and shrinking, while the tail began to diminish. The muzzle shrunk against the face and the head spines turned limp against the narrowing neck.
And for a brief second, The Lord of Fear was stunned by a creature of myth.
And then it was gone, in its place the young boy Pitch had met what felt like so long ago. The boy asked something, but the shade didn't catch it- he was in a stupor.
The nymph... the stories... it was true. A creature that made the bravest blood run cold. A creature that inflicted fear.
"Would you like to watch me work?" Pitch asked slowly, surreptitiously testing his power. His sand combined with that... thing... oh, the FEAR they would spread in a team like that!
"Y…yes sir!" the boy's voice cracked with his excitement.
Pitch smirked, then concentrated on calling his sand.
The nightmare sand stung his palm, hissing in tiny streams. The tendrils dangled limp for a minute, then suddenly lashed out against the gray hand of its supposed master.
Biting back pained remarks, Pitch dusted the rebellious grains off his now faintly scratched palm in frustration. Nothing was going right for him today! Sighing, Pitch turned to see the boy gawking at him in awe and joy, the child obviously thinking he had done the act on purpose.
"Close your mouth, boy, or something will make a nest out of it." He snapped.
The shocked shape-shifter immediately snapped his jaw shut with a painful sound crack. Iago turned his eyes to flattened grass and picked at the blades, curling in on himself.
Pitch could see the silver eyes watering, and the boy's breathing began accelerating. The boy's tiny hand was shaking, and the pure fear was like a roaring fire to the shade. So much fear, it made him feel so... alive.
And, strangely enough, it saddened him as well.
"Come on, Iago." Pitch sighed. He didn't have time for these…foreign emotions.
Mercury eyes glanced at the shade's feet, too scared to look him in the eyes.
"Come with me." Pitch made sure his tone left no room for argument since he needed to get to work, or else lose the opportunity to gather fear from the village
Slowly at first, the young child crept to Pitch's side, crouching at his feet and still observing the dirt, still with so much fear.
And for once in his life Pitch hated the sensation.
"Dear Moon above…what is wrong with me?" The shade couldn't deny that he- The Lord of Fear, King of Nightmares, Ruler of Shadows, Pitch Black the Boogeyman- felt awful for feasting on the very fear that was keeping him alive.
"Come with me, Iago." This time Pitch let his voice soften, smiling slightly when the boy's fear abated a tad. "We have work to do."
It was going to be a long night.
Footnotes:
*mastigophobia- fear of being whipped or any form of punishment
**wyvern- a type of sub-dragon that walks on two legs and occasionally two wings, usually fingered
***Vimur- norse for river
+agathoraphobia- fear of abandonment
I lost an argument on whether what Iago turned into was a drake or a wyvern... fun fact, Drakes are four legged, usually elemental dragons with no wings, and wyverns are two legged dragons with two wings. The more you know...