Disclaimer: I don't own Hilda!

Title: Flameo Hotman

Summary: Hilda and Frida begin to see different sides of one another when fire magic lessons go awry.

...

"Fire magic?" Frida asked. "Isn't that a bit.. dangerous?"

Tildy shook her head, absentmindedly petting Cornelius. "Not at all, my dear. Fire is just another type of life magic."

Kaisa carefully eased an old tome into a bookshelf. Her cart had grown a bit higher than she usually liked; a side effect of worry, Frida realized with a smidgeon of guilt. "It is good to know, especially if you intend to go outside the walls often."

There was a terse pause as Frida weighed her options. There really wasn't a good way to put this. "I mean..." She trailed off. "I sent my familiar first. That's protocol, isn't it?"

"Trolls don't have much concern for animals. Sometimes they chase them off, sometimes they give chase." Tildy hesitated. "Your case is a bit... Different."

A book rammed home with a snap. Frida flinched. "A child! Hildy is a child. And so are you."

"What would you have me do, then? Flunk the homework?"

"You life is more important than-"

"Kaisa," said Tildy, gently. "This isn't a productive use of your concern."

Kaisa paused, and considered it, and sighed. She turned to Frida, cloak blanketing her shoulders. "I will go next time. Whatever you need- if it's outside these walls, it's not for children to get."

Frida nervously tapped her fingernails on a hardcover. "I agree that I went about this wrong," she said. "But you should have more faith in Hilda. She was raised in the Wilderness."

Kaisa's frown tugged deeper edges into her face. "Hildy is a very strong child. I never doubted that. But she is a child, and every child has the right to safety under our care."

She wasn't entirely certain how to feel about that. Frida knew she meant it- every adult meant it, in their own way. But learning more about the world and the creatures in it had revealed a whole list of blind spots most adults just didn't know how to cover. Maybe Kaisa could get the dust, and maybe Kaisa could fend off trolls if she had to, but Hilda was dependable at both.

"Alright," she responded finally, reluctant. "But don't tell Hilda that. Gets her stubborn."

Tildy purposely cleared her throat; the librarian's cheeks lit up with embarrassment as she whirled back to her cart, terrified she'd overstepped with her old mentor's new pupil. "Back to the point, aye? Fire magic. It's easy to make, but hard to control. We'd need to be very careful where we practiced."

"Don't witches have... I dunno... fantastical training grounds?"

"Most of those have ethereal plants. Not good to burn."

"Ah."

The doorknob jiggled into the uncertainty, heralding Hilda and David. The duo were covered in goo and carrying glowing mushrooms. The latter didn't seem nearly as thrilled about it as the former. "I got the nightlight caps!"

"We got the nightlight caps," David corrected. "I had to give the Rat King my aglets just to find out where they are. I mean, what's a giant pile of rats going to do with my aglets?"

"I'll get you new shoelaces," Frida promised.

"I suppose," he sighed, but didn't seem legitimately put off. "Hilda punched a vodnik in the face."

Hilda shrugged. "Where else d'ya punch a soul-stealing frog? Besides, he was being really greedy about the nightlight caps. Everybody knows they prefer Medusoid Myceliums anyway."

"You didn't know that. I told you that this morning."

"Semantics," she replied. "I'm your familiar. We're the sum of a whole."

Tildy slammed her hands down on the table, startling everyone. "That's it! Familiars! Why didn't I think of it before?"

Hilda did a rapid maneuver in order to keep the mushrooms from hitting the floor while she saluted. "Present and accounted for?"

The elderly woman giggled, touching Frida's hand gently. "Familiars and witches often share dreams. It's a safe place to practice all sorts of magic- and familiars are just happy to see their people. It's a great way to wile away the hours, and an even better way to work on fire magic."

"Dreams?" said Frida, panicked.

Hilda's eyes lit up. "Fire magic?"

Kaisa spoke above them all, bristling. "SHE'S A CHILD!"

The room went quiet. All eyes turned to Kaisa, who flushed but didn't back down. "Sharing dreams with animals is very different from sharing dreams with people. Our minds are so similar, you can't easily unlink them. It's very personal."

The blue-haired girl had stiffened at the initial exclamation, and seemed to puff up under her scrutiny. "You think I can't do it?"

She quickly shook her head. "I know you can, Hildy. Dreams are- well, they are the most vulnerable parts of people. They are kaleidoscopes of you. Are you really comfortable opening a door you cannot close?"

Hilda hesitated, then broke her gaze to meet Frida's. "I trust Frida. I knew being a familiar meant doing all sorts of weird magical things together. If this can help you learn to do all sorts of cool magic, then I say go for it."

Frida looked at Hilda, then Tildy, then the cover of her book. She bit her lip. "Does it... have to be dreams? Can't we just go outside the wall?"

Tildy shook her head. "Too much danger, what with all the trolls. But, if this honestly isn't something you want to breech, we can find other methods. I'm sure the Council of Three have a learning void in their repertoire somewhere."

"Um," said David. "Have we told them about the ma-"

Hilda slapped her hand across his mouth with a scowl. "That doesn't matter. Frida is a witch, and I'm her familiar. I'm not scared to let her see my dreams."

"But it won't be just me, will it?" Frida broached hesitantly. "Tildy would be coming with."

"I think I've brought worse things to Tildy's doorstep awake than I would in my dreams."

"And Kaisa?" Tildy offered. "I know she'll be very anxious if she can't watch over us."

Immediately, the librarian touched her shoulder, squeezing. "You don't need to answer that. I'm not a witch, and I'm not Frida's mentor. I'd just be intruding."

"You can come. Tildy can come. David can come, if he really wants to. I've got nothing to hide." Hilda tilted her chin up in a challenge.

"Just to be clear, I do not," David said. "I'll leave the weird night walking to the magical folks, if it's all the same to you."

"Told you," Frida sighed. "You've made her go all stubborn again."

Hilda spilled a plentiful pile of jorts onto Frida's hand. "I say this with love, but I do think you're overreacting a tad."

"You wouldn't think that if you tasted nightmares." Frida bit into a cheesy cracker, letting it wash memories away of old smoke and debris. "It's an awful thing, controlling someone's dreams."

"Can confirm," David said, making grabby hands for the bag. "But you're not a mean teen with attitude, so it should be alright."

"But what if it's not? What if the marra rubbed off on me, and all I do is give you nightmares?" Frida shuddered. "I can't even imagine what the others witches would think of me."

Hilda scoffed, firmly taking a cheesy hand in hers. "You'd have to be scary to give me bad dreams. You're not scary."

"Not all scary things look scary," she rebuffed.

David nodded soulfully. "Remember those squids we learned about last week? They're all cute until their circles turn blue. Then you're dead."

"That's an octopus. Frida's not a octopus."

"No, it's a squid."

"David, it's literally named the blue-ringed octopus."

"That could be a misnomer."

"Well, it's not."

"I think we're losing track of the debate," Frida cut in. "I don't have to be an octopus or a squid. I've run with marra. That's close enough, isn't it?"

"But you aren't a marra."

"Am I?" she asked, twiddling her thumbs. "I've not put on any belts since I met Kelly. I've been too scared to. What if it's like... a poison, or a cig? I've swallowed some nightmares, and now my lungs have a spot of black in them. And that black will just... spread into you?"

"Nightmares can't spread. It's not like the flu."

"We don't know that."

"We don't know you've got black in your lungs, either," she replied. Hilda jokingly grabbed a nearby pencil, waving it like a tongue depressor. "Say ah?"

Frida batted it away with a laugh. "Alright, alright, you've made your point. But if you want to pull out at any time, lemme know, alright?"

"You baby me," Hilda accused, handing the bag over to David. She clapped the cheesy remains off on her pants and held out her right arm, fist clenched. "On my wrist, yeah?"

Frida wiped her fingers off on a napkin one by one. She could feel them shaking a little. The witch retrieved a glass of water from on top of the bedside table and a vial of unknown liquid from a drawer below. Frida snugged down the glass between her socked toes and poured a drop inside, watching with an awed smile as the water turned black as pitch. She capped the bottle and retrieved a small paintbrush. "It's a pulse point," she agreed. "And I figured you'd prefer it over your chest or the back of your head."

"Wouldn't the back of my head be strongest? Closest to the subconscious."

Frida hummed. "It would be, but we'd have to shave you for it."

"Oh," said Hilda, with the tone of voice one got after smelling a stink bug in distress. "No, I think the wrist'll do."

"Try not to sneeze, yeah?"

Tongue sticking out in concentration, she drew the first line around Hilda's wrist. The liquid didn't move or settle like paint did; there was no streaks, no directional pull of the visage. It was solid and thick, with no trace of its beginning. It reminded Frida a lot of writing in pen. Hilda bit down an instinctive ticklish shake and clenched her fist tighter.

Frida drew swirls and squiggles. The shapes, simple in nature, blended piece by piece into a whole of something much more complex. Frida's fingers were smudged with black as she turned the page of a nearby book to a seperate diagram for the top of her skin.

David leaned in, face orange with jort-dust. "You missed a line."

"Do you really have nothing better to do than nitpick?" Frida snapped.

"Nope," he said, and tossed another handful into his maw.

"It... doesn't really feel like it's drying?" Hilda asked, eyebrows scrunching.

"It's not." Frida set the paintbrush in the water and carefully pressed the top of her wrist to Hilda's, smearing the drawing onto her own. "It's not about being perfect. It's actually the opposite. Each crack and crinkle makes this unique, only for a witch and her familiar, and that makes it easier for the magic to work."

"You hate it when it's not perfect."

She twisted her arm and did the same to the other half, huffing out a laugh. "Oh, yes. But this washes off after the spell is performed, so at least I won't have to look at it forever."

Arm free, Hilda tilted it towards the lamplight, studying it. "Hmm. This oughta make dinner interesting."

Frida's smile vanished. "You told your mum what we were doing, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," she said, but the stress lines under her eyes became prominent. "We're having a sleepover."

Tildy shuffled around the kitchen making tea while Kaisa awkwardly looked around, holding a duffle bag with both of their pajamas. "All things considered, I'm surprised your parents are alright with this."

"My parents are very susceptible to authority figures," Frida reported with a touch of pride. "Besides, I only told them the truth; you're here to help mentor me for the night. It kind of doubles as free babysitting for them. They've wanted to go see my Auntie for a bit, but everything in her house breaks if you squint at it wrong."

"Ah," said the librarian, nodding. "Suburbia trust syndrome."

"My mum is working on a new project. It's been hard on her." Hilda gladly accepted a cup, swishing the bag around mindlessly. "She won't say it, but she's probably glad I'm out for a bit."

"Ah," said the librarian, again, with a nod. "Guilt complex."

"Enough doom and gloom, dear." The old woman handed Kaisa a thermos. "We're here to teach, not to judge."

"Correction: you are teacher. I'm just here to lug clothes."

Tildy laughed, nudging her side. "Someone's a bit edgy about tonight, huh?"

Kaisa looked at Frida and Hilda, then away. "Sorry. It's not that I don't believe in you. I'm just... not one for dream magic. Too finicky. You can't put it in a list and on a shelf like books."

"That is a downside," Frida agreed.

Hilda waved it off with a smile. "I've done a little studying myself. I can't promise anything, but I think I can give us a proper backdrop for magic."

"Bit of dream-bending, eh?" Tildy asked with a twinkle in her eye. "We'll sleep in the living room. No need to force yourselves, girls- if you aren't comfortable resting, then we can leave and work out something else. Your wrist, Hilda?"

Each woman took a print to their own arm and wished the children goodnight. Frida poked her head around the stairwell to see Tildy perching herself on the couch while Kaisa unfolded a sleeping bag for herself- the librarian had probably insisted, knowing her. Hilda waited at the top of the stairs, eyebrows raised expectantly. Frida scrambled to join her.

"What's dream-bending?" Frida asked.

"Haven't a clue," Hilda answered. "I did a bit of reading into the process of entering dreams. I should be able to feel a bit of your magic tugging at me in my sleep. According to the book, I can use that bit of waking to conjure up a memory. It'll be less confusing than some random dream, but it's definitely not any sort of bending."

Frida paused at the top of the stairs, uncertain. "Couldn't that risk destroying the memory? This is fire magic after all."

"Only if you burn me to a crisp," Hilda shot back, smug. "I read the footnotes this time."

"We're learning, bit by bit."

Frida slipped into bed with a quiet hum, the last of her nerves making her tummy hurt. Hilda hopped up beside her, rocking the frame as she settled into her own pillow. Normally, they tended to sleep separately, but normally they had David and Hilda wanted to keep it even between the three of them. Frida stifled a small giggle.

"This is weird," Hilda said. Her voice was hushed in the darkness. "It's weird, isn't it? Adults sleeping downstairs that aren't our parents."

"Very weird. Almost as weird as having a bed-buddy."

She stilled. "Should I... get a sleeping bag? I don't know a lot about slumber party protocol."

"No, no, it's fine. I just hope you know I'm a blanket hog."

"I'm a restless sleeper, so we should be even."

Frida slipped a hand out of her blankets. The air felt chilly against her skin as she sought out Hilda's, intertwining their fingers together. Hilda's hands were rough from climbing and scraping and just general adventure-ing, with short and stubby appendages. It was a very grounding grip. "Hilda?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we get to do magic together."

"Me too," Hilda said, with the kind of warmth Frida knew came from a smile.

The start of a spell has a song to it. It's hard to properly explain to someone who has never done magic, but Frida has gone on to liken it to twisting the fob on a toy car. The soothing tink-tink-tink as it winds ever closer, the key becoming harder and harder to twist; until finally, with a little thunk, you can feel something amazing will soon occur.

The world is vast and white, but soft under Frida's hands. This isn't something she created- rather, it's something she's called forth from the depths.

Tink-tink-tink.

Tildy and Kaisa were side-by-side within her, and it felt a bit like a test. The white rose under her hands, then fell, creating ripples that echoed into wood, into furniture, into soft candlelight.

Thunk.

"Is this..." Frida starts to say, doesn't finish. The room was the same size as any other living room Frida had been in, but it felt smaller. A little box TV off-center. Shelves filled with books and various little rocks. A table covered in convoluted instructions for a convoluted board game. The fireplace crackled welcomingly, filling the air with smothering heat. She knows, almost instinctively, what this place was. What it meant.

"S'nice, isn't it?" a slightly unfamiliar voice rumbled. In front of the fireplace was a tacky carpet, and on that tacky carpet was the Wood Man. He tilted his head to the side a bit. "Bit lived in, but nice."

"Are you... here? Dreaming of this place?"

Wood Man shrugged. "Dunno. Hope not. This is a pretty boring dream."

The light, feathery touch of Tildy's hand on Frida's elbow had her eyes traveling to the couch. Johanna was perched on the cushions, Hilda across the table, as they quietly played the game. Hilda was in rare form- out of her fluffy sweater and boots, hat put aside and hair up. Frida knew she only got like this when she was readying to bunker down for awhile.

Wood Man followed her gaze. "You could leave her to dream."

Frida shook herself, stiffening her shoulders. "It's not right to be here without her," she replied, and took those steps toward her. The witchling set a hand on Hilda's shoulder.

Hilda shuddered, eyes flashing bright white, and then she was looking around, pumping a fist. "I did it!"

"You did it," Frida agreed, smiling. "I knew you could. Shame you didn't get to finish your game, though."

She pushed the dice aside and stood. "I never win at Dragon Panic anyhow."

"This is the Wilderness, isn't it?"

Hilda's smile went lopsided. It was answer enough. "I figured it'd be a good place to practice. Nothing for miles. Just... try not to burn the cabin down, please? That'd be a bit traumatic."

"No promises?"

"I'll take what I can get."

Tildy calmly toddled between the two of them, handing Cornelius to Hilda. The woman looked fairly naked without her familiar, hands held close to her chest like claws. "Shall we adjourn?"

Frida bit her lip and looked out the window. There weren't streetlights in the Wilderness. "It's dark out there."

"City girl," scoffed Wood Man. Frida got the feeling he was rolling his nonexistent eyes.

"Kaisa," prompted Tildy.

The librarian snapped her fingers and brought forth a small fireball. "I will set up boot camp. Hildy, would you mind making tea? It's going to be a long night."

"It's going to be peppermint."

"It always is, dear."

"Now, then." Tildy sat on a log Kaisa had drug over with relish, sticking her hands out to warm over the fire. "As we've explored, magic comes from things. It isn't made by us- it's simply given passage through us. To be a witch is simply to know about the magic and to help guide it with purpose. To be a familiar is to know, to aide, and to follow a witch loyally."

"I think I've got that covered." Hilda took a swig of her thermos with glee, swinging her legs.

Tildy nodded encouragingly. "Have you ever heard of FIFO?"

"...Am I supposed to have?" Frida asked, face crinkling with worry.

"First in, first out. You hear it most in kitchens," Kaisa supplied, setting wood on the fire. "I keep telling you, Law of Equivalent Exchange is quicker and easier."

"And I keep telling you you watch too many of those cartoon shows." Tildy waved it off. "Magic is like that! The first to come is the first to leave. The ancient, gurgling magic below is untouchable by our hands alone. Fire is easy because we are close to fire, and fire is close to us. It comes with the rain, and with our foods, and with the air itself."

"Making is easy," Kaisa translated. "Controlling is not."

The elder witch cupped her stomach. "Think of it like eating a meal. It can be so easy to gorge yourself and regret it later; but with proper pacing and knowing your limits, you can be full and satisfied without the tummyache. You're not going to get this overnight."

Frida breathed heavily out her nose, forcing her shoulders to relax. It was comforting to know no one expected her to know it overnight, but that also led to more questions. If not tonight, then how long? How many days, weeks, months, or years did she have before she would be considered failing? Was her hesitance deducting points? "Alright. What's first?"

"Steam. Taking something even lukewarm and bringing it to a broil is a great first lesson. Gets you used to temperature fluctuations, helps you feel the magic in small touches."

Hilda looked at her thermos. "Half-hot peppermint tea work?"

"It's perfect. The thermos should help avoid any glass exploding."

"Nifty," she said, holding it out. "You owe me a kettle of the real thing in the morning."

"Sure thing, Hilda," Frida replied. The price of walking in one's mind should be far more than a cup of tea, she reflected, but Hilda had always been like this.

"Good. Now, focus."

The Wilderness night was so dark on its own, closing her eyes hardly seemed to change anything. Flecks of embers peeked through her eyelids, taunting her with light. The thermos in her hands was warm. Frida centered in on the very tips of her fingers, feeling the metal. Steam came into her face, warming her cheeks. Frida was fairly certain this wasn't "half" hot.

Creating fire was a misnomer. Most magic wasn't about creating- and the creations that do come from it are strange and can sometimes even be detrimental, like the Tide Mice. This was simply creeping between the nooks and crannies like a nisse, making herself at home between drops of peppermint tea. It was asking if they'd mind heating up a bit faster than intended. It was the tea, polite and yielding, saying yes.

"Aw," said Hilda, breaking her attention. "You left a ring."

Tea is easy. Tea is already hot; asking it to warm up it like asking if you want another crescent roll fresh out the oven- the answer is always yes. The same can't be said of cold water, or of a pile of moss, or even a particularly dry stick.

Tildy took hold of the twig and made a quick gesture, as if lighting a match. It caught almost instantly. "Hmm. It doesn't seem as if Hilda's dream logic is working against us."

"Ugh," said Frida, clutching her face. "I'm mucking it all up."

Kaisa waved it off. "Not at all. Fire is a tricky subject. There's no one way to go about it."

Tildy made the match-lighting motion again. "Hand sigils can differ as well! There's always a word for incantations like these, but there's never an official hand signal. Mine came from lighting the stovetop over and over again. My last pupil is a bit of a nerd."

The younger witch clicked her fingers, calling a ball of flame to life. "You must admit, it looks pretty cool."

"Balancing flame on the points of fingers can be hard. But so is asking kindling to be, well, kindling. We all interact with nature differently, and we all use fire for different things." She grabbed Frida's shoulder and squeezed. "Let's take a break, shall we? There's plenty of night left."

Frida risked a look at Hilda. The adventurer wasn't one for the kind of drawn-out hullaballoo magic required, and had fallen into a light doze waiting for her to work it out. She snuffled, straightened, and smiled. "That could be nice."

"Fiiiinnneee," she sighed, letting Hilda take her hand to help her down. The shift of perspectives reminded her once again of the darkness surrounding them, and Frida shivered. She knew Hilda loved the Wilderness, and had brought her to this place in hopes of making her more comfortable, but it was all so... empty. Just trees and rocks for miles. In the very distance was the mountain that overshadowed Trolburg, sprinkled with troll fires. Campfires reminded her of the marras.

She hadn't been joking about never forgetting the taste of nightmares.

The Wood Man had moved to the couch by the time they returned, strumming a guitar Frida wasn't entirely certain where it came from. Johanna was shuffling the cards for Dragon Panic, humming along. His head tilted towards them. "Give up already?"

"Taking a break," Hilda replied promptly. "Frida got a whole cup to boil! We're working on baby fires now."

"Meh, I don't really see the appeal. Fire's for fireplaces, not hands. S'why they're called fireplaces."

"Not counting giddy fires, of course."

"That's different. Will-o'-wisps don't warm houses."

"But they are quite pretty to look at."

Frida sat cross-legged across from the Wood Man, brow furrowing. It was strange to hear of adventures she hadn't been on, as illogical as it sounded- Frida had only known Hilda for such a short amount of time, but Hilda had always known the outdoors; and the Wood Man almost as long. "Call me a city girl, but I can't imagine being comfortable seeing flames out in the middle of nowhere."

"City girl," he prompted, both as an agreement and as an acceptance to her request. "Fire's only as dangerous as it is windy. Never had one climb this high. Not even a will-o'-wisp."

"My granddad always said it was because of the mountain shadow."

"Far as I know, giants don't stop fires by napping."

"But what if it did?" she asked, genuinely curious. "The fires, I mean."

"Then we'd rebuild."

"Is that always the answer, though? If a storm blew through and all the land got mashed up, what then?"

Hilda shrugged. "Then we'd rebuild."

"Earthquake?"

"Rebuild."

"Giant's foot?"

"That was different," she rebuffed, scowling. "Mum didn't want to be here anymore. She was always a bit worried somethin' would gobble me up- and when the threats got so close, it spooked her good."

"To be fair, you do almost get eaten a lot."

Hilda flinched, hunching over the table. "That's just how adventuring is sometimes. I don't really mind."

"That's just so like you, Hilda," said another voice, unexpected and cold as ice.

"Mum?" Hilda asked, eyebrows drawing together.

Tildy and Kaisa, having been sharing a quiet glass of milk at the counter, exchanged a look. Tildy spoke. "Careful, Hilda. This isn't Johanna."

"But that's Wood Man," Hilda argued, pointed at the spirit in question. "I think?"

Wood Man raised his hands. "It's complicated."

Johanna scoffed. "Honestly, it's like you have a death wish. I prepared this lovely game of Dragon Panic and you can't even be bothered to play!" The woman threw her cards on the table, the twap! louder than glass breaking, and the ground shook. Johanna put her face in her hands. "What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?"

Frida stumbled backwards. Kaisa's hands were on her shoulders almost instantly, supporting her weight effortlessly. "What's happening?"

"Memories are much less stable than dreams," she explained. Frida's heart sank. "The way we feel about them change. The way we feel about the people in them change."

Tildy was nodding along, gripping the counter. "Dreams can bend. Memories snap."

"Mum," Hilda said, voice wobbling. "Mum, you know I never meant to hurt you."

Johanna sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No. No, I suppose you didn't. That would require thinking at all."

The wood floor opened with a crackling, displaying the maw of an empty darkness below. Frida inched further along backwards.

"Hildy, you must focus. This isn't real. It's simply your guilt eating away at you."

Hilda's eyes darted toward Kaisa for just a moment. "Isn't that even worse?"

"I raised you in the Wilderness, thinking it would help you love nature, but all it did was make you wild and trollish. I suppose now all I can do is live with my mistakes." Johanna's eyes felt like pinpricks of heat on Hilda's features. "Live with you."

Wood Man set the guitar aside. "That's not very nice, mom."

"I always hated you," she said, with venom.

"That's also not nice, but it's fair. You and Hilda marinate each other in love, no matter what happens. Frankly, it's disgusting."

Johanna's fingers twisted in her jeans. "Yes, well. Maybe that was a mistake too."

Hilda's eyes filled with tears.

The librarian had shuffled herself and Frida along to where Tildy was waiting, pushing her into the counter with a shove. "Stay put. I will get Hildy out of harm's way."

"Kaisa..." Tildy murmured, distraught.

She shook her head. "I will be fine. If things go sideways, Frida will need her teacher to help her repair the damage."

Hilda took a step forward. Wood chipped and fell behind her. "Mum, I- I can't change who I am. What I am. But I... I can help make it easier! I can be palatable, I promise."

"Oh, Hilda..." she tutted. "Half a capsule just means the medicine gets everywhere."

The floor raised up. Hungry. Wanting. Sharp, splintery teeth gaped wide. Frida didn't think twice. She ducked and shoved Kaisa, knocking her off balance as she made a sprint for the distraught girl. She heard the shout of her name.

She couldn't do this to people.

Not again.

"Hilda!" she cried, hand outstretched, and sickly green light grew bright between her fingertips.

The world broke into tiny, tiny pieces.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Went the clock as Frida shifted in her chair. The kitchen light was unnaturally bright, washing her skin in illness. The wooden table felt hard under her touch.

She knew, instinctively, that she was in trouble.

Johanna sobbed into her arms beside her. A discarded cup of coffee at the wayside. Drawings ripped and torn everywhere. "What happened?" she murmured. "Where did I go wrong?"

"Miss?"

Her fingers rolled into a fist, which she pounded on the table. "Why couldn't you be more like Frida, or David? They're good kids."

"Um," said Frida, very confused. "I don't think it's possible to be more Frida, ma'am."

"All you do is cause me trouble, you know that? I can hardly focus on work without you busting the door down with a new disaster for me to babysit. We left the Wilderness to stop this sort of thing from happening. To be normal."

Frida blinked at her owlishly. "Oh, this is Hilda's... thing. Dream magic sure is strange." She studied her fingers curiously. "I suppose I asked for this, then."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I'm just... happy. I got to save my friend from bad dreams."

"Self-centered," Johanna tutted, pouring a cup of tea with shaking hands.

"Maybe. But we all have our vices, I guess."

"Alright, who's not dead? Sound off."

"What?"

Kaisa clicked her fingers, illuminating the darkness surrounding them. Her face was deadpan. "I like to think I am funny. Are you alright? That was quite a tumble."

Hilda lifted her head from her knees, face pale. The house was gone. The world was gone. All there was was darkness, and the eerie shadows in Kaisa's frown. "I'm a bit traumatized, but I'll be alright. Where's Frida?"

"Deeper."

"And Tildy?"

"Above. I asked her to see if she couldn't make the hole barf us up."

"I'm surprised she listened."

"I can be very persuasive. Tildy's never been very good at dream magic, but..." She broke off. Kaisa waved her hand, bringing the logs from earlier out of nothing. "Take a seat?"

Hilda hesitantly perched on the wood. Her fingernails dug into the bark anxiously. "You're good at this."

"It's just imagination and a little focus, really." The librarian touched the ground between them. The campfire roared back to life, stones and all. "Tildy's mind wanders too easily for a lot of detail."

"Did you... have a familiar you practiced with?"

Kaisa retrieved her wand, rolling it between her fingers. She didn't answer.

"You said sharing dreams with animals is very different from sharing dreams with people," she pressed. "You knew this would happen."

"I did not," she replied, matter of fact.

"But you had an idea."

Kaisa shrugged. She kept rolling. "Human dreams are... complicated. Memories are complicated. It's hard to tell where one starts and one ends in the below. There is no proper way to plan."

"You've shared dreams with people, haven't you?" Hilda accused, rubbing her gritty eyelids.

"Friends. At least, I thought they were." Her shoulders sunk lower under her cloak, reminding the girl of a bat. "You must share your all in a place like this. It is not an easy process. And sometimes... people can't except that all."

"They rejected you?"

"Aye."

"Why? You're Kaisa."

She huffed a laugh. "Ah, who's to say? Learning magic in the tower is so political. Who you talk to, who your mentor is, your specialties. Not many people liked me, you see. They thought it was wrong to give Tildy children to mentor; that she would turn them against the Three. Maybe they realized the whispers were right. Maybe they realized I was meant to be a book-keeper. It could've been so many things."

"Oh," said Hilda, feeling something pierce her heart. "Is that... what you're trying to protect us from?"

The librarian's eyes darted to hers. Hilda didn't think she'd seen the girl look so old before. Lines traced her skin as she smiled. It was small. Fleeting. Important. "Children should be children, not pawns to adults who don't care. That is what I believe."

A warmth spread through her chest at the earnestness in her voice. "I know you probably get told this all the time, but you're good people, Kaisa."

"Not as often as you might think," she replied, smile falling lopsided.

"Can I see your wand?"

"...What?"

"Trust me?"

Kaisa handed the wand over. Hilda palmed a smooth river stone (brain-made), checking it for any cracks or crevices. She touched the tip of the wand to it and slid quick over it, like a match on flint. The tip lit up like a candle. "I'd wondered."

"You made fire!"

"Don't sound so surprised. I might not get all the studying and book stuff, but I can do this." Hilda waved the wand, holding it carefully between three fingers. "It's like lighting a candle."

"Magic is wild. It makes sense that a Wilderness girl would have some aptitude for nature. Frida, she doesn't quite understand nature. She pokes and prods it like someone in the way on the bus. That's why fire is hard."

"Boilin' is just a temperature. A number. Fire is different."

"Now you're getting it."

Hilda stood and circled around, lifting her candle to the shadows. The darkness receded just slightly as she walked along, stopping at a spot the shape of a door that didn't bend. "I found the way into deeper, I think."

"It's your subconscious. It makes sense it would reveal itself to you."

"I need to find Frida."

"I thought you might." Kaisa raised a hand as Hilda turned to hand over the wand. "Just try not to destroy it. It's not easy to find replacements." She paused, glancing around. "You will need it more."

"You think something's wrong?"

She didn't answer. "You are good people, Hildy. I'll see you in the morning."

"This would've terrified Hilda," Frida said as her legs turned to stone. "I'm glad I'm not her."

Johanna ignored her, standing up from the table to put dishes into the sink. She could just make out the edges of the apartment Hilda lived in, but this was twisted. "It's for the best, dear. You need to stop all this adventuring."

"...But you don't seem to realize that." Frida's fingers clenched around her cup of tea. "If this were a regular dream, the confusion would've woken Hilda up by now. You're a marra illusion, aren't you?"

"All you've ever done is burden me, you know that?"

"It must be hard; being scared of someone you love so much," she hummed, closing her eyes. "Tea, if you would-"

Hilda knew not to look back. Hot air went down her spine as she walked. The sounds of pawsteps on water. It was large, and hungry for little girls.

"I'm not scared of monsters," she announced.

She heard a derisive snort. Hilda glanced out of the corner of her eye as a blonde figure came to walk beside her, hands shoved in her pockets. "Oh, I know. I just thought it was good atmosphere."

"Kelly?"

"You're lucky, you know that?" Kelly replied. "The four of you just reek of magic. Marras everywhere were chomping at the bit to get at you. I was just lucky to get here first."

"This is luck?"

"Well," Kelly shrugged. "It's lucky for me."

Hilda turned the wand on her. Kelly's nose wrinkled, but she moved away slightly. "Why are you doing this?"

She rolled her eyes. "Consider it a fun bit of revenge. The girls don't exactly like you, you know. You stole our youngest from us."

"You forced Frida to eat nightmares."

"Aww, is that what she told you?" Kelly flipped her hair quite dramatically. "Trust me, shortstuff. Once you eat nightmares, you can't ever go back. It's like that fishy bubble stuff rich people go on and on about."

"You don't believe that."

"Don't I?"

"If you did believe that, you wouldn't be so desperate to get me to believe it."

Kelly fell silent. A door came out of the darkness, and she grabbed the knob before Hilda could. "Whatever. I just wanted to show Frida the truth of the wusses she ditched us for." She pulled open the door, gesturing for her to go inside. "Check it out for yourself."

"You're... letting me end this? So easily?"

"Meh. Keeping a nightmare going when you know what's going on is practically impossible. And I like to think I've made my point." She leaned in, eyes flashing green. "Keep playing pretend, little girl. You know you'll never be enough."

Hilda's hands squeezed into fists. Kaisa's wand was warm. "Maybe. But neither will you."

The wall was on fire when Hilda materialized beside her, a plastic chair underneath her. Frida calmly sipped the rest of her tea, legs solid stone.

"I have no idea what's happening," Hilda said.

"I did a little magical trickery to get sent into your nightmare in your place," she replied promptly, sounding as if this was a discussion about the weather. "Nightmares aren't nearly as bad when you aren't scared of the things in them."

"I don't think they qualify as nightmares at that point. Wait. I'm scared of fire?"

"No, that's my little touch. I'm burning away the basis so we can wake up. You know, like how you jump up before hitting the ground in a falling dream?"

"That's so poggers, Frida."

The chair to Frida's right settled with a creak. Hilda flinched as Johanna retook her own place at the table, eyeing up the debris. "You always cause such a mess."

"Sorry, mum."

"Sorry won't get us a new wall, Hilda."

Hilda winced. Frida set the cup down with a clinking noise. "You know it won't really end up like this, right? If you told her about all the magic stuff?"

"I know it up here. But this is a fool that won't trust it. " She pointed at her head, then her chest. "I know I can be a bit... overbearing."

"Only in the best of ways, I promise."

"I wish I could believe that."

"I wish I could too," Johanna chipped in.

Hilda looked away, squeezing her eyes shut with a whimper. Frida touched her arm. "Your mother would never say something like that, and you know it. You love each other."

"That just makes it worse," she said. "I've hurt her so badly, and I'm only going to hurt her worse if she finds out."

"Could be worse. You haven't set her room on fire."

"YET," grumbled Johanna.

"That's... weirdly comforting."

"Gives you a goal to strive for, yeah?"

"Yeah."

The fire reached out, munching on the table. Johanna clucked her tongue. "Well, I suppose that's that. You know I do this because I love you, right?"

"I know, mum," Hilda promised. "I do this because I love you, too."

The early morning sunlight slanted directly into Hilda's line of sight. She threw an arm up with a grumble, wiping away some extra moisture on her sleeve. She didn't want to admit to crying. It wasn't real, after all.

Frida stretched her arms out with a groan, wiggling her fingers. Hilda scooted up and flopped down beside her. "You stole my blanket."

"Hrm," Frida mumbled. "Judging by the bruise on my shin, you got me back for it." She grabbed Hilda's noodle arm and rubbed out the marker with a surprising amount of spite, letting it stain her blankets. "Dream magic can take a hike."

"Sorry I mucked that up."

"You didn't. I did fire magic, didn't I?"

"Yeah. How'd you do it?"

"I threw my tea at the wall. Tea is surprisingly flexible."

Hilda chuckled, snuggling deeper into her pillow. "I'll brew a pot every time we go outside the wall."

"Peppermint?"

"Of course. I'll start asking mum to buy in bulk."

"You're a great familiar, Hilda."

"I try," she said, and promptly fell back asleep. She'd earned it.

Author's Note: I had. WAAAAY too much fun with this bitch lol. It's just so much fun to experiment with the world of Hilda. It's all soft colors and soft magic and dark themes. And I have always had entirely too much fun with dream sequences- someday I'mma write a whole ass thing for Steven Universe about them, I swear.

This took me a week when I've had a ducktales oneshot sitting in my docs for at least two months now, so... rip. Hilda s2 just came out and grabbed me by the hyperfixation.

-Mandaree1