Pitch Black World
In Your Wildest Dreams
Rated T, just in case.
In which Emery, an O.C of mine from the previous chapter, has her existence acknowledged by the Guardians, leading to conflict between Pitch and Sandy.
Her gaze slowly drifted upwards from the hands that were placed firmly onto the tree branches, through the lush green leaves up at the bright canvas of evening colours. Longingly she followed the bright golden jewel as it slowly dropped beneath the horizon, bathing the hilltops with its gentle light. Occasionally a breeze would distort the serene image just for a moment, the leaves rustling in front of her green and blue eyes. It would mess up her fiery locks and the skirts of her dark green dress too, like a mischievous child. Though, she wouldn't mind it terribly – she never had.
Only occasionally would she blink, her expression betraying the memory induced trance that she had gotten herself into.
Oh, it had been so long since she had felt at peace. Strange how the most chaotic thing in her life made her feel most at ease. Stormed in like a hurricane and left wrecked homes and torn up emotions, as though she had been made of cards. She ought to have been used to it by now, really.
A flock of birds past by, obscuring her vision of the sun. The silhouettes of their graceful bodies practically floating in the air did not made her smile. Her hands trembled in response as she gripped the tree under her with more strength, as if afraid that it too would suddenly disappear. To any other female their magnificent aerial acrobatics would have put a smile on her face. To her it was just another cruel memory. How could a moment so perfect simply dissipate into thin air?
Of course, it hadn't been just the one moment. Their were many. Which only made it worse.
Shutting her eyes, she took in a deep breath. Perhaps it was time to face the reality. No male looking for a serious relationship would go away for a year and not give a single hint of where he was going. Not a friend, a lover... heck, even enemies wouldn't evaporate from the surface of Earth. Even if they were different. Even if said 'different' male was a spirit.
Jack Frost had visited her more often in that one year than the one she was pinning for. So why did she bother? After all, he never even gave her a warning. Valentines day was by far the worst though. Before that Christmas and New Years was a shocking enough set of hours, passing by so slowly. Before his disappearance, he had never failed to visit at least twice a week. At times several days in a row. Before that...
"Will you remember me?"
"Of course I will darling, how could I ever forget you?"
His words had sounded so believable back then. So deep and loving. She almost couldn't stand it back then, new to this whole 'love' thing. If you could have called it that.
"Really? Even if a certain spirit of winter spiked your drink with an amnesia potion?"
He had chuckled at that, shaking his head. "Even if he did. I would never truly be able to forget you. I would always remember at least a part of you."
'How sappy...' she had thought back then. Still, she couldn't help but feel flattered. "So, what would you remember me most by?" she asked with a coy smile.
"Hmm, let me think," tracing her figure with a fond look in his golden silver eyes, he leaned in to whisper in her ears. She could remember the fire and ice that spread through her body all at once. And though it was a shocking discovery at first, his way with words slowly stopped being surprising. It was a part of him. A part of him she missed even now. "Your smile, your eyes, the way you seem so wild and free," he began slowly listing each thing. "But most of all, the passion in your heart and in your eyes. No one could miss it. Much less forget the fire within you, Fiammetta."
Little flame. Little fiery one. A flickering flame. He always managed to tease her with that charming little nickname in one way or another.
Startled by his kisses, she had pushed him away the first time, still unaccustomed. "Smooth talker," she scoffed, but it was not in a cold voice. A deep, rich laugh resonated from him, as his long elegant fingers dropped to her shoulders.
"Really? I never would have thought."
Elbowing him playfully, she too laughed. Oh, how much fun they had had. The joy her dark friend and soulmate had brought.
Soulmate...
If he truly had been...
Then why wasn't he here now?
The celestial goddess had hidden her joyful rays beneath the earth once she had finally opened her eyes to the reality. A cool draft of air snapped her from her thoughts as she looked up to the glittering, silver moon which now took the sun's place.
The sudden urge to wrap her hands around herself could not be entirely dismissed for nothing else was there to accompany her. Her pupils narrowed at the treacherous sphere of frigid light. To her he was the traitor; he stole the one she cared for away from her. She'd heard tales of him of course. Tales of how he protected the brats who made her life miserable, yet left her all alone, with no love to heal her heart and no companion to share the unforgivingly cold nights with. How he'd cast out her dear one time and time again. So blatantly ignored those who didn't fit within his vision of perfection and grandeur. How she wished the thief which resided upon the moon would vanish once and for all. She could swear it was his doing.
However, was there any use to it?
Climbing off the tree, reluctantly returning to shelter her in a place she could never call home, she felt as though a part of her would forever stay here. In the past.
"Hey, been singing to your invisible lover 'gain, Ems?" a voice taunted as soon as she opened the door. Her... housemate, you could say... was no different to the other folk. A smirk crossed the brunette's face.
Emery said nothing; it was better that way. She had given up that argument months ago. To everyone else, he would just remain non-existent. Skipped the very thought of dinner too, and not because she dreaded the thought of cooking. No, it wasn't so bad. At least it kept her busy. Though she was far too tired. It wasn't uncommon these days. Tiredness seemed to take over her brain so easily these days.
The sparsely decorated room that awaited her seemed almost welcoming now, if it weren't for all the cracks in the ceiling. Never mind that. So long as her fiddle stayed safe. If it had been months since the beautiful instrument had been used, dust covering its black case.
She walked only a few feet further, flopping lazily onto the bed. The mattress was obviously old, but as long as she could fall asleep.
Tick.
The clock just behind her, a few feet above her head now forced its irritating sounds into her mind, not letting her go.
Tock.
To forget. To sleep. That was all she needed.
Tick.
Her eyes hurt, as she strained to make out the cracks in the dim light.
Tock.
Not to mention they reminded her of giant spiders. Now, she wasn't petrified of them. Though, she wasn't fond of them either. Then again, most people weren't. If so many people feared them, she couldn't have been a coward, could she?
Tick!
Sighing, she grabbed the pillow from the edge of her bed, pulling it over her head, trying to keep out the sound.
And finally she made it into the land of dreams.
Will you remember me?
The dark void within her subconsciousness was disturbed by a ray of bright light, the soft glow of the evening sun almost blinding her at first. She had been left to her memories again. Not on the tree now.
She stood at the top of one of the hills in the distance, a few cherry trees surrounding her. The blossoms danced in the summer breeze, forming rings of rose pink and ivory white around her.
A white, simple dress adorned her pale figure. Her hair waved freely in the wind, the same wind that gave a rosy tint to her cheeks. She was sure she could sense the warmth of the figure behind her. This couldn't possibly be a dream. It felt so, so real. He felt real.
Arms wrapped protectively around her, she could hear the rhythm of his heart.
"Say you'll see me again, Pitch," she pleaded the male behind her, turning around. Even then, way back then, her heart and mind were filled with so many doubts. This wasn't a fairy tale. What of the happy ending? That didn't happen in real life.
"Even if it's just in your wildest dreams?" a teasing voice answered.
"Not funny," she retorted with a pout.
He only grinned, leaning down to kiss her. As they parted – much to her regret – he looked into her eyes. His beautiful eyes seemed to peer right into her soul. Chilling her and comforting her at the same time. "I will always try and see you again. They'll have to kill me before they can stop me from seeing you, my little flame."
The words brought both joy and fear to her, clutching onto her heart.
"K-kill you?" she asked, hesitantly.
Though, he didn't seem to have heard her. Instead, there was only his smile to assure her, but even that slowly vanished. Before she knew, the ground beneath Pitch transformed into a million black butterflies, that immediately ascended into the air, forming a whirlwind of jet black wings. They embraced the boogeyman, before vanishing. And once they disappeared...
…he was gone too.
Staring in disbelief, hurt and anguish, she pressed a hand to her chest, looking away, into the sunset. He'd disappeared. Again. Only to leave her alone.
Would she ever hear his voice? Feel his gentle caress?
'Say you'll remember me,
standing in a nice dress,
staring at the sunset.
Red lips and rose cheeks.
Say you'll see me again, even if it's just pretend.
"Say you'll see me again."
The voice came to his mind, as he stood up, his ragged form adorned in torn clothes. The deep longing sensation within his heart had been boring into his chest for several nights now, disallowing him sleep. Though, sleep in the sense of relaxing was scarcely possible in the first place. Since his defeat...
And it had been so long...
What had he done...?
Looking up to the ceiling of his crumbling lair, he wished for a moment that he could be with her. But would she remember him?
He could only pray that she had held onto her faith and her feelings for him, as he finally managed to escape the confines of his lair, his will forcing him on. Fear may have been the key to his survival. But it wasn't the key to his heart.
He needed to see her.
And it was all the worse to see Sandman beat him to her. The sack of sand was standing there, his grubby little fingers so close to his precious Emery. The sand tainting her memory and messing with her emotions.
Like a fool, he stood still in the shadows, unmoving. It was like a knife through his heart. A dagger in the back. After so much humiliation.
His enemy now seemed so close to Emery. It was the golden man, the silent one, the one who worked with the treacherous man in the moon, who now influenced her dreams. It was he close to her. It would always be him who would know her dreams. How else could it be. For the monster that Pitch was could only know her fears. Her nightmares.
The realisation distressed him. He ought to have been proud.
And then came Sandman's gasp. Now, the little man never made a sound before. For a good reason too. Man in the Moon had rendered him mute for the good of the children. That ignoramus fool.
It was nothing short of uncalled for.
Looking quizzically at Sanderson, who had averted his gaze towards Pitch, as if he knew where the shadow had hidden – though Pitch believed otherwise, wishing to spare the last bits of his dignity and pride – he found himself baffled.
Raising a hand in the air, without much anger within his gaze, Sanderson began to write with his golden sand.
"How? How is it that she dreams..."
Pitch glared at Sandy. "You think me a fool! What else would anyone do in your presence?"
Now Sandy did in fact glare at the former nightmare king.
"No, I know that. Tell me why she dreams about you."
Outrightly gawking at the little man, Pitch seemed absolutely starstruck. "W-what...?"
Sandy rolled his eyes. "You aren't blind Pitch. I am sure you've seen what I have written." Then, he crossed his arms against his chest. And in the quietest, softest voice he could muster, he finally spoke. "If you doubt me, Kozmotis Pitchner, see for yourself."
The commotion of emotions seemed to wreck havoc in his mind as he scrabbled for some logical explanation to all of this. Sanderson, speaking? Sanderson letting him closer to a child? Kozmotis... but that was his... former name. He no longer was Kozmotis. Managing a stiff nod, the taller man stepped up to the sleeping human, taking care not to disrupt her dreams.
And what a shock it was. To see what he saw. The joy that came to his heart. The sorrow and guilt that followed. Until he could no longer watch, as the memory of the creature so close to his heart, was too much to bear.
Though as he turned away, the dream seemed to fall apart. Before simply vanishing. The specks of golden sand, no where to be found.
"It would be best if she forgot me."
"Oh, I'd agree there, ya bugger." Pitch froze. But how- Bunny didn't care about dreams, he had- who could have...
He looked over to Sandy. The little man shook his head.
"I can't allow you this. I can't allow you her. I'm sure you know that by know."
"I-If this is about the teeth and the children-"
"No. This is about much more. You've already created bias within her mind and anger at us. I can't allow you to be with her. To ruin her. You know the rules. Go be with your fearlings. And leave humanity alone. Leave her alone. Leave her to forget. Or we'll help you leave."
He sneered at the two Guardians. "No one will be telling me when to leave. Much less who to leave."
"Oh, you will, mate," the rabbit threatened, taking out his boomerangs.
"I-I'll see her again! You can't stop me!"
"In your wildest dreams."
[A/N – I know this was most likely confusing, given the characters. But if it is possible, this story follows an alternate timeline. Wherein my O.C features before the events of Rise of the Guardians. Of course this only counts for this story, as the her real first appearance is confusingly enough after the movie. Though just to confuse you, I changed things up a bit for this story.
I also apologise if this insults anyone, or upsets anyone. Especially since I painted the Guardians in a slightly darker light. And yes, I know, Pitch was and is by no means perfect. Though, neither are the Guardians and I don't see this as too far fetched. Hopefully you don't see it that way either and you have enjoyed this story.]