Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians. I make no profit from this work of fiction.
Many thanks to YuiSoraShi – each favorite and alert is appreciated!
Special thanks to Bloody-Rozez, Seryyth and snowing-in-the-spring-time – reviews are greatly appreciated!
Bloody-Rozez – Ack! Thank you for pointing out my misplaced antecedent. I changed the first "he" in the paragraph following the scene between Sandy and Annis, so hopefully that clears it up. I'm glad it was enjoyable nonetheless. :) Best not to make your dad think you've lost the plot too much, though. ;)
Seryyth – too true!
snowing-in-the-spring-time – I shall certainly endeavor to so do. :)
For those who like to use Facebook to follow stories:
w-w-w [d-o-t] facebook [d-o-t] c-o-m /pages/RogueMudblood/684906514892205
Questions can be asked there, but I will remove abusive posts. (Readers in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland will not be able to view the Facebook page. Due to their legal regulations, those countries were excluded from the viewing audience.)
Constructive criticism is most welcome – please don't hesitate to tell me what works and what doesn't.
Conall had been rushed away in an ambulance, his mother riding alongside as Piers stayed with his grandmother. The older brother had been surprised when the East Midlands emergency personnel had shown up, but grateful nonetheless. His younger sibling was breathing once more, his mother's efforts successful. The water had been so cold though. Even the little amount that had splashed on him from Conall's clothes had made him shiver. Biting his lower lip as he watched the ambulance drive off, Piers prayed for the first time since his mother had left the Anglican church so many years prior.
Mouthing the 'amen' he turned to look about, finding only four of the spirits in proximity to him. His brow furrowed as he swiveled about in search of the missing member of the group he was certain was responsible for saving both his and his brother's lives. Seeing the ice wielder standing with his face buried in fur of the Easter Bunny caused the young mortal to giggle. The boy's mirth was contagious. As the others chuckled, the rabbit leaned down to whisper in the winter spirit's ear. With his face no longer concealed by the pooka's thick coat, Piers could clearly make out the tear tracks on the white haired guardian's face.
His grandmother knelt down in front of him. "I don't know what you two were doing out an' about before the sun had risen good. An' I don't rightly care either. Your mum will keep you home for a month – the both of you. I've a mind to give you a good wallop for it." Piers swallowed thickly, his eyes widening as he met his grandmother's gaze. "But I know somehow you got your brother back here. An' he's safe – or will be when they finish looking him over. I'll call you in when your mum calls to let me know which infirmary they've taken him to." She stood, leaving him standing in the sun-splashed, snow-covered yard.
Keeping his eyes downcast, Piers approached Jack, placing his small hand in the guardian's open palm. "Thank you." Raising an eyebrow, the youngest guardian knelt down, one knee landing gently in the frigid winter precipitation. He placed a finger under the boy's chin, tilting the young face upward.
"I hear I need to thank you."
"Huh?" Piers' forehead was scrunched in confusion.
"Well, I hear you and Conall defended my honor." Though the tear tracks were still visible on his eternally youthful face, Jack managed to give the boy a small grin.
A blush bloomed on Piers' cheeks even as he smiled broadly. "You did save my mum." Nodding, the ice wielder opened his mouth to respond when the noise of buzzing wings reached his ears. He stood, the wooden shepherd's crook clutched tightly in his right hand glowing faintly. "Something bad?" Piers' tone conveyed his worry quite clearly.
"Huh?"
"Your staff is glowing, mate." Bunnymund's voice was soft and void of any rebuke. Swallowing a sigh of frustration, the winter spirit closed his eyes tightly, focusing on drawing the energy back into himself. "Good onya. 'S just Tooth." Nodding once, the white haired guardian resisted the temptation to tell the hare he had been fully aware of her identity. She was, after all, the only being of whom he was aware with wings flapping at a hummingbird's speed large enough to displace the amount of air he felt blowing towards him in gusts.
The crunch of the snow underneath heavy, thick boots gave him enough warning to tense his muscles slightly in expectation of the large hand North clapped onto his shoulder as the Russian stepped forward. "Well, miledi? What news?"
Loose powder swirled into the atmosphere as her dainty feet touched the earth. "They took him to Leicester Royal. He's been admitted, but they think he'll be fine." Bending down, she gave Piers a large grin. "Conall's a fighter."
Jack chuckled. "So's Piers. He has cuts in his hand." Blushing, the boy quickly hid his hands behind his back. Concerned, Sandy quietly slipped behind the boy, verifying the lacerations and nodding to the others. Gently pulling the boy's left hand forward, Bunnymund knelt down, shivering slightly as the snow seeped into his fur.
"What happened?"
"I … She had her claws in his shirt, and she was trying to … So I just climbed up the rocks to get to her." His words were somewhat rushed through the explanation. Intent on extricating his hand from the hare's hold, he did not notice the sound of the approaching footsteps as the soft powder was ground together by his grandmother's shoes. Unable to see the spirits gathered about the still frightened boy, she simply circled around to his front, crouching down unknowingly directly beside the rabbit. Gathering his hand in both her palms, she brought him to her, kissing the skin next to the open wounds.
"It was brave of you to try to face the witch." She sighed heavily. "If they'd never let go of the old ways…."
"Gramma?" Her gentle hum was the only verbal response she gave. "Can we go see Conall now?" Smiling, she nodded.
"First, let's get some bandages on these cuts after we clean them up a bit." Grinning up at her as she ushered him inside, Piers turned back, sparing a gentle grin and a small wave for the spirits standing in his backyard.
Pitch had been glad when they had released him. Though he was quite sure that none of the Guardians would risk directly harming him, he certainly could not make any such claims regarding Annis' behavior once she learned that he had supplied them with information, no matter how slight. It was of little consequence that they knew where her cave stood. Such was the lie he told himself to excuse working against her.
Regardless of how damaging the information might ultimately prove to be, it was a simple truth that there was nothing the group could do with it at that moment except accept it. They had done more than that, allowing their attentions to be diverted just enough in their surprise at getting anything from him that he had been able to swiftly slip into shadows. Ensconced safely in the forest once more, hidden among the dead and dying oaks, he watched them disappear through one of North's despicable magic tunnels. Sneering, he had turned from the emptied clearing, leaving the infernal pests too stubborn to die out to peck at the wood of the fallen trees.
It had not been long before the nightmare king had seen the sun cresting the horizon. The mistake he made then almost cost him more dearly than the pilfered perception of a guardian.
The shadows enfolded him in their embrace, moving him swiftly from the forest at the outermost edge of the area the witch had explored to her cavern. He knew she had fed copiously, so he was unaware of any reason that she should be in such a terrible mood. Watching her from the safe umbrella of darkness he kept about him, he had seen the ancient spirit devour many small children. Their souls appeared to be both morsels for sustenance and an inebriating drink in equal measure. He shuddered slightly at the memories of how she had so callously cast aside their carcasses.
No matter how many nightmares he wished to induce, Pitch had never sought to kill his prey. He would not have been able to survive on their delicious terror had he so done. The manner in which she so viciously threw their vacant forms away from her appalled even him. Realizing his aversion to her methods, Pitch had begun to re-evaluate the necessity of his association with Annis.
His musings on the issue left him in a decidedly rapid rush as her claws closed about his throat when he entered her bower.
"They were here."
Her hiss was more malevolent than he had previously heard her be. Barely audible, the three words and the tone in which they were delivered promised him a great deal of agony if he did not find a means to appease her. Holding up his hands in surrender, he chose not to fight her choke hold in an obvious manner. Tendrils from the shadows in the cavern snaked towards the witch, ready to strike at the whim of their master.
"Does it truly change anything?" Keeping his voice calm was paramount. If she sensed any trepidation from him, she would no doubt capitalize on it, bringing the same method to bear in any future altercations. He had no desire to continue feeling her talons so near. The thought did lend itself to the speculation of what would happen if a spirit of their ages and abilities beheaded the other. Her tightening grip prevented him from exploring the idea fully.
"They know where to find me, you imbecile!"
The skin around Pitch's eyes tightened as he narrowed his eyes. "Watch yourself, witch. There's no need to malign my intellect simply because you're affronted."
"Of course I'm 'affronted' – you led them right to me!"
Her wild silver eyes flashed as she allowed her talons to squeeze more tightly. Finally unwilling to allow her to continue in her abuse of his person, the nightmare king wrapped the coils of the poised shadows about her ankles, yanking her backwards so suddenly that her hand fell away from his form. Using the dark shade to maintain a barrier between them, he made his way to the sliver of light slipping through the small crevice in the roof of her cave. Loud growls reached his ears once he stepped into the circle, making certain to use his affinity with the darkness to push its presence entirely from the area. Skin appearing sickly in the bright light surrounding him, he graced her with a toothy, insincere grin as the coils around her body dissipated. She kept her distance from him, malice written into every line of the sneer she displayed on her face.
"It would seem we are at an impasse." She snapped her teeth at him, the sharp fangs clacking together loudly in the shade that hid her. "Despite what you may think, they know nothing more than that you were here. They are unaware that this is your home. Likely they think we have some … connection." His mouth pursed on the word, the disdain with which he pronounced it making his feelings on the matter of being in any way bound with her apparent.
Annis had stopped pacing, her head tilted to the left as she considered his words. They had not attempted to keep her from entering her bower. Jack, glorious winter spirit though he was, had been entirely focused on saving the mortal child whose soul she had failed to snatch. The sandman had honestly believed that she was susceptible to his dream dust. The shock on his face when it was unsuccessful in deterring her attack could not have been fabricated. Mulling over the nightmare king's offered defense, she concluded that – ultimately – no damage had been done other than her meal escaping. Relaxing against the wall, she allowed herself to slip down its smooth surface until she was seated.
Several moments of silence passed before Pitch's curiosity got the better of him. "How ever did you escape them?" He had been curious as to whether she would survive. While it was true that she was the stronger of them, her complete aversion to light and the approaching dawn had put matters decidedly into the Guardians' favor. Her head snapped back towards him, once more fixing him with a savage glare.
"It was a narrow thing." The venom with which she had spat the sentence at him let him know that there would be no peace between them once night had fallen. The witch was content to bide her time, patiently awaiting the moment when the sun would no longer provide him any protection from her. Giving her one brief nod of understanding, he gathered the shadows about him, moving quickly from her home even as she lunged towards the spot she last knew him to be, her talons slicing through the air in a downward arc snagging on something briefly. Finding herself once more alone in her bower, Annis allowed herself a moment to voice her displeasure with a primal yawp.
The grandmother's words had stuck with Jack. It was possible that she was aware of something which could aid them in stopping Annis. Unfortunately, she was unable to see them. Her belief had likely departed her many years before her own daughter was born. Asking her directly was not an option that was available to them, no matter how much he wished it so.
Perched on his staff as he was, both feet resting on the top curve of the crook as the butt of the staff was planted firmly against the ground, he was certain that his comrades felt he might topple over at any moment. He could think of no other explanation for their continual rustling behind him. The position had always been his preferred place to think, especially when he had anything complex to ponder. Such was rare for him before he had been named a Guardian by Tsar Lunar. The winter spirit could not help the wry reflection that his existence, though disappointing, had been far simpler before he had been 'called'.
Wind blowing towards him from the front caused him to perk up, dismounting the roost he had been more than happy to keep simply because it agitated the others. Left hand closing tightly about the middle of his staff, the wooden implement began glowing an ethereal cyan, casting his face in shadow where the curve of the crook showed. The change in his body language did not go unremarked. His ears heard Bunnymund draw a boomerang from its sheath as the leather strips covering the pooka's feet cracked with the hare's otherwise stealthy steps.
He could feel the cool darkness in front of him, increasing the energy he was channeling into his shepherd's crook. The haggard form revealed when the shadows dispersed caused Toothiana to gasp behind him, her right hand flying to her mouth to cover the sound. North exclaimed his surprise in Russian. Predictably, Sandy's dream dust began shifting rapidly. Though Jack could not see the shapes formed, he could hear the agitation in the speed of the dream weaver's movements. Unrelenting, he increased the intensity of the glow. The ethereal light lent eerie shadows to the rabbit's fur as he leaned down to pull the noticeably injured spirit from the shadow that had placed the nightmare king at their feet.
"What game are you playing now, Pitch?"
Holding up his hands in surrender, the boogeyman moved from his prone position to sit, still allowing them to maintain their positions of superiority. "No games."
"Then why are you here?" The Russian-accented question caused him to swallow uncomfortably.
"Yeah," Tooth chimed in. "What is this?"
"This?" Some fire entered his voice, though he was careful to keep it from showing in his posture. "This is my desperation in action."