Disclaimer: I own nothing except Sídhe. Everything else belongs to DreamWorks.
Set after the movie; ten years later.
Kozmotis arch, part 2
Note: this is going to be a bit of a songfic, if only for a few lines, based around Journey to the Past.
Sídhe had no idea what she was going to do as she flew out into the tundra beyond Santoff Claussen. Zephyr hadn't stopped asking what the plan was, but the wind knew better. There was never a plan. Just change… always change. The only whisper of a plan was to save Jack from the Nightmare King. She wasn't sure how, but no one would ever get away with harming one snow white hair on his head.
"Heart, don't fail me now. Courage, don't desert me," she half-sang. The words reminded her of the movie she, Jack and Jamie had watched so many years ago.
Zephyr understood and carried her faster to the inlet that Jack always hid at. There was a cave several miles from the shoreline that the river flowed into; it formed an underground lake that Jack found the first time North had asked him to hide away the winter weather. The entrance was littered with black sand and massive ice formations.
'Don't turn back now that we're here,' Zephyr's voice echoed around the Wind spirit as the breeze sat her down on the snow covered rocks.
Sídhe ran into the cave, following the trail of carnage to the half frozen lake. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like liquid fire. She saw everything, every minute detail, in perfect clarity. Jack was lying on the ice; bloodied nose and barely conscious. Pitch was looming over the winter spirit with a triumphant smile on his face. Evidence of the fight clustered everywhere and the wind rose in outrage.
Zephyr lifted the girl and pushed her toward Pitch with a vengeance. The Nightmare King was clueless until he and Jack were caught up in the vortex that shouldn't have existed in the cavern. Sídhe instructed the wind to take Jack back to Santoff Claussen. Zephyr almost resisted, but noted the reason behind the madness. It carried Jack away from what it perceived to be an ongoing battlefield, leaving Pitch very ruffled and the Wind spirit to her plan.
The Nightmare King glared down at her, "So, it's you again," he spat, "Come to try to finish the job?"
The anger reflected in her features softened; pity and understanding welled in them. She lowered her staff from its previously violent stance. Zephyr had told her what had been said before she had arrived, but the Man in the Moon had once told her so much more. She began to close the ten foot gap between Pitch and herself with an assured stride. Sídhe stopped in front of the raven haired dreamer.
"No, Pitch, I haven't. People always say, 'Life is full of choice.' And this is my choice," she said calmly as she looked up into his steely eyes.
She knew she could stop and return to Santoff Claussen, but this was a chance of a lifetime. Pitch was confused by her statement and, for this brief instant, his haughty superiority didn't know how to respond to her blatant honesty.
"No one ever mentions fear," she said pointedly as she took advantage of his unguarded moment.
And then that moment was gone. The uncertainty lingered clearly on his face. However, his bitter anger had returned.
"You-you don't know what you're talking about," he snapped, "You don't know what it's like to be cast out, to not be believed in!"
Sídhe refused to let him get to her. She knew that Pitch was just as lonely as she had been before the Guardians had found her, if not more. He needed someone to be angry at. Her calm was tangible as she continued with the heavy knowledge that Lune had given her.
"I was alone too, for a time," she confided, "For three hundred years after Lune brought me back, no one believed in the wind. I was lifted from the darkness, but was just recently believed in. A mere eleven years."
Pitch's face contorted into an agonized understanding. His piercing words had no voice now. They had both suffered alone and waited a very long time to be seen by anyone other than Lune. Sídhe observed as the Nightmare King crumpled to the ground. His head fell into his hands, but she knew he was listening. He knew what it was like not to be heard.
"Home," Sídhe spoke tenderly, "Love. Family. There was once a time you must have had them too."
She watched Pitch touched something around his neck. A golden locket peeked through his fingers. Sídhe leaned her staff against the wall of the cave, sat down next to him and stared at the snow. She remembered her family too; how they had believed that she had died… how none of them believed. After a moment, she looked over at Pitch and made him an offer she prayed he wouldn't refuse.
"Lune told me that you were once a great hero during the Golden Age, General Kozmotis Pitchiner. He said that the Fearlings tricked you," Sídhe sighed, and then continued, "I can't make any guarantees, but you could come with me to Santoff Claussen and I will try to help you. The Guardians are rough around the edges… so it could take a while for them to understand."
Pitch straightened himself somewhat and shot the young spirit a sideward glance. Countless emotions danced in his golden eyes; chief among them was fear. She comprehended his apprehension and felt it to a small degree. The Guardians would be furious if she brought the Nightmare King to one of their strongholds. Still yet, there was a chance that Pitch could change and that was what the little Wind spirit was all about.
"How can you trust me?" Pitch asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Because we all deserve a second chance," Sídhe smiled as she remembered how Lune had given her a second life.
Sídhe stood and dusted the snow off her icy blue and white dress, "All you have to do is believe in me, okay? And I will believe in you."
She extended her hand, offering to help him back to his feet. He reached up, then drew back for an instant. He closed his eyes and sighed; faith replaced fear as he reached forward again. His cool hand grasped Sídhe's and she pulled him up. The sudden physical change startled the young Wind spirit. Kozmotis' hair had turned a honey-highlighted hazel and his skin had taken on a much healthier tone.
With this change came a wave of black sand from their ice prisons. They were trying to regain control over the newly released spirit. The wind kicked up once more, scattering them before they could regain their hold, but they flooded back relentlessly. Sídhe grabbed her staff and concentrated Zephyr's force.
"Don't be afraid, Kozmotis," Sídhe with all the courage she could muster, never letting go of his hand, "Don't give them power."
The tawny-eyed spirit nodded, then recalled something Sanderson had done for him for a long time. He reached out to the nearest Fearling and bent it to his will. It turned back into the same sand that the Sandman used, but not just a stream. Golden butterflies soared with the wind and converted every shadowy figure they came into contact with. After a short time, Kozmotis and Sídhe were surrounded by a cloud of the golden wonders that cast a wondrous brilliance in the dim cavern.
"How?" Sídhe asked. She had no idea what else to say.
"Sanderson has been sending me a dream for as long as I can remember," he said shuffling his feet, "The butterflies… I don't know why."
It clicked for the Wind spirit instantly; butterflies were one of the many symbols of change. She kept this to herself, knowing Kozmotis would understand soon enough. She willed the breeze to carry them and Sanderson's gift out of the cavern; she noticed how Kozmotis' hand tightened when their feet left the wind.
"Don't worry," she smiled, "Zephyr, the wind, has never failed me. It will carry us safely."
True to her word, the wind never faltered as it flew them back to Santoff Claussen and let them down gently in front of the main doors. Sídhe expected the others to notice soon. She squeezed Kozmotis' hand for a moment, then let go.
"Just remember… with wind comes change."