Full summary: Three years have passed since the Battle of Burgess, and the Guardians have managed to recover much of what they've lost. But the halcyon days do not last when Pitch concocts a plan to take his revenge against them. After striking a deal with Father Time, the Guardians find themselves turned into children, leaving Jack responsible for taking care of them. Will the winter spirit find a way to reverse the spell, or will Pitch act before he gets the chance?
Author's Note: *Lights flicker on* *Steps into room* *Smiles weakly*
Behold...I am not dead. =')
Hello, everyone. I'm so sorry for disappearing off the face of FFN there. ='D I'm going through some family stuff again at home, and I'm still not 100% well right now. But I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer (especially since I've promised, like 10000 times that I'd get this fanfiction out for you all. And that didn't happen as early as I hoped QwQ). Also, writing is pretty much therapy for me, so I thought it'd be best to just get something up. I've missed the feeling of putting up a new chapter for you guys.
I'd just like to quickly clarify that I was NOT on hiatus (as much as it seemed). I wasn't planning to drop off for a month and because of that, I'll be moving my originally planned hiatus break to sometime in November or early December (I have yet to pick a date). I could sit here and summarize my recent hiatus break to you guys but honestly...we'd be here for hours. XD And I'm not feeling up to it right now.
(Buuuuut...I did complete my Driver's Ed class and I'll be getting my permit later this week. =))
Anyway, that's enough about me. You all are here for the story. =D This was originally titled "Child Turned," but that was a placeholder for when I came up with something better. I don't think "Rise of the Children" quite makes the cut, but it was the alternative that I hated the least. XD
I've been planning this story since August, and I'm writing the beginning of the second arc at the time this chapter is posted. I've made major revisions to my writing process (as I'm focusing more on character development before all the "what happens "X)), which is why this story took a while longer to put out.
Oh, this story is also my NaNoWriMo Project for November, so updates should be pretty consistent (if God allows ='D).
Alright, that's enough of me blabbing...I hope you all enjoy this first chapter of ROTC. =)
- Chapter One -
A Meeting Between the Tick and the Tock
Many places have been left unseen by the human eye. Lost cities, invisible kingdoms, palaces within the clouds…and between time.
It sounds impossible for such a place to exist—a realm between the tick and the tock. But there was a being who dwelled within this domain. His name was Father Time, Lord of Time, and Guardian of all things living.
He was an enigmatic being. He never appeared, but he was there in every first breath a child took. The last moments of a living creature. The dawn of a new day, and the cusp of twilight as dusk transitioned into night.
Father Time worked outside of the norm. None had ever crossed his path. To find oneself in between time was a ridiculous, if not impossible feat. However, there was one man who was willing to do anything to reach Father Time. It was none other than Pitch Black, the Nightmare King himself.
Three years had passed since the fateful Battle of Burgess in which he had been hopelessly defeated. Since then, Pitch had kept to his lair, salvaging whatever power he could. It would be years, perhaps even decades before he would return to his frightening splendor. The Boogeyman was still as dangerous as ever. Even in his weakened state. His fury was equivalent to that of a volcano—boiling. Just waiting to erupt toward those who made him thus.
The Guardians of Childhood had been doing splendidly since the battle. They had recovered their believers. They kept on increasing without stopping. Pitch stared at the worn globe, seething with hatred as light after light flickered on. It was as if he hadn't laid siege at all. Everything he had so meticulously planned was out and down the drain.
What was even was even more embarrassing was that that boy, Jack Frost, had officially become one of them. With him on the team, their believers were doubled. The children wouldn't be wary or fearful for a long time now.
Pitch snarled and flipped his cloak behind him, gliding toward his throne room. He had been waiting for his chance to take revenge. Now that he had perfected his spell, it was finally time to carry it out.
The Nightmare King wasn't one to take things for granted—time especially. The past few years were a time for rest but also plotting. Pitch had a plan to get his vengeance against the Guardians of Childhood. The Boogeyman had already been made a fool out of enough, and he refused to tolerate the shame any further.
He sat down on his Nightmare Rock throne, a frightening cathedra with spikes all jutting out of it like a spiked headdress. Pitch rested his hands on the armrests and closed his eyes, concentrating. He muttered an ancient incantation and the world around him began to down. The lair around him flickered and slipped away like water. He was there but not entirely. He was breaking through time.
Sparks of resisting magic burst around him and his head began to ache, but Pitch carried on. His fury fueled his determination. His muttering grew louder and faster as the pain increased. His tongue felt like lead, and his chest burned with effort to keep the spell going. He was almost there…
Finally, when he felt like he could not take it anymore, there was a loud FWOOM! And the Boogeyman opened his eyes. He was no longer in the darkness of his underground lair but had been whisked to a place where the sky met the stars.
The ground beneath him was large, white clouds. Whisps of mist worshiped and laced at his feet. Surrounding him was a scenery that looked every bit of what the Golden Age used to be. Bursts of blue, indigo, and white glowed against the sky, extending to infinity. Tall shelves of pure glass reached higher than the stars. Each one was filled with a golden hourglass of different colors. And to his left, Pitch could see the large, magnificent view of Earth. It was magnificent enough to take even Pitch's breath away. The air was like water, moving, albeit slowly. Pitch then knew that he had made it—he was between the tick and the tock.
In the center of the mysterious realm was a white platform where an oversized, old-fashioned chair sat. It was surrounded by tables of scrolls and hourglasses. Sand poured down from each. An old, but powerful-looking man stood in the center.
His robes were a striking color of blue, with shifting images laced into the fabric. His beard exploded from his face, curling down to his pointed wizard-like shoes. Upon his head sat a long hat. In his right hand, he held a long wooden staff. His eyes were ancient, but filled with life.
A fiendish smile stretched across Pitch's face. "Father Time," he greeted.
The Lord of Time nodded in acknowledgment. "Pitch Black," he stepped down from his platform and strode toward the Boogeyman. "You know, it is not just anyone who steps into my domain. I'll concede; I am impressed. But that does not mean you are welcome here."
"As far as I can see, no one has ever stepped foot in this place," said Pitch. He tilted his head, eyes flickering with feigned sympathy. "Don't you ever get lonely?"
"I have no need for company," Father Time said bitterly. "Especially not from someone like you."
He stopped before Pitch, and it was then the Nightmare King noticed the shifting and changing of images on his robes. He could see new births, changing seasons, deaths, and the rotating of night and day. The display was as astonishing as it was frightening.
Time is a powerful thing. And Father Time had control over it all. Pitch's smile returned and he looked at the Lord of Time dead in the eye.
"I have come for your assistance," said Pitch.
Father Time scoffed. "For what? To cloak the entire world in darkness? How well did that turn out?"
Pitch stiffened. "I would've won if it weren't for them," he said indignantly. "I had everything calculated down to the last thread—"
"Then it appears you miscalculated," Father Time sniped.
Pitch twitched with anger. "Well, you seem to be so fond of the Guardians, don't you?" he snapped. "A being like you should be working with them."
Father Time's grip on his staff tightened. Pitch smiled silently.
Now I've got you.
"I couldn't care any less about the Guardians and their affairs," Father Time said. "They don't need me."
"And yet you still assist them," Pitch continued. "And have the once ever acknowledged you?"
Father Time stared at Pitch. "What is great doesn't always get attention. Those that do rely on those who work in the background… may never see the light of day, or receive any praise, and yet…"
Father Time staff began to tremble from his tight grip. The man's eyes flashed with resentment. His robes flared. The hourglasses on the shelves trembled.
"The Guardians of Childhood," he spat. "I thought we were allies. But instead, they left me here to rot in a prison that I cannot leave."
Pitch hummed thoughtfully. "You and aren't so different."
Father Time laughed scornfully. "You have quite the audacity to be comparing me to you."
Pitch stepped forward. "Listen, Time. We were both cast out. And by the same people, who paint themselves to be loving and accepting of everyone." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. " What would you do if I told you I know a way we can both get the attention that we deserve? "
"I'd say you're bluffing," Father Time replied.
"I only do so when I need to." Pitch said. He stretched out his hands, a gesture of truce. "We can both be great. Give the Guardians the repercussion they deserve for throwing us aside. I have a plan, but I need your help."
"Do you, Black?" Father Time asked sharply. Pitch recoiled. "Or are you planning on using me just like they did? I know your character, and I've seen and witnessed all those you've turned away from once they were no longer of use to you."
Pitch pursed his lips. Father Time's suspicions of him may be a problem, and the Time Lord wasn't wrong to be so either. But—as much Pitch didn't want to admit—his plan relied solely on this man's power. Without it, it wouldn't work. He needed him. So, Pitch approached diplomatically.
"Your feelings are justified," said Pitch. Father Time's expression didn't change. "And I understand how you feel. But if you join me, I'll give you all the recognition you want."
"You haven't answered my question," Father Time glowered. "What makes you so different from the Guardians?"
Pitch's lips twitched into a grim grin.
"Because you and I want the same thing," the Boogeyman purred. "Recognition. And the Guardians of Childhood already have too much of that."
Father Time stared at Pitch, and the Nightmare King met his fierce gaze. He knew that he had struck a cord within the man, for his desire reflected his greatest fear: being forgotten.
Pitch was too familiar with the feeling, which made his job of persuading easier. What little humanity he had left within him couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity toward the man.
Father Time appeared to reconsider, but it was several minutes until he spoke again.
"…I accept," he said slowly. Pitch was about to smile, but he was quickly shut down by the grave look on Father Time's Face. "But be warned, if you come so close to betrayal, I have control over all time. You better keep to this deal, or you may find yourself to be an empty hourglass."
Pitch had to fight to keep back a shiver. Father Time was an ancient, powerful soul who could do whatever he wanted with him. Pitch's strength—however, was also his greatest hubris. He was convinced he wouldn't fail. Why?
There is nothing more dangerous than a desperate man. And Father Time was beyond the point of desperation. He'd do anything to get what he wanted, and Pitch knew this. He just simply had to take advantage of it.
The Nightmare King extended his hand, and Father Time—albeit warily—shook it.
"Your terms are accepted," Pitch said.
He really was as crafty as they come.
Author's Note: I don't think I've ever written a fanfiction (or story) starting with the villain's perspective...I might be wrong. But as of right now, I have 89 stories in my archive, and I'm not about to go and search through each one to prove myself wrong. XD
Oh, and since the summary was too long to fit in FFN's 384-word limit, I slapped it at the beginning of this story. X)
Anyway, I said pretty much what I wanted to at the beginning of this chapter...(I made a promise to myself shortly after starting FFN to write author's notes in all of my chapters unless if I absolutely cannot think of anything and/or I'm extremely busy ='D). So...yeah. XD Thank you all for being patient with me, and I hope you see you all in my next upload. =)
Until the next chapter!
~BeyondTheMoon1203