RotG - My Medea
Jun. 4th, 2013 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
squeaklingsTitle: My Medea
Wordcount: 5, 689
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Rating: PG
Warnings: Book/movie fusion. Mental/emotional torture, attempted suicide.
Summary: His voice echoes around her, filling the void that rips deep into her heart. A soothing voice with soothing words. She just wants the pain to go away. And when she sees the proffered hand Katherine takes it, and the darkness consumes her.
Notes: This monster started out as a fic based on the song My Medea by Vienna Teng, but it slowly incorporated bits and pieces from other things as well. That being said, the lyrics to the song heavily inform each scene. Apparently my stress from moving is manifesting itself in dark, overly dramatic fics.
The darkness creeps closer, all-consuming. There is only a sliver of light left, a last vestige of hope to lead her out. But instead she sits, curled against herself, her thoughts her only company.
Of course it’s your fault, dear child, his voice whispers in her memory, so soothing as her heart shatters in her chest. But I forgive you, little princess.
A shape forms in the shadows, cold and broken and lifeless, and she weeps, the sound like thunder in the silence, and the dark inches ever closer.
I will always forgive you, he continues, the memory of his cold, cloying hands holding hers a lifeline in the dark and silence. I’m here, aren’t I?
Her sobs die down but do not cease. They will never cease. She’s so cold, but in the darkness her memories turn to shadows and fade away, the world dark and dull and numb.
I’ve only ever wanted the best for you, he says. Believe me.
And she finds that she does.
And there is no more light.
She stands by quietly in the shadows as chaos erupts around her. The Guardians and her father are at a stalemate, but the shadows surrounding her hold her back, whisper to her to watch and listen only, that it’s not yet time to interfere.
“What have you done?!” the cold one shouts, ice bursting from his shepherd’s crook in a sweeping arc that her father easily deflects. “Where is she?!”
The rabbit and the faerie both charge him from behind, but her father is clever and quick and shifts into shadows and appears across the battlefield. They are in an old town, the shadows long as the sun slowly sets, painting the layers of snow gold and orange.
“Under my protection,” the Nightmare King replies before sending a group of nightmares at their foes. The big red man slashes two with his swords, and the faerie and rabbit take on the others as the cold one attacks her father head-on. He laughs and easily dodges the boy’s attacks.
“Do you not approve?” her father asks, a scythe forming in his hands as the last of the nightmares turn back into black sand. “She came to me, after all, so surely none of you could help her.”
“Give her back!” the faerie cries as she lunges, her wings a blur of blue and green, but the Nightmare King simply deflects her attack with his scythe.
“Now why would I do that?” He dodges more attacks, dancing across the battlefield, and she itches to join in and help him, but the shadows hold her back, keep her hidden. Not yet. “I keep a tight hold on the things that are mine.”
“Katherine isn’t yours!”
Katherine? She tilts her head to the side, curious at the rabbit’s words. Yes, she remembers. That’s the name of the useless, broken girl she hears deep within her mind.
Her shadows’ writhing changes suddenly; their whispers turn wary and nervous, and her father slips into shadows to appear beside her as the Guardians all look up to the heavens. A bright light pierces the sky and crashes to the ground, throwing up snow and earth. A soft golden glow follows in its wake, although it stops above the ground and sand begins to swirl all around them. Her father scowls.
She knows the Sandman; how could she not recognize the only one her father fears? But the other shape, the bright boy that emerges from the crater he created—that one she does not know. And yet something pulls inside her, and the broken girl’s weeping ceases suddenly.
The child points a dagger-tipped staff straight at the Nightmare King, and then he moves it to the left to point at her still hidden in the shadows. Her father snarls and moves to stand before her, and the bright boy advances towards them, his spectral face twisted in anger. The Sandman flicks his arms and twin whips formed of golden sand materialize in his hands.
Her father lunges suddenly, his dark scythe cutting through the air for the spectral boy as the other Guardians burst into action. She tries to join in, to help, but the shadows hold her in the darkness, their grip tight and fierce.
And then pain shoots through her as the twin whips shatter the darkness and wrap around her body, pulling her out of the shadows and into the arms of the Sandman high in the air. Everything stops as she screams in pain, fire flowing through her body as she writhes in the little man’s arms. The Sandman releases her in shock, his eyes wide as his cloud descends to hover above the ground. She falls off it to the ground in a heap.
The Nightmare King is there before anyone can move, and the pain dies away as he picks her up. The red man is first to speak as his swords clatter to the ground at his sides.
“Katherine? No, lastochka, what has he done to you?”
The bright boy stares at her, his face stricken with so much sorrow and grief it’s palpable even from her distance.
And she loves it.
She tugs at her father’s robes and he lowers her to her feet beside him, one hand draped protectively across her shoulders. She stares at the Guardians as she wills her shadows about her; their claws are cool against her skin, and she takes comfort in their embrace as she drinks in the Guardians’ fears, giving her strength. It drowns out the broken girl’s cries.
“I told you,” her father says, his voice smooth despite the way his hand clings a little too tightly to her shoulder. “I keep a tight hold on the things that are mine. The farther she goes from me, the more pain you cause her. And can you really bring yourselves to hurt her?”
“Pitch, you—“
The cold one stops his words as she lifts a hand to point at the spectral boy. Her smile is deadly, full of sharp teeth. “Can I have that one, father? His sorrow is delicious.”
The Nightmare King stares at her in shock for a moment before he slowly begins to laugh, the sound chilling even to her, but her grin widens. The Guardians tense, all besides the bright boy and the Sandman, whose sorrow is almost as sweet as the spectral one’s.
“Is that really what you want, my dear?” he asks, and she nods. The girl inside—Katherine—is screaming at her, clawing at the darkness, but she constricts it, wraps it tight around the useless child and her cries turn from annoying anger to delicious pain.
“Well then, boy,” her father says, gesturing at the bright child. “Will the nightlight let itself be consumed by the darkness?”
The boy stares at him, his jaw set in a look of defiance that dies when his eyes flick over to her. His inner glow dims and he lowers his staff, and in that moment her shadows snake around and steal it from his hands. He looks at her with wide eyes as she holds it in her hands; it’s familiar and yet not, and Katherine’s feelings break through the wall of shadow for just a moment. Fear, anger, sorrow. Love.
She shakes the feelings away, piercing Katherine with darkness once again, and hides the staff within her shadows. The boy looks at her with eyes so full of sorrow that she has to look away or risk devouring him then and there.
“If you’re coming…?” the Nightmare King asks, and slowly the boy nods and walks towards them. He pauses besides the Sandman, and she almost believes they are talking in the silence that looms between them. But finally he comes to stand beside them, although he remains an arm’s length away. Or, more accurately, her father pulls them an arm’s length from the boy.
“Katherine, please,” the faerie says suddenly, and despite herself she looks over at the winged Guardian. “Come back to us.”
And then the Nightmare King raises his cloak and engulfs them in shadow, and they are swept away.
They keep the spectral boy in a cage made of iron, a shackle and chain around his neck made of the same heavy ore. He can move about the cage, but barely just. It hangs suspended in the air, although it’s no trouble for her to lower the cage enough to look at him and drink in his fear and anguish.
And he is full of both, if mostly the latter.
She visits him often, although at first her father is careful to stay close by her side and keep the visits short. “Too much of a good thing is bad for you,” he offers as way of explanation, and she hates the way he pulls her away before she’s had her fill of the boy’s fear. She wants it all, wants to take everything until there is nothing left, until the hollowness she feels at the sight of him is filled in. She needs it like a drug, and as the boy’s glow fades more and more, her father stops accompanying her.
Her father visits the boy alone, sometimes. She knows because her shadows whisper in her ears and tell her many secrets, but they never tell her details. So she hides away in the darkness the next time her father is visiting the spectral child. Her shadows writhe around her lovingly, brushing against her cheeks and tugging at her arms, but she ignores them.
“How does it feel?” her father is asking the boy as he circles the cage, his hands clasped behind his back and shadows trailing in his wake. Nightmares stand guard, stamping the ground and snorting, shying away from what little light the boy has left. “Does it hurt?”
The boy grips the bars of his cage and glares at her father, his defiance almost admirable. The Nightmare King barely gives him a glance. “She’s strong, isn’t she, my darkling daughter. But so are you.” He pauses and turns to face the cage, a scowl on his face. “So many times I’ve dreamt of killing you, of taking your light and snuffing it like a candle.” His scowl relaxes into a smile full of sharp teeth. “How sweet it is to see her being the one to drain you dry, to suck out your light to feed her shadows.”
The boy lunges suddenly, arms reaching through the bars to grab at the Nightmare King, but he dances away and laughs. “No, star child, you will rot in there until you’re nothing but the memory of a memory. Sweet dreams.”
Her father disappears into the darkness, and she waits, and waits, and finally creeps closer. The boy looks right at her before she emerges from the shadows, and a moment of unease makes her pause. But then the moment passes and she stands before his cage, his sorrow oh so sweet.
She touches the bars, but he does not lunge at her as he did the Nightmare King. Something flickers in her mind, a brush of gentleness that chimes softly, but she shoves it away like a gnat and his sorrow only grows. His fear is always there, latent; she doubts he even knows it himself.
“You know me,” she finally says, and he wraps his hands around the bars as he comes to stand as close to her as he can. “How? Father spoke as though you did.”
He reaches for her suddenly with one hand, and she shies away. He watches her, his eyes searching for something, and then he lets his hand fall to his side, his light flickering. Katherine slams herself against her bonds, but the darkness holds. Annoying, useless girl.
“I live on fear,” she says, circling him as her father had before. “Fear is what sustains me. So why is your sorrow so sweet?”
He doesn’t answer her, only follows her within his cage, his chain rattling and scraping against the floor. She circles him a few more times as he follows her like a bright shadow, not afraid of her but for her, and suddenly his fear is sour in her mouth and she stalks away, her shadows skipping after her as his cage ascends once more.
She comes again and again, never speaking to him, only watching from the shadows. His glow is nearly gone now, although it flares each time she approaches, whether hidden in shadow or in plain sight. She begins to play games with him, coming close enough to nearly touch before she wraps her shadows around his reaching hands and tosses him against the bars of his cage. The shadows crack and shatter when they touch him, although as time passes it takes longer and longer before they do so. And although he has to know what she will do, he approaches her every time, hands reaching to brush against her cheek or to touch her fingers.
Her favorite game, however, is one her father recently taught her. He takes her to the surface with him sometimes, teaches her how to manipulate fear, how to make it grow and fester. She practices on the boy when she is alone in the lair. She sits in the darkness and tugs at his fear, coercing it until it’s solid enough to manifest. His fear is always in the shape of a young woman with dark, curly hair. She trots the fear out of the shadows as it calls for help, voice broken with tears. The boy attacks his cage—every time—pulling at the bars and smashing his body into them hard enough that she can sense his pain from her hiding place.
Sometimes she lets the fear-child dissipate like dust just at it reaches him, and at those times he collapses against the floor of his cage and stares with blank eyes. Other times she kills the fear-child in increasingly horrible ways until he’s curled up in a ball against the bars, futilely reaching for the shadowy remains.
But he never fears her; he only fears for her, the taste bitter and acrid in her mouth. And no matter how she manipulates the fear, his sorrow is always strongest, and it always draws her back. And Katherine grows stronger with each visit, enough so that her voice can pierced the darkness she is encased in.
Stop! Don’t hurt him!
Worse yet are the feelings that bleed through. Even more so the yearning she has each time she can sense Katherine’ pain, or anger, or love, and no matter how hard she tries, how much she hurts her, she cannot keep the girl sealed deep within the darkness of her mind.
She isn’t sure how long he’s been there in the lair with her, how many times she’s torn his heart apart with her games when his piercing stare breaks through her walled heart and she feels herself crack. She screams at him, throwing shadows that shatter as they hit his cage.
“Why won’t you fear me?!” she cries, and he reaches for her through the bars, his eyes never leaving hers. “Stop staring at me like that!” She throws more shadows, and his face turns grey with pain as they smash into him one by one, too many for his light to shatter. She stops, terrified suddenly of killing him, her chest constricted as she flees into the shadows.
“What is happening to me, father?” she finally asks the Nightmare King, days or hours later, she isn’t sure. He sits on his throne with her beside him, leaning against the cold slab of stone. He reaches down and runs his hands through her hair, and she closes her eyes at his comforting touch.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just a trick. It’ll pass once his light his gone.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Her voice is very soft as it echoes in the empty chamber.
His hand stills and the room grows cold around them. “You are my daughter,” he says at last, and stands. The shadows wind around him, consuming him until nothing is left but his golden eyes. “It will pass.”
That night she dreams. She’s outside herself, floating in a haze of darkness. Two figures stand together: the boy and Katherine. A third stands off to the side, and she realizes with a start that it’s her. She looks remarkably like Katherine, but her body is dark grey, her hair a mass of black shadows that writhe around her head and body. Her eyes are white hollows, soulless and empty, and her grin nearly splits her face as she watches Katherine and the boy.
They’re running, first through darkness and then charred, lifeless trees emerge from the shadows to slow their mad dash. Katherine glances behind her at the boy, desperate not to lose him in the dark forest, and as she does so a shadow rises up before her. The boy cries out, the first sound she’s ever heard from him, and he shoves Katherine out of the way of the shadow scythe, his cry dying suddenly as he shatters into stardust and she screams his name.
The other Guardians are there, then, their faces shadowed as they shake their heads at her and walk away. Katherine collapses to the now barren, snow-covered ground, doubled over in sobs as stardust falls silently around her.
Of course it’s your fault, dear child, she hears her father’s voice, and suddenly she’s back in her own body, except this time she’s Katherine and she stares up at the Nightmare King, Nightlight’s lifeless body in her arms as she sits once more beneath the burnt trees.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Katherine says, her voice choked by tears, and Pitch kneels beside her, his face a mask of concern.
“Of course not. But you were careless, and now you see the consequences.” He gestures around at the charred landscape. “No friends here to forgive you, no one here to help.”
Katherine holds Nightlight tighter, cradling him to her chest as she rocks back and forth.
“But I forgive you,” the Nightmare King continues, his voice so soothing, so sweet. “I will always forgive you, my child.” He holds out his hand, a soft smile on his face, and Katherine looks from Nightlight, to the emptiness around them, and then to the offered hand.
And slowly, so slowly, she takes it.
She wakes with a start, the shadows pawing at her face and hair, nearly crushing her as they slither over her body. She brushes them off and stands, her legs wobbly beneath her.
The once-comforting darkness of the lair feels oppressive, and she paces back and forth, her shadows watching with interest as her breaths become shallower, wilder. She’s about to claw at the walls when cold, clammy hands press down on her shoulders and she turns to wrap her arms around her father’s waist, her face pressed against his chest.
“What is going on?” he asks, sending a scowl at the nightmares that sniff the air and stamp the ground as they circle around them, their red eyes intent on her. They back off, cowed, but still they stare.
“Something… I don’t know. A nightmare? A memory…” she gasps against his chest, her voice muffled, and she feels his back go rigid for just a moment before he gently pushes her away to look at her.
“You have no memories to send that much fear spiking through the lair, and nightmares dare not touch you. You have simply absorbed too much of the star child’s power, you—“
“Nightlight.”
His hands tighten painfully on her shoulders. “What?”
“His name is Nightlight,” she says, and he can’t hide the surprise on his face. “I called— She called him Nightlight. You killed him.”
Her father scoffs. “Obviously I did no such thing.”
“No,” she says, staring at the ground between them as her thoughts all fight to be heard. “But I— Katherine thought you had.” She looks up at him. “I feel her all the time now, clawing at the darkness. She’s always been afraid and useless and crying but now… Now she’s not.”
The Nightmare King stares down at her, his golden eyes piercing before he suddenly whirls away, his scythe forming in his hands as he melts into the shadows. Panic seizes her, and it’s not entirely Katherine’s. She chases after him, heart hammering in her chest as they appear in the room of cages.
Nightlight peeks out from behind his bars, his spectral body ashen grey, his inner light nonexistent.
“You!” her father screams, and the shadows all retreat to the corners and the nightmares rear and cry out. He hauls back the scythe and swings it as she watches, fear gripping her tightly and stealing her breath. Nightlight’s cage falls to the ground with a shattering boom, and the boy is thrown as it crumbles around him, the chain and shackle snapping like old wood. He tries to scramble to his feet but he falls just as soon as he stands, and the Nightmare King advances on him, his face twisted in fury.
“She’s mine!” He swings the scythe again, and something inside his daughter snaps, breaks, crumbles away like thousand-year-old dust.
Katherine jumps in front of the boy moments before the scythe connects, and Pitch only just barely manages to redirect the blow. The weapon smashes into the ground, sparks flying, and he backs away from it as though it burns.
“What are you doing? Out of the way!” He advances towards them, shadows collecting at his feet.
“No,” Katherine says, arms held out to block Nightlight from her father—from Pitch’s view. “I won’t let you kill him.”
“You will obey me,” he snarls, and his eyes flash gold.
She shakes her head slowly, and Pitch pauses in shock just long enough for her to concentrate her shadows around herself and Nightlight in a wave that threatens to topple her.
Home, she thinks, and then the wave descends with Pitch’s shout, and they’re gone.
They land in a heap among the charred remains of a Russian village, and Katherine claws her way to her feet, every fiber of her body screaming. Nightlight is up moments later and scrambling frantically towards her. Through the pain Katherine stumbles away, her arms held before her like a shield.
“Don’t! You’re too weak, I’ve drained too much, if you—“ She gasps and doubles over in pain, fire searing through her. But the agony is easing, if only slightly; her father is coming for her. “If you touch me, you’ll die,” she finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nightlight doesn’t hesitate and reaches for her again. Katherine wrenches herself away and staggers into the cool, welcoming shadows of a burned-out building, hiding away where he can’t reach her. “You can’t! This…this is your chance. Please,” she begs, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around her body. The pain flares, hot and sharp, and it feels like she’s being unmade. The Nightmare King has stopped approaching. “I’m setting you free.”
He paces outside the shadows, his face a mask of agony as he cannot reach her. His mouth moves, silently calling, and a new pain blossoms in her heart. “…I can’t hear your voice, Nightlight,” she says, each word a knife in her chest, and he ceases his frantic pacing. “I can’t hear you anymore.”
The other Katherine, the darkness the Nightmare King raised as his own, laughs deep inside her mind, trapped now in her own shadows. The fearling grabs for control, Nightlight’s and Katherine’s fears making her stronger, but she pushes her back, pain wracking her body as she does so. You can’t keep me trapped forever, the dark voice whispers, twisted full of hate and warped from pain, and Katherine knows it’s true. What little control she has is fading fast. Eventually the fearling will win, and Nightlight will die as well as what little of her heart remains.
And she hurts, so much.
Nightlight circles around, calling for her with his silent voice, and she closes her eyes. No, I can’t trap you, she tells herself, and Katherine reaches into her own pocket of shadow, searching for the one thing she can use to at least save Nightlight. She pulls forth a staff topped with a diamond dagger, and she feels a surge of surprise as the Nightmare King realizes her intentions, and the pain dulls just slightly as he comes for her again.
“But there is a way to stop you,” she whispers, and her dark self stills her laughter.
Katherine emerges from the shadows behind Nightlight, his staff held tightly in her grey hands. He turns at the sound of her footsteps, and his expression turns from surprise to horror as she wedges the end of the staff into the ground and presses the tip of the dagger to her chest.
“He’s coming, and he’ll take me back and I’ll lose everything that I am.” She smiles sadly. “You helped keep the darkness at bay, but Katherine is already gone, Nightlight. You can’t save a fearling.” Her heart beats rapidly in her chest, so loud she’s sure he can hear it. “But I can save you.”
He lunges for the staff and she presses the dagger harder against her chest, the shadows that surround her fleeing from its touch. Without them she looks nothing more than a tired, grey young woman. Nightlight freezes where he stands, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” Katherine says, white eyes stinging with the memory of tears that cannot form. She senses Pitch nearby, a tinge of fear about him she’s never felt before. She doesn’t have much time. “Tell the others I’m sorry…and I love you.”
She takes a deep breath, the shadows creeping closer as they taste her fear. Her darkling self claws at her heart, desperate to stop her, and her father rushes closer.
But in the moment she closes her eyes Nightlight springs forward, knocking the staff away as he crashes into her and holds her tight. Katherine’s eyes fly open as the darkling inside her screams, Nightlight’s power surging through her.
“No, you can’t! Stop!” She shoves at him, fear gripping her like a vice as the last of his light fades, his face pressed against her hair and his arms tight around her.
Once, a fearling prince was saved, a voice echoes in her heart, and she chokes out a tearless sob to realize she can hear him again. And I will save you.
The light seeps into her, cracking the layers of shadow and fear, burning the walls around her heart. But as she glows he fades, his skin turning grey and dry, and she desperately tries to push him away. The darkling inside her screams in pain and anguish, and Pitch’s fear is palpable even now.
“You can’t,” she gasps in a choked whisper, clinging to him. Tears track down her face. “You’re my light.”
And you’re mine.
Pitch arrives at the same moment they burst into light, a mini nova that burns away the shadows of the small village. He throws up a shield of black sand just in time, but it bursts into golden sand around him and he collapses in pain as his skin burns.
But as fast as it happens it ends, and two forms collapse to the charred ground. Katherine wakes first, dizzy and sore, but she quickly rushes to Nightlight. Her legs won’t support her, and she crashes to the ground more than once, feet tripping on the loose and blackened chunks of rock that surround them.
Nightlight is just a wisp of a body, faded to near translucence. Katherine collapses at his side, and only when she holds his head in her hands does she notice her own skin. It’s once more fair and healthy, although there is a slight grey undertone she’s sure will never go away.
“No. No no no,” she babbles, holding him against her chest and willing him to get better, willing his inner light to shine once more.
Pitch coughs then as he shoves himself to his hands and knees. He glances over at Katherine and laughs, the sound bubbling up from his chest.
“Seems your nightmare came true,” he says, although his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He coughs again and staggers to his feet, unsteady for a few moments before he regains his bearings.
Katherine shakes her head, holding Nightlight tightly. “No. He’s not gone. He’s just weak.”
Pitch sneers. “You’re only fooling yourself.” He stares down at her, and she can almost imagine something softening in his features. “Come with me,” he says, and holds out his hand, and she just notices a glint of gold in his other, clenched fist. “I can take away the pain.”
She looks up at him with pity, and he retracts his hand. “Don’t. I don’t need your pity. I am the King of Nightmares, all I need is your fear.” He gathers the shadows to him, their inky forms writhing, mouths gaping in silent screams.
Katherine reaches up to touch his clenched hand and he recoils. “Once, there was a golden general, loved throughout the cosmos.” Pitch snarls and tries to pull his hand away but she grabs it tight. “He was brave, and strong, and full of love for his daughter and his people. And so when he was asked to protect them all from the nightmares he gladly gave himself to duty.”
Pitch wrenches his hand free and the shadows surge around him. “Stop it.”
“But even the bravest and strongest cannot fight fear forever, and in a moment of weakness the dark things of the cosmos took him over, consumed him with hatred and fear. But there was still a light, so very faint, inside his heart that even the shadows couldn’t touch.”
His eyes flash and his face twists in fury as he forms his scythe. “If you will not shut up I will make you.”
She reaches up to touch his hand again, the pendant still clutched within his grey fingers. “I cannot be your daughter, Pitch,” she says, and there is genuine sadness in her voice.
He looks as though she’s slapped him, and his shadows writhe around his scythe. “Do not dare—“
“I can’t be,” she continues, ignoring the darkening shadows. “But I could have happily been his.”
His face contorts in a mixture of despair and all-encompassing rage, and he hefts the scythe, the locket dangling from its chain wrapped around his fingers. “You insolent child!” he screams at her, and Katherine stares up at him as he brings the weapon down at her.
Only for a line of gold to rip it from the Nightmare King’s hands and send it sprawling. The Sandman darts into view atop his cloud, barreling for his dark counterpart. Pitch throws up a wall of shadows and runs, and Sandy pauses only long enough to point between her and Nightlight as if to say I leave him to you before he gives chase.
Katherine doesn’t spare the two another glance as she pulls Nightlight closer to her, her cheek pressed against his as she rocks back and forth.
“Please, wake up,” she begs, fighting back the fear clawing at her heart. What if she spent too long talking to Pitch? “You have to wake up. I’m here, look.” She pulls away so she can touch his face with her hand. “I’m better now, you burned the shadows away. So please…”
He remains lifeless in her arms, and she shudders as sobs threaten to overtake her.
“I believe.” She holds him tight and squeezes her eyes shut, imagining him as he was before. “I believe. I believe. I believe.”
Nightlight smiling at her as he hovers outside her window in Big Root, beckoning her to come and play.
“I believe. I believe. I believe.”
Nightlight and Sandy, staring up at the night sky as they hover with the clouds, pointing at the stars and talking to each other in that hidden language only they know.
“I believe. I believe. I believe.”
Nightlight and Jack and a horde of elves as they laugh and cavort through Santoff Claussen, and the truly epic snowball fight that lasted two days. The way he humors North’s ideas, sits through Ombric’s speeches even though he’s obviously bored, helps Toothiana when her faeries are too few.
“I believe. I believe. I BELIEVE.”
The smile he has for her. His laughter. The way he has always been able to make her heart feel light. His bravery. His carefree heart tempered by a sense of duty.
The way he has always been with her through years uncounted, the way she can’t imagine a world without him in it.
Light blossoms from her heart, blindingly bright as it reflects off the snow all around them, and Katherine squints in pain. An answering light shines in his chest, growing brighter with each beat of his heart, and as her eyes adjust Katherine stares in wonder.
Nightlight’s body glows, the light pulsing with each breath she feels him take, and slowly his form becomes more substantial. The light infuses his body, giving him the spectral look he’s always had, but there’s a shadow of grey underneath to match her own.
His chest begins to rise and fall evenly, but it isn’t until he opens his eyes that she lets out the breath she’s been holding and hugs him tight against her, laughing and crying at the same time. He returns the hug and she kisses his forehead before the stress and exhaustion hits and she passes out.
Nightlight lifts her gently in his arms, surprised at just how light she is. He finds his staff and kicks it up into his waiting fingers.
He doesn’t bother looking back as he takes off towards home.
Wordcount: 5, 689
Fandom: Rise of the Guardians
Rating: PG
Warnings: Book/movie fusion. Mental/emotional torture, attempted suicide.
Summary: His voice echoes around her, filling the void that rips deep into her heart. A soothing voice with soothing words. She just wants the pain to go away. And when she sees the proffered hand Katherine takes it, and the darkness consumes her.
Notes: This monster started out as a fic based on the song My Medea by Vienna Teng, but it slowly incorporated bits and pieces from other things as well. That being said, the lyrics to the song heavily inform each scene. Apparently my stress from moving is manifesting itself in dark, overly dramatic fics.
The darkness creeps closer, all-consuming. There is only a sliver of light left, a last vestige of hope to lead her out. But instead she sits, curled against herself, her thoughts her only company.
Of course it’s your fault, dear child, his voice whispers in her memory, so soothing as her heart shatters in her chest. But I forgive you, little princess.
A shape forms in the shadows, cold and broken and lifeless, and she weeps, the sound like thunder in the silence, and the dark inches ever closer.
I will always forgive you, he continues, the memory of his cold, cloying hands holding hers a lifeline in the dark and silence. I’m here, aren’t I?
Her sobs die down but do not cease. They will never cease. She’s so cold, but in the darkness her memories turn to shadows and fade away, the world dark and dull and numb.
I’ve only ever wanted the best for you, he says. Believe me.
And she finds that she does.
And there is no more light.
She stands by quietly in the shadows as chaos erupts around her. The Guardians and her father are at a stalemate, but the shadows surrounding her hold her back, whisper to her to watch and listen only, that it’s not yet time to interfere.
“What have you done?!” the cold one shouts, ice bursting from his shepherd’s crook in a sweeping arc that her father easily deflects. “Where is she?!”
The rabbit and the faerie both charge him from behind, but her father is clever and quick and shifts into shadows and appears across the battlefield. They are in an old town, the shadows long as the sun slowly sets, painting the layers of snow gold and orange.
“Under my protection,” the Nightmare King replies before sending a group of nightmares at their foes. The big red man slashes two with his swords, and the faerie and rabbit take on the others as the cold one attacks her father head-on. He laughs and easily dodges the boy’s attacks.
“Do you not approve?” her father asks, a scythe forming in his hands as the last of the nightmares turn back into black sand. “She came to me, after all, so surely none of you could help her.”
“Give her back!” the faerie cries as she lunges, her wings a blur of blue and green, but the Nightmare King simply deflects her attack with his scythe.
“Now why would I do that?” He dodges more attacks, dancing across the battlefield, and she itches to join in and help him, but the shadows hold her back, keep her hidden. Not yet. “I keep a tight hold on the things that are mine.”
“Katherine isn’t yours!”
Katherine? She tilts her head to the side, curious at the rabbit’s words. Yes, she remembers. That’s the name of the useless, broken girl she hears deep within her mind.
Her shadows’ writhing changes suddenly; their whispers turn wary and nervous, and her father slips into shadows to appear beside her as the Guardians all look up to the heavens. A bright light pierces the sky and crashes to the ground, throwing up snow and earth. A soft golden glow follows in its wake, although it stops above the ground and sand begins to swirl all around them. Her father scowls.
She knows the Sandman; how could she not recognize the only one her father fears? But the other shape, the bright boy that emerges from the crater he created—that one she does not know. And yet something pulls inside her, and the broken girl’s weeping ceases suddenly.
The child points a dagger-tipped staff straight at the Nightmare King, and then he moves it to the left to point at her still hidden in the shadows. Her father snarls and moves to stand before her, and the bright boy advances towards them, his spectral face twisted in anger. The Sandman flicks his arms and twin whips formed of golden sand materialize in his hands.
Her father lunges suddenly, his dark scythe cutting through the air for the spectral boy as the other Guardians burst into action. She tries to join in, to help, but the shadows hold her in the darkness, their grip tight and fierce.
And then pain shoots through her as the twin whips shatter the darkness and wrap around her body, pulling her out of the shadows and into the arms of the Sandman high in the air. Everything stops as she screams in pain, fire flowing through her body as she writhes in the little man’s arms. The Sandman releases her in shock, his eyes wide as his cloud descends to hover above the ground. She falls off it to the ground in a heap.
The Nightmare King is there before anyone can move, and the pain dies away as he picks her up. The red man is first to speak as his swords clatter to the ground at his sides.
“Katherine? No, lastochka, what has he done to you?”
The bright boy stares at her, his face stricken with so much sorrow and grief it’s palpable even from her distance.
And she loves it.
She tugs at her father’s robes and he lowers her to her feet beside him, one hand draped protectively across her shoulders. She stares at the Guardians as she wills her shadows about her; their claws are cool against her skin, and she takes comfort in their embrace as she drinks in the Guardians’ fears, giving her strength. It drowns out the broken girl’s cries.
“I told you,” her father says, his voice smooth despite the way his hand clings a little too tightly to her shoulder. “I keep a tight hold on the things that are mine. The farther she goes from me, the more pain you cause her. And can you really bring yourselves to hurt her?”
“Pitch, you—“
The cold one stops his words as she lifts a hand to point at the spectral boy. Her smile is deadly, full of sharp teeth. “Can I have that one, father? His sorrow is delicious.”
The Nightmare King stares at her in shock for a moment before he slowly begins to laugh, the sound chilling even to her, but her grin widens. The Guardians tense, all besides the bright boy and the Sandman, whose sorrow is almost as sweet as the spectral one’s.
“Is that really what you want, my dear?” he asks, and she nods. The girl inside—Katherine—is screaming at her, clawing at the darkness, but she constricts it, wraps it tight around the useless child and her cries turn from annoying anger to delicious pain.
“Well then, boy,” her father says, gesturing at the bright child. “Will the nightlight let itself be consumed by the darkness?”
The boy stares at him, his jaw set in a look of defiance that dies when his eyes flick over to her. His inner glow dims and he lowers his staff, and in that moment her shadows snake around and steal it from his hands. He looks at her with wide eyes as she holds it in her hands; it’s familiar and yet not, and Katherine’s feelings break through the wall of shadow for just a moment. Fear, anger, sorrow. Love.
She shakes the feelings away, piercing Katherine with darkness once again, and hides the staff within her shadows. The boy looks at her with eyes so full of sorrow that she has to look away or risk devouring him then and there.
“If you’re coming…?” the Nightmare King asks, and slowly the boy nods and walks towards them. He pauses besides the Sandman, and she almost believes they are talking in the silence that looms between them. But finally he comes to stand beside them, although he remains an arm’s length away. Or, more accurately, her father pulls them an arm’s length from the boy.
“Katherine, please,” the faerie says suddenly, and despite herself she looks over at the winged Guardian. “Come back to us.”
And then the Nightmare King raises his cloak and engulfs them in shadow, and they are swept away.
They keep the spectral boy in a cage made of iron, a shackle and chain around his neck made of the same heavy ore. He can move about the cage, but barely just. It hangs suspended in the air, although it’s no trouble for her to lower the cage enough to look at him and drink in his fear and anguish.
And he is full of both, if mostly the latter.
She visits him often, although at first her father is careful to stay close by her side and keep the visits short. “Too much of a good thing is bad for you,” he offers as way of explanation, and she hates the way he pulls her away before she’s had her fill of the boy’s fear. She wants it all, wants to take everything until there is nothing left, until the hollowness she feels at the sight of him is filled in. She needs it like a drug, and as the boy’s glow fades more and more, her father stops accompanying her.
Her father visits the boy alone, sometimes. She knows because her shadows whisper in her ears and tell her many secrets, but they never tell her details. So she hides away in the darkness the next time her father is visiting the spectral child. Her shadows writhe around her lovingly, brushing against her cheeks and tugging at her arms, but she ignores them.
“How does it feel?” her father is asking the boy as he circles the cage, his hands clasped behind his back and shadows trailing in his wake. Nightmares stand guard, stamping the ground and snorting, shying away from what little light the boy has left. “Does it hurt?”
The boy grips the bars of his cage and glares at her father, his defiance almost admirable. The Nightmare King barely gives him a glance. “She’s strong, isn’t she, my darkling daughter. But so are you.” He pauses and turns to face the cage, a scowl on his face. “So many times I’ve dreamt of killing you, of taking your light and snuffing it like a candle.” His scowl relaxes into a smile full of sharp teeth. “How sweet it is to see her being the one to drain you dry, to suck out your light to feed her shadows.”
The boy lunges suddenly, arms reaching through the bars to grab at the Nightmare King, but he dances away and laughs. “No, star child, you will rot in there until you’re nothing but the memory of a memory. Sweet dreams.”
Her father disappears into the darkness, and she waits, and waits, and finally creeps closer. The boy looks right at her before she emerges from the shadows, and a moment of unease makes her pause. But then the moment passes and she stands before his cage, his sorrow oh so sweet.
She touches the bars, but he does not lunge at her as he did the Nightmare King. Something flickers in her mind, a brush of gentleness that chimes softly, but she shoves it away like a gnat and his sorrow only grows. His fear is always there, latent; she doubts he even knows it himself.
“You know me,” she finally says, and he wraps his hands around the bars as he comes to stand as close to her as he can. “How? Father spoke as though you did.”
He reaches for her suddenly with one hand, and she shies away. He watches her, his eyes searching for something, and then he lets his hand fall to his side, his light flickering. Katherine slams herself against her bonds, but the darkness holds. Annoying, useless girl.
“I live on fear,” she says, circling him as her father had before. “Fear is what sustains me. So why is your sorrow so sweet?”
He doesn’t answer her, only follows her within his cage, his chain rattling and scraping against the floor. She circles him a few more times as he follows her like a bright shadow, not afraid of her but for her, and suddenly his fear is sour in her mouth and she stalks away, her shadows skipping after her as his cage ascends once more.
She comes again and again, never speaking to him, only watching from the shadows. His glow is nearly gone now, although it flares each time she approaches, whether hidden in shadow or in plain sight. She begins to play games with him, coming close enough to nearly touch before she wraps her shadows around his reaching hands and tosses him against the bars of his cage. The shadows crack and shatter when they touch him, although as time passes it takes longer and longer before they do so. And although he has to know what she will do, he approaches her every time, hands reaching to brush against her cheek or to touch her fingers.
Her favorite game, however, is one her father recently taught her. He takes her to the surface with him sometimes, teaches her how to manipulate fear, how to make it grow and fester. She practices on the boy when she is alone in the lair. She sits in the darkness and tugs at his fear, coercing it until it’s solid enough to manifest. His fear is always in the shape of a young woman with dark, curly hair. She trots the fear out of the shadows as it calls for help, voice broken with tears. The boy attacks his cage—every time—pulling at the bars and smashing his body into them hard enough that she can sense his pain from her hiding place.
Sometimes she lets the fear-child dissipate like dust just at it reaches him, and at those times he collapses against the floor of his cage and stares with blank eyes. Other times she kills the fear-child in increasingly horrible ways until he’s curled up in a ball against the bars, futilely reaching for the shadowy remains.
But he never fears her; he only fears for her, the taste bitter and acrid in her mouth. And no matter how she manipulates the fear, his sorrow is always strongest, and it always draws her back. And Katherine grows stronger with each visit, enough so that her voice can pierced the darkness she is encased in.
Stop! Don’t hurt him!
Worse yet are the feelings that bleed through. Even more so the yearning she has each time she can sense Katherine’ pain, or anger, or love, and no matter how hard she tries, how much she hurts her, she cannot keep the girl sealed deep within the darkness of her mind.
She isn’t sure how long he’s been there in the lair with her, how many times she’s torn his heart apart with her games when his piercing stare breaks through her walled heart and she feels herself crack. She screams at him, throwing shadows that shatter as they hit his cage.
“Why won’t you fear me?!” she cries, and he reaches for her through the bars, his eyes never leaving hers. “Stop staring at me like that!” She throws more shadows, and his face turns grey with pain as they smash into him one by one, too many for his light to shatter. She stops, terrified suddenly of killing him, her chest constricted as she flees into the shadows.
“What is happening to me, father?” she finally asks the Nightmare King, days or hours later, she isn’t sure. He sits on his throne with her beside him, leaning against the cold slab of stone. He reaches down and runs his hands through her hair, and she closes her eyes at his comforting touch.
“It’s nothing,” he says. “Just a trick. It’ll pass once his light his gone.”
“And if it doesn’t?” Her voice is very soft as it echoes in the empty chamber.
His hand stills and the room grows cold around them. “You are my daughter,” he says at last, and stands. The shadows wind around him, consuming him until nothing is left but his golden eyes. “It will pass.”
That night she dreams. She’s outside herself, floating in a haze of darkness. Two figures stand together: the boy and Katherine. A third stands off to the side, and she realizes with a start that it’s her. She looks remarkably like Katherine, but her body is dark grey, her hair a mass of black shadows that writhe around her head and body. Her eyes are white hollows, soulless and empty, and her grin nearly splits her face as she watches Katherine and the boy.
They’re running, first through darkness and then charred, lifeless trees emerge from the shadows to slow their mad dash. Katherine glances behind her at the boy, desperate not to lose him in the dark forest, and as she does so a shadow rises up before her. The boy cries out, the first sound she’s ever heard from him, and he shoves Katherine out of the way of the shadow scythe, his cry dying suddenly as he shatters into stardust and she screams his name.
The other Guardians are there, then, their faces shadowed as they shake their heads at her and walk away. Katherine collapses to the now barren, snow-covered ground, doubled over in sobs as stardust falls silently around her.
Of course it’s your fault, dear child, she hears her father’s voice, and suddenly she’s back in her own body, except this time she’s Katherine and she stares up at the Nightmare King, Nightlight’s lifeless body in her arms as she sits once more beneath the burnt trees.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Katherine says, her voice choked by tears, and Pitch kneels beside her, his face a mask of concern.
“Of course not. But you were careless, and now you see the consequences.” He gestures around at the charred landscape. “No friends here to forgive you, no one here to help.”
Katherine holds Nightlight tighter, cradling him to her chest as she rocks back and forth.
“But I forgive you,” the Nightmare King continues, his voice so soothing, so sweet. “I will always forgive you, my child.” He holds out his hand, a soft smile on his face, and Katherine looks from Nightlight, to the emptiness around them, and then to the offered hand.
And slowly, so slowly, she takes it.
She wakes with a start, the shadows pawing at her face and hair, nearly crushing her as they slither over her body. She brushes them off and stands, her legs wobbly beneath her.
The once-comforting darkness of the lair feels oppressive, and she paces back and forth, her shadows watching with interest as her breaths become shallower, wilder. She’s about to claw at the walls when cold, clammy hands press down on her shoulders and she turns to wrap her arms around her father’s waist, her face pressed against his chest.
“What is going on?” he asks, sending a scowl at the nightmares that sniff the air and stamp the ground as they circle around them, their red eyes intent on her. They back off, cowed, but still they stare.
“Something… I don’t know. A nightmare? A memory…” she gasps against his chest, her voice muffled, and she feels his back go rigid for just a moment before he gently pushes her away to look at her.
“You have no memories to send that much fear spiking through the lair, and nightmares dare not touch you. You have simply absorbed too much of the star child’s power, you—“
“Nightlight.”
His hands tighten painfully on her shoulders. “What?”
“His name is Nightlight,” she says, and he can’t hide the surprise on his face. “I called— She called him Nightlight. You killed him.”
Her father scoffs. “Obviously I did no such thing.”
“No,” she says, staring at the ground between them as her thoughts all fight to be heard. “But I— Katherine thought you had.” She looks up at him. “I feel her all the time now, clawing at the darkness. She’s always been afraid and useless and crying but now… Now she’s not.”
The Nightmare King stares down at her, his golden eyes piercing before he suddenly whirls away, his scythe forming in his hands as he melts into the shadows. Panic seizes her, and it’s not entirely Katherine’s. She chases after him, heart hammering in her chest as they appear in the room of cages.
Nightlight peeks out from behind his bars, his spectral body ashen grey, his inner light nonexistent.
“You!” her father screams, and the shadows all retreat to the corners and the nightmares rear and cry out. He hauls back the scythe and swings it as she watches, fear gripping her tightly and stealing her breath. Nightlight’s cage falls to the ground with a shattering boom, and the boy is thrown as it crumbles around him, the chain and shackle snapping like old wood. He tries to scramble to his feet but he falls just as soon as he stands, and the Nightmare King advances on him, his face twisted in fury.
“She’s mine!” He swings the scythe again, and something inside his daughter snaps, breaks, crumbles away like thousand-year-old dust.
Katherine jumps in front of the boy moments before the scythe connects, and Pitch only just barely manages to redirect the blow. The weapon smashes into the ground, sparks flying, and he backs away from it as though it burns.
“What are you doing? Out of the way!” He advances towards them, shadows collecting at his feet.
“No,” Katherine says, arms held out to block Nightlight from her father—from Pitch’s view. “I won’t let you kill him.”
“You will obey me,” he snarls, and his eyes flash gold.
She shakes her head slowly, and Pitch pauses in shock just long enough for her to concentrate her shadows around herself and Nightlight in a wave that threatens to topple her.
Home, she thinks, and then the wave descends with Pitch’s shout, and they’re gone.
They land in a heap among the charred remains of a Russian village, and Katherine claws her way to her feet, every fiber of her body screaming. Nightlight is up moments later and scrambling frantically towards her. Through the pain Katherine stumbles away, her arms held before her like a shield.
“Don’t! You’re too weak, I’ve drained too much, if you—“ She gasps and doubles over in pain, fire searing through her. But the agony is easing, if only slightly; her father is coming for her. “If you touch me, you’ll die,” she finishes, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nightlight doesn’t hesitate and reaches for her again. Katherine wrenches herself away and staggers into the cool, welcoming shadows of a burned-out building, hiding away where he can’t reach her. “You can’t! This…this is your chance. Please,” she begs, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around her body. The pain flares, hot and sharp, and it feels like she’s being unmade. The Nightmare King has stopped approaching. “I’m setting you free.”
He paces outside the shadows, his face a mask of agony as he cannot reach her. His mouth moves, silently calling, and a new pain blossoms in her heart. “…I can’t hear your voice, Nightlight,” she says, each word a knife in her chest, and he ceases his frantic pacing. “I can’t hear you anymore.”
The other Katherine, the darkness the Nightmare King raised as his own, laughs deep inside her mind, trapped now in her own shadows. The fearling grabs for control, Nightlight’s and Katherine’s fears making her stronger, but she pushes her back, pain wracking her body as she does so. You can’t keep me trapped forever, the dark voice whispers, twisted full of hate and warped from pain, and Katherine knows it’s true. What little control she has is fading fast. Eventually the fearling will win, and Nightlight will die as well as what little of her heart remains.
And she hurts, so much.
Nightlight circles around, calling for her with his silent voice, and she closes her eyes. No, I can’t trap you, she tells herself, and Katherine reaches into her own pocket of shadow, searching for the one thing she can use to at least save Nightlight. She pulls forth a staff topped with a diamond dagger, and she feels a surge of surprise as the Nightmare King realizes her intentions, and the pain dulls just slightly as he comes for her again.
“But there is a way to stop you,” she whispers, and her dark self stills her laughter.
Katherine emerges from the shadows behind Nightlight, his staff held tightly in her grey hands. He turns at the sound of her footsteps, and his expression turns from surprise to horror as she wedges the end of the staff into the ground and presses the tip of the dagger to her chest.
“He’s coming, and he’ll take me back and I’ll lose everything that I am.” She smiles sadly. “You helped keep the darkness at bay, but Katherine is already gone, Nightlight. You can’t save a fearling.” Her heart beats rapidly in her chest, so loud she’s sure he can hear it. “But I can save you.”
He lunges for the staff and she presses the dagger harder against her chest, the shadows that surround her fleeing from its touch. Without them she looks nothing more than a tired, grey young woman. Nightlight freezes where he stands, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” Katherine says, white eyes stinging with the memory of tears that cannot form. She senses Pitch nearby, a tinge of fear about him she’s never felt before. She doesn’t have much time. “Tell the others I’m sorry…and I love you.”
She takes a deep breath, the shadows creeping closer as they taste her fear. Her darkling self claws at her heart, desperate to stop her, and her father rushes closer.
But in the moment she closes her eyes Nightlight springs forward, knocking the staff away as he crashes into her and holds her tight. Katherine’s eyes fly open as the darkling inside her screams, Nightlight’s power surging through her.
“No, you can’t! Stop!” She shoves at him, fear gripping her like a vice as the last of his light fades, his face pressed against her hair and his arms tight around her.
Once, a fearling prince was saved, a voice echoes in her heart, and she chokes out a tearless sob to realize she can hear him again. And I will save you.
The light seeps into her, cracking the layers of shadow and fear, burning the walls around her heart. But as she glows he fades, his skin turning grey and dry, and she desperately tries to push him away. The darkling inside her screams in pain and anguish, and Pitch’s fear is palpable even now.
“You can’t,” she gasps in a choked whisper, clinging to him. Tears track down her face. “You’re my light.”
And you’re mine.
Pitch arrives at the same moment they burst into light, a mini nova that burns away the shadows of the small village. He throws up a shield of black sand just in time, but it bursts into golden sand around him and he collapses in pain as his skin burns.
But as fast as it happens it ends, and two forms collapse to the charred ground. Katherine wakes first, dizzy and sore, but she quickly rushes to Nightlight. Her legs won’t support her, and she crashes to the ground more than once, feet tripping on the loose and blackened chunks of rock that surround them.
Nightlight is just a wisp of a body, faded to near translucence. Katherine collapses at his side, and only when she holds his head in her hands does she notice her own skin. It’s once more fair and healthy, although there is a slight grey undertone she’s sure will never go away.
“No. No no no,” she babbles, holding him against her chest and willing him to get better, willing his inner light to shine once more.
Pitch coughs then as he shoves himself to his hands and knees. He glances over at Katherine and laughs, the sound bubbling up from his chest.
“Seems your nightmare came true,” he says, although his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. He coughs again and staggers to his feet, unsteady for a few moments before he regains his bearings.
Katherine shakes her head, holding Nightlight tightly. “No. He’s not gone. He’s just weak.”
Pitch sneers. “You’re only fooling yourself.” He stares down at her, and she can almost imagine something softening in his features. “Come with me,” he says, and holds out his hand, and she just notices a glint of gold in his other, clenched fist. “I can take away the pain.”
She looks up at him with pity, and he retracts his hand. “Don’t. I don’t need your pity. I am the King of Nightmares, all I need is your fear.” He gathers the shadows to him, their inky forms writhing, mouths gaping in silent screams.
Katherine reaches up to touch his clenched hand and he recoils. “Once, there was a golden general, loved throughout the cosmos.” Pitch snarls and tries to pull his hand away but she grabs it tight. “He was brave, and strong, and full of love for his daughter and his people. And so when he was asked to protect them all from the nightmares he gladly gave himself to duty.”
Pitch wrenches his hand free and the shadows surge around him. “Stop it.”
“But even the bravest and strongest cannot fight fear forever, and in a moment of weakness the dark things of the cosmos took him over, consumed him with hatred and fear. But there was still a light, so very faint, inside his heart that even the shadows couldn’t touch.”
His eyes flash and his face twists in fury as he forms his scythe. “If you will not shut up I will make you.”
She reaches up to touch his hand again, the pendant still clutched within his grey fingers. “I cannot be your daughter, Pitch,” she says, and there is genuine sadness in her voice.
He looks as though she’s slapped him, and his shadows writhe around his scythe. “Do not dare—“
“I can’t be,” she continues, ignoring the darkening shadows. “But I could have happily been his.”
His face contorts in a mixture of despair and all-encompassing rage, and he hefts the scythe, the locket dangling from its chain wrapped around his fingers. “You insolent child!” he screams at her, and Katherine stares up at him as he brings the weapon down at her.
Only for a line of gold to rip it from the Nightmare King’s hands and send it sprawling. The Sandman darts into view atop his cloud, barreling for his dark counterpart. Pitch throws up a wall of shadows and runs, and Sandy pauses only long enough to point between her and Nightlight as if to say I leave him to you before he gives chase.
Katherine doesn’t spare the two another glance as she pulls Nightlight closer to her, her cheek pressed against his as she rocks back and forth.
“Please, wake up,” she begs, fighting back the fear clawing at her heart. What if she spent too long talking to Pitch? “You have to wake up. I’m here, look.” She pulls away so she can touch his face with her hand. “I’m better now, you burned the shadows away. So please…”
He remains lifeless in her arms, and she shudders as sobs threaten to overtake her.
“I believe.” She holds him tight and squeezes her eyes shut, imagining him as he was before. “I believe. I believe. I believe.”
Nightlight smiling at her as he hovers outside her window in Big Root, beckoning her to come and play.
“I believe. I believe. I believe.”
Nightlight and Sandy, staring up at the night sky as they hover with the clouds, pointing at the stars and talking to each other in that hidden language only they know.
“I believe. I believe. I believe.”
Nightlight and Jack and a horde of elves as they laugh and cavort through Santoff Claussen, and the truly epic snowball fight that lasted two days. The way he humors North’s ideas, sits through Ombric’s speeches even though he’s obviously bored, helps Toothiana when her faeries are too few.
“I believe. I believe. I BELIEVE.”
The smile he has for her. His laughter. The way he has always been able to make her heart feel light. His bravery. His carefree heart tempered by a sense of duty.
The way he has always been with her through years uncounted, the way she can’t imagine a world without him in it.
Light blossoms from her heart, blindingly bright as it reflects off the snow all around them, and Katherine squints in pain. An answering light shines in his chest, growing brighter with each beat of his heart, and as her eyes adjust Katherine stares in wonder.
Nightlight’s body glows, the light pulsing with each breath she feels him take, and slowly his form becomes more substantial. The light infuses his body, giving him the spectral look he’s always had, but there’s a shadow of grey underneath to match her own.
His chest begins to rise and fall evenly, but it isn’t until he opens his eyes that she lets out the breath she’s been holding and hugs him tight against her, laughing and crying at the same time. He returns the hug and she kisses his forehead before the stress and exhaustion hits and she passes out.
Nightlight lifts her gently in his arms, surprised at just how light she is. He finds his staff and kicks it up into his waiting fingers.
He doesn’t bother looking back as he takes off towards home.
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