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"I didn't take you for the flower-picking type."
"I'm not," Pitch says as he picks a flower from the edges of the clearing.
"Uh-huh"
"I need to keep the surroundings of my abode sufficiently ghastly is all. So children or stupid teenagers don't fall into my labyrinth."
Jack hums as he floats through the air on his side, like he's on an invisible river. "Aren't there more efficient ways to make your abode 'sufficiently ghastly'? Like, I dunno, a fake corpse or two."
"Fakes? Come now, I have to go for the real thing." Pitch walks over to another patch of flowers and plucks a few more.
"Please don't make me tattle on you."
"Never heard of a joke?"
He gathers the flowers in his hand, a variety of simple blooms he can't really recall the names of, but they're a combination of whites and purples. Then without prompt, he walks over to Jack and hands it over. Jack startles out of his lounging position and shifts into one more akin to sitting. He looks flabbergasted, but takes the makeshift bouquet anyway.
"Thanks...?"
"You're welcome." Pitch begins strolling away. "You can throw them for me."
"Oh, giving me your garbage, so romantic," the winter spirit says with no real anger. He picks one of the purple ones and puts it behind his ear though. "I'm not much of a flower-guy myself, but these are pretty. One man's trash is another man's treasure or something, I guess."
A quiet falls between the two of them. Pitch continues to survey his surroundings, dropping shadows here and there to linger even in the brightness of day, as Jack floats around, eventually he settles on a bough, his shining eyes dampened with concern. "You're awfully quiet today, Pitch."
"In a pensive mood, I suppose."
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Pitch wordlessly stretches a hand out. Jack rolls his eyes.
"Then no."
"Come on!"
But already Pitch is moving to one of the many entrances to his lair; a hole in the ground surrounded by mushrooms that goes impossibly deep. He casts a glance at Jack, who lifts from the bough and follows him through the darkness. The traversal into his lair is also quiet, and he can feel Jack's discomfort and concern emanating off of him in waves, even without his fear-adjacent sensing abilities tuned up all the way.
The tunnels eventually open up to a cavern, furnished as much as a cavern can be with plush couches, a desk, and bookcases lining the walls as much as possible. There's a reading chair, a lamp in one corner, and on the other, a gaming system with one of the newest fighting games—or so Emily and Jack have told him. A gift from Jamie, Jack said.
"Emily's not here yet," Jack observes, walking around the room like he's seeing it for the first time even though he comes here every week. The bouquet is still in his hand, the stems frozen to each other so the bouquet doesn't fall apart. "I guess she's still doing Mother Nature stuff. I hope she gets back soon. I want a rematch."
Pitch can't think of a reply quick enough. His mind is elsewhere, thinking about the darkness of space and the brightness of stars. Since this little 'rehabilitation' project, his memories have been stunningly clear and it's been distracting. He sits down on the reading chair, already pulling out a random book but not yet finding the will to open it. He just stares at the cover.
Jack notices, though.
"Okay, I'm getting freaked out here, Pitch."
"Do you remember anything from before you became Jack Frost?"
He's met with a confused stare first, and then an answer in a tentative tone. "You mean... my life as a human? It's gotten clearer with Tooth's help. Jackson Overland Frost, adopted by the Ardeleans, died by saving my adoptive sister." Jack looks to Pitch, gauging his reaction.
"And before that?"
"You mean the Nightlight stuff?" Jack is frowning now. He's stated before he's not a huge fan of those days. "I mean, it's blurrier but yeah. I definitely remember you and all the bullshit you did, if that's what you're wondering."
Pitch's lips twitch into a smile, but only briefly. "And before that?"
"Huh?" Jack blinks slowly. "Oh, I guess Bunny did mention we were sealed away together or something. But no, I have no memories of that. I think Mother Goose said the Man in the Moon had my memories of that time taken away."
"So that's the extent of your memory."
"Yeah." Jack walks closer to Pitch. "What's up?"
"I was just wondering." The words embossed onto the cover finally register; a fictional war book, but one that he knows hits a little too close to home for him. "Thinking of the past, I suppose. My memory has been getting clearer, after all."
It's quiet for a moment and Jack sits down on the floor in front of Pitch, looking up at him. He lets the moment stretch out longer, and then, quietly: "I don't think the past is all that important, honestly. Not all of it, anyway."
Pitch's eyes find his again. "Oh?"
"I mean... when snow melts, it matters somewhat that it used to be a snow man. But does it matter where the water came from before it froze in the clouds and fell back to Earth?" Jack leans his cheek on a hand, his elbow braced against his knee and his other hand still holding the bouquet. He shrugs, casual. "I don't think it matters that I used to be a Nightlight that fought with you, or that you used to be... you know. We're new people now."
But he still remembers, even if Jack doesn't.
"Pitch, you're... okay, right?"
"Yes." Pitch gives a small smile. "Don't worry so much, Jack. I'm happy, now. I love you."
"Now I'm really worried."
"I truly, dearly, with all my heart—"
Suddenly, Emily barges into the study, pointing a finger at the winter spirit. "Jack Frost!"
Jack summons the air to carry him to his feet and points back at her. "Emily Jane!" He yells. "I want a rematch!"
"I'll just kick your ass again!"
"I don't care!"
Pitch watches them bicker until they finally sit down in front of the gaming system and go about their silly rematches, the flowers at Jack's side. He usually watches what the characters are doing, see who's winning and tease the losing party, but instead his eyes are fixed on the back of Jack's head. His gaze is locked at the subtle shimmer of his hair and the frost of his skin and clothes.
Pitch knows if Jack wanted, he could make himself glow in the dark like a star.
He would make for a good Darkling Prince, wouldn't he?
The Fearlings never shut up, but at least this time their words are more interesting and make sense. He feels their claws tug at something close to the nascent fear in his chest, the despair of something he can't put words to.
You miss him. Don't you?
The Nightlight that has been such a thorn in his side glowers at him from his prison, his light a dangerous flickering like a warning. Pitch remembers a time, though vague, when those green eyes looked at him with fondness instead. But that was a long time ago, and for one reason or another, Nightlight chose to forget. So, Pitch decided to pretend to forget.
But the heart aches.
But the heart aches...
Infest him with nightmares, and he'll be yours again. By your side again.
Pitch knows, deep down, that it would never happen. The Fearlings can hear his belief that it would never happen. Nightlight is simply too bright, too powerful; he can easily overcome the darkness Pitch brings with him. He would sooner burn away all the dark in the world than submit to whatever fear and despair Pitch inflicts him with.
The Fearlings tut disapprovingly at him, their unison short lived as they start talking over each other, trying to give him ideas on how to get Nightlight to come back to him.
Pitch never stops staring at the star, at the burning green eyes.
At least for now, he's here. It's another Nightlight, but he's close enough. For a moment, Pitch finds a small lacunae of peace.
Hey, just look at me.
Pitch does as he's told, gazes at the breathtaking sight in front of him: a glowing young man against the darkness in his heart. Nightlight, his Nightlight, smiles warmly. The Fearlings complain at the increasing brightness, at how Nightlight's hand burns away the darkness sticking to Pitch's skin as they hold hands.
There you go. Nightlight's starlit voice is soft and gentle against his skin, familiar in a way that makes Pitch think of warm, sunny days. He doesn't quite speak, rather his light communicates for him, but it registers to Pitch as something akin to a windchime or a lullaby.
It's hard to believe how much soft and gentle something so powerful can sound.
Nightlight's hand is warm in his; grounding.
You were telling me a story about Emily Jane.
"Right," Pitch says, scrambling for his scattered thoughts. It's hard to think when at the back of his mind are the chittering of thousands of Fearlings. He tries to remember what he was just saying, but as the seconds tick by he loses sight of it. "I'm sorry, I lost my place."
That's okay, Nightlight says, shifting so that he's seated more comfortably, his legs bent to the side. We can talk about something else.
"We can talk about you, this time."
The smile Nightlight gives him is a tad uncomfortable, but before he can take it back Nightlight is responding. I don't know what there is to tell you about me. I sprung to life as a Nightlight, with a singular purpose in mind: to protect the Lunanoff child heir. That's all. He looks to the side. I worked tirelessly because the child couldn't be left alone, not even for a moment. Not when successors to the Lunanoff clan were so rare. I don't really have any good stories to share, unfortunately.
"Nothing from before then?"
When I was still a star? Nightlight closes his eyes in thought, a soft hum escaping him as sound and as light. I... didn't really have senses the same way I do now, so I'm not sure how to explain myself. And I was a star in the middle of a fairly big solar system; I couldn't really move without messing stuff up, so I don't have many interesting things on that front either.
His eyes opened then, and he smiled for a moment. Even in a dire situation such as being trapped in the darkness with Pitch for seemingly the rest of eternity, Nightlight always maintains a rather optimistic attitude that's infectious. Not that I ever wanted to move around, though. I liked that I was a stationary constant, giving warmth and light to so many planets and moons. I could never see the life that I helped bring about, but I knew they were there. And I never felt alone, not really. Maybe a little lonely...
Pitch squeezes his hand, in comfort. Nightlight squeezes back.
Still, I was happy then. I remember that much. I talked to the other stars all day, listening to their stories, or spoke to comets and other astral wildlife. It was... colorful. And bright. And full of life...
He pauses then, his light going into an ebbing quiet, the corners of his lips falling into a more somber expression that doesn't suit him.
I... I asked the Tsars what happened to my solar system when they took me. They never really said in concrete terms. They just said it was settled. Nightlight's gaze went far away again, and the sadness in his verdant eyes deepened. I wonder what happened to them...?
His glow dims and the Fearlings in Pitch's mind grow louder, happier, at this turn of events. The implications hang thick in the air, and all Pitch can do is bring up the back of Nightlight's hand to his lips and press a chaste kiss there.
Nightlight audibly squeaks. My Pitch?!
"I didn't mean to make you remember painful things." Pitch presses another kiss, eliciting another squeak, and he smiles against the warm glowing skin. "I was also close to the Tsar and Tsarina. They're magnanimous rulers, so I'm sure all the life in your solar system found a place to thrive elsewhere."
A new implication hangs in the air. 'Before I killed them all.'
In his infinite kindness, Nightlight doesn't bring it up. He simply lifts Pitch's hand to kiss the back of his palm, mirroring him. As if to say I forgive you but he doesn't know the exact contents of the long list of crimes his precious Nightlight is forgiving him for. Maybe, one of those sins is for lying to his face about what happened to the solar system he nurtured.
Nightlight then slips his eyes closed and concentrates on burning brighter, just enough to keep the darkness at bay, far away from Pitch. A stopgap to maintain his sanity, really, but Nightlight insists he has the power for it. Maybe not for eternity, but for a long, long time.
I'm a star, after all.
"You will be the godfather, of course, if that's alright with you, Lord Pitch."
Pitch bows low towards the Tsar and Tsarina, his arm sweeping under him as he does, and he straightens back into a parade rest. "Of course it's alright. Though you must be out of options to choose someone outside the esteemed Lunanoff clan, if you don't mind my saying so."
The smile Tsarina Lunar XI gives him is stiff. The hands she has over her belly almost clench into fists. "Yes, something like that."
Tsar Lunar XI cuts in with a hand on his wife's lower back, not-so-subtly urging her to the door. "Honey, you should rest now. Our child is due to come any day now, after all."
A few more pleasantries are exchanged and the Tsarina heads off towards her chambers in the company of a servant, grasping the servant's arm like she's about to fall. The Tsar stays behind and turns back to Pitch, giving him a fake smile. "Oh, you have my thanks again, Lord Pitch, for coming all the way out here. You and your men being here truly helps keep everyone here at ease."
Pitch bows again. "Of course, your Luminance."
He thinks of his family all the way in the Orion Belt, in a marble mansion as stuffed to bursting as possible with security Pitch could afford, apparently besides himself. He's only shaken out of it when he feels the heavy hand of Tsar Lunar XI on his shoulder. "Come, come. Let me show you the Nightlight giving us so much trouble, just so you have a face in mind to forgive."
He follows of course, laughing at the Tsar's joke with no real mirth. He already has a face in mind, and he can't say it's for the purpose of forgiveness.
The walk to the underground laboratory is long and dull, no matter how much Lunar talks and boasts about this new Nightlight. The most powerful one they've made, he keeps saying, fitted with medical knowledge and a unique crystallization magic to make use of refracting starlight. A one man army, Lunar blathers on, and Pitch can only wonder why they don't just send that Nightlight out instead of him. He can babysit the child instead if they want a personal guard so badly. He's already here anyway.
Pitch keeps all these thoughts to himself. He already knows how the Tsar likes his conversations: mostly one sided, peppered with laughs and affirmations from the other party. Pitch is extremely adept at that, though it's painfully dull.
Thankfully, they reach the laboratory, sealed behind multiple titanium doors that Lunar has to unlock one by one. There is a decontamination area too that blasts them both, and soon they're in a dark chamber full of engineers and scientists at consoles, tapping away, monitoring the screen or talking to each other in serious tones. In the middle of it all is a pod, seemingly made out of diamond or something similar; fully transparent to display the sleeping figure inside.
He glows gently, floating, filling the room with light bright enough that they don't need other sources of illumination here.
"There it is," Lunar says with a laugh but apparent disapproval. "The thing keeps waking up too early and the timer has to reset every single time..." He laughs again to mask how frustrated he clearly is, even if it doesn't work. "It's not a good sign, I'll tell you that, Lord Pitch! You want them following your every command!"
"Of course, sir."
They are stars, after all, the most powerful source of energy in the universe.
It takes a lot of hubris to think they can get one and train it like a dog, much less one this big and bright. The raw energy the young man contains within himself in such a small frame, the wreckage and mayhem he could enact if he simply chose to—this star has all the reason to disobey, and he's sure the Lunars know that.
"But at least we're at the last stages. Just implanting the directives into that pretty little head," the Tsar looks to one of the scientists close by, "am I right?"
"Yes, sir, we expect the Nightlight will be ready in a few days at most. We just need to inject straight into the grey matter..."
Pitch stops listening. He really couldn't care any less. He knows what it takes to make Nightlights, and he knows what this one in particular took to make. They were part of a huge solar system with dwarf and giant planets alike, all with multiple moons, all with their own ecosystems. The star brought life with them in that corner of the universe; without them, that solar system must be crashing into each other from the gravity between the planetary bodies, all frozen over. The buildings, the animals, the plants, all gone, while the people are shipped to other systems, who really knows where—only so the star could be stuffed into the small frame of a teenage boy to be a child's babysitter while everyone else risks their own lives and families against the actual threat.
He stares at the floating boy, careful to keep his body as relaxed and neutral as possible, as the scientists goes on and on and Lunar and his boisterous, grating voice continues to gloat. He stares, until the skin between the boy's brows furrow and hazy green eyes meet Pitch's gold.
"Ugh, not again! Confounding little—"
"I can't blame him."
"Lord Pitch?"
He glances at Lunar before turning back. "I also get restless when I'm bedridden. I can't blame him for wanting to wake up."
Those verdant green gain a little more focus and clarity. They meet his more firmly, and Pitch waves, giving a small smile as greeting. Then, the boy's eyes slip closed as anesthetic is pumped straight into his veins. He grows still, but the glow remains.
It's warm under his light.
"Do you still need help?"
"No, dear. You can go play now."
"Are you suuuuure?"
"Yes, Kozmo," his mother turns away from stirring the pot of stew to press a kiss to Pitch's forehead, making him still his swinging legs. "You've been a big help. Go on now; just be back in time for dinner, okay?"
"Okay!" Pitch leaps off the countertop. "I'm going to go play with the neighbors!"
"Be careful! Remember not to annoy them too much!"
"Yes moooom!"
"And if you see any of the—"
"Greet them properly, I know!" Pitch tries to keep his frustration from showing through. "I'll be okay mom! Be back soon!"
And out he goes through the backdoor of the complex, waving at any other people he sees on the way there. He reaches the communal back garden and hops onto the fence, squinting into the distance until he sees Silver and Onyx. He waves at them with his whole arm as they come closer, elegantly galloping until they reach the fence.
"Mom says I can play now!" Pitch announces.
Onyx, a black mare, snuffles in approval while Silver, a gray one with black stockings, clops the ground with her two front hooves. She reaches over to Pitch's hair and exhales, ruffling it, then pushes against his face. A giggle comes out of him and he affectionately pushes Silver's muzzle away. "Stop! Don't put snot in my hair or mom and dad are gonna get mad!"
Silver obediently pulls away with a huff while Onyx turns and presses her side to the fence. Pitch automatically sits himself on her back, expertly balancing himself even without a saddle.
"I'm just gonna follow whatever you guys wanna do, okay?"
Silver takes off galloping through the road while Onyx, mindful of the child on her, goes at a more steady pace. Her hooves make a satisfying, calming sound against the stone as they stroll between the buildings. Pitch looks up at the clear sky, covering his eyes with an outstretched hand as he meets the sun. It warms his skin—makes him think of when he still had other friends to play with. Lately, they've all been told to go work with their parents in the mines so Pitch and the neighbors are often left to entertain themselves.
He tries not to think about it too hard, but then he sees the Luna-people in their silver uniforms, roaming around, hand already on the hilt of their sword. They march through the street, taking the same route they always do, while he and Onyx sneak by through a path they almost never take, avoiding them.
"They're so weird," Pitch mutters, and Onyx huffs in agreement. "Do they expect birds to attack them or something?"
Things have changed since the Luna-people arrived, but Pitch has a hard time putting it into words. All he knows is that he's too young to go to the mines with his friends, his father has been meaner with the lashes, and his mother keeps telling him to behave around the Luna-people. It's been lonelier, but at least the sun is still the same; bright and warm and comforting. He doesn't feel as lonely.
"Dad says they won't stop talking about a war with darkness," Pitch explains to Onyx, who quietly walks along, far behind Silver but knowing where she went. "I said, 'there's a war?!', and dad said, 'yeah, in another solar system really really far away', and then I said, 'then why are the Luna-people here?!' It makes no sense!"
Onyx stops only to stomp the ground. She continues on her way.
"Mom keeps saying it's good for our planet, though. People like when there's work to do, she said, even if it means going into the mines." Pitch pouts. "I said that's stupid, and then dad laughed but he also hit me for being rude."
A soft neigh and a huff is all Pitch gets. He doesn't really expect a coherent reply, he's just happy Onyx is listening to him at all.
"Whenever I get to see my friends, they're always so tired and talking about how the Luna-people keep talking about nightlights, too. I don't get it. I have a nightlight back in my room, why do they need to go to the mines for theirs?" Pitch adjusts himself to more securely remain on Onyx as she exits the town and goes on more uneven ground. The sound of hooves on stone transitions to the crunch of grass. Onyx sneezes, as if to say she doesn't know.
"It's so stupid," he says again, quieter and more somber. "I don't know why they have to stay here. I just want them to leave."
Then maybe things will go back to normal.
His thoughts are interrupted by neighs, and he sees Silver and another horse, Pebble, chasing each other in the open field. Pitch breaks into a smile, already holding tight onto Onyx, but she stops and just watches them from afar, her tail flicking a couple of times. "What's wrong?" Pitch prompts, and suddenly Onyx is turning, going uphill instead to a tree that overlooks the field.
"Oh." Pitch tries not to sound disappointed. "Mom did say you need more rest these days."
Onyx stops her ascent to look over and sniff. Pitch pets her muzzle to say he understands. She continues on her way, stopping under the shade of the great oak tree. Onyx then prances around the shade, seemingly looking for a spot, and then she settles down. Pitch slides off and quickly gives her all the space she needs to maneuver into a comfortable position on her side, a safe distance away, before he goes back between her legs and lays against her belly.
He's too short to see the other neighbors playing, so he turns his gaze skyward, past the canopy. Looking at the sun this way isn't blinding; it's beautiful, if anything, watching its golden shine through the leaves. He soaks up the warmth with a hum.
"Hey Onyx?"
A huff.
"Do you think the sun gets lonely?"
Her tail flicks.
"I hope they know I love them very much." Pitch yawns and he curls up, snuggling against Onyx's and the sun's warmth. "Maybe I'll learn how to go to space on a schooner so I can show them some of the stuff they helped grow, like me, and mom's flowers..."
He closes his eyes, letting warm and gentle starlight lull him to sleep.