The absence of light is often thought of as scary, mostly by children. These children often spin fantasies of monsters who live under their beds or in their wardrobe. Most adults dismiss the fear of the dark as something that children come up in their shaping fantasies. They tell their children that there is no such thing as 'The Boogieman' or any other sort of monster that could be hiding under beds. Yet the dark is a fear that people still face; some people would think that we, as the human race, would have lost that fear. But never the less, the dark continues to scare everybody at some point in their life.
But what if there was something else to the dark? What if the children were right about the monster that hides in the dark?
Enter, Pitch Black: A tall, lithe man with ashen skin. A thin, near elven, face topped with spiky, glossy hair that matches his namesake; though it was not his hair nor his general appearance that would be the most striking and noticeable thing about him, it was his golden eyes that bore into the soul. He has lived for aeons and had been called many things through this time; Kozmotis Pitchiner, , the Boogieman, The Nightmare King and several others along the way.
His job was to create nightmares and cause fear. Through this he would protect the children as they grew up, making them weary of dangers that may present themselves. But he had long forgotten his true purpose after the Dark Ages had ended he became invisible to mortals everywhere; it was this coupled with the hate and fear that had been tossed his way by the mortals and spirits alike that caused him to forget.
He became jealous and vindictive against the world and sought out to create a new Dark Age by destroying the other spirits and placing himself on top. But his plan had failed, the guardians; a group of mythical figures that were created and chosen by the man in the moon. Their goal was to protect children and bring joy to the world. The group consisted of five individuals, North, Tooth, Sandy, Bunnymund and the latest member, Jack Frost.
The guardians left Pitch a shade of his former self, no, that would not be an accurate description of how he was; he was dying. His nightmares were quite aggressive and dangerous when left unchecked. He had nothing, no power, no minions, no family. Nobody would miss him when he finally passed…
A bright white light shone over his deteriorating form, laying in a forest somewhere in the world. He had wasted the last of his energy getting away from his mares, so he could only stare up at the full moon above him. "Well, hello there, old friend. Here to gloat?"
The moon seemed to dim at his comment. "Oh, don't take pity on me… I don't need your pity. So if you're not here to gloat, why are you here?"
The beam of light narrowed to the centre of his chest, pointing. Curious as to what the Man in the Moon was trying to say, he forced his head to move and look at his chest. What he saw was alarming at best; his chest was smoking with dark red and purple tendrils, circling around the place where his heart would be.
A tornado of red, purple and black burst forth from his chest and blanketing the night sky. The various woodland creatures either fled in terror or died from the amount of fear that assaulted their bodies and Pitch lay petrified by what he felt and saw.
During this chaos, something formed above him. Tall and lanky, somewhat humanoid. Skeletal arms ending in hands with seven fingers with one too many joints and tipped with razor sharp claws. Legs bent at odd angles. Its face, hollow and thin, sickly grey skin and a mouth uncomfortably large filled with an impossible amount of sharp pointed teeth. It's hair -if you could call it that- was somehow scaily and yet seemed as soft as silk, it reached down to its feet yet floated as if it were unaffected by gravity; each strand seemed to have a mind of its own. Yet this was all mute noise as the Nightmare King looked into the eyes of the abomination: Red radiating evil intent.
A Loud screech left its mouth as if threw back his head, that scream soon turned to bone chilling laughter. "We are free!" Its voice was unnatural, like an amalgamation of demonic voices. But that is all it or they spoke before it disappeared.
The moon then shone once more, but it felt… muted. Once Pitch's mind restarted, did he then ask his question. "What was that?!"
"Daddy…?" a child's voice echoed in his head.
Before he could answer, another voice did, "Emily?" the voice. It sounded familiar… Was it his voice?
"Daddy, help! I'm stuck in here with all these monsters! Please help me!"
"Emily! Darling, what are you doing in there!"
"Please help me, daddy!"
Pitch didn't need to listen to anymore, nor did he want to. Tears streaked down the side of his face. He remembered that moment, loathed as he wished to. He knew what had just leapt out of him, fearlings. It was not one creature, but many. He could remember the Golden Age, he knew what dangers those creatures could do, and now they had combined to create a Fear King… How creative.
They would cause problems… but he didn't care. He was dying, and it wouldn't matter one way or another.
Which is why he found it quite disturbing that when he found himself looking up at a roof so white it was near blinding. Strangely he felt like he wasn't dying.
Pulling himself up, he looked around the room he found himself in. A hospital room. He was laying in one a hospital bed, wearing a one of the gowns that fit snuggly around his small frame.
Looking down at his body, he found that small would be the correct term. Another word that would accurately describe his size, is 'toddler size'.
"What the…" he heard a little girl say, before pausing. It was then that he realised it was no little girl speaking, but himself. His face morphed into one of pure horror as he felt his own face and hair -something that now reached down to his mid-back, and was no longer spiked.
Patting the place that would confirm that he was no longer Pitch Black, the Nightmare King, he found nothing. Nothing to signify that he was male. And so, he reacted the way any sane person would react. It was the only normal way one could react when they found themselves no longer the tall, dark and handsome (if he said so himself) man and instead found themselves as a toddler of the opposite gender.
He screamed. Then chaos.
The people working in the hospital burst through the door, running to the screaming child to find out what was happening.
"Little girl, what's wrong! Are you okay?" one of the people asked, a guy by the sounds of his voice. But Pitch did not respond. The doctors tried looking at his body, probably trying to see if she had hurt herself. Pitch didn't like it and responded violently. Years later, the Nightmare Queen would deny any and all accusations on how she reacted.
At first, he tried to bend the shadows to his will and attack the doctors with them. When that didn't work he instead scratched, punched and kicked at the staff. The doctors, being the adults they were, just restrained the screaming child who started to use a vast amount of curses that no child should know.
"Unhand me mortals!" he growled, feeling weak and dizzy all of a sudden.
"…I need you to calm down. everything is okay." One of the staff replied, believing the 'mortal' comment to be something the child learnt from a movie or something of that sort.
"Don't… order… me…" Pitch said, unable to finish his sentence before he passed out.
The only weakness the Boogieman had that was common knowledge, was daylight. But really it was light in general, daylight was only more effective at weakening him. Other lights worked okay, nightlights, for instance, would often put the child out of fear. So naturally, Pitch would never, ever sleep in a place that could have some form of light around him.
Which is why he found it odd that he had awakened to a bright light beaming into his eyes. Opening them, he found himself back in the hospital of his dream. Only it wasn't a dream.
He wasn't going to freak out again, he did that last time he was conscious. Instead, he just glared at the ceiling. A few moments later he came to the conclusion that he hated it, and he was still a female toddler. He continued to glare at the roof.
But, just like with the guardians, anything he tried to do, someone must put a stop to it. "Hello, I am Doctor Karle."
Tearing his eyes from a little black spot on the ceiling, he fixated his vision onto 'Doctor Karle'. She was a short and stout woman. faded black hair tied into a messy bun adorned her head and bright blue eyes contrasted her dark, tanned skin. She had purple-rimmed, rectangle glasses and wore an unbuttoned white coat.
"Can you tell me your name?" she asked with a light French accent.
Pitch was about to respond when he realised something that he should have the night before. "You can see me?"
She looked slightly perturbed by the question but answered it anyway. "…Of course, I can."
"And the others, they could too!" he asked, getting excited by this little detail.
"Yes, they could…"
They can actually see me. was the only thought that ran through his mind at this moment. Pitch couldn't help but laugh -a cold and shrill laugh- at how absurd everything was. He could be seen, not by children (That he knew) but by the adults, not only that but he was in the form of a little girl! One of the only things he wanted and it was soiled by his appearance.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." Pitch replied grinning, "Can I please have a mirror."
"Because you asked nicely." The woman went over to one of the cupboards around the room and took out a hand mirror. "Is this okay?" she asked holding the mirror out.
"Yes, it will do wonderfully." He responded grabbing the mirror. Looking into his reflection, he found that not too much had changed besides the obvious femineity: He still had his unnatural golden eyes, his pitch black hair and his elvish face, but his skin was quite a few shades lighter and his teeth straighter.
"It seems we have a little narcissist." She mumbled, obviously under the notion that he would not understand.
"Yes, I do pride myself on my devilishly handsome good looks." His comment seemed to make her shift uncomfortably. "Despite my rather youthful appearances, I am quite knowledgeable"
The doctor looked extremely put off by what pitch was saying, "It seems so… can you tell me your name?"
"Name?" He could not call himself Pitch, at least for the time being. He had no power, no nothing. He couldn't just turn himself back, even if he wanted to. He was stuck in this form for the foreseeable future. Then again, being in this form could actually be beneficial; he could just inform the existence of himself and discredit the existence of the guardians. It was a wonderful idea!
But he needed a name. he racked his brain for a name that would fit his dark persona, he would keep the name Black, but for a first name? Already he had quite a few Ebony, Nyx, Ciara, Darcel, Andromeda, Kerilyn, Jennifer, and Ravyn. What to choose, what to choose…
"Theanna," She said finally, "Theanna Black"
AN: I do not know where this came from, nor do I know if it is FF,net material. But I had been always fond of extremely dark things and children mingling. So I was thinking of a way to mix the two, and I had recently read a good fic by the name of The Meaning of Fear by Rabbitfoot O'Eight. Then this happened. Sue me… don't actually.
I am planning of having Pitch go to an orphanage and grow up as a human. Slowly over time he will gain his powers back and he will at some point meet the guardians again (not that they will immediately know who he is).
I know I completely butchered the canon events that took place in the RotG spin off with Pitch guarding the fearlings and the fearlings using his love for his daughter against him, but… I like this better. Piss poor excuse but I do.
By the way, if you are wondering where I got the name Theanna from, it was a mix of Thana (Feminine version of Thanatos) and the name of a fanfiction author that I like, TheannaTheWhite (Someone who mysteriously disappeared)
Oh, you might find a Fanfiction (or Original Fiction) where a dark being finds a lonely child and becomes attached to it and raises it, help with the plot will be rewarded with cyber cookies (Or actual cookies if it becomes an actual story that makes money). If you could link me to a fic like that then kudos to you! (NOT like Monsters Inc. because I actually want the monster to be disturbing)
I do not own anything that I do not own, this includes 'Rise of the Guardians' and its spinoffs; they belong to the people who… own them.