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What Is Your Center?	By : LuciferDragon Category: +M through R > Rise of the Guardians Views: 1676 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Rise of the Guardians world, and I make no profit at all from this fiction.

Chapter List
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“I’ve never seen him like this,” Tooth muttered as they each looked through a pile of old books and loose pages, trying to find what was wrong with Hana. They had all waited at the meeting point by the sleigh for five minutes before Pitch muttered about going to find her, since it wasn’t like her to be late for anything. They were not expecting him to return with her unconscious, and they for sure were not expecting him to look so concerned.
Tooth chanced a glance to the lounge down the way, where she had patched up the woman just the day before. Hana laid out, in obvious pain, with her head resting on the edge. Pitch held his hands to the sides of her head, his own bowed in concentration. He had told them her nightmares were out of control, meaning he was the only one who could keep her steady. She watched Sandy approach him cautiously, signing with his sand, “You need a break. Let me take over.”
Pitch’s angry tone carried up the small staircase. “These are not what you deal with on a nightly basis. Look through the papers to find what’s causing this. You’ll be more useful then.”
Jack looked up from his work, but Tooth only shook her head. “Don’t get involved, Jack. You’re the last person he’d accept help from right now.”
He turned his gaze back to the papers with a nod. “Sandy only wants to help,” he responded just as quiet. “We all do.”
“He’s right though. She isn’t suffering from something Sandy could keep at bay.” She looked over at them again, seeing Sandy sign “Don’t let this cloud your judgment” before returning to the table. “These are worse than bad dreams.” She skimmed over an article, finding nothing once more. “These are memories of such magnitude only he can keep them steady. He’s the only one with the proper skill set to do so.”
Sandy nodded and resumed his pile of texts.
Seven hours passed and they still found nothing. Her condition only worsened despite Pitch’s efforts to keep the memories at bay. He was able to see and hear a few things to help them from her memory, narrowing it down to a snake bite, and that time was running out.
He stayed in place the whole time, his fingers never leaving her temples, attempting to keep her calm. Despite his efforts, when hour seven hit, the fear only intensified to a level even he had trouble suppressing. Even so, he continued to try to communicate with her, to at least let her know he was there.
Her memories were becoming etched into his own. He had known of her previous life only so much. He had refused to read into her mind the four centuries he had known her. He felt he owed her that much privacy. These were things he did not want to ever invade upon for reasons he kept to himself. They had been splotchy for hours, jumping all over the place as he had kept them at bay from overtaking her senses. However, with how much time had passed, he was slowly losing the battle.
He ignored the calm voice of Toothiana telling him to rest, keeping his focus on holding the terrors back. He clenched his teeth as they slipped through his restraint, allowing him to see what she truly feared for the first time since they had met.
“Come on Paul, who will know if we don’t go just this once?”
“It’s church, Serah. We have to go.”
She rolled her eyes and dragged him behind the barn, away from the flow of townsfolk that filed into the church. “We go every week and listen to that preacher go on and on. Why don’t we just… take a break?” She trailed her fingers up his chest as she backed him up against the barn.
“We have to go, Serah. How else we gonna get to heaven?”
She gave a heavy sigh at the man a good head taller than her. “We say grace every night, we learn about Him in school, and from our families. It’s all that’s ever talked about. Why can’t we have a break on Sunday? Didn’t He have Sunday off, according to that book?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know He did. And it isn’t some book, Serah. It’s true. He is there, and he needs us in church.”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “Really Paul, you don’t honestly believe all of it?”
He pushed her off, leaving her startled at his glare. “I do. And you’re not who I thought you were. You’re a sinner. A heretic. Stay away from me and go to Hell where you belong.” He stalked off, leaving her in a daze.
She glared at his retreating back. “Fine! Be a sheep just like everyone else!”
At dinner that night, the silence became suffocating. She and her parents sat around a table, eating a meager meal of cabbage soup, showing the harvest had not done well that year.
Her father broke the tense silence. “You weren’t in church today.”
“I didn’t feel like going,” she responded just as tersely.
“You’ll be going to Hell then, I take it?”
She calmly set her spoon down. “Father, I can’t very well go to a place I don’t think exists.”
Her father pounded a fist into the table. “I will not have that talk in my house! Not in front of Him!” He pointed to a crucifix by the door. “No daughter of mine will be a heretic!”
Without a word she stood from the table and took her shawl from beside the door.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
She pointed to the crucifix. “Ask Him. I thought He knew everything.” She slammed the door behind her and took off, not caring where she went, who she ran into in the small village. She ended up in the tavern, and with the help of an interested bartender, proceeded to drink until she was numb. In doing so, she accepted the advances of the bartender, and he took her in the back. She was twenty, still unmarried, still untouched. Paul had been her last chance, and he had already voiced his opinions on her.
She was found the next day in her home by the town governor, and taken to stand trial. Paul had turned her in for trying to coerce him down the path of sin. He had turned her in for being a witch. The bartender also came forward, saying she had cast an enchantment on him to make him do what he did. No one listened to her. She was labeled a witch and sentenced to death.
She sat alone in her straw-strewn cell, not allowed any article of clothing. Heretics and witches didn’t need such things. She waited while they put together the gallows, listening to the hammers work against the wood. She cried to deaf ears, cried until she was hoarse, and then cried more, sobbing for her innocence. She wasn’t a witch, she wasn’t a sinner. She was only different. What was wrong with being different? What was wrong with asking questions?
As she was led to the gallows, still denied clothes to cover her indecency, her eyes were sunken, her throat dry and cracked. It was made worse as the townsfolk decided to throw rotten food at her, just as they would a common criminal. The words “sinner”, “witch”, “harlot”, “heretic”, “whore”, and “deceiver”, and much worse, were thrown around, making her hide behind her then-long curtain of brown hair.
They fitted the noose around her neck as she got to the gallows, and her heart hammered against her chest. She didn’t want to die. It wasn’t her time. She didn’t deserve to die. She saw her parents in the crowd, the same look of animosity on their faces as all the others. “I’ll be a good girl, I swear,” she tried begging, drowned out by the crowd and her hoarse voice. “I’ll be good. I’ll go to church. I’ll believe in God. Mommy, Daddy, please—“
The shock of the floor vanishing beneath her feet and the sudden stop shattered her, and if it weren’t for her hands being bound, she would have clawed against the noose tightening against her throat from her weight. There was nothing she could do but count the seconds as breathing became harder with the rope biting into her flesh, ripping layers away with each involuntary struggle her body gave.
When it all began to fade away, when she finally stopped struggling, she heard them all cheer.
The last thing she had heard as a human was her parents cheering for the death of a witch.
“I’ve got it!”
Pitch looked up, keeping his magic active. “What is it, Bunny?”
The pookah leapt down with the book, a grim look on his face. “It’s something called a Mark of Trial. It’s inflicted by Lucifer’s Abyssal Anacondas, which is why there was no blood on her bite wounds. It cauterizes instantly with Hellfire.”
“This clarifies nothing.”
“I’m getting to it.” The others joined around him, listening to the explanation while tears escaped Hana’s closed eyes. “It’s-it’s a trial, mate. The effects of the bite worsen over eight hours. If she gives in to her guilt, gives in to the terror, she dies in relevance to her sins. It forces the victim to succumb to their depression.”
Tooth flitted in front of him. “So the others?”
“Were bitten and they gave in. They each died in ways that reflected their inner turmoil and what fueled their depression.”
“They all make sense,” Jack said, tossing his staff back and forth, “but what about her? She isn’t depressed.” He met Pitch’s eyes. “That we know of.”
“Not that she ever told me, but… it has been a hundred years,” he answered. “A hundred years in solitude would make anyone succumb to their minds.” His heart bled as her mind felt like it was tearing itself apart. “It’s nearing the end. Sandy, keep her under. If she wakes, I can’t help her.”
Sandy nodded and doused her with another batch of Dreamsand while Pitch concentrated again, his own consciousness entering her dreams. The darkness was so thick he could barely keep it back now. Her mind was attempting to suffocate her.
“You’re not allowed to die.”
He finally heard her answer. “All of this will stop. I’m begging you, let me die.”
“Never.” He sifted through more of the darkness, feeling it begin to recede “Do you remember what happened after all of this? When I found you in the woods? You were naked and terrified, and I helped you. Do you remember that?”
The darkness hissed against his words, but he felt them weaken. “I-I think so. You gave me your coat. Asked my name.” The darkness hissed again. “You gave me shelter.”
He let out a laugh. “Yes, keep going. What else?”
“The Guardians shunned me. Told me I didn’t use my powers correctly.”
“But you did. You did just what you were created to do.” Something in his memory clicked from months ago. “Hana, what is your center?”
“I-I don’t know. Please, let me go.”
He growled, not knowing he also did so on the physical plane. “Stop saying such idiotic things. This is what Lucifer wants. Listen to me, Hana. What is your center?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.”
“Think, Hana. What is it you said you could see in me? Something that I didn’t know I could possess.” When she remained silent, his voice grew quieter. “What did you see in me, Serah?”
The darkness gave a much weaker hiss this time, and he could see through them as they began to vanish. “I saw… I saw beauty in your work. In the way you crafted your talents.” The shadows began to recede, and the sounds haunting her memories started to fade. “You put such care into your creatures, gave them all a purpose. It didn’t matter that they were creatures of nightmares. They were still beautiful.” He finally saw her in the darkness, still sitting with her legs pressed to her chest. However, she was finally looking at him. She gave a soft smile. “You were beautiful as you worked.”
The shadows vanished completely and he pulled away from her mind as her body stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She gave a breath of a laugh and reached up to touch his face. “Stubborn old man.”
“It paid off. Can’t have you dying on me. Wandering the shadows is frightfully dull alone.”
The others each let out a sigh of relief and rushed the woman, all making sure she was all right. Pitch stood off to the side, mentally and physically exhausted. He jumped as someone clapped him on the shoulder. “You care much for her,” North said with a smile.
“She keeps life from getting dull.” He looked at North. “I will cut that grin off if you don’t stop.”
“If you did not care, you would have let her die.”
“And I didn’t, so there’s your answer.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why does it matter? You all know I kept her in the lair for centuries. It shouldn’t matter why I let her live.”
“It does.” He put his hands to his shoulders, turning the darker man towards the others. Hana cast a glance his way and smiled before her attention was taken again. “It shows you have heart still.” He nodded behind him to the elevator. “Walk with me.”
Pitch found no reason to argue and followed the Russian, both not saying a word as the elevator took them down to where the yeits were still frantically putting the final touches on the Christmas presents and shoving them in the sleigh. He took them both in his office, allowing Pitch to see just what North did in his spare time. As the door closed behind him, the sound of yetis growling at each other faded to a muffle, as did the testing of the toys. “Something on your mind, North?”
The larger man only chuckled. “You are tricky one, Kozmotis.”
He hid his surprise well. “I see you’ve been talking to him.”
North nodded. “He shared our concern after Easter, but told us to leave you be. That you are not threat anymore. You have… priorities now.”
He laughed. “Not a threat? Does he not realize what I am capable of with a sound mind? Does he not remember why he is where he is?”
“He remembers. He also says you will not do so again. Not as long as she lives.”
His amusement faded quickly. “What would she have to do with this?”
North’s knowing smile returned as he sat at his desk, flicking an elf away from his plate of cookies. “You know what she has to do with it. If it is pride keeping you from saying what you have, it does not matter. What matters is you care. You have heart. You still have some good in you.” His eyes stared at him, holding his gaze. “There is still part of you that is Kozmotis Pitchiner.”
“That man has been dead for far longer than you’ve been alive, North. In either life.”
“He still lives.” He inspected one of his cookies before eating it. “And knowing you have sliver of heart tells me I can trust you.”
He curled his lip. “How does that make you trust me?”
“You did not let her kill herself. You fought for her. She fights for us.”
“You left her on her own with the King of Nightmares when she was turned over four hundred years ago. What does that say about you?”
North went silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Do realize that we had extended an offer to you at one point.”
“An offer that was not going to work.”
“We at least tried. Knowing you had found her first, we knew you would corrupt her.”
“She follows her own path. Her choices and actions are hers, not mine.”
“But they follow yours, not ours.” He shook his head. “She was not what we represented. Just as Jack was not what we represented. Jack only did what he wanted. He did not care if it hurt or helped children.” He pushed the rest of the cookies aside, which the elf happily took away. “He changed to help children. Hana has not and will not. Just like you. However, she still fights for us. It shows we can trust her.”
“So why trust me? I’ve done you no favors.” He motioned to the office. “I could drown this whole place in shadows if I truly wanted to.”
“But you have not.” North stood again. “You have had power for nine months now. You have had your sanity in check. In that time you could have drowned us all in darkness. But you have not. Something has stopped you. Or taken us off your radar.” He jabbed Pitch in the chest. “What was it?”
For once, the King of Nightmares had no response. He simply kept his pale gaze trained on North.
“This is why we can trust you. For now.”
Pitch turned and opened the door. “Stay out of my way and we’ll all see this through.” He stopped in the doorway, looking at the globe. “We’re running out of time. It’s Christmas Eve.”
North nodded behind him. “It is our last chance. This is best night for him to strike. When everyone go to evening mass.” He placed a hand on Pitch’s shoulder. “Go to her. Make sure she is fine. She needs to see you more than any of us.”
Pitch shrugged him off but left for the elevator, leaving North smiling in the doorway of his office. “Even the darkest beasts have hearts.” As if struck with an idea, he barricaded himself in his office for the time being, working out the crazy idea that had burrowed in his mind.
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What Is Your Center?