Thaw (Jelsa Fanfic)

Dark Agenda

Darkness knows no boundary. We cannot run from it, for it will always cast upon us. Like death, it is one of the few guarantees were are granted in this life. Even when it seems like it's lonely grasp is far, far away---soon enough, we will all find ourselves in the palm of its hand. And if we are especially unlucky, the darkness will keep the company of an even worse opponent--fear. And if we feed it, it will grow.

The wheel had already been set in motion. The terror that was cast on Arendelle from Elsa's powers had woken a particularly interested subject. A being that had, just five years prior, been nearly eliminated by the Guardians. Pitch Black had been forced deep into his lair, weakened by his own fear and wounded by the lack of children who feared him. It had been his greatest failure, and recovering from such a loss might have taken a thousand years.

If not for his new friend.

He wasn't sure just how the hooded figure had found him, but it had not taken long for the two to come to an understanding. The Reaper wanted free reign to collect souls. Pitch wanted power. Their common enemy was the Man in the Moon, and the minions he'd hired to protect the world.

It had been a month since the Reaper's arrival. Pitch felt stronger every day, and grew more and more impatient to launch the attack they'd been planning. It would be delightful to see the shock on the Guardians faces when he introduced them to his new friend. He could not wait to watch the lights of the world extinguish for the last time. But most of all, he could not wait to see Jack Frost fall to his knees in despair when they took his little Ice Queen away.

"Oh, just look at her. Such a regal little queen, isn't she?" Pitch stared intently into the swirling smoke that danced over his fingertips. Within the vapor, images of the slender blonde could be seen in perfect clarity. She was walking down a cavernous hall, her chin held high and determination etched into every inch of her pretty face. "Who would ever guess that she would wield the power of a thousand storms? By birth, at that!"

The dark figure in the corner said nothing...but he never did, and so far as Pitch knew, he never had. Words weren't necessary for the cloaked creature--he communicated in a vastly different way. The insightful mist for instance--able to peek in on just about anyone, with a mere whisk of the creature's skeletal hand. It was a trick Pitch admired deeply, and often wondered if he could perfect for himself.

The images in the smoke shifted, and the familiar and much hated face of Jack Frost appeared. The intervening bastard was sitting on the high branch of a tree, looking dreamily toward the castle in the distance. The Queens castle. There was a small smile riding his lips, and Pitch wanted to tear it right off. "And him? What a pathetic fool!" He snarled. "I can't waiting for the moment we take everything that has ever mattered to him and crush it right before his very eyes!"

The smoke swirled, traveling along the floor before rising along the impossibly tall stature of its creator. It then blinked from existence, leaving the room darker without its sickly glow.

"What are you waiting for? They'll be together soon. Taking her will be easier than robbing a child of his dreams." Pitch's patience was wearing thin. He'd been waiting hundreds of years to take down the Guardians, and now that he wasn't alone in his efforts, he was eager to act.

The Demon of Death floated closer, dwarfing Pitch when he came to a rest in front of him. The cloaked head turned, and a gloved hand raised. The smoke seemed to come from every angle of the room, swirling higher and higher. In the cloud, images began to form--though the people were not any that Pitch knew. Men, women, children. Some coughing, lying feverish in beds. A battlefield, strewn with bodies. Empty fields where crops should have grown, the earth parched and dry. Each frightful scene faded to the next, before the Reaper waved off the smoke once more.

"Delightful as that all appeared, I don't think I quite understand." As if on cue, a thunderous crescendo began in the four cavernous halls that lead to the room in which they now stood. The stone walls shook, and Pitch stepped back, alarmed that they might fall down around him.

Four impossibly huge equines skidded to a halt. The first was a sickly yellow in hue, it's eyes bulbous and pus filled. A thick, putrid substance frothed from its mouth, and it dragged one overgrown hoof against the cobblestone floor as it threw its head. The second was reddish, tall and proud and corded with muscle. Armor covered it's breast and face, and it's eyes glowed demonically from beneath the faceplate. The third was rail thin, it's ribs and pelvic bones protruding grossly from beneath a pale hide.

It was the last that made even Pitch a little uneasy.

The horse was blacker than the night, it's eyes empty sockets that glistened wetly in the dim light. Blood dripped endlessly from its nostrils, and when it opened its maw to release a sound he was sure no natural horse could ever make, he saw its gums were lined with jagged teeth that resembled razor blades.

The Reaper approached the black horse, touching its muzzle affectionately. "What...what in the bloody hell are these?" Pitch asked in amazement.

The Reaper pointed at him, and Pitch's vision clouded. It was another trick of the shrouded being--taking ones sight to communicate his intentions through visions. Pitch saw the Nightmares he had crafted only five years prior...the horses who had helped him to very nearly defeat the Guardians. His lips drew back in a silent snarl at the reminder of his failure--but then the vision faded away. The next was the Bible, opened to reveal the book of Revelations. The last was the Reaper, perched atop the hellish black horse with Pitch in the saddle of an equally dark animal at his side.

"Armageddon. You've crafted the creatures of the Armageddon. Pestilence, War, Famine, and...Death." Pitch said in wonder as his vision began to return to normal. His eerie yellow gaze shot to the Reaper. "Genius! How incredibly genus!" He nearly shrieked in delight. "You've taken my Nightmares and turned them into the one thing all people fear. Terror will be in the heart of every human! They will all believe in me!" Pitch watched as the horses slowly disappeared, vaporizing right before his very eyes. Looking back to the Reaper, he continued. "And you? You'll get all the souls you could ever want--and the Guardians will be no match to either of us. Oh, how I'm sorry I've doubted you. I see now. I see what you are preparing."

The Reaper stared at him, making no motion that he'd even heard Pitch's words. "But what of the girl? She needs no one to believe, and her powers are strong." Pitch wondered aloud.

The Reaper waved a hand, and Pitch saw a casket. "Well, that answers that...oh, how delightful. And it will just kill Frost!" Another vision, this one of the Guardians arguing amongst themselves. Jack Frost escaping into the wind, clearly searching for something. Ahh, Elsa. "She is your bargaining chip. The one that can tear their bonds. By taking her, we'll ensure he'll abandon his vows. There will be a rift amongst them...and they'll be weak. And that's when it's my turn. I'll see to it you get each one of their souls. Each one except Frost's. His will be free to roam eternity on an earth were everything he's ever loved has perished. Free to remember, free to fear!" Pitch cried gleefully, throwing his hands up in the air.

The Reaper gave a single nod of his concealed head, then pointed at Pitch. "I'll be patient. And when it's time, I'll be ready." He answered, bowing his head just slightly toward the demon. Something told him the wait would not be long.