FicWad

When you think of Guardians, you think of Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and for the faithful; Jack Frost. But not all Guardians are there because they save a child or had a gift to bring to the world, oh-no, you became a guardian because you were forced to, and because its your fault that Pitch Black had returned.

Your Name is (Y/N) Trix, and this how you were to become the Guardian of Mischief.
Your original name was (Y/N) (L/N), and ordinary girl with a love for trouble. You had beautiful (H/L/H/C) hair, deep (E/C) eyes, freckles graced across your face (sorry if you don’t), and an unending hunger to play tricks and pranks. Your family was huge, 8 people last you remember. But that was three hundred fifteen years ago. Now you see their generations: the same noses, eyes, and passions. You miss them terribly.
But now, you have grey-blonde hair, pale skin, tattered clothes, a small doll, and a punishment.
What's that you ask? Never Dying. Because of what you started, Pitch Black has returned, along with more power than the Guardians had ever prepared for.
So Manny, the Man in the Moon, had volunteered you to help behind the scenes.
When You started as a Guardian, You were quiet, shy, and alone. But you eventually grew to be loud, boisterous, and rather adventurous person who often pretended to have believers, though the children who you had played with often walked through your form constantly during their pretend skirmishes with sticks and damsels in distress.
Manny had already told you who you once were, and what you did since the beginning of it all. And in the end, you were still that quiet lonely girl at the end of the day after the children went home to be with their families.
But besides keeping Pitch at bay, you also had reasonability to cause or stop mischief in children, keeping the naughty and nice list even, the usual white lie or broken vase incident. But after that, you would hunt nightmares that still ran rampant throughout the world. On many cases you found so many that on winter nights the snow would turn black from all the sand left in the air. Leaving the living wonder how it got there in the first place.
None of the "official" Guardians cared to check out the sand/snow, but You’re just a behind-the-scenes guardian, so things were fine quiet. It's better than waking up to dangers worse than that.


"Little nightmares," You whispered, hearing the near silent whinny of a small herd, about 6 or 7 from what you could tell.
You stalked the city that you were in, somewhere in Wisconsin last checked, looking for those horse lookalikes. Your death-day, you guessed, was today and you had hoped on a big catch to numb out the last sounds you remembered of falling from that theater 316 years ago.
You could still see the looks of what was your family's faces, now just a blur, stricken with fear and distress. The unnaturally cold spring had left a thick layer of ice on the ground, and you hoped this would be a nice change for once in a century.
"It looks like Jack's been busy," You thought to yourself, remembering the big news about the new guardian that's been initiated after saving the children's belief two years ago.
You continued your search, spotting the wild black sand blurs on the roof of a small apartment.
You took out the small doll you had from a pocket and squeezed it lightly. From the ripped up mouth appeared two handles, which turned out to be stone hatchets. This was often what the doll had given you, but at other times it would transform into doll-like replicas of other guardians like Ivy: the Guardian of Love, or Ferris: the Guardian of Joy, both of which you had never met, but the doll had seemed to know them from a past lifetime from what you understood. Eventually you had named it Trinket, after learning that it had been used by countless other guardians before, taking a different form each time.
You snuck up on the beasts and issued a battle cry (though you still don't see any effect other than being noisy, which you were fine with...), running after the nightmares and cleaving them into the piles of sand they were. This was barely even a fair fight; it was like they were never trying to run in the first place.
"It's nice to see someone's been cleaning up after me," a voice echoed, leaving no direction of origin.
You glared. "Pitch," the name leaving a bad taste your mouth.
A laugh.
"(Y/N) Trix, I wondered what foolish, little, attention-seeking child had released me. I thank you." Pitch said, appearing from the shadows.
"If I were able to, I'd send you six feet under." You seethed, silently aiming at the dark one.
"There's no need for that. Your reincarnation alone would have brought me back, the people just left me a little to simmer on." He said, his smile wickedly feral.
"At least your still just a shadow under the bed." you said, shoving the thought of your death to the back of your mind.
"The same as you, despite your pleading to the Man in the Moon."

“Nice to know I’ve been heard, even if it is just the boogeyman. ” you countered.
No one was there when you spoke with the M.I.M., even Manny refused to answer you – night after night…

“Since you seem to be having such a pleasurable time, I thought I’d being a few of my friends…” He snickered; an army of those stupid, ugly sand hills forming an enormous herd of nightmares surrounded me.

“Trick or Treat.” He smiled, sending them off towards your location.
You instantly slid into the killing calm. It seemed like second nature to be destroying… almost blissful. The hatchets sent the black sand-horses back, as if analyzing their target. They veered left as you swung, sending them into a frenzy of attacks.
And all the while you were destroying his minions, Pitch just stood and watched, like a wolf about to strike its prey. You threw one of your hatchets at him, a threat of what would come to him should he stick around.
He disappeared into the shadows just as the weapon was about to make contact.
Quickly, You brought Trinket out of your pocket, already in the doll form of Ivy Valentine and her silver bow and arrows.
“I need a little help, Trinket,” You said, gaining a nasty gash on your leg from one of the horses.
You threw it up; its wings spread out and began picking off nightmares instantly.
“Stupid Pitch - sending his stupid nightmares, Stupid Manny for forcing me to be here, stupid Guardians for never helping- ” You vented, sending your remaining hatchet toward the tidal wave of black.
“Enjoying yourself yet?” Pitch said from behind, leaning on a chimney.
With what little throwing daggers you had on yourself, you somehow dispatched the last of those bad dreams – and looked at the Guardian of Fear with bloodlust.
“You seem pretty cocky after just losing your army, Pitch,” You said, ignoring the few cuts and bruises from the battle.

He laughed, “You really think I’d bring my army? Poor little spirit, thinking she’s so strong. Save your breath – you’ll need it soon.” He said, vanishing once more.

A few minutes after checking the perimeter, you left it best to guess he went back to his dark hidey-hole.
Trinket in its Ivy-form fluttered back to me; morphing into the unkempt, patched-up doll you had come to rely on.
“Come on buddy, let’s go home.” You said, tired and needing to care that nasty gash on your leg.

I walked to a small tree, barely 20 years old, and walked into it.
My form traveled into the roots, traveling through the earth and into a forest – I never cared to know where it was, but I stepped out of the tree beside the abandoned hunter’s cabin I called home.