The queen enters the throne room, bows to the priestess on the throne. “I have brought him,” she says, filled to the brim with pride for herself and for the queendom. They will have hope.

She looks behind her - Pitch has stopped at the entrance of the throne room, right outside the doorway. The queen sees his eyes scan the room, slowly, narrowing, coming to rest on the priestess. The snow spirit stands, tall and dark and menacing, behind him. His red eyes glow.

The priestess waves her hand, covered in whorls of violet. “No need to be so formal, sweetheart. Bring them here.” The queen smiles, moves towards her, then looks back again. Pitch hasn’t moved.

“Come on in, darling boy,” the queen says. Pitch finally takes a step in, the spirit soundlessly following him. The boy stops at the steps of the dais, looking up at the priestess.

“Hello, Pitch,” the priestess says. “I hope we haven’t startled you too much. Might you introduce me to your friend there?”

Pitch doesn’t ask her how she knows his name. The queen smiles. Instead, he tilts up his chin and answers in a clear tone. “I am not a child. Do not treat me like one.”

The priestess’s smile is sharp. “I believe I asked a question of you. It is childish to not answer it.”

Pitch’s red lips thin. “He does not have a name. And neither do you, I presume.”

“You presume correctly,” the priestess says. “I discarded my name with my old life.”

“Why should I obey a queen with no name?” Pitch asks levelly. The priestess raises an eyebrow.

The queen hurries to step up the dais, taking her seat on the throne besides the priestess. The priestess places her hand over the queen’s, then exhales slowly and gives Pitch a piercing gold stare. “We are the rulers of Skadi. It would do you well to obey.”

“Skadi will be yours,” the queen says, a warm look on her cold face. “We want to prepare you as best as possible to take over in case of... anything happening.”

Pitch nods. “I understand. Shall we commence my training?”

The priestess frowns. “Not yet. We must see if he is worthy.”

“He is,” the queen says quickly. She gives Pitch a encouraging smile. “We will begin tomorrow, darling boy. Have a servant show you to the royal chambers now, then to the gardens tomorrow.”

“The royal chambers-“ the priestess interrupts, looking like she had suddenly remembered something.

“That is all,” the queen says quickly, smile ever present. “I will see you tomorrow.”

The priestess tightens her blue lips. “Pitch,” she says, slowly, golden eyes narrowed. But she lets him go.

The queen’s hand squeezes the priestess’s gently. “He is worthy,” she repeats quietly after Pitch and the snow spirit has left the throne room, not sure if she is reassuring her wife or herself. She closes her eyes. The shattered black mirror fades at the edge of her mind..

**

the servant’s hair is white. everything in this palace is blinding. pitch shields his eyes as the servant leads him through the icy halls, feeling his inky skin start to smoke slightly. black tendrils wisp off his exposed arms, earning him a frightful glance from the servant as she turns a corner.

the snow spirit seems to notice his discomfort - he vanishes, and suddenly sleeves of white appear on his arms, hiding them from the piercing light. pitch feels comforted by this gesture, somehow.

“t-this is your room, sir,” the servant says, dropping a key in pitch’s hands then dashing away, a streak of white against white walls. the spirit reappears at his side as the sleeves disappearing from pitch’s arms.

“shall we,” pitch says, not waiting for a reply as he inserts the key into the lock and twists, the door gliding open without a sound.

the room is dark. the walls are smooth and glassy obsidian, with gold in place of the silver that lines the palace’s crystal walls. pitch trails a finger over the nearest wall, eyes drawn to the faint light out the window that is covered by a dark violet curtain. “they know us, huh,” pitch says.

<it seems someone has done their research>, the spirit says. his glowing red eyes scan the room.

“i wonder how many of those princes and farmboys were theirs,” pitch says, remembering white hair and pale skin and icy lips.

<it seems they have none left>.

pitch smiles and flops on the bed. “it seems so.” they are in silence for a moment.

“how many secrets do you think i can learn in a day?” pitch asks, hand reaching out idly. the air vibrates around him.

<perhaps you can ask her>, the spirit says, as black snow appears from nothing. it materializes into a person pitch recognizes - hain shakes as she stands, slowly, red eyes widening in fear.

<PITCH?>