“Welcome to your first lesson,” the queen says, smiling warmly. The priestess stands besides her, cold and unmoving, without a hint of emotion in her face.

Pitch arrived by himself, without the dark snow spirit behind him - the queen is grateful for that. He had spooked both her and her wife - and it is not good for the priestess to be scared.

“What do you suppose we’ll be learning today, darling boy?”

Pitch stares at her. The queen keeps her smile ever present. He opens his ruby lips. “After resurrection, I will learn death.”

The priestess flinches. The queen steadies her with a warm hand on her shoulder. “It will be alright,” she whispers, dipping down to kiss her cheek. The priestess sighs, but doesn’t say anything.

“You will learn death, darling boy,” the queen says, walking forwards to stand in front of Pitch. She ruffles Pitch’s white hair affectionately. “Where is your spirit? The one with the hair like a river of ink.”

She sees the corner of his mouth twitch slightly. The queen looks back to the priestess - a cold look had settled over her face. 

“He is bringing a gift I made for you,” Pitch says. “What of death, queen, will I learn today?”

“You will learn what is behind the veil,” she says. “Tell your spirit to come, quickly. I need not any gifts, darling boy.”

“You will like this one,” he says. As if on command, a smoky black figure materializes behind him. The queen stares as it becomes two figures.

One has hair that is long like a black waterfall. The other falls to their knees in front of the queen, wounds dripping black blood that dissipates into black smoke as it hits the ground.

<PLEASE, HELP ME> the spirit says, gasping, bile gurgling in her throat, spilling out like oil.

The queen inhales sharply. “...Hain?”

<PLEASE, MY LADY>

“She does not need help,” Pitch says, and he is happy without happiness. Satisfaction and pride radiate from his smile. “She is good like this. Like this, she cannot disobey.”

“But she has never disobeyed,” the queen says, making to bend down and reach out to touch Hain’s pitch black face.

Pitch growls, quiet and low, and Hain shrieks, jerking back like she was burned. Then he huffs, crosses his arms. For a moment, he seems like a child. Then he reaches out and Hain screams again, disappearing, leaving nothing where she once was. He looks at the queen, who is still kneeling slightly, invisible tremors running through her body. A disdainful voice falls from ruby lips. “You didn’t even know.”

“What?” the queen says, shaky. She stands back up, brushes invisible dust off her dress in an attempt to calm herself. “What did I not know?”

“The spirits you create have souls, and wills, and thought. And that is what breeds treachery.” Pitch fixes her with a steely gaze. “Will you teach me of death, queen of Skadi? Will you tell me how to vanquish a soul?”

The queen opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She wets her lips, hands shaking ever so slightly. She turns around to look at her wife - the priestess shakes her head, a displeased expression on her face.

The queen shakes her head, forcing a smile to her lips. She bends to Pitch’s height, touches his cheek lightly. “Not today, my darling. Will you return to your quarters? I will call you when I am ready.”

Pitch falters. His eyes dart from the queen to the priestess, fingers twitching. In a low voice, he says to the queen, “Does she hate me? Is that why?”

“No,” the queen says, with a genuine, sad smile this time. “She is merely afraid of the potential I embrace in you.”

“Then you will still teach me,” he says. 

The queen smiles. “I will. I cannot deny such a talented, eager pupil.”

Pitch nods, pleased. “Alright.” Then he turns his back, and is gone.

The queen exhales, turns to see the priestess stalking away, a cold aura emanating from her. The queen sighs. She looks at her hands - they are shaking. She looks at where Pitch should be, walking back to the palace - he is not there. The queen closes her eyes. She feels cold, all of a sudden.