AN: This chapter gets pretty intense towards the middle. My fingers just kept typing and typing and I couldn't stop and, wow.

I know there isn't that much interaction between Pitch and Amelia (and it's only chapter 3) but there are other things Pitch has to deal with aside from the romance. Nut don't worry, their relationship will develop more (beyond scaring her) soon.

I'm not entirely happy with this chapter. Maybe because I want more Amelia, and it feels a little too long. Or, maybe because I hate writing rules and laws because they confuse me and I'm pretty sure it'll confuse my readers. Oh well, I explained the best I could.

Special Thanks To:

yori neko




The One Named MoonLight


RoseyDay ( I guess? Your review only had a 3 so I'm a bit confused. . .)


The Dreams of Insomniacs

Fear on the Inside


~ The prince proclaimed
that he would marry
the maiden whose foot
would fit the golden slipper ~


That was all it took before Amelia screamed again and his face was stuffed with a pillow before the girl crawled away as fast as she could. Slipping into the single mattress in the room's corner, Amelia struggled to untangle the blankets from her legs before promptly disappearing under them; as if that would protect her from harm.

Pitch burst into a fit of laughter, gliding across the ceiling and sliding back down over the wall. The lump of her form shook under the blankets and Pitch smirked, high-fiving the spider legs of Orion who swung in part of its master's amusement.

"Oh, you silly girl," Pitch said, still chuckling. The lump of blankets paused. Amelia's eyes and nose poke out, looking at him cautiously before she popped up like April's weasel in that toy box Pitch hated so much.

"Wha-" Pitch's arms flung out, the surprise of the action nearly causing him to slip from the walls.

"YOU!" Amelia gasped.

"Me!" Pitch mock-gasped back.

The girl didn't look at all amused, instead curling into a caterpillar made of blankets and scooting back to the edge of her mattress.

"Y-You're real!"

He smirked. "Aiy, that I am."

Suddenly angry, but not moving from her spot, Amelia attempted to point a finger at the offending creature, only to find that the blanket constricted her movement. "Wh-What do you want? To suck out my soul? Or maybe eat my brains!"

His face twisted into that of disgust. Just what exactly does she think I am?

"You mortals are so uncreative. How I miss the dark ages," Pitch reminisced. Releasing his body from the shadow's binding, Pitch crawled forward like a hunter confronting his prey.

"S-Stay away!" Amelia ordered.

"How interesting," Pitch hummed to himself, ignoring the girl's demand. Tapping his lip, he gave a Cheshire grin and grabbed her chin. "So you can see me. Not many grown mortals can do that, now can they?"

He spoke more as if he were speaking to himself than to her, but Amelia gulped, much too frightened to move. "What are you - what are you going to do?"

Pitch chuckled darkly. "I'm going to do the best I can."

And within a second his mouth enlarged, baring fangs and a long snake-like tongue while his eyes multiplied and a ear-splitting hiss erupted from his throat. Amelia's eyes widened before her body fell forward, crashing her head into his.

Pitch fell back with an irritated hiss this time, rubbing the forming bump. "Stupid girl, you-"

And she fainted.

"Well," He laughed.

Orion crossed it's eight legs in disapproval.

"Oh, come now!" Pitch said, pulling the girl off the floor and stuffing the spirit of her last breath back down. "That was funny!"

Orion snorted. Pitch rolled his eyes and rubbed his head again. "Yes, I agree I am watching too many movies with April. But I do so adore the old, Nightmare Before Christmas, don't you?"


So many crazy things have happened these past few nights. And that's what worried Amelia the most when she decided to step out her door that morning. She half expected the demon man to come rising out of the floor to bite her foot off, and after two hours of convincing herself that that was only a weird dream she got from somehow scaring herself into fainting (Because she didn't sleep. Insomnia did that to you) she managed to crawl out from under her blankets and make her way to the door.

Mind you, she was still crawling to make sure no other creepy crawlies would bite off her toes, but it was progress.

One step at a time. She told herself. Letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, Amelia grabbed tray of cookies on the shoe rest and squared her shoulders. She stared death in the eyes and stuck out her tongue. Take that!

Nothing to be afraid of!

Unless a robber decided right then and there to push through her door and break everything.

Or even more, what if one of her neighbors came out? And saw her? What if they started asking questions?

Oh, calm down! a voice in her head scolded. You're just going to take the cookies and leave it in front of the neighbor's doors. BOTH of them.

Two cookie trays. Two new neighbors. Though, they had been here for a month or two. Did it still count to welcome them into the building? Was it weird that she was only greeting them now?

But what if they opened the door and didn't see the tray she left for them? What if they stepped on it and got mad? Dear lord, that wasn't socially acceptable, was it?

Maybe she could put a neon yellow sign on top so they could be sure to see it? No, no, that just wouldn't do . . .

Okay, she could knock on the door. She would knock on the door. And then what? Just leave the tray and run back to the safety of her apartment?

It didn't feel right. Amelia thought back to her list. Speak to new neighbors. And then she crossed it out, replacing it with Leave new gift for neighbors.

Dear lord, she couldn't even do such a simple task.

"Maybe they won't even be home!" Amelia chirped, trying to keep herself upbeat. "You have goals set and you cannot back down now, Amelia." Besides, if they weren't home, that wouldn't entirely be her fault, now would it? At least she could say she tried, and it's the thought that counts, right?

And if she did this successfully, she could reward herself and order two cases of lava cakes from Dominoes.

Mmm . . . lava cakes.

"There's no stopping me now!" she yelled. With new the motivation, Amelia puffed out her chest and yanked the door open harder than necessary.


Pitch took one look at the elegant gold writing on the envelope and blanched. They really expected him to do what they ask? Did they not know who he is?

The Council of All had sent him an official summoning. It was found under his pillow, no doubt left there by the tooth fairy, who's mini fairies always carried out messenger services because their large quantity in numbers. What tools.

Tossing the unopened note with another scoff, Pitch made his way to the door and slipped on his black trench coat. He had a class to teach and brats to argue with. He expected another summoning to appear on his desk and planned on tearing it up for good measure. The summonings may be persistent, but Pitch black was stubborn.

What he didn't expect, however, was to nearly run into someone just before he stepped out the door. His body tensed and his eyes narrowed. Standing in front of him, with her fist up as if she were about to knock, was that girl in apartment 303. Amelia. And Pitch tensed. Did she recognize him? Was she going to tell the world of his existence?

It wasn't until after he glared down her poor soul did he notice the small plate of cookies in her other hand and immediately understood. But it was too late, her eyes were already widened with terror and her mouth parted open as if she were about to scream.

Quickly twisting his features to form his signature Lightman grin, Pitch did his best to put on a more friendly fa├žade. "Good morning. I was just out to head to class, you're . . . Amelia, right?"

His deep voice and tinted accent had the name rolling off his tongue like a hypnotic spell. The girl didn't relax at his charm like he expected, however. In fact, her face seemed to grow red as she took in his full human form. He was used to this; the female professors at his school swooned at his mortal appearance and he couldn't help but roll his eyes at their antics. Although in this situation, he couldn't help but feel amused.

Waiting patiently for her to say something, the girl finally snapped her head up to look in his eyes and stuttered out something unintelligible. Grasping both hands onto the plate, she threw it out in front of her and shoved the plate into his hands.


She spoke so fast Pitch nearly missed what she was saying. Turning on her heel, Amelia darted down the hall, tripped, looked back at him with a high squeak, and pushed herself to her feet before practically flying to her door.

Pitch blinked once. Twice.

"Mortals are strange."

Sighing through his nose, Pitch titled his head at the human-made sweet and rose an eyebrow. April always spoke of cookies and he had a brief flashback of the time she accidentally tipped a plate of cookies on his head.

Ahh, good times.

But he had never cared for sweets much. Dark chocolates and coffee were more his style. However, he was curious. After all, they couldn't go to waste, now could they?

A flash caught his eyes, and after shutting and closing his door behind him, Pitch strode to the curious light on the floor. Picking it up, he recognized the silver trinket as a bracelet. His mind flashed back to Amelia tripping, and then to the night before when she crawled under her blankets. She wore the jewelry on her ankle. An . . . ankle bracelet? Pitch examined it closer. Two charms hung from the chain; a silver 'A', no doubt for Amelia's name, and an orange pumpkin. However, the name engraved on the back of the latter charm read Cindy.

How interesting, Pitch thought, tossing the anklet in his hand. Should he return it? Pitch glanced at the door marked 303 and shrugged.

Maybe later.

Chuckling to himself Pitch continued down the hall. He could probably use this trinket as an excuse to actually speak to her.

It wasn't often a mortal caught his curiosity like this.


The second summoning came in the middle of his lecture, when a paper airplane hit him square in the forehead and the rest of the students got a good laugh out of the surprised look on his face.

The paper unfolded itself on his desk, taking a hamburger fold.

"AN URGENT MESSAGE TO THE DARK KING!" the paper began to shout before Pitch not so quietly slammed a textbook on top of it.

Clearing his throat in a sore way to cover up the fact that a paper just spoke, Pitch dismissed the class.

"But you didn't even tell us about -" One of his students, a red-head he recognized as Sherry or Carol or something began.

"One more word and I'll have an exam for all of you tomorrow." Pitch snapped.

That got everyone running.

With the still struggling paper under his book (man this thing was strong for a thin little thing), Pitch quickly clamped his fingers over the edge's of its mouth.

"Do you realize what you would've done?!" He hissed.

The paper was still animated, struggling to speak with his hands clamped and an annoyed scowl, Pitch tore the summoning in half and burned it with black fire.

Huffing to himself, he gathered his things and left for lunch. His mortal body needed food.

The third summoning came in the shape of a shrunken head. In his food.

Well, not his food, but in the cafeteria food. In front of him. Which had the lady working the teacher's nicely made lounge scream and run out of the room.

Rolling his eyes, because mortals were so easily frightened, Pitch dipped his long, bony fingers into the spaghetti sauce and made a face as he pulled on the string to the shrunken head. It wasn't a real shrunken head, but a plastic messenger one that was no doubt sent by someone who really wanted his attention. Such typical tactics; use creepy things to get the creepy summoned.

Now how did they expect him to eat?


But if this kept up, strange things will keep happening and possibly bring suspicion down on him in the university. And Pitch couldn't afford to get fired for strange things happening around him.

He suppose the least he could do is listen to the message.

Under the red sauce staining it's cheeks, the head was green with frizzy black hair and eyes sewn shut. It coughed up the sauce and cleared it's non-existing throat before speaking in a ratty voice. "Urgent message for the dark-"

"Yes, yes. I'm the dark king, now get on with it, you have 45 seconds before I dunk you back into the mortal food.

The head seemed unfazed. "You have been summoned by the Council of All to attend a meeting taking place at Crystal Cove tonight at zero-hundred hours. The matter of this meeting will be discussed upon arrival. All members are to attend."

Pitch scoffed. "Oh, bite me you dried up prune."

Again, he was ignored. "Any member who has failed to attend will be forced by the laws of the Spirit Guards."

"You're kidding me." The Spirit Guards were only ever summoned under dire circumstance, meaning this little meeting was more than just concerns over his behavior. To bring them in meant everyone was involved.

Pitch groaned. The last thing he needed was the guards taking him while he was at a lesser power. Not only would he be humiliated at revealing his mortal self, but it would create a mess.

Fine. He'll go.

He's not going to pretend to be happy about it.


The Council of All consisted of many legendary figures. The old legendary figures.

Not even the Guardians had a large role in this meeting, with only the original members - Man in the Moon, the Sandman, and the Easter Bunny - taking their place among the round table. Shadows encased Crystal Cove, the moon's light resonating the crystals jutting from ground, torches lighting only the corners. Unless you looked closely, or took the time to wait for the light to flicker just right, you wouldn't be able to see but the outlined figures of the other members.

And they called him dramatic.

"Pitch Black! You are late." A man boomed, his figure showing contempt as Pitch slithered into the room. "To be late for such a meeting; do you think this is a joke, Nightmare King?"

"Oh, come now," Pitch sighed, strolling through the dark behind the other members as he eyed his seat. "Be happy I'm here at all. What is this summoning about now? The balance between worlds? The apocalypse? Don't tell me the Four Horesman broke free," Pitch tsked. "It's been a while, North."

North gave him a pointed glare as soon as he made eye contact. Sandman, who stood beside him in a cloud of golden sand, puffed out his cheeks, looking much like an angry toddler.

"Or is it because of the past years events? Because if it is I assure you I am taking my punishment in a stride, if I do say so myself." Pitch laughed and reached his spot, but didn't sit down.

A new voice took place; this time, the member who sat across from Pitch began motioning in exasperation. "Do not muse with the pathetic fool for a king," he spat, and Pitch's eyes narrowed. "Attention is but the only thing he seeks."

"Temper, temper," Pitch said haughtily, though he felt his eye burn red at the insult. "Don't compare me to the likes of you, I don't have to stab for attention to get it, Cupid."

He could have sworn he saw the man's temper flare. "Do not call me that."

"What, does it give you diaper rash?"

"You king of fools!"

"Pathetic love-monkey!"

"Go hide under a bed!"

"Take a nap you grouchy old man -"

"Enough!" North boomed. Pitch merely smirked at the Love Guard, his eyes bright with amusement.

North leaned back in his chair. "Black, I advise you to be nice. You made quite a few enemies after stunt you pull three years ago."

His near take over of the world and plan to destroy the Guardians? They're still mad about that?

"Tell me this isn't what we're here for?" Cupid groaned.

"He hasn't even been brought to trial." said another voice Pitch recognized as Bunnymund. "Something none of you have followed through, even in the Dark Ages!"

"I owned the Dark Ages," Pitch reminded. "You can't place a crime on me for something I flourished in, now could you? Not that it would work, I'd be set free in a matter of . . . seconds."

"Oh, please." A woman's voice now. "We've all had our ups and downs in this advancing world. The boogeyman was just having fun is all." she gave him a wink through her curled red hair. "And may I remind you, Bunnymund, of the time you nearly covered antarctica in Tulips chasing around that Frost boy because of what he did to your egg hunts?"

Pitch laughed. "Lady Luck is on my side. That's a first."

"That was ONE time!"

"Oh, brother." Cupid slammed his head on the table.

"Ve're getting off subject." North finally ended the conversation, slamming down his meaty fists. The table was silent and Pitch lazily sat in his chair. Here we go, he rolled his eyes.

"As you all very vell know, ve live soley off the imaginations and beliefs of children and many religions."

"Religion," Bunnymund snorted. "that's always fun to discuss."

"That isn't the focus of the meeting." North pressed. As he spoke, Pitch noted the slowness in his voice. He seemed almost tired. "Ve are the council of all that ever is, ever was, and ever vill be. Ve bring order to the chaos, we keep the balance between good and evil. Ve strive off the lives the mortals have given us and ve live to serve and guide the mortal world."

Pitch ended up tuning out most of North's speech, only taking a second to wonder why Father Time wasn't taking his usual stand. He conjured up the anklet from that morning and took to examining it. He could feel the sentiment it held, the adventures it's been through. Though it was clean and polished, he could tell that it was years old. A family heirloom, perhaps? But the charms were newer, cleaner.

Amelia Gale. A woman who could see him in his spiritual form. When was the last time that had happened? Aside from the Dark ages, he could think of no other time. He could remember the summoning after that, and Sandy's request to have him removed from his place among the council as he rejected the law to protect the humans instead of feeding off of them. It was around that time he was offered a spot among the Guardians, to use the meaning of his fear to help guide and protect the children.

Of course, at the time, Pitch Black didn't know the true meaning of fear until quite recently.

It's been eons since they had all gathered like this and for a moment Pitch began to feel quite small compared to the world. Among the Legendary Figures he was but a small piece of a bigger puzzle. A King among Gods. It burned his insides knowing that he was once among the Gods as well. The way they saw him, the way they looked at him as if he were a lost child. That was why he didn't go to trial. That was why they simply ignored his pathetic attempts at domination. They no longer saw him as the all-powerful Nightmare King they once had, but a child.

As much as Pitch hated to admit it, Cupid was right; he was practically begging for attention after the loss of his Dark Ages.

"Are you listening, Pitch Black?" North asked, and once again everyone's eyes were on him. Gripping the anklet back into his palm, Pitch sat straight, his face stoic.

"Were we summoned for the purpose of this speech?" Pitch droned. "For you to remind us how it is we came to be?" Pitch slithered like a snake out of his chair, merging into a cloak of shadows before reappearing behind another empty chair. "If that is the case, I see why there are others who are still absent from the meeting. Wasn't I just scolded for being late?"

One, two, three . . . how could he have not noticed before? Three chairs were empty, three members were missing. Which ones?

The one he stood by, the green chair encased with leaves and vines. Grief flickered in Pitch's eyes for a moment before letting his face go blank. His hands gripped the back of this particular chair. Two chairs. There were two chairs originally missing. Mother Nature had been gone for some time now

Lady Luck drummed her fingers. "Why did you summon us here, North?"

"I did not summon you," he replied gruffly.

"I did."

This was a new voice. A child's voice. All eyes turned to the little girl that entered the cove.

She seemed to be around the age of eight, with wavy dark hair and sheet-white skin in a dark red dress. Her image seemed off, almost distorted to Pitch and as he looked around, it was obvious her appearance was different to everyone else. He wasn't stupid. Pitch knew immediately that this was the Nain Rouge; the embodiment of disaster compelled to watch chaos unfold before her very eyes. She was more ancient than all the council put together. Probably. Nobody knows where she came from.

It was rare for anyone to see her in the flesh. Out of the corner of your eye, or just glanced over, maybe. To have the entire council witness her appearance? Unheard of.

This was Pitch's second time.

The Nain Rouge took the image of a child. Mind you, a different child to whomever saw her, ranging from a toddler to a pre-teen. To Pitch, the girl's face looked eerily similar to April. He quickly demolished the thought.

"So you're the brat." Bunnymund scoffed, but then became serious. His eyes flickered towards Pitch for a moment. "Is it true then? Have the Four Horseman broken free?"

The twinkle of the Sandman's bell run above his head, showing his panic.

"Heaven's, no!" Lady Luck laughed, slapping the table as if she had heard the most amusing joke. "The Four Horseman have been trapped for centuries. If they were released, I would know. You'd be surprised how many lucky survivors I'd have to tend to, not to mention that Death would have come crawling back to me for forgiveness." She stretched her hand out on the table, examining her nails and grinning at the thought of Death on his knees, knocking at her door.

"This has nothing to do with the Horesmen," North said seriously. he turned to the girl for confirmation. "Nain Rouge, vhat has become of us?"

Nain Rouge, her face ever so blank for a child, simply looked at the Nightmare King. Her red eyes bore into his. "War."


Voices erupted. Yelling and objections and chattering and protests. War among the spiritual realm? Big enough for the Nain Rouge to gather the council of all that ever is and ever was and ever - Ridiculous, even Pitch knew such a thing didn't go so far. The Nain Rouge hadn't even shown up for his little, 'temper tantrum' three years ago with the Guardians. That wasn't war, that was more of a disagreement between two opposing forces. He said nothing, instead he watched and listened.

This wasn't a physical war the Nain Rouge was speaking of. It was a spiritual war on the plane just above reality. One that pit light against dark, reality versus fantasy. So why look at him? Her gaze made him uneasy, and Pitch could remember the last time she gave him that look.

Man in the Moon's beam blinded them all as it hit the crystal in the middle of the cove, a warning for them to silence. That was odd, he was never that worried. Which meant the Man in the Moon knew exactly what was going on.

"What has happened, old friend?" Pitch asked lightly. This was a cause for concern. Sure, he'd love to brush this off, but he was at his weakest point. He couldn't spend much time on the plane above reality, to be Pitch Black. He was stuck, powerless, as a mortal man.

"Have you not noticed the absences?" The child asked, and everyone's gaze shifted to the three empty seats Pitch had pointed out earlier.

"Father Time and the Piper." Lady Luck said aloud. "Even under the threat of the Spirit Guards they haven't come."

"And Mother Nature." Nain Rouge reminded.

"What has happened to them?"

Pitch shifted from the shadows and back in his rightful place. "Mother Nature has been gone long before this," He said through gritted teeth.

The Nain Rouge folded her arms. "Mother Nature was but the first victim, as you well know, Kozmotis Pitchiner."

His body stiffened. "She left the Council. Of her own will."

"And now she is gone. Like Father Time. Like the Piper." She took a long intake of breath and acknowledged the rest of the council. "Like you and Jack Frost."

"Now hold on a minute!" Bunnymund hopped to his feet. "Are you telling me Father and the ol'Pipe have turned mortal? Human?" He spared a glance at Pitch, who straightened in his seat even more, his eyes glowing red.

He really didn't want to have this discussion with the Council.

"Wait, wait, wait." Lady Luck wove her hands, sparkles emitting from her palms. "Since when did the Nightmare King and the Frost boy turn human?" she squinted her nose at Pitch. He glared at her in return.

"Why was the Council not informed of this?" Cupid asked.

"If you will let me finish!" The child was getting angry now. A gust of wind circled the room.


"The world is losing it's magic. It's power. The children are growing, they are learning. They are losing their faith in us as mystic beings."

"But why? How?" Pitch didn't even bother trying to make sense on who was asking what now. His head was pounding. His anger flared.

"Children are always growing. It is the circle of life, as they will teach their children of us after."

It didn't make any sense! Weren't the children's belief in them getting stronger and stronger by the day? Isn't that what Man in the Moon and North had told him? It was because they hung around the humans that they began to overwhelm their senses with power; Jack with Jamie, him with April.

But that was just it. They were staying with them; interacting with them; getting them to believe. It wasn't enough to have such blind faith anymore. As the children grow into adults, they found no use in such 'silly' things like magic. The pieces were beginning to form in Pitch's brain; the average age of disbelief was usually by the age of twelve, or thirteen in some cases. Now, these past few years he's been witnessing other cases: seven years old, and if they're lucky eight.

He remembered a Christmas movie April had made him watch once. It was about a man who became the new Santa Clause with the help of his very young son. In that movie, the stepfather and mother of that son had decided to up and tell the boy that there was no such thing as Santa Clause. And the Toothfairy. And the Easter Bunny.

Wasn't he only around six years old?

They're getting younger, their belief's weaker. It was no wonder Pitch was able to defeat the Guardians so easily that time. It was only until Jack had proven to Jamie that they were real that they managed to defeat him. Even going so far as to bring the Sandman back to life.

Something was missing, causing the children not to belive on their own anymore. April stopped believing in Santa Clause at the age of two! And it was he, Pitch Black that brought it back!

But wasn't the entire point of belief was to just believe? Because seeing isn't believing, believing is seeing?

As if he had read Pitch's mind, North asked a similar question. "But it is dangerous to reveal ourselves to the mortal world. If ve cannot get them to believe . . ."

Pitch finished for him, because no one else would.

"Then you will cease to exist forever."

Now his head hurt. Too much thinking, too many concerns that he just didn't want to concern himself with. It was only then that Pitch realized he was toying with Amelia's anklet again, and it was through the reflection of the 'A' charm that he saw himself not as Pitch Black, but as Jett Black. The monster with red eyes and deformed face dripping with burnt flesh and black venom. He clamped his fingers over the reflection and ignored it.

What did the Nain Rouge mean by war? She disappeared before their answers could be answered. They had assumed it was on the spiritual level, which was definitely the chaos that would bring the council together by the Nain Rouge of all beings. However, it seemed so much more than that. If they disappeared, then the world would be lost, balance would break, and everyone's worst nightmares would come true.

But Kozmotis Pitchiner couldn't see a downside to this. Because as he thought about it, the world would be much like the Dark Ages. And wouldn't that just be a dream come true?

Why, his work was being done for him! He just had to wait three years.

"No doubt, once word of this comes out, the other figures of belief will begin to panic."

"If that is what the Nain Rouge means by war, then we do not have much time left."

"Our first priority is to make sure children are safe from this upcoming onslaught." North reminded. "If the others begin to panic, then they vill wage var on who vill believe who. And so on."

"Pitch!" Lady Luck called, and he once again snapped out of his reverie. "Now is really not the time to be stubborn! We could all very well cease to exist! And I merely get by on being a metaphor!"

Irritated, Pitch huffed. "I don't understand why there is any concern at all. Why not do what Frost and I have done? Reveal ourselves to the children. 'Hanging out' is a phrase I believe the youth use these days."

"Pitch," North sighed. "You know very well why that can not happen."

"Belief is a very powerful thing, mate." Said Bunnymund.

The Sandman nodded, the pictures above his head having the general saying of, If we overdo it, we'll end up too powerful.

"Is it because you fear power?" Pitch smirked.

"Too much power is a dangerous thing, Pitch Black. As you very well know."

"I am alive because I forced the children to believe in me." Pitch spat. "If you Guardians hadn't ruined my reign I would be among Gods." what was he saying? He was actually content with his living arrangements now. The Dark Ages have come and gone, why is he once again feeling so obsessed with it?

"If we just followed my example our power could be unmatched. I believe it is okay to be selfish every once in a while, is it now?"

"And may I remind you, Pitch Black, that it was your selfishness that nearly killed the Guardians and cost the lives of several grown mortals just last year?"

"So the stories are true?" Lady Luck asked, surprised.

Pitch took in a deep, calming breath. "Thank you for the beautiful trip down memory lane." his head hurt, his hunger unmatched. The demon thrashed against his black soul, begging for some release.

Stupid, stupid people. They have no better solutions for keeping up the magic, and yet they shoot down his? At least he's trying to help. But nothing was ever good enough, was it?

Show them your power his demon commanded. Pitch felt his eyes grow red once more before shaking his head roughly. It was time to take his leave.

"I, for one have no worries about this war and I believe that that is what scares all of you the most. Because wonder can die and love can fade and sooner or later your luck will run out." Pitch pursed his lips, looking at every member respectively. "Hope is something I don't completely understand so I assume you are safe, rabbit." He grinned wickedly. "But I on the other hand will never die. Because fear is something that nobody can destroy."


A headache. Such a head ache. Maybe he could amuse himself by visiting Amelia again -

Damn, the woman has been invading his thoughts all day now and Pitch could only think it was because she was a grown human being who can see him in his natural form. It certainly wasn't normal, for sure.

"That was . . . quite the interesting speech back there. You always did have a tendency to be dramatic."

Pitch growled and rubbed his head. "I am not in the mood, Cupid. I have enough of a headache as it is."

The man flew down. His feathered wings released one last gust of wind before folding back into his shoulders. "My name," Cupid said, his tone warning, "is Amores. You know I hate the name Cupid."

Which was exactly why he used it. "Well that's just too bad because you're name is Cupid Eros. Like 'Cupid's arrow's'?"

"Was. Was." Cupid - ah, Amores - stressed. "'Cupid is the name of a baby in diapers shooting arrows at every thing that moves."

"Is that not what you do?"

"Mortals," the man scoffed, sweeping a hand through his hair. He was being a little over dramatic with the action and his muscles flexed under his bare skin. No wonder the man was always depicted as a naked baby. He never wore any proper clothing. Pitch was pretty sure Amores would be running around naked if it were socially acceptable.

"They always find a way to get something wrong."

"Hm." Go away, Pitch chanted. He had fed on more nightmares than usual tonight but still his inner demon was not satisfied. He needed at least a moments peace before journeying back to New York.

"Why do you bother me, Amores? I assumed the last thing you wished to do would be in the same room as me let alone speak so casually with each other."

"I actually wish to speak with you."

"Ah." That made sense. Sort of.

No. It made no sense whatsoever. What could they possibly have to speak about?

Amores leaned back against his elbows, letting the moon shimmer on his finely toned skin. He was a very handsome man - as was expected of a man of his nature - but with a grace very much like a female's. Pitch would occasionally wonder if there were a definite gender to the one they called 'Cupid'.

Show off.

"We're alike, you and I. In a way. I being the youngest of the council and you being, well," Amores looked him up and down. "you."

"Get on with it, I've had enough side-tracked conversations today. It took forever just to get to the point of the meeting and I'm still trying to shake off the migraine it caused."

Amores raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "All right then. I am the Guardian of Love, right? If, you know, I was a part of the whole Guardian thing Manny up there put together. But that's the basic idea."

Annoying. Really annoying.

"You're different." he said finally.

"Am I?" Pitch asked absent mindedly. What was April doing now? She'd be getting up in a few hours. Probably dress in her new purple dress Lilly had gotten for her last week. They were going to visit Troy tomorrow, and April always looked forward to visiting him.

"I can sense it."

"And what do you sense, dear Amores?"

It was silent for a beat, before Amores practically swooned at the word. "Love."

Pitch choked. "Excuse me?"

"You hold love in your heart. Something even I had never thought was possible." Amores tilted his head back, relishing in the light breeze that ruffled his hair. For a moment Pitch was entranced. Amores was so carefree, and so young compared to him. But to say such things . . .

"I have no heart. I haven't had a heart in a long time." Denial.

"You've always had a heart, Pitch. You just needed someone to make it beat again."

Again, Pitch thought with disgust. "And who could possibly do that?" Pitch humored him. Amores shrugged.

"The human child . . . April was her name, was it?"

Pitch scowled at him. Peeking an eye open for the Nightmare King's reaction, Amores grinned. "Word travels fast among the spirit world. Everyone was so curious as to who had captured the heart of the Nightmare King himself. Of course, I expected more of a romantic story but hey, this is good too. And don't worry, no one has dared spy on you and the child. Manny made sure to advise against it. 'Said you were quite protective of her."

"Hm." He couldn't argue with that. "What are you really here for? It wasn't because you wished to settle your curiosity on the details of my life was it?"

"No, that's not why I'm here. I'll stop beating around the bush." Amores dusted his arms off and leaned forward, both elbows on his knees.

"I asked you to do that when you first got here!" Pitch rubbed his forehead. I'll have to do another round of nightmares to get passed this . . .

"I came here to warn you, actually.

"Warn me?" Pitch almost laughed. What could the Love Guardian possibly warn him about?

"You will be met with more love, but even greater loss." he sighed. "Pitch . . . I do not discourage love. And in your case, I truly wish you happiness and luck. But . . ."

Amores pursed his lips and heaved a great sigh. "The love between a mortal and an immortal can only end in tragedy," he says.

Of course. It was one of the most obvious, unspoken rules among creatures such as he. Nonetheless, Pitch couldn't help but lick his lips and form a fang-showing grin.

"And what fun that would be."

A/N: It feels like I'm using the same words over and over and as I write I'm like, "is my vocabulary that limited? Ugh."

I do so love writing Pitch and his childishness. Whether it's because he hangs out with April or because that's just how I saw him in the movies, I don't know. Has anyone noticed how he acted in the movies? He was like a rebellious teenager who was tired of not getting his way. So I definitely see him giving those with equal or higher authority a hard time (North, Man in Moon, and in this case, the entire Council of All).

I'm so sorry for the updating lateness. I've been really stressed out lately and decided to take a break from wiring - which is really saying something because writing usually relaxes me so much. Anyways, please review and tell me what you think!

**On another note, I limited the descriptions of Amores (cupid) and the Nain Rouge child for different reasons. I want my readers to use their own imagination about Amores because everyone has their own opinions on what is handsome, which I believe is an important factor in both the Goddess of Love (Aphrodite in Greek mythology, as she is supposed to be very beautiful to all) and Cupid. And for the Nain Rouge (ugh, I'm so sick of writing that word) the child's appearance is different to everyone who sees her based on what they see in themself or who is important to them, which is why Pitch sees her as a black-haired version of April (Which will also be explained later on).