Disclaimer: Still don't own Rise of the Guardians.

"Daddy, can I keep him?"

Pitch had been dreading the inevitable moment he finally heard those fiendish words come out of his daughter's mouth. While Layla wasn't a demanding or spoiled child, she knew how to get her way with him, and they all knew it. Lilly thought it both frustrating and deeply amusing, how tightly Layla had him wrapped around her finger. Pitch didn't mind it most of the time, but tonight, he was certain, would definitely be the night he regretted indulging his offspring so much.

He turned around, a reasonable but solid argument for No you can't already forming on his lips when his eyes practically bulged out of his head.

"Layla! Get away from it!"

"But Daddy—"

Pitch already had her in his arms, snatching her up into the shadows, but not before sending a powerful blast of nightmare sand towards the creature at her feet. It fled with a shriek, one which rang in Pitch's ears as he reemerged atop a broken, lopsided pillar, holding Layla tight.

"Daddy, listen—"

"Where did you find that thing?!"

"Daddy—"

"Are there any more?!"

"No, Daddy, he was by himself—"

They were never by themselves. Never. If they ever appeared to be that way, it was a trick, and more were not far behind.

Still clutching Layla close to his chest, Pitch raised one hand to summon shadows and sand enough to smite the foul creature. But a tiny hand grabbing hold of his wrist broke his concentration. His eyes snapped down to Layla, inadvertently meeting her enormous olive green eyes as she cried, "Don't hurt him!"

"Do you even know what thing is?!"

"Of course I do! I'm not stupid!"

He flinched visibly, both at the words she'd said and the venom with which she'd said them. Penance in his eyes, he soothed in a quiet voice, "I know you're not, my terror."

"Then listen to me. Please."

Pitch glanced away to the creature cowering behind a rock. He knew if Lilly had been home she would've already reduced it to a pile of ash and charred essence; but she wasn't home, and Layla was all-but begging him to leave it be long enough to hear her out. His little terror got excited over any number of trivial things, but she'd never been so passionate about something before. As foolish as he knew it was to allow such a foul creature to linger in his realm for any length of time, Pitch simply couldn't ignore his daughter's wishes.

Setting Layla down on the pillar beside him, Pitch stood up to his full height and crossed his arms, expression patient but firm.

"All right," he said. "Tell me. What is going on?"

After holding his gaze a bit longer, as if to be certain he was serious about not interrupting, Layla explained, "I found him, he didn't find me. He was trying to hide."

"Why?"

"He's scared, Daddy. Can't you feel it?"

He frowned at the unexpected question. But when he paused for a moment and thought about it, he realized yes, yes he could feel it. How odd. Shades were the embodiment of unnatural evil, second only to the wraiths that created them. They usually weren't frightened of anything except fire and light, which could hurt and destroy them.

As for the nature of the creature's fear…

"It's small and weak," he said at last. "Too weak for even the wraiths to bother with. The other shades drove it away."

"He's small because he was small when he died."

…what?

"When I first saw him, I was going to destroy him. Really, I was. You and Mama have always told me what to do if I ever saw a shade or a wraith, and I remembered. But when I touched him…I couldn't. He didn't do anything wrong."

"It's a shade, Layla. Even if the human was a decent sort when they died, its essence is corrupted now."

"Not this one."

As bizarre and impossible as it sounded, Pitch didn't doubt her words; he well knew both the nature of his daughter's power and her inability to lie. Yet his frown deepened until creases formed between his brows as he struggled to understand. "How can that be?"

"His mama got lost in a wraith's cavern. She was a slave, trying to run away from her masters. The wraith found her and hurt her, made her into a shade."

"And the boy?"

Her large eyes were very sad. "He wasn't born yet, Daddy."

Pitch felt as if he'd been slapped. He actually jerked a bit as his eyes widened and his lips parted slightly in shock. Stunned, his golden gaze darted once more to the shade. Truly, it was too tiny and pathetic to even be called a proper shade, hardly bigger than a large cat. That made it so much easier for him to imagine just how small of a body had died to shape it…and immediately he wanted to erase the image from his brain. In all his years terrorizing the earth, he'd never once physically harmed a child. Terrified them, yes, tortured them with nightmares, absolutely, but he'd never hurt any of them and certainly hadn't killed them. The very thought was reprehensible.

For the briefest moment, Pitch wondered why busybody Moon hadn't stepped in to stop such a travesty or to punish the wraith responsible; he certainly made a point of butting into everyone else's business, especially Pitch's. But then he remembered that this had happened before Guardians' time, before Moon had taken his duty to protect the children of Earth so seriously. Pitch actually felt insulted, knowing as he now did that the moon spirit would take direct action against him, who'd never hurt a child, but not against something like the wraiths that had no qualms about killing one.

With great effort, Pitch drew himself out of those rapidly darkening thoughts. As aggravating as the truth was, it wasn't important now. This wasn't about him. This was about Layla, and figuring out just what the heck he was supposed to do with the shade she brought home.

Still studying the creature in question, Pitch asked in a low voice, "Are you sure it's not tainted?"

"Yes, Daddy, I'm sure. He's never killed or hurt anyone. He would always hide whenever his old masters called him to hunt."

Well that was interesting. A shade that could resist its master's will well enough to disobey a direct call was of a rare kind.

Still…

"And it's glimmer?"

"Dark blue, like deep, deep water."

"Aren't darker colors a sign that a spirit is evil?"

"No. Colorless glimmers are bad. Dark ones can mean all sorts of things."

"And what does it mean in this case?" he asked after a moment, when it became clear Layla wasn't going to freely offer more of an explanation than that.

"He's not evil," she insisted. "He's sad and lonely and really wants somewhere to belong. When he saw my power, he knew what I was and asked me to send him to the void, but I couldn't. I couldn't, Daddy. It isn't time for him to be judged. There's still too much he can do."

Pitch didn't bother asking how she knew that; Layla always seemed so certain about such imperceptible things. With no other explanation as to why that was, despite years of extensive research, he and Lilly had chalked it up to a strange side-effect of their daughter's dual ability to judge spirits' "glimmers" and to tell when someone was lying.

"So it's not time for it to go to the void, and it's lonely, so naturally your conclusion was to bring it here?" he asked, bemused.

Layla beamed up at him. "Can he stay? I promise to take good care of him, and I'll make sure he knows the rules and stays out of your way and Mama's."

"The wraiths—"

"Won't sense him unless they're very close. You and Mama will know they're coming long before they even know he's here." She was practically bouncing on the spot; any negative emotions she'd felt over his inadvertent insinuation that she was stupid were long forgotten. "If he stays, I'll become his master, like you're the master of Onyx and Ebony. That way the wraiths won't be able to command him or steal him away. And he can help Mama sometimes, if she wants him to, since she can't use her magic at home."

She then proceeded to fix him with her best pleading look as she begged, "Please Daddy? Let him stay?"

He hated that look. She didn't use it often, but when she did she pulled out all the stops. Deepest darkness, how it tugged at what few frayed heartstrings he had left. Pitch's expression contorted as he longed to tell his daughter no but simply could not find a solid reason to do so, no matter how hard he wracked his brain. As badly as he didn't want to admit it, Layla had made some very good points. If she forged a master-familiar bond with the shade, unless (or until) she abandoned or destroyed the thing it would be bound by magic to serve her and her alone, just as the fairies served their queen and the lumbering yetis North and…well, whatever those stone monstrosities were that obeyed the rabbit. She was also right in that having another dark spirit ally couldn't hurt, considering Lilly's inability to use anything except a weak version of her fire while within the boundaries of his realm.

And if it does ever betray us, it'll be lucky if that fire scorches it first.

As the silence dragged on and Pitch's determination continued to falter, Layla saw it clear as day on his ever-expressive face. Her whole being lit up with glee. Darkness and damnation, this was turning out even worse than the incident at the Pole when she'd managed to talk him into letting her keep one of fat man's wretched toys.

Smiling hugely, Layla exclaimed, "Thank you Daddy, thank you! Thank you so very much!"

"I didn't say you could," he snapped, and her smile wilted.

"Oh," she said, looking downcast, eyes on the floor.

…dammit.

Raking a hand through his hair with a growl of frustration, Pitch bit out between clenched teeth, "Come here." Lifting her up into his arms, he disappeared with her into the shadows. They reappeared a second later, back on the floor close to where the shade was still hiding.

"Get out here," he barked after setting Layla down again. The thing shuffled out from behind the rock, head low and eyes fixed on the floor, showing him deference. "You have a name, I take it?"

The shade winced at the harshness of his tone, but nodded in answer.

:Yes,: it said quietly. It had the tiniest voice, that of a very young child, though it spoke the same ancient, complex tongue as every other shade. :But…you need not use it. None of my previous masters did:

"I like your name," Layla said, all but dancing up to the shade and squatting down to pat it affectionately on the head, like it was a cute pet and not a wraith's foul creation. How she could understand the thing when it talked, Pitch didn't bother to guess. Most of what his daughter did was an enigma.

The shade winced under the child's affectionate petting. :It is hardly fitting…:

"Just because you haven't had the chance to prove yourself yet doesn't mean you're worthless," Layla replied, her face the epitome of seriousness.

The shade lifted its head just enough to look at her. :R-really?:

She beamed at him. "Of course!"

Pitch mutely observed their interaction, taking in how the shade was submitting to him and to Layla, despite her youth, as well as the obvious glimmer of hope and adoration that shone in its luminescent green eyes as it stared up at his daughter.

It doesn't matter what I say, he realized then. The bond's already formed, though I don't think either of them is aware of it yet. She's too young and inexperienced to recognize one, and it's probably never been made aware that such ties can also be formed through consent rather than merely through conquest.

…which means the only way to be rid of it now is to make Layla sever the bond and cast it out.

He didn't consciously register the quiet snarl he'd uttered until both Layla and the shade jerked their heads to look at him, she looking vaguely confused and it petrified. One look at the sneer currently curling Pitch's lip was all it took to have the tiny creature backing away again.

:Apologies, apologies!: it kept repeating, scrambling back behind the rock.

Layla stood with a huff and cast her father a disappointed look. "Did you have to scare him, Daddy?"

"I'm not angry at him," he said in a voice that was grated with anger. Did she honestly think he would (or ever could) take pleasure out of frightening such a pathetic thing? A sneeze would've scared it!

Layla studied him, dark curls dangling to one side as she cocked her head. After a contemplative silence, she shrugged and turned back to the shade.

"Come on, Nuno, it's all right. Daddy's a bit scary but he's not that bad."

Pitch practically puffed up with indignation. He spluttered quite inelegantly as he struggled to retort in a way that was strictly child-friendly.

"Not that bad?" he finally managed to choke out. Was that really what he—the great and powerful spirit of fear and shadow, the fearsome former Nightmare King and lord of the Dark Ages—had been reduced to? Not that bad?! Had it been literally anyone else (save Lilly of course) who dared to say such a thing about him, he would've smote them on the spot!

Unfortunately for him, Pitch was currently incapable of venting his immense displeasure at the unintended insult through smiting. So stalking out of the room in a fury was the best he could do. He threw himself into the massive stone chair that had eventually come to replace the throne Moon had confiscated, stewing over the present state of his realm.

And that was precisely where Lilly found him upon her return—brooding alone in his former throne room.

"Care to explain how on this green earth Layla wound up with a shade for a familiar?"

He growled low in his throat, baring his teeth. "She found it, she says."

"And you just let her keep it?"

"Of course not! By the time she brought it here, they were already bonded. Just what the hell was I supposed to do about it then?"

As she crossed the room to his side, Lilly exhaled a little sigh. Pitch sat in his chair, tense and silent. He wasn't entirely sure if that sigh meant Lilly was going to be angry with him for allowing Layla to keep the shade, or if she was simply exasperated and about to announce the obvious reasons why they had to go back out there and tell their daughter to get rid of it. Such reasons may not have been obvious to him, given Layla's sound arguments, but Lilly was an expert at looking at things logically whereas Pitch tended to react with his emotions first and his brain second. Something he wasn't overly proud of, given how often that particular part of his character got him into trouble, but such were the cards he'd been dealt.

Unfortunately, what wound up happening was worse than either scenario Pitch had pictured.

"You're a pushover."

"Wha-?!" Pitch was so stunned and affronted he couldn't even get the exclamation out properly. Gathering himself quickly, he blustered, "I am not!"

Neutral-faced, his beautiful Lilly stated matter-of-factly, "Are so." She then proceeded to bend over and whisper into his ear, "Pushover King."

The bubble of anger that had swelled to life inside him at the sound of those words burst and dissipated before it could properly set, for he not only heard the teasing note in her voice he also saw, when he jerked his head back to stare into her eyes, that she was smirking at him. Deciding two could play that game, Pitch leaned close again and fixed her with his best leering smile.

"I don't hear you voicing any protests, either," he murmured, warm and wicked. "So what does that make you?"

Without missing a beat, Lilly replied haughtily, "Every king needs a good queen."

Straightening up, she sauntered toward the door, pausing only to cast him a positively smoldering look over one shoulder before she slipped out of the room.

That was all it took—one look—and he was out of his chair and stalking after her, a predator's gleam to his golden eyes and flashing teeth.

Okay, so maybe he was a pushover. Maybe. But if he was, it was only for his family.

Everyone else could go get trampled for all he cared.