A Note from me: After a long delay, I hope you all like this chapter; it's very pivotal, I'll tell you that. Please enjoy, and I apologize for the long delay.

Chapter 7

Antarctica. Like a sponge-filled landscape covered lightly over with fondant, gumdrops and frosting for decoration and accessories of trees and bleak wilderness, and powdered sugar blowing harshly past with a howl. It was a bad time to be a barefoot rabbit.

However, he could be the only one to complain about the conditions presented. North, always having lived in such an area, was well-dressed for the cold, his clothes wrapping snugly around him in a thick blanket of warmth. Toothiana's wings beat so rapidly, her heartbeat so fast, her blood flow alone was enough to keep her warm. Sandy cloaked himself in many layers of dream sand, keeping him snuggled just so. Bunny, however, had nothing to keep him warm; he kept himself bare-back for agility and stealth, but he was certainly no winter rabbit. His fur was practically useless in these frigid conditions.

"Oh, Bunny!" North chuckled heartily. "This is not part where you turn white and can withstand cold from such transformation?"

The Guardian of Hope was in no mood for these games; he glared at the jolly Christmas spirit in his usual sneering manner. "First of all, a rabbit's color change in the winter doesn't grow it extra resistance to the cold, it only lets it blend in better with the environment to avoid predators. And secondly, I live in Australia, ya oversized Christmas ornament, so no, I'm not adapted to the cold. Not in the least." He crossed his arms, rubbed them for warmth.

North backed off, realizing, then, the apparent 'harshness' of Bunny's claims. "Okay, okay. You are not used to cold. I will remember that next time."

"So, Bun, where to?" Tooth asked gently, wings beating twice as fast to conserve warmth within her. Truly, everyone was awaiting Bunny's word; he was the one with the strong sense of smell, the ability to perceive – he'd be able to sense Pitch, one whose scent was known, and also the 'foreign' scent that could be Jack Frost. And also, on a smaller scale, he was the one who wanted to come to Antarctica initially.

He just finished a "Not sure," before a particular breeze blew past, and, with it, was a very faint scent. It was light, peppery, minty… and cold. Jack Frost. "Wait… think I'm gettin' something." He murmured, though he could not say much more; first and foremost, there are many peppery, cold smells – Nicholas St. North, for example, secretes such a scent – and secondly, he could not outright reveal how he knew this smell was akin to Jack Frost. He could not tell his fellow Guardians that he'd found and followed Jack, unsuccessfully trying to convince him to relinquish his wanderings and come join the Guardians. He couldn't tell them even that, as the winter sprite had escaped before he could get a word in edgewise. Well, he'd attempted to converse, but Jack was very tightly wound, afraid, confined. The boy'd said less than ten words, all under the idea of establishing himself as some tough spirit, but Bunny knew too well already that he was afraid. After he'd tried to flee, he said nothing else before knocking Aster out, and leaving. He couldn't tell them that.

"What is it you are getting?" North inquired, duly noted by a snowflake appearing over Sandy's head, with question marks surrounding it.

"I don't… don't know whose scent it is… but it's definitely a winter sprite's scent." What he said wasn't necessarily a lie. His eyes cast out to the far and expansive prairies of snow, but the blue scent trail was visible to his nostrils. "C'mon, follow up if you can." His gray lips perked up in a small, sly grin, his powerful back legs kicked forward, propelling him in a low, long hop, mists of powdery snow flinging up as he landed, with the indents of his great paws as the only marker that he was even there.

The remaining three Guardians looked amongst each-other, a thought crossing all their minds as of what to do next. North shrugged, then drew out his scimitar. "You heard the man!" He pointed it outward. "Onward we march!" And a booming laugh later, the three continued on, with Bunny at the lead (North dragging behind, as he was only a humanoid spirit, so he could not fly).

And the bunny was determined. He knew. He knew that it would be Jack this time, and he knew he wouldn't allow the boy to throw a cheap shot like that again.

However, Jack knew nothing of the Guardians' arrival. He always seemed to be out-of-the-loop in these affairs, and this was certainly no exception.

And, as per the norm of this twisted tale, Pitch knew full and well of the arrival. His darkling spawn patrolled every ounce of shadow surrounding the icy castle; one must have simply picked up on the protruding shadows of the Big Four, and reported it promptly to the Nightmare King. He did not seem as upset as he was when Jack himself was found to be a Guardian, as he now had a plan; Jack was his – his lover, mate… eternally loyal to him; there would be sneaks and trickery to get around all of this, and such trickery was already made up in his mind. Golden eyes gleaming, he simply smirked, intentions only known to himself. He paid a silent nod to the Man in the Moon before whispering, almost to himself (though he knew the presence would be able to hear), "And you're ready to see your Guardians fail…? It's about time you see the error of your ways." He chuckled lowly, allowing the darkness of his cloak to flourish before allowing himself to exit to his mate.

He smoothed his hands over the ice spirit's shoulders. "Darling, how are you?"

Jack smiled. "I'm fine, surprisingly; I feel…"

"Free?"

The white-haired male turned around gently, wrapped his arms around the base of Pitch's hair. "I feel so much better when I'm next to you."

The darkling master placed a small kiss on the young sprite's lips. "Well…" He trailed off with uncertainty, a furrow of his brows creasing his forehead; he looked troubled. He bit his lower lip, eyes no longer meeting the ocean blue, and he stepped away. "Jack… one of my Fearlings detected… trouble. Then another, then another… and I can no longer deny that you are no longer safe."

Jack's expression transformed instantly; it melted from warm joy to cold fear, his ocean eyes hardening to ice, the pink flush on his face receding, his bright smile softening to parted lips, as if to question, but frozen, without a question to speak. "Pitch…?" Was all that would emit from his throat. Although he was, yes, afraid of the implications of his and his lover's imminent danger, but also he was now informed that Pitch Black might have noticed his own actions earlier… his escape from the Easter Bunny's grasp. He had been intent and dependent upon the idea that Pitch had known nothing, and now, perhaps he did. But if he had, why did he let the subject fall through? Why make love one who held back his tongue on something so vital? Perhaps it was because he'd held his tongue for so much more… Jack's face began to flush – beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow – at the thought.

"The Guardians have found us, Jack. They've finally made their way to Antarctica, and they want to take you away from me." But of course, Pitch knew exactly what had transpired the previous day, but only now he let it show. "What I don't understand is… how could they have known we were here…?" He asked, an accusatory tone to his dark voice.

Jack swallowed thickly, tears of panic beginning to form in his innocent blue eyes. He was being treated as though a criminal – black, white, and barred. "I… Pitch, I… I'm sorry… He came up behind me, and I was so, so scared. I hit him, and I ran, and he caught up to me and… I… I made sure to knock him out, though! I…" He sobbed. "I'm sorry…!"

Pitch took the boy in his arms, held him tight, and hushed him. "I forgive you, darling; just relax. Breathe. No matter if he'd found you or not, he found his way here. And whether it is that he came here with the other Guardians because he found you or not, they're here now, and they want to take you from me, no matter what the means are, they want to tear you from me to hurt me. They'll rub the salt down worse if they find out we're mated…" He pet through the pale spirit's white, tousled hair. "I can't let them take you from me, Jack. All of this is about you; you have to hide."

"They're going to hurt you…" He murmured softly, fear ghosting hot and ragged through his white lips.

"That doesn't matter; what matters to me is your safety. That is my utmost priority, now and henceforth. I don't care what happens to myself, what kind of damage I'll sustain. I don't care if they haul me in for interrogation or murder me on the spot. They want you, and I'll do whatever I have to in order to make sure they don't get to you."

Panic had begun to set into the winter spirit's cold stomach. He took Pitch by his dark cloak in both white hands, eyes small, tear-soaked. "Please, Pitch! If this… If this is about me, let them take me! Just… don't let yourself get hurt…"

Gray-pale fingers wrapped around the white, and he hushed him, one hand bringing the youth's head onto his chest. "If this is about you, Jackson, I want to make sure you'll be safe the most. I want to protect you, and giving them what they want will make it so you'll be forever lost to me. Give into them, and you'll be forced to assimilate with them, forced to believe I am your enemy, live among those who you hate. Hide, and there's a chance I will live. There's a chance they will show me mercy, or even that I will defeat them, and we can be together." He kissed Jack's forehead. "Do you understand? I'm doing this to protect you." Protect him from their influence, surely. The true reason for Pitch's kind actions were obvious to anyone but the winter sprite. It was to keep Jack loyal to him, and safe from those wretched Guardians. He pressed another kiss, wiped the tears from Jack's eyes, hushed him softly. "You have to hide yourself now. Not even in this castle. Elsewhere. They will be able to find you in here."

"At least… At least let me stay here…! Please, I can't… won't be able to bear not knowing if you're safe."

"That's not up to debate, Jack." Pitch bit out with a snip of harshness. "If one finds you, and I'm preoccupied with another – there's four of them, you know – then there will be nothing I can do to help you. Jack, please… for my sake, get away from here…"

Jack's blue eyes searched around the liquid amber for any sign of anything else, any way they could escape this without danger coming to them. He found none; instead, his eyes met disappointment, sadness, and fear. Though really, this was feigned; the King of Darkness had become so accustom to becoming a harbinger of fear, easily, he was able to form false fear on his own features, sadness, hurt. Though he felt nothing of it; he could no longer feel fear snap his throat shut, nor tears to drip from his golden eyes, nor his form pricking with the sting of disappointment. But he could surely portray it. And Jack fell as the hapless victim of his charade. He sighed, tears caught in his throat. "O-Okay…" He murmured, knotting his fingers into the darkness of Pitch's clothes, bent his head up, and met gray lips to kiss them.

Pitch Black allowed the boy to slip away, trusting that his influence on him would deliver the exact verdict he had imagined he could impose on him: for Jack to run far away, and hide, and that he would return to his mate after everything was said and done. No doubt that all four buffoons were counting on the Easter Bunny's scent – who he figured had, by then, gotten Jack's scent – to lead them to this castle, now laced with that cold smell.

But, even with Pitch's intimidation, injections of guilt, sweet words, and concerned expressions, Jack couldn't truly hide himself away from his lover. As he slipped away from Pitch's presence, he allowed himself to hide in a nearby closet, dark from the absence of windows.

Pitch cooled his expression, chuckled to himself at the thought of such barbarianism from the Guardians; the Guardians, interrogating and possibly killing anyone? Pitch was overcome by this thought; Jack really did not know much, did he? Or was he just willing to believe whatever spewed from the Nightmare King's lips? He must not know what the Guardians had done to Pitch during the Dark Ages, must have over-fantasized it into a fantastic tale of protagonist and antagonist, darkness and light, good and bad, black and white.

Poor fool.

He sighed in acceptance. He felt the extensions of himself, his Fearlings, sense presences, four presences, approaching the ice castle. He allowed himself to be surrounded by his minions, and his one Nightmare. He stroked the darkness of her fur as, from behind the frigid doors, the Guardians were.

Hastily, irritably, the Easter Bunny thrust the doors open with a powerful kick, only to find the primary source of his objective was not there. Instead, there was a gray-pale man, tall and slender, clad in shadows. It was Pitch Black; Jack Frost was nowhere to be seen. And this simply frustrated Aster all the much more. "Where is he?" The great ashen rabbit asked, a sharp edge to his tone.

"So you got my clues after all." A slow clap from the Nightmare King. "I'm proud you even made it this far."

"I'm not up for games, Pitch." Aster growled. "Where is he?"

The man in dark looked around, not meeting the Four's eyes. "Gone; I've… dealt with him." His chuckle darkened, now malicious and horrible, and almost uncontrollable.

The expression amongst the Guardians changed dramatically at this; although, of course, only Pitch knew that he hadn't killed the boy. Theatrics had always been everything to him. Bunny's eyes narrowed, teeth and fists clenched. "You sick bastard… What the hell did you do…?!"

Pitch tsked, embracing his forehead with his hand. "I don't like repeating myself, rabbit."

"You will relinquish how you have dealt with Frost." North demanded in his great, booming tone, scimitar aimed to the gray-skinned male. Sandy cracked his knuckles silently (or perhaps they simply were not strained enough to crack), and Tooth readied her fists, razor-sharp wings beating rapidly.

"You know Jack and I made this…?" He let his hands around the lengths of the room. "Darkness and ice. So beautiful, isn't it?"

"You fought him?" Bunny's eyes widened in surprise, anger.

Another awful laugh; he began to pace slowly, yet without menace. "Perhaps. Perhaps I did carve out a home myself out of the boy's defeat because I'm just that twisted. Perhaps I killed him thereafter, while he was weak and on his knees, so lost, so lonely, begging. Perhaps his body's lying amongst the miles upon miles of snow, or perhaps even his carcass dissolved among it – he's a winter spirit, after all – forever lost, never to be found, never to be confirmed dead. Never to have that answer." His chuckle faded. "Or… perhaps he's alive. Perhaps I've never even threatened the boy's life for an instant. Perhaps I had, and he escaped." His voice grew satirical. "Oh, perhaps we even befriended each-other and have made some convoluted ploy to confound you." Serious again, he continued, "Perhaps he isn't even here. He could be in the North Pole, perhaps Alaska or even Russia. You simply don't know, now do you? After all…" He snickered again, arms folded behind his back; his pacing stopped. "This is all hypothetical."

This had all begun to irritate one rabbit all too much. His paws had clenched his head by each temple. He sighed heavily, strenuously. "Well, I'm done with your hypothetical shit. I'll find out one way…" He drew from his leather sash one of his enchanted boomerangs. "Or another!" Aster thrust the boomerang from his fingers, and it arced towards the Nightmare King in a swift and centripetal manner.

Pitch smirked, his body dissolving into blackness, the Nightmare neighing defensively as it galloped into the Antarctic day. The boomerang passed through his receding King's form, and destroyed a few Fearlings who were caught unawares. The remaining were a flurry of hisses and claws, spouts of darkness targeted towards the Guardians; and soon, the dark creatures surrounded dream maker, memory preserver, spring harbinger, and fierce toy maker.

Tooth set herself upon the floor, wings still buzzing dangerously, and she spun herself among the crowd of black, decimating them as her bright wings sliced through them. Sandy's dream whips adapted into lassos and various other rope-like objects, corralling the Fearlings in large groups. North wasted no time in shouting heartily, fiercely chopping down the creatures as though they were obstacles of shrubs to a lost explorer.

And E. Aster had his sights not on the Fearlings, or even the Nightmare horse, but Pitch Black. His emerald eyes were dark like moonlit forests, searching this way and that for the hiding black spirit.

Pitch resurfaced, attempted to even leave the room, as it began to swell in multiplying masses of Fearlings. "Gotcha…" The Australian spirit whispered softly, readying an egg bomb to the darkling antagonist.

As it was tossed, Pitch spun around, unaware of his spotting, but was fractionally able to avoid the bomb, allowing it to detonate on a nearby wall, exposing that blast radius to the outside sun and snow.

"You hurt that boy, you bloomin' coward!" Aster hissed, approaching Pitch, seething vengeance in his now-dark eyes.

Pitch, on the other hand, gave a bemused chuckle. "It's all hypothetical, dear Aster."

"It was only yesterday I'd seen him: scared, nervous, almost paralyzed in fear. He hardly said a word t' me before he tried to run away from me. He'd been so unaccustomed t' interaction, he thought one meant he'd be in trouble. He attacked me only yesterday – saved my life only yesterday!" Pitch's expression faltered a moment. Was Jack really so weak as to not be able to eliminate an enemy, when his direct order was to do just so…? "Only yesterday, goddamn it, so tell me where he is!"

After that small distraction, the King quickly regained his smug expression. "I'd much rather we fight – as fights do transpire in these sorts of circumstances, do they not? – but I find it amusing that you haven't attempted to dash right into the fray; after all, you usually do cause the most damage to those who oppose you. Unless…" He gasped dramatically. "Jack has taken your interest!" He allowed his gray fingers to dance on his lips. "Do you… fancy the boy?"

Aster's fierce expression was quickly replaced with… embarrassment. Embarrassment from perhaps such a ludicrous statement, perhaps from the stinging truth of it all. Either way, he squeezed his eyes shut in a sharp blink, his fierceness reacting with such embarrassment, transforming into fury. "Just shut up!" The second of two boomerangs was tossed, and this one was able to clip the unsuspecting gray spirit in his shoulder. Pitch hissed out in pain, a few of his minions noticing, rushing to help, as he let loose a blast of darkness. It was able to hit Bunny in his knee. Tooth moved to aid the spring spirit in his battle, but Aster shouted, clenching his wound, "No! He's my battle! I have to beat him! I have to fight him myself! Bastard terrorized that boy, and he's gonna get his own for it."

"Oh… okay…" She murmured, confused, before resuming her battle with the Nightmare King's loyal henchmen.

Aster's boomerangs returned to him, glowing green with a natural power, tossing them with enough force to slice into gray-pale flesh, blood replaced with ink spilling out from his wounds. He cried out, both arms having been cut, making it painful to move them. He whimpered, having previously believed he was no longer able to feel pain, as he was now assaulted with three egg bombs, smashing his thin frame against an ice wall.

Meanwhile, Jack had been quietly unaware of the words transpired in all the chaos. Despite hearing the hisses of Fearlings, battle cries of the Guardians, he stayed put. But soon upon his ears was a bone-crushing shatter, a sickening crunch. He could dawdle no longer. Tentatively, and with staff of cold gripped tightly in both hands, he stepped out, bare feet padding lightly against the dark-and-ice floor. He hesitated at the doorway; one step closer, and he'd be one frosted wall, one room, away from witnessing the carnage. His feet would not move, his body unable to be budged.

Until he heard a cry. It was unlike any sound he'd ever heard. It was truly pained, truly horrible, and truly Pitch Black's. His eyes grew small in fear, panic washing over him.

He pushed open the door, rushed through the remaining room – where he could see the distorted pattern of brutality, of fighting, of – as Pitch had called it – war. So small-scale now, but who was to say it would not escalate? But that was not what mattered to the young winter spirit. He vaguely noticed the crystalline indent in the wall, crunched-in from a powerful impact.

Jack opened the second door, staff ready, and, initially, he was not noticed. He gazed around the room – around the ink-stains of demolished Fearlings, of fallen feathers, of ruptured dream sand, and among it, in an ever-widening pool of black, collapsed against an impacted ice wall, was Pitch – his Pitch, his mate, his love – nearly unconscious or perhaps nearly dead.

Over him, loomed a great figure, panting, cloaked in ashen fur, patterned in charcoal. A leather sash was slung across his chest, down to his hip. His bombs were expended, his boomerangs gripped tightly in both hands. A glitter of liquid amber appeared on the dark spirit; his eyes opened to the sight of his foe. "Still alive, are ya?" Aster gripped the disoriented spirit by the lapels of his shadowy cloak. "Tell me where Jack Frost is right now, or so help me, I will rip that black heart right out 'a your chest!" And the weakened spirit simply laughed weakly. It was a patronizing laugh, just as Pitch would emit, now with ink-stains dripping from his lips. "Where is he?!"

"I'm right here!" The young spirit cried, cold eyes blazing into a pool of ocean-blue; his staff was raised, shot a blast of white-blue winter energy at the spring spirit, knocking him far and away from the weakened, barely-conscious spirit. The Easter Bunny impacted the adjacent wall, fell forward onto his hands and knees.

"Bunny!" Tooth cried, rushing over to him, gently placing a hand on his back.

"All of you! Get away from him!" Jack cried fiercely. "Get away!" His staff began to glow again, roaring to life as the icy energy inside of it was released; sharp gusts of wind, accompanied with a flurry of snow and sleet, flushed out the floor in a growing expanse as the Guardians within the area – as well as so many Fearlings – were buried. He thrust his staff out, and the contents of snow were forced out the windows and door, scattered into the sky for miles. The Guardians failed to get a word in edgewise.

Jack sighed thereafter, waited a few moments to let the reality sink in that his enemies were truly gone, and they were. His enemies were far gone; his body was exhausted from the extent of power he had released. His body was trembling, weak, but he wasn't even focused on himself. Pitch was the only thought on his mind, and he turned around to find his mated spirit still very weak, still bleeding. Jack sat down beside his lover, worry widening his blue eyes. "Pitch? Pitch, are you okay? Baby, please… please just say something…"

And there was silence, the Nightmare spirit's body limp, quiet. Jack's eyebrows furrowed, breath hitched, tears beginning to run down his eyes. But finally, "Jack…" whispered quietly, breaking the veil of silence. "I'd told you to leave…"

Relief washed over his features. "I know; I know, but," He sniffled, "They were going to kill you. I knew they were – or at least that something terrible was going to happen – and I… I couldn't leave you."

"You warded them off…? You-You saved me…?"

"Why wouldn't I? They were… He was… He…" Jack gasped, overcome with emotion, and sobbed into Pitch Black's chest.

He hushed the boy. "No… it's okay…" But it was not. Pitch had not at all anticipated that the boy would disobey his orders, keep himself here. He hadn't anticipated that Jack would reveal his alliance to him. His main idea for Jack to covertly assimilate himself with the Guardians and destroy them from within was shattered. He chuckled weakly, nuzzled himself against Jack's hair, as his arms were effectively useless for the time being. Jack's icy-blue eyes rose and leveled with the liquid gold. Pitch gently pressed a kiss to Jack's lips in a long, slow kiss.

It was no matter. He hadn't realized Jack's extensive power, and this in itself could be useful. They didn't need covert tactics to instill worldwide fear after all. He simply needed covert tactics for the events afterwards. They were exposed, but who would care?

Of course, the Guardians, now scattered among the Antarctic, cared very much. They found each-other four hours later, decided to return to North's workshop, deciding also, through stress and tension, not to speak a word about their battle. "This is… far from what I had expected…" North finally murmured, first to have spoken in those four hours. "We had suspected he was terrorized, or perhaps afraid."

"Not… associated with that scum! How the hell did we let that happen, huh?! How the hell could we let him think Pitch would be his friend? How the hell did Pitch convince him of that?!"

"Bunny, please, calm down…"

"How can I calm down?! We should have been there for Jack! We should have helped him, not leave him in the dirt! And we… we didn't… and now he's with Pitch. Now he threw us about half-a-mile from his and Pitch's home because he cares about him far more than us." He hissed out a strained sigh, and abruptly departed from the room.

"Well… yes." Was all North has managed before Bunny had dismissed himself. Tooth buzzed forward a few paces before Sandy held her back, shook his head slowly. He wanted to be alone. The remaining three Guardians gathered around, finding it best to continue their plans without him.

And Aster was left alone with his thoughts now; one will always know that is never the best thing. He thumped the ground twice, returning to his warren, equipped himself with more egg bombs, and now rope in the form of a lasso, a grave mission in mind.

He would return to the castle, and was in no mood for negotiation.