Author's note:

Big THANK YOUs to everyone who marked my story as a favorite and/or to follow, you guys are awesome! :D

Thanks, Sierra,I'm really glad you liked it. Hopefully you enjoy these next two chapters just as much. :)

Yes, two chapters at once (YAY!). I really wanted the entire "Memories" section to come out at the same time but the first section was done way before the rest, so I posted that as the last chapter, and now it's officially a three-parter.

Thanks for reading up to this point, and please enjoy!

North America, 1718

In spite of the fact that neither of them spoke of the incident on the mountain ever again, Pitch could sense that something between them had changed tremendously in the wake of that event. The two of them met far more often, for one thing, almost on a monthly basis, and the Nightmare King began taking Starfire to some of his favorite spots just as she continued to show him the different moonflowers. He'd insisted on seeing them all for himself, though the Brahma Kamal remained his favorite by far. He never told Starfire about it, but he actually went back to the mountain on his own one year after being struck with the urge to see them again. To his great disappointment, he couldn't find any no matter how hard he searched, and as he was too proud to ask Starfire for help he reluctantly gave up and never repeated the attempt.

Something else that changed besides the frequency of their visits was the atmosphere whenever they were together. The last lingering remnants of tension had dissipated along with the implicit threat of violence should one of them become aggravated, and as a result they became quite comfortable being in each other's presence. They got on each other's nerves on occasion and even argued from time to time, but the fights never lasted long as they always made up with one another somehow. Neither of them ever apologized, for they were both far too proud to stoop for such a thing, but Pitch found that she wasn't expecting him to do that anymore than he was her. It was a mark of just how well they understood each other that they were able to come to terms without having to express themselves through words. Pitch had never experienced such a thing before, and he found it both incredibly wonderful and extremely peculiar.

They continued to talk about a great many things, but Starfire still held back from discussing anything personal. As desperate as he was to know more about her, Pitch found that he couldn't blame her for maintaining her silence. Some things were just better left unsaid…like aspects of his own murky past. While he regretted nothing and was, in fact, rather proud of most of it, he knew there were quite a number of things that would be considered downright detestable by anyone who wasn't the Nightmare King. He didn't think Starfire would appreciate being put into a position where she felt obliged to reciprocate in the telling of unpleasant stories when she obviously didn't want to, therefore he was incredibly careful to keep the nastier details of his existence to himself. Had she been any other spirit he would've found some way to force or coerce the truth out of her, either through scheming or pretty lies or some other devious means, but she wasn't just any other spirit. He couldn't explain why, for it was nothing that was ever explicitly discussed between them, but Pitch just couldn't bring himself to cross whatever boundaries he believed Starfire had set for him. Maybe it was because she didn't cross any of the ones he set for her, and so he felt it would be in poor taste for him to not show her the same courtesy.

Maybe…he just didn't know.

His thoughts were always so jumbled whenever he was with her. She was so confusing and yet so very interesting that he couldn't decide whether she irritated or intrigued him more. They were complete opposites and her mother was his greatest enemy, yet she didn't judge him for being weak or mock him for being invisible. She never brought up those things, not even by way of idle curiosity, and he was immensely grateful for it. She didn't question his judgment in anything, either, for unlike virtually every other spirit in existence Starfire actually trusted his word. That bothered him a little, for he'd never had anyone put such faith in him before (not that he'd ever given anyone a reason to, being such a practiced manipulator and an excellent liar, but that was beside the point). The reality of it was that he simply didn't know how to deal with someone who so readily accepted whatever he said and yet wasn't a gullible idiot, and he couldn't help but wonder just how far that trust went.

So he pushed aside any reservations he felt and tested her one night, spinning an obvious lie with his silver tongue and watching closely to see what sort of reaction she'd have.

The trouble was, as soon as the words left his mouth he felt unspeakably guilty, which didn't make any sense because he'd never felt a qualm about lying before. As he pondered it, he suddenly realized that he'd never lied so blatantly to Starfire before. Twisted the truth a little, yes, spun particular events more to his favor, of course…but never such outright deception. He hadn't even realized until that moment just how honest he'd been with her, and recognizing it then only made him feel worse for not accepting her trust in good faith.

But since the words had already been spoken he couldn't take them back. Pitch had committed himself to the test and so he resigned himself to see it through, though he secretly hoped that it didn't spoil things between them. The last thing he'd wanted by doing this was to ruin the friendship they'd built over the past several decades.

Carefully schooling his features before she could detect his remorse, he held his breath and awaited her response.

In the end, her reaction left him feeling both relieved and incredibly confused. She'd raised one slim eyebrow and pursed her lips together as if smothering a smirk, but apart from that she carried on with the conversation as if nothing had happened. It was clear that she hadn't believed him for an instant, so then why hadn't she called him out on it?! Normally spirits would get upset or angry for being lied to like that, right?

Had she known that I was testing her and that was why it hadn't bother her?

He never learned for sure, but whatever the reason was he found after that night that he simply couldn't bring himself to lie to her anymore.

Pitch's affinity for manipulation wasn't completely lost in her presence, though, and it soon morphed into teasing as he discovered that it was deeply amusing to mess with her. He found himself anticipating her reactions and started playing a mental game with himself, trying to guess beforehand whether his playful actions and goading words would cause her to laugh, lift her brows, roll her eyes, or spit fiery words at him. Once he even managed to evoke all four reactions, plus one he hadn't quite anticipated. She'd raised her brows first, and rolled her eyes moments after. He kept prodding, laughing wickedly on the inside as he watched her face darken with agitation in spite of her best efforts to ignore him. When she was good and riled up she finally lost her patience and snapped at him, but right when he pointed rudely and started to laugh at her for failing his little game he inexplicably found himself hanging upside-down by his ankles, bound from neck to toes by thick vines.

Dammit, Starfire.

Then she laughed, only she was laughing at his rather undignified predicament rather than at what'd he'd done to her. He wanted to be angry with her, but as hard as he tried he just couldn't summon the fury. Instead he said with a lopsided grin, "I suppose I deserved that one."

Even after that confession, though, it took quite a bit of persuading to convince her to let him down. As he straightened his robe and smoothed back his hair, rather than feeling humiliated or annoyed at being made into a spectacle like that he actually found himself chuckling.

So she can give as good as she takes. I'll have to remember that.

Unfortunately, there was one instance when he took his games a little too far. They were sitting under a tree on some mountaintop not far from his home when Pitch happened to bring up the Sun Woman by way of some offhanded comment. Starfire stiffened at the very mention of her mother, and Pitch, mistaking her reaction for aggravation, grinned slyly.

"What?" he asked in a teasing tone. "Are you going to ask her to smite me now?"

"Don't even joke about that!" Starfire snapped, and Pitch winced at the venom in her words.

Uncertain as to what to say since he didn't really understand what had upset her in the first place, Pitch decided that a noncommittal remark would be the best response.

"As if I care about that conceited woman," he grumbled, swatting away a firefly that had the misfortune of buzzing too close to his face.

An awkward silence fell between them as they stared off in different directions. Pitch occupied himself by picking out the constellations, which were clearly visible due to the noticeable lack of moonlight. He and Starfire only met when Manny wasn't around, either during the new moon or when the sky was covered in a thick blanket clouds that blocked the moon's view of the world below. It was a good thing they did; Pitch would've hated for his old friend to bear witness to his awkward stumbling through this unconventional relationship with Starfire.

He'd probably understand this woman better than I ever could, he thought moodily. I just don't get her sometimes…

Starfire sighed suddenly, drawing his attention back to her even though he kept his gaze stubbornly fixed on the stars. The Sun Woman's daughter lowered her gaze to the ground and scratched at her thick curls, looking rather uncomfortable.

"It's not anything you did," she began, her voice sounding a bit strained as if she didn't really know what to say. "I just don't like talking about her."

Is she apologizing without apologizing? Pitch wondered, and felt the corner of his mouth twitch. That's just like her.

She prodded the ground with the butt of her staff, and a tiny little wildflower sprouted in that very place. After another moment of silence she turned unexpectedly to stare right at him. "You've obviously heard all about how I came to be born."

It wasn't a question, and Pitch didn't take it as one, but the suddenness of that statement prompted him to meet her unwavering green stare.

"I served my purpose and that was that. After that she couldn't be bothered with me." The flora spirit's eyes were cold and hard as if steeling herself against the pain the memory brought her. "I get she's busy and all, seeing as how the sun never sleeps, but you'd think she'd spare some thought for her own kid. In the twenty-nine years I stayed at the Palace, I only ever saw her twice."

Pitch was taken aback by the revelation, but it was so rare for Starfire to be open like this that he kept his mouth firmly closed and just let her speak her mind.

"Even after I left she didn't care about what I did or where I went, as long as I didn't do or say anything that might embarrass her." She pulled a face. "That's all that ever mattered to her when it came to me: doing my duties properly and keeping up appearances for her sake. Most of the time it felt like I didn't even exist."

Pitch didn't know what shocked him more—that Starfire was being so very open about a personal matter seemingly out of the blue or the incredibly depressing nature of what she'd just revealed. He'd always been under the impression that the Sun Woman was an incredibly loving parent, if occasionally overbearing, and nothing any other spirit had ever said about the star spirit had altered that perception. They did nothing but sing praises about the Sun Woman, especially when it came to her handling of the "peculiar" and "rebellious" daughter she'd birthed. Yet based upon what Starfire had just told him, it seemed like there was far more to the story than anyone else knew.

It would seem the truth of it was that the Sun Woman only took interest in her child's life when it suited her, which didn't appear to be that often at all.

I always knew they weren't close but this…this seems serious.

Having no experience with family or relationships in general apart from occasionally observing such dynamics within his human prey, Pitch didn't really know how to respond.

Is this why she didn't want to talk about it before? he wondered. Because she's bitter and unhappy over how her mother had treated her?

Then another thought occurred to him, one he hadn't intended to touch in that moment and one he hadn't considered at all in a long, long time: Starfire's lack of fear. He remembered how he had touched her in search of fear and found nothing, and that it had stoked his curiosity at the time. Over the passing decades that curiosity had faded, though, as it had been pushed aside by far more pressing and interesting aspects of the flora spirit's character.

But now as he looked into her cold green eyes, he couldn't help but think: Is that why she's not afraid of anything? Because she's been treated like an object by her own mother and so she believes her existence holds no real value?

It was an unbelievably depressing thought, and Pitch found he didn't want to dwell on it a second longer. He shoved it aside, burying it deep within his own head where he hoped it would never surface again. It wasn't his place to judge Starfire like that, and the mere act of thinking about such a thing left him feeling unspeakably guilty and ashamed rather than enlightened or somehow empowered.

In his struggle to come up with something appropriate to say, Pitch ended up staring at Starfire for a long time with his mouth hanging open. When nothing came to mind, he closed it again and eventually just shrugged.

"Well, you're better off I'd say," he said in a tone that was purposefully casual. "Having the freedom to do as you please is always preferable to being stuck in a stuffy hot Palace all day long."

He stood up and stretched, gazing up at the stars as he did so.

"You know," he said suddenly, still studying the night sky, "I think I'm glad your mother's such a prude." He grinned down at Starfire's shocked expression and explained, "If it weren't for her leaving you alone growing up, you'd never have developed the confidence to challenge me."

"Hey, now!" Starfire stuck a finger out at him in warning. "Even if I was a tiny little sprite I'd make a point of following you around just to aggravate you!"

He threw back his head and laughed. "I imagine you would!"

North America, 1749

Pitch didn't know what possessed him to ask her, but asked her he had and to his great shock she'd actually agreed. Now he was standing there in his great room, staring at Starfire as she turned in slow circles gazing up at the stone ceiling high above her.

"Nice," she said, her voice echoing slightly in the quiet. "It's a lot bigger than I pictured it to be."

She dropped her gaze to the floor and tapped at it curiously with the butt of her staff. She commented, "So it really is true. Nothing grows down here at all."

"Is that bad?" Pitch asked nervously. He didn't know why, but he felt unspeakably anxious having her here in his home. He'd never invited anyone to his realm before, and he honestly didn't know what to do. He didn't even know if she'd like it, considering how dark and enclosed and decayed it was compared to the forests she wandered, but what surprised him most was that he found himself wanting her to like it.

I'm acting like an idiot! Why should I care if she likes it or not?! If she doesn't I can always blast her back to the outside and tell her never to come back!

But even those harsh thoughts couldn't quell the churning of his stomach. Stop that!

Her response to his question pulled him out of his ridiculous self-scolding. "Not bad, just strange. I've never been anywhere else in the world where there wasn't anything green. Even parts of Antarctica bear vegetation for a few weeks out of the year."

"Oh." He hadn't known that.

She tapped the floor again, almost like she was double-checking that there wasn't anything there for her to grow. "I'd heard stories of it being like this," she said softly, "but experiencing it firsthand is just so odd."

"What does it feel like?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She must've expected him to ask, for his question didn't surprise her.

"Sort of empty." She thought about it for a moment, trying to find the right words to describe what she was feeling. "When I'm surrounded by green, I can hear it, like thousands of little voices whispering to me. Each species has its own language and each individual plant has its own unique voice, so depending on where in the world I am it can sound like a beautiful symphony or it can grate on my mind like a horde of screaming, demanding children."

Pitch tried to stifle his snigger but failed, and the loud snort that resulted from his efforts caused Starfire to pull a face at him.

"It's terrible! When they yell like that it can be really hard to think." She turned her attention back to the darkness and the emptiness around them. "Here it's just so quiet… It's nice to be alone in my own head for a change, but I also feel sort of naked, like that integral part of me is sealed away behind a massive stone wall that I just can't breach."

She looked at him again, and her expression was unexpectedly serious. "Is that what it feels like to be forgotten?"

Pitch felt his jaw tighten. She'd never asked him about this before, and he'd been grateful because he didn't like to speak of it. He'd once been the mighty and fearsome Nightmare King, after all, but his heyday was long past and now he wasn't regarded as anything more than a passing fantasy, something that caused the floorboards under the bed to creak at night yet could neither be seen nor touched when children inevitably peered under there to see where the monsters were. To this day he was extremely bitter about his fall from power, and yet he couldn't bring himself to hate or resent Starfire for questioning him about it. She wasn't pressing him for answers, after all—he could easily refuse to answer if he so chose and he knew she wouldn't push the matter if he did so. And she wasn't being selfish in asking, either. Being born a spirit rather than made into one was an incredibly rare thing, and while such an esteemed position came with numerous perks, not counted among them was human belief. Having never had a human believe in her before, Starfire had no idea what it felt like to be forgotten so it was only natural that she would be curious about such a thing.

Besides, she was only asking him right now because she simply wanted a comparison to what she was feeling now without her green there to speak to her. It wasn't like she was fishing for information about him.

It was for these reasons that Pitch ultimately decided to answer her question even though he really didn't want to.

"No." He stared off into the distant shadows, a solemn expression on his face. "Being forgotten…it's like nothing else you could ever experience."

He didn't say anything more than that, and just like he knew she would Starfire didn't push the matter. Instead she lifted her staff and gave it a bit of a twirl until it lay across her shoulder, one arm resting casually over its carved wooden body. She looked like she was about to say something when she suddenly gasped.

"Wow!"

As she darted across the room, Pitch turned to see what had caught her attention and smothered a laugh. His globe. It was situated on the far side of the room, up on a raised platform, and Starfire dashed up the stone steps to regard the black metal thing with open awe.

"I've never seen one of these before!" She lifted a hand then stopped herself and glanced back at him. "Can I touch it?"

"Sure," he said with an encouraging nod. He slipped into the shadows and reappeared beside her a moment later, watching closely as Starfire reached up to run her hand along the surface of the globe's South American continent. He didn't know why, but his attention was fixed on her fingers as they glided over the smooth surface. He actually had to shake himself out of it only to find his gaze shifting to her face. The tiny golden lights scattered across the globe illuminated her dark skin, giving it a soft golden glow.

"These are all the children who believe?" she asked him as she studied Europe.

"Yes." He was surprised he could even manage that one little word, as his mouth had suddenly gone dry. There's definitely something wrong with me tonight.

"There's so many…" She scowled unexpectedly. "To think throwing presents at people gets you this much devotion."

Pitched was stunned for a moment then he laughed heartily. "A little grudge against the Guardians, hmmm?"

"Not a grudge. I just don't like how they lead whose brats around like dogs on a leash in order to keep their attention. If those whelps truly loved them and believed in them then those four idiots wouldn't have to resort to bribing them with presents and coins to keep their faith alive. They'd keep believing whether the Guardians continued to leave gifts for them or not."

Pitch waved a hand through the air. "Yes, well, humans are fickle creatures, children most of all."

The conversation was rudely interrupted by the arrival of a Nightmare. It galloped into the room with a loud whinny, but Pitch wasn't in the mood to hear whatever it was the creature had to say.

"Do you mind?" he snarled at the mare, causing it to flinch, but Starfire regarded it with approval.

"She looks much better than she did last time," she noted.

Pitch didn't bother covering his astonishment. "You recognize her?"

How does she know this is the same mare I rode that night? I do my utmost to make them all the same and, besides, I've had lots of time to practice so the overall appearance is quite different than it was back then.

Maybe she just guessed.

"It's pretty obvious," Starfire told him as the mare regarded her with suspicion. The creature was sticking close to her master's side, clearly disapproving of a stranger's presence in the realm.

"Obvious how?" he prompted.

"I heard the echoes of their calls when I first arrived, so I knew for sure that you've got more than one now. Though they probably sound the same to everyone except you, they actually have individual voices just like my plants do so I can tell which one is which. I can hear the different inflections, even if I can't understand what they're saying."

The Nightmare lifted her head in shock then tilted it to one side as she studied Starfire with new consideration. The flora spirit smiled back and she asked Pitch, "Can I touch her?"

He cleared his throat to mask his surprise at the unexpected request. "If you want to." He swiftly added, "They can smell fear you know."

She smirked at him. "Does it look like I'm scared?"

No. No she didn't. It amazed him, sometimes, just how fearless she truly was. She wasn't intimidated by anything at all—not Pitch, not the Nightmares, not even this dark place where she was rendered all but powerless and he could easily destroy her if he ever got the mind to do so.

Starfire took a step forward and lifted her hand in silent invitation. The Nightmare didn't move for a moment, conflicted as to whether or not she wanted some stranger touching her. Finally she stepped away from Pitch and moved cautiously towards the flora spirit, head low and eyes narrowed. Starfire waited with her hand raised, letting the Nightmare decide for herself how and when she wanted to be touched. Pitch held his breath as the mare sniffed at the spirit's fingers, then her clothes, before finally stretching out her neck to brush the black sand of her muzzle against Starfire's palm.

The flora spirit smiled broadly as she ran her hand along the creature's neck, stroking the dark mane. "She's surprisingly solid," she said as she scratched under the mare's chin. "They look rather ethereal, don't they, especially when they're running, so you wouldn't expect them to be so solid."

The Nightmare cried out at the compliment and tossed her head proudly. Pitch didn't say anything. It felt like he'd lost the ability to speak. All he could do was stand there and stare openly at the scene unfolding before him.

"So strong," Starfire praised as the Nightmare pranced around her, brushing against her body repeatedly as she did so. "You did a fantastic job reshaping them."

"You can ride her if you want," Pitch said suddenly. His voice sounded funny, like he was choking on his own words. He couldn't explain it, but all of a sudden he was dying to see Starfire sitting astride one of his beautiful mares.

She'd look stunning riding them.

His hopes were dashed when she told him, "Maybe next time. I want them to get used to me first."

It made sense, but even so he couldn't help but feel disappointed. Next time for sure, he promised himself.

Giving the mare one last pat, she turned her attention back to the gaping Boogeyman.

"Come on," she said with a smile. "Give me a tour of the place."

He readily obliged and practically glowed with pride as he showed off his home to her. Her reactions to what she saw pleased him, though he couldn't quite explain why. There wasn't much to see in the place, being broken and neglected and mostly empty, but she seemed genuinely intrigued by all of it and that made him happy.

The tour took the pair on a wide circuit that eventually brought them back to the front room where Pitch kept his globe. By the time they'd returned the lone Nightmare had been joined by several more, all of whom seemed determined to get Starfire's attention. They bumped and pushed into her and into each other so much that Pitch lost his patience and wound up snapping at them to go away. They shied from his aggravated expression and fled to the shadows but didn't disappear entirely. A dozen golden eyes stared out of the darkness like creepy disembodied spectators.

"My apologies," Pitch told Starfire. He cast a dark look over his shoulder at the lingering Nightmares. "They aren't used to company."

"It would be rather hard to explain if they were," She replied reassuringly. Then she yawned.

"It's almost dawn," he noted, glancing sideways at her. "You'd best be going."

"Yeah." She grinned at him. "Am I free to come back, or is this still by-invitation-only?"

A look of confusion crossed his face as he wondered why she'd even felt the need to ask such a question. Is she just trying to be polite?

"Of course you can come back," he replied as if it were obvious, because it was.

"Good." She leaned around him to wave at the Nightmares. "Bye!" she called to them, and they whickered in response.

"I'll have Ebony see you out," Pitch offered, and before she could protest a mare burst from the shadows and ran to her side, looking quite pleased at having been chosen for such a task.

"Well," she huffed, "seems like I'm in no place to argue."

The Nightmare tossed her head and Starfire shook her own at the sight of it.

"Until next time, then," she said to Pitch, and he nodded mutely in response. She left without further ado, Ebony trotting after her.

Once they were gone, the other Nightmares started to emerge from the shadows one by one. Onyx (who'd kept her distance throughout Starfire's visit) suddenly appeared in the room and moved to stand beside Pitch. She stared in the same direction he was, the way the flora spirit had disappeared.

"Do you like her?" the Nightmare King asked quietly, and the mare snorted and tossed her mane in response.

A warm smile spread across Pitch's face. "Me too."

North America, 1749-1776

She returned to his home just a few nights later and, as promised, he got her to ride one of the mares. She'd taken a particular shining to Ebony (though he couldn't fathom how they'd developed such a bond in the few minutes they'd been together the other night), so that was the Nightmare she picked. Pitch couldn't help but notice the obvious disappointment the other mares displayed at not being chosen, what with their heads drooping so dejectedly, and he wanted to strike all of them with his whip but instead threw his hands into the air.

Lilliana laughed at the sight of them all. "I told you they all have personalities."

She mounted Ebony with practiced ease and perched comfortably on the Nightmare's back, looking quite at home despite the obvious differences between the sand-creature and her flora-mare. Pitch felt something in his chest hitch as he took in the way her legs gently hugged the mare's sides and her fire-red hair stood out in the darkness yet perfectly complemented the Nightmare's jet black mane.

I knew it, he thought dazedly. She does look stunning.

That first ride together was something he'd never forget for as long as he existed. It was quite different having her on one of his Nightmares and being in his company rather than competing with him, although she did talk him into a friendly race before the night was done just to see which of the two mares were fastest. As he tried his best to make his Nightmares all the same Ebony and Onyx were pretty evenly matched, but even so they snorted and snapped at each other as they raced along, desperate to please their respective riders. Onyx won by a nose, but Lilliana praised Ebony so wonderfully that one would think her Nightmare had been the victor, especially with how proudly the mare carried herself afterwards.

Pitch shook his head at the sight of them. "Don't spoil them," he scolded, but Lilliana just smiled.

"It's the truth," she insisted warmly, "she did a good job." She patted Ebony's neck, and the Nightmare whickered in appreciation.

The ride back to his realm was done in calm, companionable silence. Pitch kept stealing glances at Lilliana, unable to keep his focus away for long. It was strange how much she was affecting him now, and yet he found that he didn't dislike the feeling at all. He wondered briefly if, perhaps, she was starting to feel the same way about him, but quickly dismissed the notion.

No way. There's just no way she would ever consider me anything more than a friend.

The thought shouldn't have depressed him considering he was used to far worse treatment from spirits and had even come to expect such rejection, but it did. For some reason he just couldn't bear the thought of her turning away and never coming back. He'd grown so used to her being in his life that he just couldn't imagine an existence without her anymore.

I'm so stupid, falling for such a spirit…

In the passing months he was careful to keep his budding feelings to himself, though it was getting harder and harder as the year ended and the next one began. He'd never been good at self-control, and keeping such a huge secret when the very source of his turbulent, conflicted thoughts visited him almost weekly was growing increasingly difficult. But each time he felt the words threatening to spill from his mouth he jerked himself back to reality with sobering images of her leaving in disgust or, worse, mocking him once she knew the truth. Either scenario would be his undoing, so he bit back his confession each and every time he felt the urge to make it.

Still, Lilliana was a rather astute spirit, and in spite of his efforts there were times when she got a peculiar look in her eye that convinced him that she knew (or at least suspected) about how he felt. Either way she said nothing about it, and after a while Pitch started to wonder if she was just waiting until she was certain about his feelings or if she simply wasn't comfortable broaching the subject because didn't reciprocate. It was absolute torture not knowing which was the case.

But then, one cold winter night just after the midcentury turn, Pitch sat on his throne watching her pet and pamper his Nightmares when it suddenly struck him that he'd recently started addressing her as Lilliana without even realizing that he'd been doing so. He knew immediately that there was no way she couldn't have noticed such a thing, and he stifled a groan. Then he paused.

I wonder if that means…

Clearing his throat and feeling incredibly nervous, he called, "Lilliana?" and she turned her head to look at him expectantly.

"What?" she asked when he didn't say anything, and after a moment he felt the corner of his mouth twitch when he failed to think of an adequate excuse for calling out to her so suddenly.

"Never mind," he said, and was relieved when she turned back to the mares without question.

There was no doubt in his mind now. He'd looked hard into her eyes and she had looked back at him with the same open honesty she always had, her green eyes completely free of ill-will or ill-intent.

"Pitch."

He jerked as the sound of his name pulled him out of his thoughts. "What?" he asked, and almost smiled when he realized their positions were now ironically reversed.

She stared across the room at him, and he was shaken by the intensity of that stare.

"Never mind," she said simply and went back to petting the mares.

His breath hitched in his chest, and though he struggled to find the right words nothing came to him that even remotely approached what he was feeling in that moment.

She knows, he thought wildly. She knows, and…

…and she doesn't mind.

Relief and delight washed over him and he really did smile then, the expression spreading across his face and warming his golden eyes. He knew now that even if she didn't come to care for him in the same way that he cared for her, at least she wasn't going to hate or abandon him over it.

Years continued to pass, one right after the next. Tremendous changes were taking place in the human world, but the two spirits spent less and less time there, choosing instead to spend their visits either in the relative peace and safety of Pitch's home or out in some foreign, wild place that Lilliana wanted to show him. They still only ventured out on nights when the Man in the Moon was blind, which put a significant damper on where they went and how long they stayed out for, but they had both become so used to it by that point that it really didn't bother them. Even when they stayed in Pitch's realm Lilliana always made certain to only arrive and depart when neither Manny nor her mother could spot her. Pitch never commented on her desire for privacy; instead he encouraged it, reminding her of the rising sun so she could leave before prying eyes took notice of what she'd been up to and with whom.

Last thing we need is for her mother to go prying into this, he thought darkly. He could only imagine how the Sun Woman would react if she ever found out about their relationship, regardless of the fact that it was still innocent and platonic.

Pitch's mouth curled into a dry smile. If only she had the power to read minds she'd know precisely how far from "innocent and platonic" I wish for this to go.

To further complicate matters for him, early one morning just before the sun was due to rise, an unexpected shift in the wind blew the clouds away. Just like that Manny was there, staring down upon the world. Pitch grumbled over the inconvenient timing, but for some reason Lilliana smiled.

"Well," she said cheerfully, "looks like I'm sleeping over."

Pitch nearly jumped out of his skin and a hot flush crept up his neck. "What?!"

When she regarded him with one eyebrow raised, he cleared his throat and stuttered, "Um…if-if that is what we have to do then I suppose we don't have a choice."

He prepared a room for her far from his own bedchambers, but even then the Nightmare King didn't get a wink of sleep that day. Torn between embarrassment and excitement at the prospect of having the flora spirit stay with him, he paced restlessly. Even though it was obvious nothing was going to happen, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this was a sign that things might work out well for him in the end.

Maybe.

After that first incident (which had been incredibly awkward for Pitch in spite of the fact that Lilliana didn't seemed bothered by it at all), the flora spirit ended up staying over more and more often. In time Pitch began to suspect that she was purposefully timing her visits with the shifting weather so she would have an excuse to sleep there, and he let her know that he was catching on.

"If I didn't know better," he said one morning as Lilliana retreated up the stairs towards her room, "I'd say you're doing this to me on purpose."

"Am I?" She paused on the steps to smirk down at him. "Why ever would I do that?"

She turned and walked away, leaving Pitch to stare blankly after her as he wracked his brains trying to figure out what she'd meant by that.

Then, about a month after that incident on the stairs, Lilliana was preparing to take her leave when she suddenly reached up and kissed him on the cheek. It was hardly more than a peck, but Pitch froze with his mouth literally hanging open as if she'd just done something truly outrageous.

"Bye," she said calmly, as if nothing had happened, and with that she walked away. As he watched her go, Pitch came out of his stupor just enough to slowly lift his hand to his face, touching the spot she'd kissed as if he couldn't believe it was actually attached to his body.

She'd never do that if she didn't like me, he thought dazedly. Not even to be a tease.

His mind went completely blank for a moment. Then he smiled broadly as pure, unadulterated glee coursed through him. He was so damn happy he burst out laughing and started doing silly twirls around the room on a sea of black nightmare sand. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he honestly didn't care. Over and over and over again he thought to himself: She likes me! She likes me too, she actually likes me!

It felt absolutely wonderful.

He didn't really know what to do with himself after that, for as desperately as he wanted more and was dying to act upon some of those urges he just couldn't shed the worry that she'd react poorly to his advances. It wasn't like he had experience, after all, and the last thing Pitch wanted after coming so far was to appear like a bumbling idiot.

He started out small, like taking her hand or brushing errant curls out of her face, and watched her reactions closely. She never said anything harsh or dismissive whenever he did these things. On the contrary, the second or third time he tentatively took her hand she gave his a squeeze, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. But then he relaxed and squeezed her hand back, the silent acknowledgement and acceptance of his affection giving him a massive boost in confidence. Pitch didn't bother worrying about her reactions to his touch after that and simply did as he pleased…though still within reason. Even if he was far more comfortable with displaying his affection towards her, he didn't want to rush things and accidentally push her too far.

They were spirits, after all, essentially immortal. They had time.

The first thing he did was give into his ever-present desire to touch her vivid red curls, and he indulged himself whenever he got the chance. When Lilliana took to perching on the arm of his throne while she read from her growing collection of pilfered books, he used those quiet moments together as an opportunity to play with her hair to his heart's content. He never asked where the books came from, as he honestly didn't care, but it amused him to know that she was something of a kleptomaniac when it came to reading material. A curious glance in her room one day revealed that she'd nearly filled the place with stacks upon stacks of stolen volumes, and he shook his head at the realization that he'd have to either make a library for her in one of the other rooms or move her bed someplace else. Out in the hall should suffice, he'd thought with a wicked laugh, though he ultimately moved the books instead. One tome in particular he knew without a doubt came from North's private library, for as she leaned against his shoulder with the heavy volume held up to her nose there was no mistaking the lingering scent of sawdust and sugar cookies that clung to the pages. He pictured the fat man blaming those ridiculous elves for the misplaced tome, and when he chuckled to himself at the image he caught the flicker of a smile cross Lilliana's face as if she knew precisely what he was thinking about.

Then, late one night as Pitch ran his fingers through Lilliana's curls while she read, the flora spirit slowly tilted to one side until she finally slipped off the armrest and down into his lap. The Nightmare King stiffened, conflicted for a moment as to what to do next. But then his expression softened and he brushed the tangled red locks out of his face, gathering them over her shoulder. Once that was done, he slipped his arms around her waist and held her close while he looked over her shoulder at the pages of her stolen book. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and she leaned back a little more, relaxing in his embrace.

Not long after that memorable incident, Pitch finally plucked up the courage and kissed her. It was early in the morning and she was just preparing to leave, and while the timing was probably okay the rest of it was just horrendous. The kiss was quick and imperfect, and as soon as he did it he wanted to take it back.

"Sorry," he mumbled. It was the first time he'd ever openly apologized to her and it only added to his humiliation, but he felt it was necessary given just how badly he'd mishandled the moment. Inside the confines of his own head he raged at himself.

Dammit, dammit, dammit! Imbecile!

She shocked him by grinning. "About time you got the hint." And while he stared at her, flabbergasted, Lilliana stepped closer to him and pressed her mouth to his.

He froze for just a fraction of a second before responding. Golden eyes slid closed as he slowly reached up to take her face in his hands. She was soft and warm and he made an appreciative sound at the back of his throat, moving to bury his fingers in her thick red curls as the kiss deepened. She tasted wonderful, sweet and a little earthy and absolutely delicious. Just one taste and he was addicted, his tongue pushing into her mouth to sample more. She moaned softly, and neither of them really noticed the clatter of her staff hitting the floor as her arms were already slipping around his neck to pull him closer. He could feel all of her now, her hips and her thighs and her breasts pressed right up against his body, and he had to stifle a groan.

She's so damn perfect.

His hands itched to explore her but he kept them locked firmly in her hair, not wanting to push her too far when it was only their first time being intimate like this. So he settled for devouring her sweet mouth, taking his time and savoring every single moment of it.

When they finally broke apart they were both panting and flushed. Lilliana lifted her face to whisper wickedly in his ear, "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?"

A shiver ran through his body at the closeness of her and the huskiness of her voice. I swear she's going to be the end of me.

"What took you so long?" she asked quietly, and in spite of the incredibly yearning he felt for her, he frowned.

"You could've said something," he grumbled, but that only made her chuckle.

"Yes." She pressed closer to him, and he knew she could feel just how badly he wanted her. "But if I had done that," she murmured, "I wouldn't have gotten the chance to see you squirm."

He froze, and when she pulled back he saw the gleam in her eye.

"I think that's adequate repayment for all the times you've toyed with me," she said nonchalantly, almost as if they were discussing a business arrangement and not coming down from an incredibly passionate moment.

His eyes narrowed and his mouth curled into a dark smile. "Oh, you've more than exceeded what's 'adequate', my dear. I'll be looking to collect on the difference, you mark my words."

Rather than shy away from his harsh expression, Lilliana reached up to caress Pitch's face with her smooth palm. When she answered him, her voice was practically a purr. "I'm looking forward to it."