Hi guys! I am so, so, so sorry it's taken me forever to upload anything recent! School is getting crazy with exams and projects due so there's not really any good, consistent time for writing and editing anymore.

I will also like to apologize in advance and let all you awesome readers know I probably won't be able to add any new chapters again until sometime between late November-early December. Sorry! DX

But anyway, enough about delays and enjoy this next chapter we do have! I do not own ROTG, just my OCs

Damn those Guardians! Damn every single one of them, especially Frost! Pitch Black had lost track of how many times bouts of searing pain coursed through his body after his last encounter with the Guardians. The sad part is, despite the brutal beating he took to them, it still wasn't the worst defeat he had endured by their hands—not even close.

It took him a second too long before he realized something was different. The last time he distinctly remembered being conscious, he was curled up in agony in the throne room. And yet, here he was lying down in the comfort of his own bed. When he opened his eyes, he saw the spirit he presumed to be responsible for this change in location.

Pitch softly smiled. Man in the Moon, Amberlynn is beautiful! He could tell she wasn't completely unconscious, but she was beginning to doze in a black chaise she had clearly pulled up to be right beside his bed. Her hair was tangled and frizzy, the soft pink cardigan and light green tunic were very wrinkled and in disarray, and the bags under her eyes suggested she hasn't gotten a decent night's rest in days. But MiM, Pitch couldn't take his eyes off her.

In an attempt to take himself out of his trance, he grunted loudly enough to alert her. "I knew you were quite forward," he teased, "But isn't this a bit much for you, especially given the time period you were raised in? Surely a gentlewoman such as yourself knows better."

Instead of replying with some sarcastic quip, her red, tear-stained face with baggy, bloodshot eyes looked at him and asked, "Is there any part of you that doesn't hurt right now?" He thought about it for a second and admitted, "Well, truth be told, just about everywhere except my face—"

Before he could finish that sentence, Amberlynn sat forward and slapped him right across the cheek as hard as she could. "Dammit, Pitch!" she yelled. "How could ye do this to yourself? How could you do this to me?"

"I can see that you're quite upset," he said calmly, but Amberlynn plopped herself on the edge of his bedside and cut him off, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"Quite upset, my arse! I'm bloody pissed! I come to Pennsylvania to try to talk to ye like a civilized spirit, and I find yer sorry arse being dragged through the tunnels by one o'yer Nightmares to drop your practically lifeless form in the middle of some godforsaken, stone-cold room fer ye to curl yerself up like a helpless child!

"Whatever Jack Frost did to ye made it almost impossible fer me to help ye! I had to invent a new way fer me to warm ye up without frying yer brains and then literally burn shut yer own bleeding veins and stitch ye back up with my bare hands! I watch ye come in and out of consciousness for almost two weeks and the first thing ye try to do when ye come to is make jokes?"

"I've been healed this quickly after less than two weeks?" Pitch quietly asked in awe. Amberlynn continued, "And I don't even know why I bothered considering the fact that you avoided—wait, what do ye mean 'this quickly'? It took ye almost two weeks to even regain consciousness and this is 'quick' for ye?"

Pitch shrugged. "I'm the King of Nightmares. Not even the Guardians are strong enough to completely eradicate me from this world. They can certainly subdue me, but I literally thrive on fear. It's in my nature. Why, the very fear coming…from you…is strengthening me as we speak." Though he showed no tears like Amberlynn did, his heart became immensely heavy as he sensed all the fear radiating from her and realization hit of what all she had to endure.

"Oh, Man in the Moon!" he softly exclaimed. He reached out a hand toward her and sighed, "My dear Amberlynn, I am so, so, so sorry." She let his hand rest on her face as she placed both hands over his and bawled.

"I didn't know what to think," she gasped. "At first I simply thought you were beginning to have second thoughts about us and then when I thought you were near death—"

Pitch sat up, ignoring every fiber of pain shooting from his abdomen, and kissed Amberlynn. He could taste the saltwater from her tears, and immediately hated himself for putting her through everything she went through. He placed his free hand around the nape of her neck and brought her even closer to him. How could I possibly have second thoughts about her?

Amberlynn placed her hand on his bare chest and gently pushed him away. Though he wouldn't show it, Pitch was suddenly very much aware, and slightly self-conscious, of his half-nakedness around the summer spirit.

Despite how very angry and confused Amberlynn was, she couldn't help but blush and smile after the—quite unexpected—kiss. She tried to regain her composure and stammered, "Yes, well—well that's quite…quite enough of that. Now then, hopefully with you much more alert, it'll be easier to change that dressing of yours. Come on, now. If you have the energy to pull that little stunt of yours, you certainly have the energy to sit up for a few minutes longer."

Pitch obligingly remained upright as Amberlynn went straight to work. After taking a pair of scissors and seamlessly cutting the old dressing off, she held a new roll of white gauze in one hand and lit a small fire in the other. After close inspection of Pitch's stitches, she doused the fire and began to rewrap his injury with the gauze.

"It's still relatively pink," she explained, "but I believe it looks well enough that I can take yer stitches out as soon as tomorrow, presuming ye'll be a good patient and not cause too much trouble for either yourself or me in that timeframe."

Pitch tucked a strand of Amberlynn's hair behind her ear while she was still wrapping the gauze around his waist. "I suppose if you are to be my nurse for the next few days, then we can work something—oof!"

Before Pitch could finish his train of thought, the summer spirit (quite intentionally) pulled on the gauze tighter than usual, giving him just enough of a shooting pain to cut him off. "That's nurse and surgeon to you," she corrected with a slight smile. "But don't think fer one second ye can flirt yer way out of me being mad at ye after everything ye put me through. I don't know if ye did it as some sign of chivalry fer my honor or whatever, but I have everything under control with the Guardians. I don't understand at all what getting your royal arse kicked actually did fer this situation."

"Hang on for a minute," Pitch said, clearly confused by what Amberlynn just said. "What do you have under control with the Guardians and how was my fighting them a sign of chivalry?" Amberlynn's eyes doubled in realization that Pitch had no clue what happened between them in Santoff Claussen. Way to keep yer trap shut, Sommers, she thought with annoyance.

"Nothing," she squeaked, a little too quickly and too high-pitched for either spirit's liking. The summer spirit internally groaned but tried to redirect the subject. "Ahem, I mean, why did ye go off and have to fight the Guardians? What was yer end-goal fer that? You had to have known it wasn't gonna end well, regardless of who would have won this round."

Once the gauze was completely wrapped around his injury, Pitch settled back into his bed. "It's quite foolish, really," he admitted. "I knew I had a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding when I went to Canada to unleash Nightmares across the entire country, but something an old…acquaintance of mine said just challenged me and I wanted to prove him wrong. By our current results, though, he's right."

Amberlynn pulled up the chaise even closer to the bed and sat down in it, facing Pitch. "What did this acquaintance say to stir you up enough to start a fight with the Guardians?"

Pitch shrugged dismissively. "I honestly don't know why I let it get under my skin, I truly don't. He said I haven't been behaving as that of a 'true Nightmare King,' that I've been spending far too much time with a certain seasonal spirit and that I've lost my purpose."

Amberlynn blushed a deep crimson red and lowered her head to try to hide it, but Pitch placed a hand under her chin and raised it up to look at her. "But he couldn't have been further from the truth, and I see that now.

"I don't need to reign terror just to find a sense of purpose. You showed me that. It might have taken me getting my 'royal arse kicked,' as you so delicately put it, but I don't need to reign terror across continents at a time to know my purpose. I am so much more than just the Boogeyman who hides under children's beds, but it was you who helped me remember that. If I recall, your words on the matter were some humans 'could afford to be knocked down a peg or two' with fear. I have been drunk and obsessed with power from fear for far too long but you, Amberlynn Sommers, you were able to pull me out of that hole and show me the light. I will never forget that. You truly are my little light in the darkness."

Pitch reached out a hand for one of Amberlynn's, which she happily gave to him. He leaned over and gently kissed the top of her head, making the summer spirit blush an even darker crimson than before.

While absentmindedly grazing the top of Amberlynn's knuckles with his thumb, Pitch said, "I do believe it's your turn now, my dear. What exactly are you handling with the Guardians, and why did you think my fighting with them was a result of said handling?"

Amberlynn slightly tensed at the question but shook it off. "I will tell you, but I don't want you to do anything rash for several reasons: The most important and most obvious reason at the moment being that you're still healing and in no condition to be confronting anyone anytime soon. Second, I'm not lying to you or covering up when I say it is being handled. Ultimately, promise me you won't try to start another fight with the Guardians after I tell you what happened?"

"What is the worst you think could happen—" Pitch began to ask, but he didn't need to finish the question, as Amberlynn's fears answered it for him. According to her fear, he would not just approach them in his current condition but lead a full-on attack with everything he has…or what's currently left of him. Despite his clearly weakened state, he would still push on, further draining what little bit of energy and life he has left of him past the point of no return. It still wouldn't stop him from trying to attack the Guardians—more specifically North (for whatever reason specifically him, he thought)—but Frost would be there, ready to shoot an arrow of ice at Pitch again. Only this time, it would hit a more vital artery or organ…

"Well, you certainly have quite the extensive knowledge of human anatomy," Pitch commented, both impressed and trying to help redirect Amberlynn's focus rather than on her fear. Unamused, Amberlynn simply glared at him. She is not kidding around about the seriousness of what she is about to tell me. Pitch raised up his hands (as high as they could go without causing him pain) in surrender.

"Okay, I promise I won't go after the Guardians or try to start another fight with them after you tell me what happened. I swear it!"

Amberlynn eyed him suspiciously for a brief moment before she decided he was genuine in his promise. "Okay, I'll tell you. I hope you're comfortable because this is going to be a long story…"