Hello all, I'm sorry for the delay in getting this out. I wish I could write more, but I am trying. I have this chapter and another installment of Glade Life will be up in a few days, possibly tomorrow if I get around it. Thank you all for reading and for the reviews, I love reading them!

Pitch blinked his eyes, the blinding white light of the Shadow King's magic burning into the back of his retinas. Chaya had been surrounded by the light, burning up into a star and shooting up through the stone, back to the surface of the earth. Taking a deep breath, he lowered his gaze off the roof, a hand over his heart.

His daughter was gone to see her mother. Pitch was alone.

In the one place his confidence did not thrive.

The throne room was silent, all eyes on the tail of the shining light. Slowly, with a shuddering of shifting weapons, the King's army zeroed their gaze onto Pitch, bristling before the Nightmare King. The crowd did not advance, staying behind their King, waiting on a breath for him to give a signal. It was only the fear of their ruler that held them back from ripping Pitch apart. Now that Chaya was gone, the protection she had provided him with seemed to melt away; Pitch felt very exposed. There was nothing standing between him and the father of his deceased wife now. Pitch's body began to feel cold, sweat beading on his forehead and down his neck. Foreboding filled him and he swallowed, taking a few steps back from the throne.

The King's bright, piercing eyes followed his movement, staring steadily at the dark man standing before him. The dragon dog at the King's side growled at Pitch. It's slavering jaws were bared and it trembled with anticipation, crouching as if to pounce.

Pitch swallowed, his eyes widening, guarded and on edge again. If only he had brought some of his nightmares.

After an eternity of silence, the Shadow King spoke to him.

"You will stay with Chaya?"

His voice was not accusing but demanded an answer. The question he asked was vague and open ended, but Pitch understood the meaning. The King asked if he was going to father Chaya, to be her family. Support her and care for her as her adoptive family had for so many years. He wanted to know if Pitch was finally going to step up and take on that responsibility. The Nightmare King's voice did not waver as he responded.

"Yes, of course," He knew his voice did not sound as confident as he felt, but he couldn't help feel but intimated. The grisly creatures behind the King shivered in their ranks, deathly silent as they waited; waited and watched. They snarled at Pitch, holding their weapons up menacingly as if they could not wait to run him through.

Such was the hatred of Pitch Black in the Underworld for taking away their only Princess.

Pitch gulped and looked back at the King, reiterating his words more firmly.

"I will not abandon her again,"

The King grunted softly, his eyes narrowing before he turned away, walking slowly back to his throne. The slinky dragon creature never left his side, dragging its huge claws across the stone. Half way up the stairs, the King turned, his robe shielding his body as he stared down at Pitch.

"You must meet her above the ground, take her home after she has spoken with her mother," His voice was so sure, so commanding in its softness. After he had spoken, the King continued up the steps, taking his place in the throne with a flourish of his robe, settling into his place with regal swiftness.

Pitch cocked his head, taking a small step forward, his shoulders rolling forward in question.

"Will she not return after the time is up?" His question was a fair one, he had never seen the King use such magic.

The King held his spectre in a relaxed manner, letting it lull at his side, almost slouching in his throne as he stared down at Pitch.

"She will not return to the Underworld from where I have sent her. Once my magic has ended, you must go to her,"

Pitch frowned. He had been under the impression that Chaya would return back to this very spot. He could not understand why it would not be so, but he dared not question the King's magic, as old as time itself. Instead, he cleared his throat and questioned further.

"Where am I to look?"

The King narrowed his eyes, the brightness dimming as he glared down at Pitch, clearing disapproving of the question.

"Do you not remember where Chaya lays in her death?"

Pitch stepped back, struck as if with a blade. His wife's grave? Hr gravestone…that was where the King had sent his daughter? Did her spirit still wander there? Deep in the woods, which she had loved so much. Pitch shuddered and dropped his head, hiding his darkened face.

The King leaned forward in his throne, twisting the knife he had imbedded into Pitch's heart.

"Surely you have not forgotten?"

Pitch shook his head firmly, looking back up with saddened eyes.

"No, of course not. I had not thought of that place in many years," His voice shook again and he faced the King, his body shaking.

The King tilted his spectre at Pitch, his eyes still narrowed.

"Where else, to see her mother, would I send her?"

Pitch swallowed again, unsure if the King wanted an answer. The magic was of a different era, it's rules and ways unfamiliar to Pitch. Something about the magic, the oldness, the heaviness of it; it made Pitch all the more aware of his immortal life. Even before his own reign of terror, the Shadow King controlled death and commanded its ways. The Underworld was timeless, never ending. And so it would be for all the world to come.

But Pitch still did not understand all its ways and all the ways the King ran his Kingdom. The dead walked in the Underworld, did they not? Pitch voiced his thoughts, curiosity sparking the words.

"Does not Chaya walk these halls? With the dead themselves?"

The King sat up, straight and terrible. Pitch instantly regretted his question, taking a step back, trembling as he feared consequences. The dragon dog took a menacing step down the steps, the length of its body spanning the distance easily. Underworlds army marched forward a step, the clatter of their weapons and armour echoing in Pitch's head. But the King halted them, holding out his arm as he snarled down at Pitch.

"I would not allow Chaya's only daughter to see these gruesome halls while she still breaths the air of the mortals. My daughter would not allow her to see such darkness,"

Pitch's favour in the King's eye was wavering, swaying back and forth as if in a strong wind. The Nightmare King took another step back, holding up his hands before him, his eyes glowing in the dimness of the throne room.

"I would not allow it either,"

The King curled his lip as if he tasted something horrid.

"Indeed, you would not,"

Pitch swallowed, his back bent as he hunched before the King. If he did not leave soon, there was no telling how long he could stand before the King with his life. His welcome had run out.

"I will find her, I will take her back with me,"

The King watched him, wordlessly as Pitch composed himself, standing straighter as he was allowed to speak.

"I will teach her to hone her power, to use it as Chaya would have wanted. I will not lead her astray. I promise you this,"

The King nodded, his face softening, if but a touch.

"Chaya will wield her power for good. She is of the Underworld and that bound can not be broken. Such will be your demise if you do her wrong Pitch,"

Pitch nodded, his fingers shaking.

"Let all you have said be true if I do. I will take care of her and she will come to no harm,"

The King nodded and held up his hand. A few of his men stepped forward and Pitch flinched. But the King's words eased his mind.

"Take him back, take him above. See to it that he has left our shores,"

The white, pasty goblin, followed closely by the dark grey, horned beast strode up to Pitch and beckoned him to follow with a wave of his tipped spear. Pitch walked a short distance behind as they marched out of the throne room. He looked back, meeting the King's gaze one last time. Pitch nodded to him, his gratitude unspoken. The Shadow King lifted his chin, a sign of acknowledgement and turned away. Pitch soon lost sight of the royal room as darkness drowned his senses and he followed his guides wordlessly into the caves leading back to the ship.

The same old, gristly boat keeper took him across the lake. The ride was quiet, only the rippling of the oar in the water could be heard as the keeper pushed his craft across the luminescent lake. Pitch huddled in the back, void of his daughter's warmth, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked into the water shining below him. As soon as the boat tipped onto dry land, Pitch was up and out of the boat, eager to be on his way and out of the Underworld. The troll watched him, his eyes boring into Pitch's back as the Nightmare King made his way up the shores. He did not look back as he passed through the doors, turning around to read the inscription one last time.

Only Death. Black lettering with a black message.

The door rumbled softly and began to close, shutting Pitch off from the home of his late wife. He stood still, taking deep, potent breathes. In his own lair once again, he began to feel his confidence returning, familiarity fighting away his fear. After he had stopped shivering, stopped conserving his air, Pitch stared at the closed doors before him, his thoughts muddled. He had not entered the Underworld since the death of his wife.

And he wondered now, as he often did in years to come if his welcome in the King's Underworld realm had been dissolved completely.

The forest was silent, all sounds of birdsong and creatures nestling had ceased. The deepness of winter had silenced their everyday goings on and Pitch felt as calm as he would in his own lair. Even the sound of his footfalls was muffled by the wet snow as he glided through the trees with practiced ease, his dark shadow tainting the purity of the white ground.

He knew the location of his wife's grave better than he knew the complicated patterns of his underground abyss. The day he had laid her there, that dark day was forever burned into his memory and no amount of tears could scrub it away. He had buried her underneath the trees, somewhere she had always loved. She had lived her life in the darkness and the sight of the sun and moon had always been a wonder to her. Chaya's eyes would come alive in the light of those heavenly beings and Pitch could not remember seeing anything more beautiful than the sight of his bride in the light of the moon. He never would have thought that the moon would watch over her in death.

Pitch bowed his head, walking slowly through the trees, his eyes closed, turning without a thought around trees, roots and bushes.

That dreaded night, it was bittersweet to him. His wife had died, but she had given him his only daughter. The tearing of his heart had been great that night, but love had quickly filled the gap. That tiny bundle in his arms, her new eyes blinking up at him. Her cries had brought air back to his lunges and he knew that he would be able to survive. He could live on, knowing that his daughter needed him, depended on him. The idea of his daughter being by his side, ruling with him, had kept him going. They would one day be the greatest power to be reckoned with, not even the Guardians could stop them!

But now… everything had changed.

Chaya was not who he had thought her to be. Her powers were from her mother; Pitch should have known. She did not have the power to spread his fear and darkness. Chaya was born with the power of the Underworld, to live as her mother did, to abhor fear and do all she could to prevent it; just as her mother had before her. Pitch's wife had never approved of the Nightmare King's way of life and she had done everything she could to change him. Her efforts were fruitless, but Pitch had decided that his love for the Shadow Princess was greater than his need to spread darkness and ultimately, it was he who had changed himself.

He had been so blind! Of course, Chaya could not rule with him! Her mother had passed down her power and her daughter was to follow in those footsteps. Pitch would have to let her go, let her choose her own path and do everything he could to support her.

He had to, the Shadow King did not make decrees lightly.

Pitch shook his head, clearing his thoughts and raised his head. Such thoughts would do him no good until he could find Chaya and talk to her. She had spoken to her mother and she no doubt had decisions to make. Decisions that he was determined to help her with, no matter what he thought to them.

The darkness had deepened and Pitch recognized the same slope of the earth and knew he was getting close. He stopped, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He had not been to Chaya's grave since he had buried her. He had kicked himself many times on the negligence to her memory, but he just had not been able to bear remembering all those old feelings. Even during his attack on the Guardians, he had not visited her, unable to waver during the revolt. After it had ended so horribly, he had considered returning, holding onto all the happy memories, but he had abandoned the idea. That was when he had remembered that Chaya would soon come back to him, his daughter was going to be returned to him.

A cold breeze passed over Pitch and he stopped, his eyes narrowing.

Snowflakes flew over his head, distinct and crisp. Pitch Black's lip curled, his instincts flaring to life.

Jack Frost. What was the winter spirit doing here?

Picking up his pace, Pitch alighted down the slopes, gliding and slinking in the shadows, determined to sneak up on Jack before the spirit detected him. As he became more keen, his senses directed on his task, Pitch realized that Jack was ahead, which meant he had to be over the next bend, behind the last few trees, by his wife's grave.

Chaya.

Anger flitted on the edges of Pitch's vision. The winter spirit had to be with Chaya, with his daughter! Pitch's shadow soiled the already shaded snow as he came up the slope, halting abruptly behind the trees. Stilling his breath, Pitch gripped the bark, it's frosted sting hardly noticeable to him. Cautiously, he peered around the trunk, keeping in the shadow.

Pitch's instincts had been correct. Jack Frost, the winter spirt of the Guardians, was kneeling in the snow, holding Chaya in his arms, pressing her face to his chest.

Despite Pitch's anger, confusion also fought for space in his mind. Questions began spiral through him as he stared at the little scene. What was Jack doing with his daughter? How did Jack know his daughter? If Jack knew of her, did the Guardians know of her? Were they trying to steal her away from him? Were they trying to make her a Guardian?

A sudden picture flooding moonlight filled his mind. The moon had taken Chaya away from him, that first day she had come to him. The moon had taken her away. The man in the moon called people to be Guardians; it had done so with Jack and all those before him. Had he been calling Chaya to be a Guardian?

Pitch stiffened, his head swirling as he looked on at his daughter and Jack, unable to move. Jack had pulled Chaya closer to him; he was trying to warm her. Pitch knew that he couldn't, he was the winter spirit, warmth did not run through his veins. Chaya must be so cold! Jack's eyes roved over the snow, in search of something. Pitch recoiled when Jack lifted his gaze to the tree and he backed away, suddenly feeling cold and frightened.

Had Chaya been called to be a Guardian? She had all the qualifications; she was immortal, she would live forever! She had her mother's power, the power to take darkness out of people. She could protect people… she could help them. She could be a Guardian.

It was all so clear now! How had Pitch not seen it? He stumbled down the slope, away from his daughter, all thoughts of returning to her gone. All he could see was the moonlight in his minds eye. How it had blinded him, crowded into his darkness despite his protests. It had taken his daughter without a second thought, taken her away.

To the Pole no doubt!

That was where all the Guardians gathered together. No doubt the man in the moon had called them, told them Chaya was coming. Gathered them together to greet her. Chaya, his daughter! The moon had taken his daughter away from him to be a Guardian!

Anger coursed through Pitch's veins and he began to stride, away from the grave, away from his daughter. Those Guardians were trying to steal his daughter away from him! His hands curled into fists, his eyes narrowing until the golden light was dimmed. His shadow lengthened, grew out behind him, covering the snow in darkness. A sudden rustle in the bushes caused Pitch to look to the right. A small nightmare was creeping out of the leaves, another on its tail. They fell into step behind their master. Another came out behind a tree to Pitch's left and yet another from a tree behind, forming a line, a thicket behind him.

They could sense their master's anger, sense that he was in need of them. Their number continued to grow, coming out of the ground as Pitch's anger called them from slumber. Soon, Pitch was lost in a sea of nightmares, the only light that of his golden eyes. He continued walking, his body bent forward, picking up speed as he revelled in his own army. He was no longer afraid, no longer hiding in the shadows.

Chaya was his daughter! The Guardians could not take her away!

Thank all again for reading and I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to leave a review if you liked it!