The Fall Of The Guardians

Chapter 2

Pitch had laughed. Thrown his head back and laughed as if this was the most amusing thing in the world, while Jack kept to his place on the floor, huddled into a ball, terrified of what the Nightmare King was planning. 

"You have no idea what you've just gotten yourself into, child." Pitch said, abandoning the doorway. He stood above Jack once more and stared down at him. "The question now is just what  do I want from you?"

Jack didn't look up, he didn't move, he barely breathed. 

"Your lifetime of service, of course. But I could choose to be specific." Pitch seemed to be enjoying himself. "Do look up, you're being so boring, you know."

"Sorry," he murmured.

Pitch looked at him, amused at the response. Then he raised his hand.

Jack didn't know what he expected, but he flinched back, afraid of what the Nightmare King intended to do. Hit him? Cast some sort of dark spell, maybe? 

Instead, Pitch snapped his fingers. Within two moments a swirl of smoke appeared next to him, dark and cold. It brought a chill to the room that even Jack could feel.

The smoke started to gather into one place and took the form of a girl. Her face was ashen and pale, with long hair and eyelashes as black as night. Her eyes were golden, like Pitch. She appeared to be wearing a black pair of pants and shirt. 

When she looked at Jack, she grinned.

"Who's this?" She asked. Her voice was smooth, and dripped with something almost sugary sweet while at the same time being business-like. This was a girl who was used to getting what she wanted. "It couldn't  be Jack Frost."

"Get him a room. Do not  tell your siblings he is here. I don't want them getting excited." Pitch said. When he looked at her, Jack saw something he couldn't place. That wasn't...

That wasn't affection, was it?

Was it possible that Pitch Black was a father-figure? It sure looked like it. The way he said 'siblings,' and the authority in his voice that was more firm then that of orderly suggested as much. 

"Anything else?" The girl asked, never once taking her eyes off the Winter Spirit. 

"No. You know the drill." Pitch said. Then, after a moment, he added. "Actually, yes, there is something else -- don't hurt him, please. If the Nightmares have to clean up another one of your messes there'll be a riot."

"You're no fun," she complained, though the grin never faded. Jack noticed she had very sharp teeth. 

"Take this seriously, Azazel. I mean it."

"Fine, fine."

Pitch left the same way he had came, leaving Jack alone with the girl, or Azazel, apparently. Her head cocked to the side as she looked him over. Her body language, hands on her hips, feet shoulder-width apart, suggested that she was completely comfortable here and even found him amusing.

"You know, the way he described you to us was much more dignified then this. Chained to the wall, curled up all small." Azazel smirked at him.

Jack scoffed and looked away. As if she would understand.

Azazel knelt next to him, and started to undo the chain at the wall. She touched the shackle with a long, dainty finger, and it disappeared into a puff of smoke. 

"My name's Azazel Belah Desdemona. You can call me Az." She said. "Come on, get up."

"I-I broke my leg."