The first rays of dawn had begun to gather on the eastern horizon. After a long night traveling the world feeding off fear, Pitch was exhausted. It took far more work to sustain himself now that he was limited in how many dreams he could touch, but he knew better than to complain. Compared to how things were in the past, his existence as a whole was far more pleasant and peaceful.

All thanks to Lilly.

His love was in bed, as he knew she would be. She was retiring earlier and earlier these nights, as the burden of carrying his growing child was becoming more and more taxing. She often grumbled about how fat she was getting, but he thought she looked stunning. Even lying in bed, completely hidden under the covers save for her tangled red curls, he thought she was absolutely perfect.

Slipping out of his robes, he climbed carefully into bed so as not to wake her. He rolled over with a quiet sigh, lifting an arm to pull her close, when he looked up to find himself staring right into wide green eyes. The unexpected sight made him jump.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling as if his heart had leapt into his throat.

"I can't sleep."

Concern seized him at once. "Why not?"

Instead of answering him, she reached out, took his hand, and drew it to her belly. He couldn't help but smile at the feel of their child's vigorous kicking.

"Night owl, hmm?" he said, stroking her belly affectionately. "Just like me."

He slipped under the covers and inched down the bed until his lips brushed against his Lilly's beautiful stomach. Caressing her soft skin, he asked quietly, "Are you giving your mother a hard time?"

A hard kick right under his palm was his answer. He grinned again at the sound of Lilly's exasperated sigh. "How about a nightmare? Will that help you sleep?"

This time the kick caught him right in the mouth. Lilly sniggered when Pitch jerked away from the soft blow to eye her stomach with a pretend glare.

"Well, if you insist." As the baby wriggled excitedly, he continued in a suspenseful whisper, "Let me tell you the story of the three-headed shadow mare that stalked the forests of Europe."

Watching the two of them together, Lilliana smiled warmly. While the rest of the world only saw in her Pitch the sinister, self-serving, manipulative liar that was the former Nightmare King, she alone got witness this gentler side, the side that could be boundlessly caring and shamelessly devoted. No other spirit in existence would ever believe that the feared and hated enemy of the Guardians could possibly show affection to a child, yet here he was, buried under the covers and taking great delight in weaving a horrific tale for his unborn.

Not that the baby minded. There'd hardly been a twitch from it since the wretched tale had begun, except, of course, when Pitch purposefully startled it with a shocking twist or particularly terrifying detail, which inevitably set the baby kicking and squirming again. It was absolutely enchanted by its father's smooth voice, particularly on mornings like this when it was especially energetic, and Pitch, in turn, thrived on such unconditional acceptance. Golden eyes shone warm and bright in the darkness as he whispered to their child, and Lilliana felt a swell of affection to see her love so happy. No one else would ever believe that something as simple and ridiculous as whispering a scary story to an unborn child could mean so much to Pitch Black, the former Nightmare King, but she knew better.

And honestly, she was glad no one else would ever know. It made moments like these far more intimate.

As Pitch's story drew to a close, Lilliana noticed that their child hadn't moved in quite some time. She shook her head slightly at the knowledge that a nightmare, of all things, had put the baby to sleep when all her efforts to do the same had failed miserably. He planted a gentle kiss to her rounded stomach, murmuring, "Sleep well, my little terror," and slipped back up the bed. As he settled against the pillows, Lilliana scowled at his triumphant grin.

"Success," he whispered proudly.

"Congratulations," she deadpanned, causing him to chuckle.

"I was doing it for you," he assured her, brushing his lips against her forehead. "Now you can sleep."

"And dream about an ugly mare with three heads, which I happened to notice sounded an awful lot like a corrupted flora mare."

He smiled sheepishly. "It went with the theme."

"Uh huh."

They shared a quiet laugh. Pitch inched closer, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She settled against his chest, breathing a contented sigh as she relaxed in his embrace. It was easier to get comfortable now that she didn't have an incessantly dancing child rolling around inside of her, even if it was thanks to her husband's blatant misappropriation of her beautiful flora creation.

"Sleep well Pitch," she murmured. As he was already dozing off, a weary "Hm," was all the response she got, but she didn't mind one bit. Stifling a yawn, she closed her eyes, and within minutes was drifting into sleep herself.

The sun rose steadily higher in the eastern sky, rousing the world of humans to a crisp autumn morning. The air was soon abuzz with chatter and laughter as children went to school, blaring car horns and ringing cell phones as adults headed off to work, and the whistling of a chilly wind that heralded winter's approach.

Down in the depths of the former Nightmare King's realm, not one of these noises disturbed the haunting quiet. In that place where sunlight never touched, the only discernible sounds were the faint whickering of two patrolling Nightmares as they spoke to one another, and the gentle breaths of their slumbering masters. Pitch and Lilliana lay wrapped in each other's embrace, their sleeping child cradled lovingly, protectively, between their bodies. And in the peaceful silence, three heartbeats intermingled, creating the perfect inaudible symphony.