When he had first woken up, it felt… odd, for a lack of a better word, peculiar. Like he'd been there time and time again. And the first thing he woke up to was eyes as blue and crystal as the rains of Titan, hair as white as the banks of Marceledos; a chill hand over his, small compared to his own.

Blue.

Vastest of blues; whoever this was. They radiated blue, like Sirius; stars that burn so hot they feel cold, burn so hot they burn blue. And that voice, soothing like a herbal balm.

"Pitch?"

His eyes catch the speaker's, his hand twitches in the boy's grasp. Mouth opens, and he can't speak. Whispers of pitch black, pitch black… pitch black, echo in the recesses of his minds, things he doesn't understand.

It was only until the boy helped him sit and drink his fill did he manage to form thoughts that linked together, as if spinning webs of reality. He looks down at the hands in his lap, covered with a thick fabric that slid down as he raised his hands and balled his hands into fists.

Pitch black, pitch black, pitch black, they whispered again, rolling like the sand dunes of Huinaan on his subconsciousness.

"... yes." He had answered. "I am Kozmotis Pitchiner, and you are?"

"Jack Frost."

Jack Frost was the first person he woke up to. He was kind and eager, helpful. However many years he's been in this coma, for however long, and Jack Frost was there when he woke. He thanked his constellations for his blessings, for he could have just as easily woken up alone and with no recollection of who he once was but with the weight of his life on his shoulders all the same.

And then came the big one, and the bird, and then the rabbit. And then the sandman.

Wonder, memories, hopes, and dreams.

Got you all together now, didn't I?

But Jack Frost was a constant at his side. Catching his attention again and again; eyes on me. His memories were slotting back together like pieces of a puzzle; his home, his family, his duty, and the never ending consuming black he'd been trapped in. He could feel the magic tingle under his fingertips, ready to dance and be used like he hadn't used them in years.

He trusts Jack, and Jack calls him Pitch. He had never really been called that. Koz, at most, but Pitch?

Pitch black, pitch black—

It was a strange occurrence, the name licking at an unconscious part of his mind he couldn't find to get the truth. Something so ineffable but vital to understanding what has happened.

Pitch Black—

So much has happened since he first awoke, had it really only been a few days? It felt like years. But those years were filled with something he had felt was missing for centuries. Company, love.

Millennia had passed with him none the wiser, a villain of his own creation. Koz was ashamed to realize he had fallen from grace. He had thought he was above that, above the lessons he'd learned when he entered into the army. That what will rise, must fall down. His heart still felt sore from the poison of the nightmares, causing a physical ache in his chest. Unless that, too, was an after effect of being alone.

He had woken up to blue and he was glad for it.

Koz looks to the side, raising a hand to thread through Jack's mused hair. Jack barely moves, giving a little sigh in his sleep. He was still so cold, and yet somehow still so alive. Koz wishes he, too, could sleep beside him, but his mind prevents him from sleep; duty and consequences weigh heavy on his mind.

What is there for him? After the life he'd lived, what could he possibly achieve? What kind of future could he have that wouldn't put Jack in misery?

Cooped up in the attic, with the blinds half closed on the circular window, he thought about many things as he stares at the glistening light of the moon that shone on the floor. It didn't reach them, not even close, but Koz could still hear the messages loud and clear.

Talk to me.

But Koz refused, at least for the moment. He would rather not say a word until he had come to his decision.

I'm going with you, Jack had told him, determination in his eyes and it hit Koz that Prince Lunanoff did not make Jack into a guardian because his center was fun, or what have you. He chose him because of the strength in his heart, for the conviction of his beliefs. Jack didn't care what lay ahead for him, but Koz did. Koz cared deeply. He cared for Jack more than he had cared for his wife, though he had come to love her dearly, in a shorter span of time. He had been with Katherine for decades, he has been with Jack for days.

I'm going with you.

It's what he said, but that was when Jack had thought Koz's delima was going back to becoming general, rounding up nightmares and keeping them locked in their cages. Go back to work for the royal family who had, intentionally or not, left him to his fate, as Jack had pointed out.

Now his delima was so much more. So much more.

Koz had lived many lives, many millennia; he had been both the good and the bad, completing the cycle. He had seen empires fall, his efforts and accomplishments swept underfoot. Koz himself knew how vital it is to keep balances in check; he was the one who made the universe safe, too safe. So safe, in fact, he jeopardized the same people he swore to protect. He is what happens when one scale is tipped too far to one side.

As he saw it, he had two choices, each equally in the realm of keeping balance.

Koz could go the route he had been thinking at first: become general again, get his lair back and hunt down nightmares. Of course, if he does this, the scales will tip in favor of the good and that, in turn, will cause another Golden Age, which, in turn, will cause another fall from grace. Another Dark Age, another loss of self and life. He could, in theory, occasionally let out some nightmares into the world to run amok before rounding them up again to make sure the scales don't tip too far one way.

On the other hand, Koz could sink back into the darkness, where the universe needs him to be. He could be the Nightmare King they need him to be, let the creatures run amok and pull them away when they get too wild; overpowering for too long. All in theory, of course. Now that his heart has been freed from both Nightlight's and the Nightmare Men's malediction, he didn't know how well he could control them, if at all.

On both hands, Jack dies.

Koz becomes a general, Jack goes with him, he loses belief from the children, the ones who still remember, and he dies.

Koz becomes the Nightmare King, Jack goes with him, he loses belief from the children, and he dies.

Would Jack really go so far for him? Koz couldn't make up his mind. Yes and no; Jack will either say yes on either sides, or say no. Would Jack really say yes to following him should he become the Nightmare King? Chance being infected by the black abyss and fade earlier than expected? Koz liked to think he knew Jack pretty well, but he didn't. Not really. Not everything. Would he even have the stomach to push Jack away, for his own safety? Surely not with any convincing emotion. Not any that Jack would accept, anyway.

Not after last night.

"Pitch?"

Jack's voice was rough from sleep and Koz turned to look at him, watching him blink sleepily up at him before scooting up to lift himself up on his arm. The blanket that was pulled up to his shoulders slipped down his back, revealing the expanse of ivory skin and the bruises he'd collected over the course of the night.

Come talk, come talk, the moonbeams called, but Koz ignored them and Jack didn't seem to understand they could speak. He looks gorgeous in the dim reflected moonlight, his body aglow with the paleness of his skin, hair mused in all directions, ring of kiss marks on his neck. Jack's eyes were half lidded, sleep calling him back to the dreamworld like a siren calling a sailor to the sea. Eyes so deep Koz would do anything to drown in them if he could. Pale pink lips bitten red, a smile on his lips.

Koz reached out a hand, caressing his cheek, thumb swiping gently along his cheek and feeling the chill of his body juxtaposed against the heat of his hand. Jack closed his eyes, leaning into his hand like a cat searching for scratches, on the brink of purring. His thumb swiped along the corner of his mouth and Jack opened his eyes just barely, opening his mouth as he turned his head, letting Koz's thumb slide along his bottom lip and his pink tongue pressed against the pad of his thumb before closing his mouth around it and sucking gently. Arousal pooled in his stomach, heating up his skin and pouring lava in his veins.

Koz presses his thumb down on Jack's tongue, Jack easily letting his jaw fall however much Koz wanted, giving a hum. Jack shouldn't be so… so titillating.

Koz leaned down, pulling his thumb out to kiss him. His tongue dominates his pliant mouth, Jack leaning back so his head rested on the pillow, moaning softly into his mouth. Jack's hand finds his neck and the chill makes him shiver, the hair at the back of his neck stand and it spread the heat in him like wildfire, provoking such deep desire he was sure to fall into him again with immense pleasure.

Oh, how Koz wanted to do nothing but that.

Koz slipped his hand to the back of Jack's neck, twirling the short hair between his fingers and tugging just right for Jack to groan, eyes rolling in pleasure and none the wiser that Koz was pulling him into sleep. Koz glides his tongue along Jack's lip as he pulled back, seeing Jack fall back asleep with a satiated look, mouth half-open, lips curled just barely in his sleep. Koz presses gentle kisses to his neck, eyes grazing down his chest to watch the rise and fall of his chest, need stirred in him even with Jack asleep and he let it simmer as his hand left the back of his neck, finger tracing his collar bones, down his sternum; the dip down into his belly.

It would be so easy to wake Jack and continue what he had started, bring them to ecstasy again and again until Jack falls into sleep for real and Koz could go back to his dilemma.

Koz entertained the idea of doing nothing but being with Jack, but even then, Jack would die.

I should have never become a guardian.

Because Jack didn't want to be a guardian, and who knows if he would continue to try and spread the belief of himself to children even if Koz chose to do absolutely nothing?

With a deep breath, Koz reeled in his arousal, letting his hands trace up Jack's chest one last time, and because he was weak, he leaned down to kiss right on his neck, breathing in the scent of frost. He admired Jack a few minutes longer, like time could just stand still.

It would be brilliant if time could stand still.

Koz pulls away gently and stands. With a soundless spell he was donned in sleep pants, done only to keep his modesty, and he stepped into the moon's beams. He doesn't open the shades more; Jack was his to gaze upon in his vulnerability and no one else.

They talk, silent as the grave.

Few moments later he steps back into the shadows and out from the beams. It didn't help come to a decision, and why would it? Of course, someone who grew up in light would not see the downside of there being a Golden Age. Prince Lunanoff was still only a fraction of his age, and little of wisdom.

Koz went back to the bed, sitting on the edge while taking up gazing at Jack's slumbering face, looking for answers to what he should do, what he should choose. He weighs and weighs and weighs every option he has, twice, thrice, hundreds of times over in a span of a handful of minutes. How can he think so long with no answer? It was an impossible decision.

Koz lifts a hand to caress Jack's cheek, watching him sigh happily in his sleep. How could he feel so much love for someone he knew for so little time? Moments pass by and Koz steels his resolve, once his thoughts follow the progress of his rationalization, as he decides on his fate.

A/N: I've had his done since forever ago lol. Anyway, which kind of ending do you want to read? The Nightmare King, Or General Kozmotis Pitchiner?

See you next time in Tipping Scales!