Archive of Our Own ^beta

His small brown eyes shot to the location of a mysterious creak from his old, dusty wardrobe. The wide pupils attempted to adjust to the darkness, trying to catch any movement. Little Jackson Overland whimpered lightly as the sound occurred again, in the same place.

For a seven year old he was always surprisingly brave, but something about his father’s tales about the things that lurk in the dark, always seemed to make him wary. It was especially unlucky that he got spooked on the night that his father was on his weekly hunting trip with his buddies to get food for his family.

Which meant no bedtime story.

Jack always became ensnared in his father’s imagination and enthusiasm. He found that the light brought by the wonderful descriptions, always chased away any dark thoughts about the darkness.

He was starting to wish that his mother had fallen for his pleading puppy-dog eyes and pout when he asked her to read him a bedtime story ten minutes ago. Her response was to shake her head with a soft smile that let slip the words, ‘‘you are too old for bedtimes stories, Jackson’’.

Another creak brought Jackson from his thoughts and he instantly stiffened on his weak bed. A few seconds passed before he slowly lied back down. His thin, frail covers clutched tightly in his fair-skinned hands, brought up to his chin in a worthless attempt of protection.

He huffed in irritation of himself for being jumpy about creaks in the dark. With newly formed determination, Jackson pushed his covers away from himself and twisted his body to dangle his legs off his moaning, old bed frame.

However, just before his toe passed the frame to reveal itself to the black abyss underneath, he paused. He suddenly remembered his Father’s tales about the monsters grabbing little’s boy’s toes that leave the safety of their covers at night. His determination only faltered for a second before he frowned and pushed his feet to the floor and walked briskly over to his small wardrobe.

Here is where he really paused. He looked down and his skinny little toes, absently remembering that no monster got them, before looking up with a proud little smirk. He peeked through his spiky mess of brown hair to the rusty door handle before reaching a hand out. The air grew thicker as he his hand seemed to move in slow motion before gripping the handle and pulling hard.

Nothing. Just a few scraps of old clothing and some dusty spider-webs in the dark. Jackson let out a long breath that he didn't realise he was holding. He felt relieved that there was nothing there but a very curious and excited part of him was hoping to face what lurked in the darkness.

He let a disappointed sigh escape him before turning around and climbing back into his bed. His eyes grew sadder as they moved over to look at the small book of bedtime stories on his bed side table.

‘‘Why the sad face?’’ asked a silky, dark voice from the shadows of his wardrobe.

Jackson shot up to rest on the palms of his hands as he stared in awe at the owner of the voice.

Bright, golden piercing eyes stared back at him with dark amusement at his reaction.

Jackson’s heart was pounding in his chest, he could feel his blood pumping in his ears and he could only stare.

There was a very tall, lean man with broad shoulders attached to a straight back with his long hands clasps behind him. He had unnaturally dark, grey skin which only made his eyes blaze brighter against the contrast. He had a head of pitch black hair that was styled in neat straight spikes making him look somehow taller. He wore a black robe which revealed more grey skin on his upper chest, collar bones and neck. A smirk grew across his chiselled features to expose a fraction of sharp white teeth.

‘‘Who are you?’’ he found himself saying with only a small quiver in his voice.

The smirk vanished from the dark figure and a brief moment of confusion took its place. The man seemed to stand taller as he straightened his back more and looked down at him from his nose.

‘‘My dear boy, haven’t you ever heard of the Nightmare King?’’ his sinister voice wasn’t really taking the affect that it would have preferred on Jackson, seeing as the boy suddenly started to smile.

‘‘It’s nice to meet you Mr Nightmare King. I'm Jackson Overland’’ A pale hand shot out to the dark man.

He stared stunned at Jackson for a moment before slowly dragging his gaze down to the fair-skinned hand. His eyes glazed over as he uncertainly reached his hand towards his. The touch seemed to shock the tall man which made Jackson send him a concerned glance.

With a thoughtful expression, the Nightmare King gave a more certain squeeze before looking up to meet Jackson’s eyes.

‘‘If you prefer, you may call me Pitch Black’’ The man’s voice was softer, his eyes were less fierce and he didn't seem to want to release his hand.

Jackson smiled even brighter, to add to Pitch’s growing shock by the looks on his face, ‘‘Thanks, you can call me Jack if you like’’

He was rewarded with an unsure nod from Pitch before his hand was slowly, reluctantly released.

‘‘Um, Pitch?’’ Jack asked carefully.

‘‘mmm?’’ Pitch replied absently staring at his hand with rapt interest.

‘‘can you please tell me a bedtime story?’’ he asked sheepishly with his best puppy-dog eyes that he could muster.

Pitch scowled at the look but it looked to be faltering and eventually he sighed and bent his long legs until he was sitting next to Jack on the bed. He looked out of place as he leant back against the head board.

Jack smiled with excitement as he quickly tucked himself under the thin covers until he was lying back flat and comfortable against his small pillow. He wasn't going to point out that he slyly cuddled into Pitch’s side because the elder didn't seem to notice or he chose to ignore it.

Pitch cleared his throat after giving a few seconds to think of his story. ‘‘There once was a Dragon, an evil creature that roamed the land with dark intents. He would roar and spray fire with anger and was feared by all. However, as the story is told, you will learn that the Dragon was shunned by the people because of their fear, which in time made the Dragon bitter, angry, evil, but most of all, lonely.’’

‘‘Poor Dragon’’ Jack mumbled into Pitch’s side and clutched to his robe without the taller noticing.

‘‘Fear not dear boy, because on one special day, the Dragon crossed paths with a very unique boy. The boy had huge curious brown eyes that looked under every rock and into every crack to discover the unknown.

The Dragon was already expecting the screams or attacks, but was pleasantly surprised when the boy’s face split into biggest grin that he had ever seen on such a small face. The appreciative, awe filled expression that made the gold around the boy’s pupils shine brighter. The beautiful laughter that erupted from the boy, brought down the Dragon’s walls that he had built around his black heart until a small smile grazed his scaly face; The first time that he had smiled, in a very long time.’’

Jack could feel his eyes grow heavier but he tried to keep them open for as long as possible. He could feel eyes on him but the heaviness in his limbs and the silk voice in his ears were preventing him from having the strength to look up.

‘‘The Dragon vowed to protect the boy and make sure that he never jeopardised the amount of belief the boy had in him because belief in the Dragon was a very rare thing; and he wasn't going to let that light in the boy even flicker’’.

Pitch’s voice seemed to be fading as darkness covered his eyes and his body slumped with exhaustion. Just before consciousness left him, he heard a very soft, ‘‘Goodnight, Jack’’, before falling into his dreamland, in which he raced with a Black dragon with golden eyes.