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“Once upon a time there was a powerful King.”
“This is going to be a dumb story, isn’t it?”
Pitch looked up from the book to glare at Jack. The frost bringer was precariously balanced on his staff looking bored. He was crouched low, one elbow propped on his knee so he could rest his chin in his pale hand while the other dangled beside him. Pitch couldn’t figure out how the boy constantly defied all laws of physics. Pitch shook his head in disbelief and turned his attention back to the tattered book.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Pitch fixed Jack with a pointed look over the top of the book.
Jack let out a frosty huff, but otherwise remained silent.
“Once upon a time there was a powerful King who was very lonely. He had all the wealth in the world, but could not buy anything to make him happy. He tried several times to purchase something to keep him entertained, but nothing worked.”
“He should get a cat.” Jack interrupted.
Pitch’s fingers flexed around the book as he tried to keep his temper in check. He still wasn’t completely used to Jack’s annoying habit of interrupting. But then, Pitch thought, Jack had very little experience in regard to interacting with people. The winter spirit had very few instances where people actually spoke to him, let alone expected him to pay attention enough to reply. So, the Nightmare King took a calming breath and gave the eternal teen his full attention.
Jack shifted nervously on his staff, the unfamiliar feeling of someone looking at him causing anxiety to bubble up inside of him. He shrugged, trying to dislodge the unease before replying. “If he’s so lonely and bored he should get a cat. Cats are pretty cool pets, even if they are a bit temperamental.”
Pitch looked incredulously at Jack. “A bit temperamental? If the King wanted a pet he should procure a dog. Dogs are loyal and friendly. Cats do whatever they want, they don’t care about you as long as you feed them.” Pitch scoffed and leaned back. He knew he sounded ridiculous, arguing with a teenager about good pets for a fictional character, but right now he was happy that Jack was even talking to him……especially after the incident with Jack’s staff.
Jack let out an indignant snort and jumped down to pace in front of Pitch. “Oh, dogs are great if you want mindless and obedient.” Jack was in Pitch’s face now and the Nightmare King barely kept his smile from showing. Jack was obviously feeling more comfortable with him if his casual close proximity was any indication. “But if you want something to cuddle with, get a cat.” Jack stated with an air of finality.
Pitch tilted his head to the side thoughtfully as he considered the spirit’s argument. “You do have a point, Jack.”
Jack’s smile was blinding and he plopped down on the bed beside Pitch shaking with excitement. The teen elbowed Pitch and motioned for him to continue reading. Pitch let out a put upon sigh and Jack rolled his eyes as he flopped back on the bed and settled into the pillows. Ignoring the cold feet thrust into his lap, Pitch turned the page.
“Then one day the King went out into the countryside. He wanted to be free of his boredom and loneliness, and thought he could escape it by hiding.” Pitch read as one traitorous hand began to massage Jack’s foot. “So the King dressed as a peasant and left his castle. He wandered far and wide but still could not find the happiness he so desperately sought.” Pitch turned the page and glanced over at Jack. The boy was still awake, but Pitch could see the dark circles beneath his eyes and the weight of exhaustion dragging the spirit’s limbs down.
“I hope this gets better,” Jack murmured yawning as he snuggled deeper into the pillows and blankets. “It’s really depressing right now.” His eyes fluttered open and closed in an attempt to stay awake.
Pitch chuckled and returned his focus to the book. “Then one day the King became very ill. He was far from his castle and had no one to help him. As he stumbled through the forest, he felt the pain and fear of death suddenly descend upon him and-“
“No!” Jack’s voice was sharp and sudden in the dimly lit room.
Pitch turned his attention to the spirit and arched one dark brow in question. “No?”
Jack sat up in the bed with a frown and glared at Pitch. “No. He doesn’t die, it doesn’t get worse, and he isn’t alone. You don’t get to send me to sleep with the most depressing story in the existence of fiction. Seriously, where did you even find that book?” Jack exclaimed.
Pitch was a bit shocked by Jack’s outburst and let out a snort of annoyance. “Actually, it happens to be one of my favorites.” Pitch tried not to sound defensive as he clutched the damaged book to his chest.
Jack rolled his eyes, a small smirk appear on his face. “Of course you like it, it’s all about fear!” Jack said incredulously.
An awkward silence permeated the room as the two sat motionless on the bed. Pitch fidgeted, holding the book tightly as he stood up. He began to move away from the bed only to be stopped by a cold hand on his wrist.
Jack looked up at Pitch, his eyes tinged with tears and quietly said, “please don’t leave me.” His voice cracked on the last word and Pitch felt his heart twinge painfully at the raw emotions the boy exuded. “I-I didn’t mean to make fun of your story,” Jack stuttered out as panic began to take hold. “It’s a good book, I’m sure it’s great! I was just messing around, I’m sorry!” Jack profusely apologized and Pitch felt pity for the boy.
Here Jack was apologizing for fear of upsetting one of the few people who would actually take time to interact with him. Sure the Guardians tried to make a better effort now that Jack was technically one of them, but the truth was that they were still too consumed with their own lives to be bothered to make room for Jack. This fact was one of the many reasons why Pitch had not been surprised when the winter spirit had tracked him down and practically demanded they spend some “quality time” together, whatever that meant.
Pitch sat down heavily on the bed next to Jack and set the book aside. In the blink of an eye Pitch found himself with a lap full of Frost. The boy had wrapped himself around the Shadow King and buried his head in the crook of the elder’s neck. Cold hands threaded into dark hair and frosty breath caressed the gray sensitive skin of Pitch’s neck as Jack clung tightly to him. Pitch hesitantly wrapped his arms around the spirit and felt him shudder at the touch.
“No one has ever read to me before.” Jack’s voice was so quiet Pitch had to strain to hear him.
Pitch sighed sadly; the loneliness and pain Jack had experienced for 300 years the Nightmare King had felt since the Dark Ages had ended. Pitch gathered the winter child in closer to him and rested his chin on top of Jack’s snowy hair, rubbing soothing circles on the boy’s back. Frigid water dripped down Jack’s chin and touched Pitch’s exposed chest startling the older spirit out of his dark thoughts.
“It’s alright Jack,” Pitch murmured. “I’ll always be here for you, any time you want.”
Jack sat up and rubbed his red-rimmed eyes. “Thanks.” He said giving Pitch a watery smile.
“Any time.” Pitch said softly pushing Jack’s white bangs out of his eyes.
“Can you finish the story, please?” Jack asked timidly.
A small smile appeared on Pitch’s face and he nodded. Jack quickly adjusted himself in Pitch’s lap, snuggling in closer to enjoy the warmth the Nightmare King radiated.
“Now then, where was I?” Pitch asked setting the book on top of Jack’s knees and watched amused as Jack quickly flipped through it to find the page they were on.
Jack let out a triumphant noise and twisted his head up to give Pitch a blinding smile. Pitch tried desperately to ignore how close the winter spirit’s lips were and took his cue to begin reading.
“As he stumbled through the forest, he felt the pain and fear of death suddenly descend upon him and fell onto the ground. The King thought that his life would be over soon, but was surprised when a young peasant walked over to him. The young man quickly helped the King to his feet and offered to take him back to his cabin. The King nodded and the two began their short journey to the small house. Once the King was comfortably seated in the best chair the young man had to offer, he quickly drifted off to sleep.” Jack shifted in Pitch’s lap, snuggling impossibly closer to the older spirit. Taking this as a sign that the winter child approved of the story’s direction, Pitch continued the tale.
“When the King awoke he found that the young man had not left his side and was instead cleaning away the grime of the roads and cooking a humble meal. The King was touched by the peasant’s kindness and quickly revealed his true identity. The peasant immediately apologized for the rudimentary state of his home and that he had so little to offer. The King, however, felt more warmth within the cabin than he had ever experienced in his castle. Once the meal was finished the young man began to entertain the King with fantastic tales of quests and dragons. The King was mesmerized with the young man and his stories and boldly asked him to return with him to his castle. The peasant agreed and the two set out for the castle the next day. During his travels the King had experienced many hardships and pains, but it was in the home of a simple woodsman that he found what he had been searching for. The young man had shown the King kindness, even going so far as to let a complete stranger into his home and had shared what meager things he had without a second thought.” Pitch glanced down and noticed the steady rise and fall of the frost spirit’s chest and smiled. Setting the book down, Pitch gently maneuvered Jack in his arms and tucked the guardian into bed. Ensuring that the boy’s staff was nearby and there were no wayward Nightmares hiding under the bed, Pitch began to creep out of the room.
The sound of rustling sheets had Pitch turning around and looking curiously at Jack as he blinked slowly up at the Nightmare King. “So the peasant made the King happy?” Jack asked yawning tiredly.
Pitch walked back over to Jack and nodded his head while tucking the blankets back around the lanky winter spirit.
“So they’ll live happily ever after?” Jack continued obediently snuggling deeper into the covers.
“Absolutely.” Pitch answered brush a hand through Jack’s hair one more time.
Jack stared determinedly up at Pitch and asked, “Do I make you happy?”
Pitch was caught off guard by the blunt question and stumbled to find the right words. Jack misread the look of panic on the older spirit’s face and turned away, waiting for the pain of rejection. Instead he felt a warm hand on his shoulder turning him around.
Pitch had knelt down so that he was eye level with Jack and with the hesitant sincerity born of isolation and fear said, “Happier than the Boogeyman has any right to be.”