His Nightmare Queen (Pitch Black x Reader)

16: Refreshment

"If it was, my dear, I'm certain you would have already known by now."

You formed your lips into a line before looking away to take another slightly larger sip of tea from the cup in your hand to try not to ponder too hard on the thought. When you placed it back in your lap, you changed the subject. "Can I ask," you started with caution, turning to him, "...did we sleep in the same place like this in my past, assuming I had one?"

Pitch hummed. "I don't believe we even remembered what sleep was then," he remarked humorously. You took a breath to ask more, but with too much on your mind for your morning grogginess, you decided to save it for later when you could actually find the right words. Instead, you thought back to your last evening's events.

"Oh, and speaking of that," you began again. "Thanks for showing me all those things last night. Telling me about your past." You looked up at him from his side. "I'm sure it wasn't the easiest thing, but I'm glad I know more now."

"Well if that's what's going to keep you around, maybe I should start gloating about myself more often."

"You should gloat about those swords you have kept away that you showed me," you laughed. The Nightmare King turned a bit more to face you more clearly this time, a new look in his eyes hinting at what he was to imply next.

"Any time you'd like to explore which of them may suit you, you're more than welcome to." His lips curled upward at his own offer. You stared for a moment.

"Wait," you stopped to think, "you're serious?"

"To head down for a practice round? 'Course I am!" He sounded surprised that you hadn't been as serious as he was. "Even now, if you'd like."

You were still staring wide-eyed. The King of Nightmares was asking you for a friendly duel of swords and all you could do was gawk. With your lips parted and your tea cooling to an eventual lukewarm point, you forced yourself to blink away your surprise. You figured you had probably seen enough these past few weeks to no longer be overly shocked at these things. Some exposure to new experiences was something you wanted to be open to, especially now at last being done with school and having the most free time you've ever had in your life. That's when you finally showed him a nod of acceptance with the quietest of yeses.

You both set your glasses down, and you headed to quickly change out of your nightshirt and into a comfortable loose top and leggings that you figured would be suitable enough for activity. He had told you to meet him in the throne room when you were ready, so after smoothing your hands down your top with a glance at yourself in a full-body mirror, you pivoted to quickly head down through the caverns. To your relief, you were able to come upon the throne room without having taken a wrong turn or getting lost. When you did take the correct turn from the hall and into the room's entrance, you found that Pitch had taken the time to straighten himself out from any morning sluggishness in preparation for you.

He stood beside the obsidian-carved throne that sat in the center of the room as you drew closer. You could tell that his usual sword was already resting in its sheath that hung off the side of his hip from its holder hidden beneath his loose robes and around his waist. Then on the throne which he leaned ever so casually against, there sat five other swords, some sheathed and others uncovered. Some bore curved blades and others lie with straightened tips, all shining in either silver, gold, or black metallic material.

You couldn't take your eyes off of them as you approached them, and once you stood at the foot of the throne, Pitch leaned forward a bit to gather enough of your attention in order to whisper something to you.

"Pick one."

You looked down at the choices that lie before you, then up at Pitch, then back down at the handful of swords resting across the armrests of the throne. Indecisive at first, you tried to sense if maybe your gut would lead you to the one that may have been speaking to you the most. Eyeing all of them, you kept returning your focus to the one that sat in the middle of the row of five - the third one from the top and from the bottom. Similar to Pitch's sword that you had seen back at North's, its blade was a piercing silver. But what differentiated it from the king's weapon was that this one had the slightest of curves to its sleek sharpness. Its handle, instead of a contrasting gold, was a deep black with swirled engravings that ran from its guard all the way up the thin central indent of the blade.