Trevor Belmont is eight years old, and there is a monster that lives under his bed.
He's grown up in the Halls of the Brotherhood of Light, learning about the different kinds of evil and darkness that affect the people of the world - monsters both fantastical and all too human. He's heard tales of heroism and heartache from the different Brothers in the Order, and he's smart enough to know that there are some things they don't tell him at all.
At first he thinks it is a prank; that Jacobs or Stevenson is hiding under his bed, waiting to grab his ankle and make him shriek. Those boys are older than him, and Trevor is a little bit short for his age (but he'll grow - Brother Anders has told him that his father was a tall man), and sometimes they'll pick on him. Hearing the scratch and scuffle from underneath his straw mattress, he's already trying to think of ways to get them back - maybe a handful of earthworms in Jacobs' shoes. He's grinning, all set to foil the attempt to make a fool of him, when a cloud passes by outside, and the cool light of the moon streaks through the gap in the shutters of the dormitory to show that all the beds are occupied.
Trevor fights hard not to cry out - it could be one of the kids from the dormitory across the hallway; one of the girls. He makes sure to slowly shift himself into the center of the small bed, wiggling his feet to make sure every inch of his body is tucked under the covers where it's safe. But when a hand - long-fingered and mottled grey and green in the dark, misshapen and all knobbly knuckles and pointed dark claws curling over the top of the foot-board, Trevor screams, clenching his eyes shut tight.
There's a rattling hiss in his hears, but he won't look, and then he feels the warmth and stinging brightness of torchlight in the room, and loud and heavy footsteps. "Is everybody alright?"
Slowly, Trevor opens his eyes. Jacobs has fallen out of bed, and is grumbling irritatedly under his breath while glaring in Trevor's direction. Somehow, Stevenson is still asleep, snorting loudly in his dreams. That boy would sleep through anything, Trevor thinks. The other boys in the dorm are starting to sit up, looking around blearily towards Brother Anders where he stands just inside the doorway, brandishing a lit torch and an unsheathed silver knife. One by one, the boys give affirmations, that they were, 'just fine,' until Trevor had woken them up with his, 'girlish shriek.'
"None of that, Matthew," Anders admonishes the boy for his comment before sheathing his knife and striding across the room towards Trevor's bed. Trevor can't move - caught between mortification and sheer terror.
"No-! Brother Anders! There's a monster under my bed!"
Anders stops walking forward at Trevor's exclamation. The eight-year-old can feel the incredulous gazes of the other children burning against him, and his cheeks flush hot with embarrassment. But the Brotherhood of Light is in the business of dealing with real monsters, and so Anders takes Trevor's claim as seriously as he can. The boy looks so small, shaking like a leaf in the middle of his bed, cocooned in his blankets so securely it would definitely take some work to untangle him in the morning.
"Alright," Anders says, drawing the silver knife once more. Carefully, he approaches the bedside, and crouches down to illuminate the underneath with torchlight. Just some dust and a pair of yesterday's socks are there to greet him, and he sheathes the knife, before standing straight. "Trevor, whatever you saw, it is not there, now. It was probably just a bad dream."
The other boys are starting to laugh - calling him a baby, a scaredy-cat. He can't blame them, he did wake them up in the middle of the night for what seems to be nothing, but he was so sure!
Trevor shakes his head, "no! I saw its hand, it grabbed the side of the bed!"
"Here?" Brother Anders points to the foot-board where one of the boys' tunics has been haphazardly draped. "Look, Trevor - it was just a dream. In a certain light this could certainly look like a monster," and here he turns to glare towards the other boys, "it certainly smells like one. Alexander, this is yours, isn't it?" And he picks up the dirty shirt and hurls it into the other boy's arms. "Keep your space clean."
Trevor feels embarrassed tears prick at the corner of his eyes. "...I'm sorry... I was so sure..."
Brother Anders sighs and sits down on the bed next to him. "I'm not angry with you - I would much prefer to have you call for help, and not need it, then to hold something like this to yourself in a real emergency."
The other boys have started to go back to sleep - it's late and they're all tired after yesterday's training, so it doesn't take much until only Trevor is still awake, Anders by his side.
"...Look, Trevor," Anders begins with a sigh. "There are scores of Brothers and Sisters here in these walls to protect you. To train you how to protect yourself, and the people around you: it's what the Brotherhood of Light is all about. You are safe, here. Alright?"
Trevor can do nothing but nod - in hindsight it seems so childish. He saw a shape in the dark (Alex's stinky shirt, ewww) and his imagination ran away from him. "...Alright, Brother Anders."
They exchange goodnights, and then Anders leaves, taking the torchlight with him.
Trevor tries to settle back to sleep, but his heart is still pounding in his chest from adrenaline and embarrassment. The rest of the dorm is going to make fun of him tomorrow so much, and the thought makes him want to cry. Until he hears a sibilant hiss creep up from beneath the bed frame, and the terror grips hold of him once more. He stays perfectly still, and doesn't sleep for the rest of that night.