Chapter Text
“There better be an excellent fucking excuse for this.” Nightmare growled at the group of his idiots and their little stray. Bundled up in blankets, Cross and Error had turned up with a young bright purple version of himself who looked terrified of him. He’d curled up all pitiful by Dust, who regarded him neutrally. His lack of LV probably didn’t whet his appetite.
“His universe collapsed and he got thrown out of it. We couldn’t leave him to starve in the Void.” Cross frowned, gesturing wildly at his old face.
“Yes, you could have and SHOULD have. Or perhaps, if you were feeling merciful, a quick cut to the throat to let him suffer less.” His aura grew, spreading to each corner of the room, drawing out the anxiety in everyone, though especially his clone. This version didn’t have his power yet; not on this level, not like this. “Why the fuck would you let this happen Error?!” The destroyer couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I c-c-couldn’t kill him boss.” The admission felt like a slap. Nightmare searched their faces for confirmation.
“I know he’s not, ya know Boss, but...killing him is…” Cross shamefully stared at the floor. He had tried to follow orders, but seeing a little Nightmare, small and innocent and not guilty of anything but existing, Cross couldn’t even unsheath his blade. He felt better when Error had silently made a portal without a complaint.
Dust dropped an arm around Little Night’s shoulders. He made a squeak of surprise.
“I could if you want Boss...but...I’d prefer not to.” Dust’s dazed look pinned Nightmare to the spot. He’d been given an out, he was the boss here and their relationship hadn’t changed that much of the work, but the looks of his boys made him choose his next action carefully. Seeing that version of himself, day in and day out, it’d wear on him quickly, reopen old wounds that he’d merely smothered in corruption, not healed. But killing him looked to be out of the question.
“He can stay, for now.” Night strode up to this little imposter, sneering at the terror in those weak purple eyes. “Though you will answer to me, is that clear?”
“Y-yes Boss.” His weak reflection bowed his head with hunched shoulders and a bolt of fear. Night glared harder, hoping the ferocity would light the intruder on fire. Killer cleared his throat.
“Should we put the little prince in the free room by Error?” They looked up to Nightmare for confirmation. He turned and walked towards the door.
“I don’t care. Just leave me out of it.” He turned the corner without looking back. He already knew the dreams would come back from just one look at that face.
-
“So this is gunna be your room.” Cross gestured inside to the bedroom, trailed by Killer and Error. Dust and Horror had gone to find supplies around the castle. The little prince walked in hesitantly.
“How long must I stay in here?” Nightmare stood tall, shaking with nerves, but with an air of practiced poise. Killer chuckled at the show.
“You don’t have to stay in here. You’re free to roam the place. Just figured you’d want a bed to sleep in at night, little prince.” Nighty’s mouth opened in shock before snapping it shut. He straightened out his face before speaking again.
“Why do you keep calling me little prince? My name is Nightmare, didn’t Cross tell you that?” Killer snickered harder at Cross’s flushed face and the overly serious nature of their little guest. He wasn’t a child, but compared to the ancient monster he would’ve become, this Nightmare felt younger than any of them.
“I mean, yeah, they know, it’s just...ah…”Cross kept scratching behind his head. Error took pity and jumped in to save him.
“B-boss’s name is Nightmare. W-we can’t call you both N-Nightmare. Do you have a p-preference?”
“He’s ME?!” Nighty couldn’t put on an act over that look. His arms flailed every which way. “I turn into THAT?!”
“Well you won’t now! You can’t, the apples are gone.” Cross waved his hands frantically. Nighty’s eyes narrowed in an instant.
“I ate the fruit? You’re NEVER supposed to do that! Why would he DO that? Wait, where is Dream? What happened?! I need to-” A pile of clothes cut him off.
“Calm down.” Dust moved over for Horror to stack some extra bedding in the room. He leaned over to kiss Cross on the cheek quietly. “Let someone else do the talking.” Nighty blushed down to his shoulders.
“You two are dating?” Cross kept his mouth closed per Dust’s advice. Killer couldn’t stop laughing enough to speak.
“We’re all dating. Even Boss.” Horror fixed him with a rare clear glance. “If ya got questions...we don’t got answers.” He hauled his axe up to his shoulders off the ground. “It’s ‘bout dinner time.”
Horror shambled his way out the door in the direction of the dining hall, the rest of them following behind, Killer still losing his mind and Cross huffing as he half stomped along the way. Only Error remained to speak to the little prince.
“I w-wouldn’t ask any of those questions until y-you’re alone with him. I don’t think he’d want his past thrown in his f-face at d-dinner.” Error shrugged towards the dining hall. “H-hungry?”
“Sure I guess.” Nighty stepped out of his new room to follow behind the weird glitchy skeleton.
They walked down the halls quietly, taking turns left and right until Nighty was sure he’d never find his way back. The tree had been his only home, the castle seemed massive in comparison, even to the neighboring village. It also housed way less people than the village had, but they were all very strange. Error had been kind but quiet. Dust had offered to kill him and then got him clothes. Horror had only spoken to him directly once. Cross had been very kind to him but apparently was in trouble. Killer spent most of his time laughing or making jokes so he could laugh more. And he didn’t even want to consider this mean weirdo that was apparently him.
They walked into the main dining hall, a long table under a large chandelier of lights to warm the room. The table expanded far in excess of its inhabitants, which left plenty of space for Nighty to plop down besides Error at the end of the table.
He attempted to sit properly, back straight and attentive, but a cold appendage dropped just behind his neck.
“I suppose you’re going to make yourself at home now.” Nighty shivered with hunched shoulders.
“I-I was invited.” Nightmare rolled his eye before walking by the others. He ran his hand over Error’s shoulders, his tentacles casually touching Killer before seating himself at the other end of the table. He glanced over fondly at the three on the left.
“Not by me, but if the rest have agreed, I won’t fight it.” He stared across the spread Horror had laid down for dinner, his cyan eyelight boring into Nighty’s two purple ones. He swallowed hard and met it evenly, trembling in every bone but it worked well enough, Nightmare turning away from him. “It looks delicious as usual Horror, thank you.”
Horror’s mouth quirked up at the praise. Dust leaned closer from his chair, against his side, nodding towards some strange dish Nighty couldn’t recognize.
“You remembered.” He clanked his cheek before serving himself alongside the others, everyone but Nighty reaching for plates. Cross offered a hand.
“What do you want?” He smiled gently, Nighty blushing before handing over his plate, mumbling his lack of preference so Cross wouldn’t be bothered. Looking across the table, he could see the group dynamics play out from a distance. Killer and Error quipped endlessly back and forth. Horror and Dust were seated so close that they could’ve eaten off the same plate. Cross responded to the little jokes with ease, sometimes annoyance, but the lively group warmed his soul. The only dark spot sat opposite him.
Nightmare didn’t raise a ruckus, nor interact with anyone. His calm face took in his companions, the only trace of positivity in the curve of his brow when Killer landed a good punchline, otherwise silent and unaffectionate, a contradiction of the others.
“Here you go!” Cross had given him a scoop of everything, though not large portions. “I can get you more of whatever things you end up liking.”
“T-thank you.” Nighty poked his fork into each new taste eagerly. He’d never had someone cook for him besides himself and his brother before.
“So little prince, whatcha think about the castle? It’s pretty sweet right?” Killer grinned from his chair, tearing a bite off a roll, pausing to finish swallowing before speaking, not immune to the cyan glare he’d receive for rudeness. “We all got overwhelmed the first time.” He waggled his eyebrows at Cross for some reason. Nighty thought hard.
“I’ve never seen such a big place. I lived under a tree, the bedroom is already pretty spacious by comparison.” He looked away abashed, gesturing to the huge dining hall. “This room is bigger than half of the village I grew up beside.”
“Under a tree?” Cross tilted his head. “How do you live under a tree? There’s not a bed or a fridge or anything. I can see camping, but living there?”
“I mean, my brother and I don’t really need food, even if it’s nice, and you can sleep on the grass. The only time it sucked was when it stormed.” Nighty shrugged, waving off Cross. “I didn’t like the mud, but my brother was afraid of the thunder and lightning.”
“Dream’s afraid of storms?” Cross crinkled up his nose, Error similarly bewildered until Nightmare cut in.
“Though he still doesn’t like them, he isn’t afraid any longer.” He didn’t look up from his cup of tea seated in his hand. “He has real fears to worry about now.” All of them sat in the tense silence until Nighty’s curiosity got the better of him.
“Like what?” That cyan glare wasn’t easier to bear the second time.
“Making mistakes and losing people.” The shadow of those implications hung heavy, Nighty not fully understanding but feeling it drop over him like a weighted blanket anyway. Nightmare rose from his chair, not turning back to them. “As your new pet has no chores, I suggest teaching him to do the dishes. If he’s staying, then he’ll earn his keep like anyone else. I’ll be in the study should you need me.” His tentacles picked up the cup of tea he’d had, along with the half eaten sandwich on his plate to take with him.
Nighty didn’t look up until he heard the click of a door down the hallway.
“So, how do I do the dishes?” Dust rose and gestured for him to follow.
“It was my day, I’ll show you.” Nighty followed him back into the kitchen quietly, feeling the others begin to converse again once he left.
Dust started off, mumbling out the instructions while doing the first few, mixed with comments that didn’t seem directed at him at all. Dust’s hands shook the whole while, but he never once dropped a plate, sudsy and wet as they were. In fact, his fingers were dextrous and diligent in removing the stains.
Nighty took over after learning where the drying towels were. Dust watched him, nodding when they were clean enough for him to dry. And then silence again (or silence for him, Dust still muttering to someone he couldn’t see).
He spoke when there was a lull in Dust’s one sided conversation.
“He hates me, doesn’t he?” He placed the dish in his hands down. It’d shatter with his shaking.
“It’s not that simple.” Dust kept drying, putting things away, sighing.
“It looks very simple to me.” Nighty hunched his shoulders, but locked his arms in to push through his one task he was assigned. “He thinks I’m the stupid version of him... even though he’s the one who made the stupid decision...”
The knife against his throat made his soul seize.
“Don’t confuse the name little prince with being one.” Dust’s eyelight lit up, magic bones pointed down from all directions surrounding them. “This is still the Boss’s castle and you don’t get to talk about him like that.” The fury steadied Dust’s hand more than anything else all day.
“S-sorry. I w-won’t do it a-again.” He held up his hands in surrender. Dust still hadn’t moved his blade an inch.
“All of us have a past here. None of the others will show you more mercy than I have right now for judging the sins we have on our backs.” Dust pulled the knife away, scoffing when Nighty fell to his knees in a crumpled heap the instant he was able. “The only reason you’re alive is because you share his face.” He pushed off the counter and left fuming, almost crashing into Horror, apologizing before continuing out. Nighty’s hands went to his throat to check for blood. Horror raised a brow.
“What...happened?” His purple tears didn’t change the even gaze of that fixed red eye, nervously trying to piece together a sentence.
“I said something bad about Nightmare.” Horror didn’t swing at him, but didn’t make a move to help either. “Now two people hate me.”
“It’s not hate...yet.” Horror eyed the non empty sink before autopiloting. He cleaned with his back to the little prince on the floor. “It’s complicated.”
“I hear. I don’t understand anything right now.”
“Can’t help much.” Horror shrugged, scrubbing patiently at each little stain on the ceramic. “Not good with words.”
“I’ll take any you have.” Nighty used the counter as leverage to stand, still dwarfed by Horror’s hunched form while upright. “I don’t want a knife pointed at me again please.”
“Whatdya say?” Horror looked back over his shoulder, Nighty avoiding his gaze until he rolled his eye and turned back to the dishes. “Won’t attack ya.” He dropped a fork into the drying stand. “This time.”
“I said that Nightmare treats me like I’m a stupid version of him, when he’s the one who ate the forbidden fruit, the ONE thing Mother told us not to do.” He hugged himself. “And then he tried to kill me.”
“Dust doesn’t try.” Horror shrugged. “Be dead if he wanted you to be.”
“That’s comforting I guess.” That got a short barking laugh, Horror’s deep voice creaking at the uncommon use. “I guess I shouldn’t judge him for it, but it goes against everything! WHY did I do that? It just doesn’t make sense.” Horror’s chortling died down. He huffed a sigh, groaning at the focus of trying to say so much.
“Didn’t think I’d eat another monster.” Horror didn’t turn to look at him. “Dust didn’t think he’d kill his brother.” He slid over to dry everything he’d washed, starting with cups. “Cross got his world erased.” He lined up the dry glass in the cabinet. “Killer did too.” He kept toweling off the silverware, trying to recall his point. His hand almost went to the crack in his head, but he stopped short, curling up his hand, capitalizing on lucidity. “Error’s destroyed worlds and everyone in ‘em.” The realization that he had ended up on a path to lead a group like this ( AND DATE THEM?! ) struck Night silent. He missed Horror turning to face him until his hand dropped on his shoulder to meet his eyes.
“We all...made mistakes. Most of us...don’t have them here...judging us.” Horror shook his head to focus in again. “It’d be rough on anybody...Dust knows. Struck a nerve.”
Nighty hesitantly shuffled over to dry, curled in on himself. The villagers came to mind instantly. They’d been getting worse over the past few weeks (a small part of him viciously vindicated by their erasure), and he had no idea where that road would’ve led, reminded by the bruise still healing on his forearm that knocked against the counter.
“I guess I should talk to him about it if I want to know, huh?”
“Yeah.” Horror helped him place the freshly cleaned dishes into the cabinets. Once they finished, Horror looked at him, staring intensely, Nighty’s knees shaking like crazy until he took a steadying breath, looking up, determined and serious.
“Can you lead me back to my room?” He met his eyes, and Horror nodded with a sly grin.
“That’s better.” And he waved for him to follow, walking out without waiting, Nighty stumbling after quickly to not miss his one ride back. It felt shorter, but they did get back without running into anyone else. Nighty thanked Horror quietly and clicked the door closed.
His soul pounded a mile a minute. So much, in so little time.
He’d woken up, found out his entire world was gone, met a bunch of crazy people and his future self, and almost got murdered in a single day. The giant room felt empty and lonely without his brother nearby. The stale air compared to the fresh breeze by the tree was hard to pull in. Settling onto the bed, he supposed at least the comfy mattress would do, his eyes almost forced closed with the softness, body’s exhaustion gathering like an anchor on his consciousness.
Tomorrow, he’d talk to himself. But tonight?
He collapsed on top of the comforters, asleep before he could remove his crown.