Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You have sworn a vendetta against minimalist interior design.

Whoever decided they wanted to live in a scarcely decorated home with pale walls and nowhere to sit is now your enemy. Once you escape your prison of infinite nothingness you are going to make them regret willingly enduring this torture. You miss having stuff. Hell, you miss seeing stuff. Honestly, despite your new grudge, you’d give anything to see a neutral color wall and weirdly square couch with no pillows, or literally anything else. A speck of dirt. A bug. An off-shade of white. Anything to break up the expanse of nothingness that you’ve been surrounded by for who knows how long.

“Rebecca, it’s not what it looks like!” You turn your left hand to ‘stare’ at the right, flapping your hand as you speak, before switching to point finger guns. “I won’t hesitate, bitch." Wait, that’s not quite right. “Rebecca, it’s not what you think! Yeah, that’s it.”

You have never been more bored in your life. Left with nothing but yourself to occupy yourself with, you’re stuck miming old Vine videos with your hands. It’s the only thing keeping you from absolutely losing it. Unless you’ve already lost it... and frankly that would explain a lot.

You have no idea how to tell time in this place but you’ve been here a long while. You’ve managed to remember and replicate a few dozen Vines and repeat them all what feels like hundreds of times. That means it’s been at least a few hours since you started. Probably.

But the puppet show is only a recent hobby.

Sometimes you catch yourself just sitting and staring off into the distance without thinking about anything. You’ve slept some number of times, but you have no way of knowing how long each nap was. You haven’t felt hungry or thirsty, but if you walk too long you still get tired and need to rest.

All this to say you’ve been stuck for far too long and nobody is coming to save you. You gave up on that a long time ago.

Or just a few minutes ago. You have no idea.

You don’t even know how you got here, wherever ‘here’ happens to be. One minute you’re walking through town, minding your own business, and the next there’s some kind of commotion and you’re tripping and falling through the ground.

You’ve seen enough internet horror stories to know about the Backrooms, but you think at this point that would be preferable to this purgatory. You’d take infinite yellow walls and weird rooms over infinite white and nothing any day.

It’s really starting to get to you. Talking to yourself to fill the silence has helped, but there’s only so long you can do that before you start to question your sanity.

“I’ve already tried that.” You shake your head, trying to dismiss the static-y voice currently giving you a migraine. Just one of many, though ‘today’ they seem a bit quieter than usual. “I didn’t notice a portal or anything when I fell.”

You wince as the voices pick up and overlap as you’re given multiple suggestions for escape. None of them seem to make any sense to you and given your limited resources (ie, nothing) seem implausible. “Yeah sure, I’ll try that. Thanks.” You can’t help the sarcasm. You hope disembodied voices can’t get offended.

You ignore the next barrage of commentary and resume your hand puppets. Maybe it’s time to move onto remembering TikToks.

  ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Stretching your legs has become another hobby of yours. Going on semi-infinite walks is one of the few pleasures in your current life. It’s also a necessity. Early on you’d lied on the ground and moped for so long that, when you did finally stand up and try ‘exploring’ your legs were weak. You avoid lying down for too long now. You don’t want to get absorbed into the floor, or something.

Who knows if that can happen. Nobody does. Because there’s nobody around except you. Sometimes you wonder if you’re even real. Your surroundings certainly aren’t, since there’s nothing around you. But with nothing but yourself to act on you’re stuck wondering if you actually exist.

But if you don’t exist, then what are you? You can see yourself, your hands, your legs. You remember arriving and your absolutely mundane life before this. You’re experiencing your own concept of time- as well as you can, anyway. You feel like you walk distances despite having no proof of actually going anywhere.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? If no one is around to perceive you... are you even there?

You’re so used to nothing, mindlessly wandering and babbling to the voices in an attempt to keep occupied, you almost miss when there’s something.

You can’t see it. There’s blank expanse around you as far as you can see.

But you can... feel it.

Like when you know for a fact a window is before you, but it’s covered with a curtain. You know it’s there, even if it’s hidden. You’re not sure how you know there’s a window (a gap. a door. a fissure. a something instead of nothing) but you don’t care.

You reach out.

You can’t feel it that way. Your hand goes through the space where you can sense the change. You grasp at nothing. You claw at nothing. You scream, swing your fists, and cry at nothing. 

The voices are of no help to you.

The something stays there, static, the only sense of space you’ve experienced in so long.

You can’t bare to move away from it again. You’re unsure if what you’re sensing is even real, if it’s not just your brain desperately concocting a sensation to keep you grounded after so long.

And yet, if you reached out again, you know exactly where it would be located relative to you. You can’t touch it, but you know it’s there. You hope it’s there.

It’s there.

You stare at the spot. You put your hand just in front of it, focusing your vision on the nothing there. That feeling in your chest tightens, solidifies. Your hand fragments in your vision, spots appearing where you seem to break apart. For just a moment, you think you see a crack in the expanse just beyond your fingertips. Greenery and buildings and people. Just a glimpse.

There is something there.

There is something there.

You hold tight to that feeling, that certainty. The tightness in your chest. The desperation to escape.

Grounded for the first time in stars knows how long you reach out and

rip

reality

open.

Chapter Text

The fissure before you is small. You would barely be able to fit two fingers inside if you tried, but still it’s large enough for you to see through. The closer you get the more you can see of the park beyond, like it’s an actual hole in an invisible wall. The edges are jagged and seem to phase in and out of existence in rectangular chunks, looking for all the world like reality is glitching in front of you. 

Your hand burns from where it’d torn touched the invisible gap in space but you ignore it. 

You can see people. You’re looking out into a park. Humans and monsters milling about and enjoying the sun. It would be a boring and mundane scene if it wasn’t the most beautiful thing you have seen in potentially eons. Your cheeks are wet and your chest aches. 

You stand there, and you watch. 

You watch the people go by, children playing together, people sitting and having a conversation. You can even pick up on some of the closer groups and relish hearing a voice that isn’t yours or laced with static. You can’t seem to stop crying. 

You watch for so long the sun begins to set and what’s visible of the sky is tinged with beautiful, vibrant colors that you want seared into your memory forever. There are fewer and fewer people now but you can’t seem to tear your gaze away. Even in the dark you find things of interest.

Crickets are chirping, filling the silence you’ve come to expect. The soft conversations of the rare passerby. Even during the quietest of moments, you can faintly hear a car drive by or the trees rustling with wind. It’s never truly silent. Either this is a new level of hallucination, or there’s a chance you can get out of this place.  

“Shit, it’s the sensory deprivation hellhole. Rip outta there, bro!” Finally breaking out of your reverie, you recognise the return of the voices. Maybe they’d never left and you’d just ignored them in favor of the new source of stimulation. Still, you’re kind of glad you have someone to talk to about this discovery. 

“I’m trying. Maybe I can open it wider?” In the quiet of the night, finally able to process the passage of time in some capacity, you finally find your voice again. It’s grating and raspy but you force the words out anyway. You’re so tired. You want to sit down but you’re afraid if you look away the portal will disappear. You remain standing.  

You tentatively put your hand to the portal, tugging at the edges. Your fingers sting somewhat where they make contact with the pixel-y border, but it seems like they go through otherwise. If it was large enough you think you could go through it. 

“Meeeee! You’re talking to meeee! Hello!”  

You sigh. “Who else would I be talking to?” Your hands, maybe. In hindsight it’s a fair comment. “Are you new here?” You don’t think you’ve heard that particular voice before. 

The window doesn’t seem to change shape as you poke at it, though the sharp buzz of pain in your hand fades the more you interact with it. Emboldened by the desensitization, you get more aggressive. With a bit of effort you manage to hook three fingers into the little portal and heave. 

The sting is back, faintly, but with a harsh sound somewhere between nails on a chalkboard and microphone feedback the hole widens somewhat. Now about the size of a dinner plate, you can put your whole face to it and look through. You couldn’t fit your whole head in, but it’s close. 

You’re not sure you want to try either. 

Inspecting your hand after your successful experiment reveals a dark stain where you’d made contact, your three fingertips now dyed the deepest black. You look like you just dunked your fingers in ink. They don’t hurt and you can still feel them with your other hand so you shrug it off. Hopefully you can wash it off when you get out of here. 

You must’ve been at it longer than you anticipated because you can see the faint wisps of dawn through the trees. Birds are singing, more people are walking around, and you can see more than ever. 

It’s large enough now that you can see through it even sitting on the ground, though the angle isn’t that great. But at least you can get comfortable for a bit. Rest your weary legs and enjoy the sounds of life around you. 

It’s the comfort of having that lively white noise that probably sends you almost immediately to sleep. You’d just meant to sit for a bit, but before you know it you’re startling awake lying flat on your back. You rush to stand and to your immense relief the window is still there. 

The sun is now high in the sky so you were likely out for many hours and you honestly feel better for it. You needed the rest and the ability to tell approximately how long you were sleeping is a sweet relief. You stretch your back and arms and resume watching. 

There are more people in the park today than yesterday. It looks like they might be setting up for some kind of event; a pavilion is being constructed by people in matching shirts right in the center of the main field. Looks like you opened the portal right in time for some real enrichment. 

Maybe you’ll be able to join in if you can get it open enough.

“What did I miss? Any plot development?” The voice is bored and one of the first you can remember. It hasn’t appeared in a while, or frequently, but you recognise it on tone alone. 

“Your mom.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind. You ran out of creative retorts long ago.

There isn’t a reply. You rarely get one; the voices more often than not give some kind of commentary or question and then go silent for extended periods. You like to pretend this means you always win the arguments you have with them, since you almost always get the last word. Small victories. 

One-sided conversations aside, now you have something new to keep your attention. You doubt you’ll get tired of people watching like this after being deprived for so long. Something different is bound to happen every day- new conversations to eavesdrop on, regular park-goers to learn and recognise, animals to watch. You’re finally saved from a state of eternal boredom. 

Although now you’re tortured every time you catch sight of someone with food. You haven’t felt hungry in ages but what you wouldn’t give for a hot meal. Just the act of eating something warm would be comforting. Something nice to drink, a hearty meal to fill you up and put you in the mood for a nap. Ugh. You need to stop dwelling on it before you actually feel hungry. 

The pavilion gets constructed over the course of that afternoon, decorated with white ribbons and banners, and then the crew disbands. Seems it’s an anniversary festival of some kind, maybe Freedom Day? But Freedom Day has never looked this cheery, and it was just a few months ago. Unless… you’ve been stuck here for nearly a year. Or longer. 

The realization is like a bucket of ice down your spine but you try to shove the feeling aside. There’s no proof yet. You don’t want to panic for nothing. 

The evening comes and goes and you manage to tear yourself away from ‘watching TV’, as you’ve begun to affectionately think about it, to take a nap. A nap that goes through the entire night, deep and uneventful. You either haven’t been dreaming since you got stuck here or haven’t remembered any of them… yet a faint feeling in the back of your head makes you think that you dreamt. Like a word you can’t seem to remember that’s on the tip of your tongue. Maybe it’ll come to you later. 

A stage is the next thing to be constructed, scaffolding going up for the sound system. People are laying down tarps in anticipation of rain, the sky cloudier than yesterday. Sections of open grass are being cordoned off for an audience and you hope that whatever event it is will start soon. You’re starting to get antsy with anticipation. 

“Finally some good funk ing food.” You must still be tired, not even having the energy to curse properly. You need to get out of here. You also need to stop talking in memes. At a certain point the coping mechanism stops being healthy, surely. 

You put both hands to the portal this time and get to work. You poke and prod and pull and slowly but surely make your little window larger and larger. It’s slow going; the effort of tearing a hole in the fabric of reality is more than you’d anticipated. Your hands sting from where they make contact with the portal but you soldier onward. 

The portal is just about as big as your torso when you decide it’s worth a shot. You haven’t had any real ill effects from touching it, aside from your stained hands, so you don’t think it’ll hurt you if you try to step through. Your hand and arm goes through just fine in a test run, and with the gathering crowd in the park you think you won’t be noticed when you (you assume) appear out of thin air. 

There’s a chorus of voices cheering you on. You’d be flattered if they didn’t give you a splitting headache.

You take a steadying breath of non-existent air and swing one leg through, then your upper body, and then you’re out. 

The sounds hit you first. 

Not just filtering through a single opening, but all around you. Everywhere is noise. People chattering, cars passing by, animals, the wind, the odd drop of rain, the plants, everything is making a noise. 

Then it’s the smells. Food from a nearby cart. Fresh air. The perfume of someone wandering by. Wet dirt.

Your eyes need a moment to adjust to the natural light, squinting against the saturated colors of everything around you. It almost hurts after looking at pure white for so long. Your little preview the last couple days wasn’t enough to prepare you for finally being surrounded by all these colors. Even with the cloudy sky everything seems so vibrant .

You drop to the ground and bury your hands in the clipped grass. It’s time for another cry. You get a few pitying and confused glances from the people around you but you don’t care. This is the most beautiful day you have ever seen. The rain picks up and you start getting wet and you still don’t care. You’re experiencing . 

You’ve relied on your own mind for sensation for so long, the voices and your desperate attempts at alleviating your boredom the only thing keeping you going. And now you’re surrounded by stimulation. 

You gasp and clutch at your head with shaking hands. You barely have the awareness to drag yourself to the cover of a nearby tree, shielded somewhat from the rain and distancing yourself from the growing crowd. You lean against the tree for support but almost immediately flinch back, the rough texture of the bark on your skin sending electricity through you. It’s too much. 

You close your eyes and cover your ears. You focus on your breathing, the gentle rush of cool, wet air into your lungs. You can handle that. You’re fine. You don’t have to hear or see for now. You can slowly adjust again. You can take your time. In… and out. In… and out.

You don’t know how long it takes for you to come down from the panic. The festival is well under way when you finally have the strength to open your eyes again. You keep your ears covered and instead squint at your surroundings. Your eyes hurt a little from… well, seeing , but it’s not nearly as bad as before. 

It looks like a group of monsters and humans are addressing the crowd from the stage. With the presence of the cameras and microphones you guess it must be some important opening speech. 

At least you didn’t miss the good bits. 

You slowly, painstakingly, relax against the tree. You still shudder at the contact but after a few moments the itch of discomfort fades. The pressure of leaning against something solid even feels kind of… nice. You can ease back into your senses. You can do it. 

You watch as they seem to go through introductions, the human with the microphone gesturing to the people behind them in turn. You recognise the king and ex-queen, though it seems Asgore is content to let Toriel take the lead at this event. He’s standing a bit behind her, and dressed far more casually. You can just barely make out the top of the ambassador’s head from this distance, their short stature keeping them obscured behind the person speaking. 

It’s another few minutes of talking from the human with the microphone, and then it’s passed to Toriel. She speaks for much longer, gesturing grandly and commanding the attention of everyone around you. You can’t hear much of what she’s saying through your hands over your ears, but you can faintly make out a word here and there. 

Toriel’s addressing the crowd for Freedom Day, as you expected. She’s thankful for another peaceful year. She’s grateful for the kindness humans have shown. Blah blah blah… The ambassador is going to give a speech? You must’ve misheard. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the ambassador speak. From what you knew they were mute. They used sign language and one of the monsters usually interpreted for them. She holds out a hand behind her and the ambassador steps forward and takes it. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t right this isn’t right this isn’t right

That’s not the ambassador. The ambassador is brunet, dark skinned, and shy. They are not this smiley redhead. Who is that? You don’t recognise them at all. 

Now on alert, you notice the dainty crown resting between Toriel’s horns. Why is she queen again? You’ve seen enough documentaries to know she wants nothing to do with that title. Asgore is conspicuously missing his now that you think about it.

And where is that tall skeleton? He never misses events like this. He always gives some charming speech towards the end that never fails to make you laugh. You can only see his shorter brother standing just behind the kid. 

The royal scientist… she’s the yellow lizard, isn’t she? You can’t remember her name, but you remember her interviews. She’s awkward and nerdy but endearing in her enthusiasm. So why is she in military garb? You’ve never seen her dressed like that before. Or looking so… menacing. 

And her wife, the royal guard. She looks so uncharacteristically waifish beside her in that dorky outfit and big glasses. Something isn’t right. They’re all mixed up. What is going on?

You shakily rise to your feet as panic wells up within you. Suddenly everything feels off. The air feels foreign. The ambassador makes eye contact with you from across the park and your vision narrows. The thought comes to you like a lightning bolt. This isn’t your world. 

You can feel your heart racing in your chest. Your breathing is coming out in harsh gasps again. You clutch your chest as it aches with the realization of just how far from home you are. This isn’t right. 

It’s clear to you now. You can feel it in every fiber of your being. You can see it everywhere you look. You don’t belong here. This place is similar to your home but scrambled, mixed up, derivative. Like someone took a puzzle of your world and put it back together wrong. But you can see all the pieces.

Everywhere you look you can see the differences. You don’t know how you missed it until now. So many small changes around you, but the most glaring is the group of monsters and humans on that stage. 

You latch onto that knowledge. You can feel the threads holding the tapestry of this world together. You can see what differs from your own. The variables that have been changed. Your chest aches. You grasp at a thread and pull.

The world begins to unravel. 

The ground tears in front of the stage, a jagged slice of empty white nothingness. The crowd screams and scatters. The ambassador is still watching you but now with much more concern. They’re pulled away by Asgore as the group on the stage steps back from the edge. 

It’s still not right. You try again. A great oak tree flickers and blinks out of existence. The ground where it had once stood rips open.

You can fix it. You can make it right. You can change things to the way they’re supposed to be. You can go home.

Your presence has been noticed by more than the ambassador now. Toriel stands tall in front of the others and lifts a hand. Columns of fire erupt on either side of you and you stagger back. You are snapped out of your spiraling thoughts like a bucket of cold water was dropped on you. What are you doing?

Your grasp on the fabric of this reality slips as your panicked actions catch up with you. You aren’t fixing anything. You are destroying everything. The openings in reality are only widening as time goes on, erasing everything they touch. What have you done? What can you do? How did this happen? You turn and run. 

You make it a short distance before a wall of bones blocks your path. You need to escape. You can’t do this. You can’t face them. You can’t fix it. You don’t even know if this is real or a horrible nightmare you can’t wake up from. You need out. 

Another opening appears before you. Rough and just barely as big as you are but it feels different. It’s not a patch of nothingness like you just created, it’s an opening. There’s nothing on the other side but a different kind. A familiar kind. 

You run back into the void.

Chapter Text

You collapse to your knees in the white expanse you only just escaped from and scream. It’s a sound born from frustration and panic and fear and longing and just so much guilt . What did you do? How did you do that? What is happening to you? What the fuck is going on??

As soon as you can hear beyond your own cries you are bombarded with the voices again. You clutch at your head and curl up pitifully from the ache in your skull. What a sorry picture you must make. At least no one can see you like this. 

“Ah- oh wait- maybe you shouldn't- ope…”

“Whoops.”

“Oops…”

“Shut up shut up shut up—” As usual the voices ignore you. Your jaw aches from gritting your teeth.

“Don’t hide from your problems!!”  

“Hang in there, you’re gonna be okay!”

“How am I going to be okay? How can I possibly be okay with… this?? ” You stare at your hands. The inky blackness has spread to your palms, the divide between the impossible shade of nothing and your normal skin tone is jagged. 

It’s futile to respond, you know that. They never reply to you at a reasonable speed. But they’re all you have to process what just happened. Who else can you talk to about what you did? “I— was any of that real? Did I do that?” 

“Welp, hopefully someone else will fix that…”

“Can it be fixed? Who could even fix… whatever I did?” You wait for that voice to give you something, anything to work with. It doesn’t return. 

“Running back into the void is not necessarily a good idea, but if it’s the only one then it might be.”

“Mannn, that did not look like a good time out there. Time for a different plan.”

They have a point. You should try and do something. You can’t mope and feel guilty forever. But maybe for just a little while. 

  ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You don’t know how long you lie on the ground and ponder your crimes but eventually you summon the strength to get up and try again. 

You make a new portal. 

Just a small one. You just want to watch for now. You don’t think you’re ready to interact with a world again.  

The universe you watch this time is much angrier than your own. The interactions between humans and monsters are tense and everyone is… edgy, for lack of a better word. It doesn’t take much time watching it for you to determine you wouldn’t want to visit it anyway. You leave it open just in case something interesting happens and make another one. 

It’s a town blanketed with snow. Everything looks dilapidated and abandoned and honestly kind of eerie. You don’t look at it for very long before moving on to another portal. 

You open dozens in a small radius in your empty expanse. So many different worlds, so many that are similar to each other and yet none that feel right . Some are nicer than others but all have a similar framework. A certain set of variables that are different every time. Eventually you start recognising the patterns, the changes that frequently appear together. It does you no good, but it feels like progress in its own way.

And yet in all those portals not a single one was correct. Not a single world was yours. You’re determined to get it right. You’ll open as many as it takes. 

You’re scrutinizing a mall that seems only occupied by humans when you pause.

Something feels off. 

There is a tingle of static on the back of your neck. A definitive wrongness like imminent lightning. 

There is a portal behind you that you did not open. 

A dark skeleton monster steps through with all the nonchalance of stepping into his own room, red sockets with mismatched eyelights scanning around before slowly focusing on you. 

His clothes seem haphazardly stitched together and unnervingly his entire form seems to jitter and re-arrange, like glitches in reality localized purely on him. That might be close to the truth, if the bizarre ‘ERROR’ messages flickering around him are anything to go by. 

You take a step back and he matches you with a step forward. His yellow teeth widen into a big grin that makes you incredibly nervous. It does not seem kind.

“Th-there you are, glitch-tch.” He says it like an insult and you can’t help but think it’s ironic coming from him. He’s the one that looks and sounds like a walking glitch. “You’re th-the one m-making all these stupid-d port-portals.”

“Yeah?” Your voice is rough from all the crying and screaming. You clear your throat. It doesn’t help. You wonder how long it’s been since you had a glass of water. “Is that a problem? Am I breaking a law or something?” 

The skeleton throws his head back and laughs. The noise is high and whiny, like an ancient computer struggling to render the latest video game graphics. “Only th-the laws of na-nature. You-ou shouldn’t exist-t.” He takes another casual step forward.

“That’s not very nice.” You are uneasy, but this is your first direct interaction with another person in ages. You might just be reading things wrong.

“It’s th-the truth. That’s o-o-okay, though-ough. I’m here to set th-things right.” Another step forward and his hands move from resting at his sides. Never mind. That is enough of a threat for you. You’d rather be accidentally rude than dead.

You rip the nearest portal open wider and sprint through it.

“H-hey! Let m-m-me erase you!” The skeleton calls after you, but you ignore it. 

How can you escape the person that found you in the middle of a random empty void thing? 

You make it a dozen meters into the other world before you rip open another portal. You have no idea where you’re going but that might be just enough to confuse him too. You’ll just hop through as many as you can until you lose him.

Your portals are messy and uneven and sometimes you have to sidestep to actually fit through them, but they come to you with ease now. You have no idea what prompts them to open to the places they do but that should work in your favor for now.

A dim cavern, a sparkling beach, a dense forest. Empty voids, a park with a dazzling sky of stars and moons, a smokey and dreary old-timey town. You tumble through the air and crash into salt water and flounder for a moment before ripping open another portal and falling back onto dry land. You splutter and cough but manage to rise to your feet and keep moving. 

You lose count of how many places you run through.

And yet, every time you slow down or misstep, the skeleton appears through a portal just behind you. You only get a sense of him right before you jump through the next portal but he’s still there. You are getting less and less confident that you can outrun him. 

You’re starting to tire and your hands ache. You are going to have to stand your ground. The next world you enter is the remnants of a burnt forest. The ground is dark and covered in a layer of ash, the corpses of burned trees everywhere like dark bones sticking out of the ground. It’s empty and wide open and the perfect place for an epic battle. Or something. All you can do is hope you can defend yourself.

You stop and turn right as a large portal is ripped open behind you. The skeleton emerges and he looks much angrier than the first time you saw him. His sockets are now filled with those error messages and his body stutters and glitches with greater frequency. 

“S-s-stop running-ing!!” 

You’re not sure what you expected. A fistfight? Him to pull out a knife? Some kind of normal fight that you would stand a chance in? What you were not expecting is to one minute be ready to take him on, and the next be completely immobilized by dozens of thin blue strings. 

They come out of nowhere and suspend you off the ground, digging into you sharply and squeezing the breath out of your lungs. You stare at him in dawning realization that you gravely miscalculated. You were better off running. You were not prepared to fight.

The skeleton closes the distance between you with a sharp scowl on his face, those weird glitches more prominent as they angrily flit around him. “Finally-y.” He makes a motion with a hand like he’s hooking something out of the air and with a very unsettling feeling draws out your soul. There’s no other explanation for what it could be.

...You don’t think it’s supposed to look like that.

“N-now that I-I-I have you-you, go on. Tell m-me your s-sob story. I wa-wanna know what k-kind of an-anomaly I’m-m fixing.”

You stare at him and wheeze pitifully. He rolls his eyelights with a put upon sigh and the strings around your chest are loosened with a small twitch of his fingers. 

You suck in a sharp breath and cough. The skeleton leans back with a disgusted look. You’re glad you can breathe properly again, but you have no idea what he wants from you. “What are you talking about?”

“Why ar-are you l-l-like this?” He gestures to all of you and you stare at him harder. 

“I don’t know what that means!” Your voice cracks again but now from emotion. You aren’t sure if you can appease him, and even if you do he seems dead set on probably killing you. 

The skeleton throws his hands up in the air with an exasperated noise. He points accusingly at you and leans in, his sockets narrowed. “Ar-are you stupid-d.” 

Your jaw drops. Who the fuck is this guy?? Chasing you through multiple universes, calling you a glitch, saying he’s going to get rid of you, and now just plain calling you stupid. “No?” You hate that it comes out like a question. 

He leans back again and studies you. You can hear his foot tapping on the dirt. “You s-seem a little stupid-id. You-ou don’t know h-how you g-got like-ike this?”

“I don’t know what ‘like this’ is. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You thrash in your restraints and they squeeze threateningly. The skeleton hums thoughtfully. 

“How did-did you end-d up in th-the antivoid?” 

“Is that the weird white place? I don’t know! I fell in or something and couldn’t get out.” The frustration is hot in your chest and wet on your cheeks. Your throat feels tight. 

“Wh-what a shitty back-backstory.” He shrugs and holds a hand up to your soul, floating vulnerable and ensnared in strings in front of your chest. “Su-sucks to b-be you-you I g-guess.” 

You flinch and close your eyes in anticipation. You don’t want to see your soul get crushed.

But nothing happens. No pain. There’s a moment of silence and then overwhelming noise, like a jet just blasted past your left side. You feel the noise in your chest and whole body and moments later it’s over. 

You can hear enraged shouting through the ringing in your ears and suddenly you’re falling. You hit the ground hard and cough at the cloud of ash that kicks up. You scrub your hands over your face and blink up through watery eyes. 

The dark skeleton has backed up a considerable distance, a wide and long track of even darker burnt ground extending past you on your left side. “Wh-what are you-you t-two doing here-here??” He stamps his foot petulantly and kicks up another cloud of ash. There’s footsteps behind you on either side and you scramble to your hands and knees. 

You are flanked by two more skeletons. Pale white bones this time, both dressed casually and armed . The larger of the two—by a wide margin, both tall and broad and sporting a gruesome hole in his skull—is dragging a sizable axe over the ground. He steps in front of you and you can see your reflection faintly in the flat of the large blade. 

The other is expertly flipping a knife in the air, pausing to catch and balance it on the tip of his finger when you catch his gaze. He winks and your eyes widen. He’s leaning against an enormous floating dog skull thing, one ankle crossed over the other, but you get the sense he is ready to pounce at any moment. 

“heyyy, error. just picking up a package for the boss.” It’s the smaller of the two that speaks. His voice is confident and taunting and he slowly looks up from you to grin at the glitching skeleton. “ya know, it’s illegal to mess with mail that isn’t yours.” 

“I f-found th-them first-st!!” Error seethes, yanking roughly at the strings hanging from his sockets. A mirror image of the floating skull appears at his side, matching him in color scheme and similarly flickering with glitches. Its maw opens with a creak and you think it might be charging up to blast you to pieces is that thing a fucking laser???

The giant skeleton before you hefts the axe onto his shoulder before sinking it heavily into the ground in front of himself. The blade buries halfway up its face with a very solid thnk that reverberates up through your arms and legs from the ground. “don’t try it.”

The one with the knife doesn't move from his casual stance but his grin widens. “this really how you wanna spend your weekend?” His knife is flipped again and caught by the handle. 

It’s enough to make Error pause. The black laser skull thing disappears in an eye-straining burst of glitches and Error turns on his heel to stomp away. “This isn’t-t worth m-m-my time an-anyway.” He rips open a portal and steps through without another word.

It’s not until the portal is gone that your heroes relax. The white skull laser thing is similarly dismissed and you shakily stand up. The axe is pulled from the ground and seemingly… disappears from the skeleton’s hands. You’ve stopped questioning these kinds of things.

“Thank you for saving me.” You rub your arm slowly and look between them. They don’t exactly look like what you’d expect to be your saviors but perhaps looks can be deceiving. They did seemingly risk their lives to scare that Error guy off.

“don’t thank us yet.” The shorter skeleton, his sockets dripping black streaks of something, grins wide and without a hint of sincerity. “you just got outta the frying pan and thrown into the fire.” He looks you up and down with a cocked head and snorts. “though looks like you need it. why’re you soggy?”  

You don’t like the sound of that. Before you can even react there’s a solid arm being slung around your waist and you’re being hefted up and tossed over a shoulder. The larger skeleton grunts and starts walking, jostling you with every step, and your brain stops working for a second.

“Wh- what? Who are you? Where are we going? Put me down!” You squirm helplessly but the grip this guy has on you is like iron. He doesn’t budge no matter how hard you thrash.

“no can do.” The big one’s voice is deep and you can feel the way it rumbles in his chest even through the thick padding of his jacket. 

“i’m killer, he’s axe.” Very apt. Almost too apt. Apt enough to get you to stop wiggling and stare down at Killer incredulously. “we’ll be your escorts this evening.” He winks at you again and you freeze. Everything about this guy catches you off guard in the weirdest of ways.

You do know how to react when his knife is pointed right at you, held steadily in your face as he keeps in step with Axe. “no funny business, yeah? the boss said to keep you intact, but i don’t mind delivering you in repairable pieces if you decide to make this difficult.” You purse your lips and nod rapidly. “and fair warning—i’ve never lost a game of tag. don’t try to run.” You nod again and the knife is twirled and mysteriously disappears. “very good. let’s go.” 

You can’t see the portal but you feel it when you’re carried through. The air turns cool and damp and you’re encased by the dark stone of what you think is a castle’s dungeon. You hate this. 

You’re dropped unceremoniously onto a cot in the corner of the cell and Axe departs without a second glance. Killer gestures from his empty sockets to you with a smirk, his meaning clear. He’s watching. Don’t try anything. You don’t plan to. He steps through the door of your cell and slams it shut, the lock turning with a sense of finality.

Chapter Text

It doesn’t take very long after being left in your cell for you to revert back to your trusty coping mechanism. You could relish the fact you’re actually in a room instead of an empty void and count the stones that make up the floor, wall, and ceiling… or you could sit there and talk to yourself. 

Your brain is quiet. There are no voices giving you running commentary over your new experiences or questioning your actions and the events around you. You almost miss them. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to about what is going on considering just… how many things have happened. At least the voices are more enriching than trying to remember memes. 

You’re tempted to open up some portals for entertainment but the looming threat of violence makes you hesitate. You’re unsure if it’d be read as an attempt to escape and don’t want to risk it.

So you talk, curled up on your cot. 

“I wonder how far I ran. I should’ve tried to count how many portals I made, that was nuts.” You’re still soaked from your impromptu drop into an ocean and the cool air makes you shiver. Hopefully you won’t have to wait long for whatever they’re going to do with you. 

You examine your hands. The weird darkness that’d started at your fingertips has now spread up past your wrists. You can still feel and use them just fine but it’s certainly worrying. Will it fade after a while? What exactly is it? “I hope this isn’t permanent.”

“stars, do you ever shut up.” 

You startle. On the other side of your cell’s bars sits another skeleton half hidden in shadow. His hood is up over his skull, obscuring his features aside from bright red and blue lights leering at you through the darkness. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” You ask. You stare unblinkingly at each other for a few moments. You lose the staring contest when you look away nervously. The skeleton doesn’t respond, though when you finally flit your gaze back to him he’s still eyeing you with impressive amounts of disinterest.

You decide to keep your thoughts to yourself. You lie back on your cot and stare through the barred window. A starry sky glitters prettily back at you and you’re grateful there’s at least something nice about your situation. You don’t recognise the constellations but that’s okay. You’re in some other universe anyway. They can’t help guide you home anymore than you can help yourself.

  ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You wake up sometime later without ever having realized you fell asleep, jolted into consciousness by Killer dropping onto the foot of your cot with an obnoxious “heyyyyy~”

The sound of the wind through the trees must’ve lulled you to sleep. The cot being comfier than the ground in the void probably helped, too. You still miss having a real bed.

You stare blearily at the skeleton before you, willing yourself into wakefulness, and he grins back. “brought you some food. courtesy of axe.” He holds out a tray to you laden with a light meal— some kind of soup, toast, and juice.

You hesitantly accept the tray with a groggy ‘thanks’ and at the first taste find yourself practically scarfing it down. You’re not sure how long it’s been since you last ate, and you hadn’t really felt the need to when you were trapped in the void, but now that you are eating… you realize just how much you need this. 

“damn. you remind me of axe when he first showed up.” You look up at Killer with a mouthful of toast, moments away from washing it down with soup straight from the bowl. The spoon is holding you back. 

Killer’s watching you with an unreadable expression, though the easy smile hasn’t dropped from his face even a fraction. As the eye contact continues he slowly tilts his skull to the side and his grin turns into something more sincerely amused. He leans in slightly. “is there something on my face or am i just that handsome?” The way he says it makes you think he’s assuming the latter.

You can’t resist. You nod and point to your own cheek. “Tears.”

Killer pulls back from you with a harsh bark of laughter and you smile around another mouthful of food. Being the skeletons’ prisoner has been better than being stuck in the void so far. Maybe things’ll turn out alright. You can try to stay on Killer’s good side— you at the very least don’t want to be on his bad side if his name is anything to go by. 

Even as the food is warming you up and giving you energy to think, you can feel yourself getting more and more tired. The nap wasn’t enough, clearly, and you have a lot of rest to catch up on. 

Killer stands and stretches, spine arching languidly like a cat’s. “i’ll get you some more. don’t go anywhere.” With a wink and a goofy salute he disappears before your very eyes. 

You don’t get much time to ponder that act of magic as the movement of placing your tray on the floor sends you into a dizzy spell. You lie down with a groan. 

You’re pleasantly sated from the food, but your limbs are only feeling heavier by the moment while your head suddenly feels light. You need another nap. 

  ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You wake up again with a start. You must be in dire need of rest to be passing out so quickly. Your mouth feels dry and you’re still light headed, but a glance up through your window yields… the exact same view as when you last looked. You’ve either been asleep for either a few minutes or 24 hours. 

There’s another tray of food on the floor where you’d put the previous, laden with another serving of soup and bread. It’s gone cold. You’re surprised Killer (you assume it was him again) didn’t wake you up a second time. Maybe you just slept through his attempt.

You eat slower this time, working around an uncomfortable fuzziness in your head. A mug of cold tea and a glass of water sates your thirst but the food sits heavy in your stomach. 

You make it through half before having to stop, but lying down doesn’t help any. Pacing back and forth in your cell at least offers you a bit of warmth from the movement, and though your clothes are still a bit wet you’re at least airing them out a bit.

“i liked you better when you were unconscious.” 

You glance at your skeleton guard and he inclines his head in response, challenging you. You open your mouth… then close it. You can’t come up with a retort. When you turn away with a frown you can hear him snort derisively.

It’s as you’re making your 75th lap across the little cell that movement on the other side of the bars catches your eye. 

Another skeleton, dressed head to toe in white and black. He seems a bit bigger than Killer, wider in the chest and carrying himself with a confidence that makes him feel taller than he is. He doesn’t even spare you a glance as the hooded skeleton gets up with a grumbled ‘finally’ and slinks away.

Instead of taking the seat facing your cell he’s opted to lean back against the wall with his arms crossed. His face is partially covered by the scarf around his neck, but his sockets betray his sullen expression. You stop in front of your bars and give him a hesitant wave.

“Hi.” 

No response. He looks back at you with dim white lights and once again you engage in a little staring contest. He’s the first to look away this time, brow furrowing slightly, but remains silent.

You sigh dejectedly. Finally free and you still can’t find someone to talk to. You resume pacing. You’re not sure if you prefer the random snide comments or the awkward silence. You’d kill for some company.

  ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The next time you wake up it’s to another tray of food and a set of clothes on the floor beside you. You aren’t excited about putting on clean clothes without having a shower first but what else can you do? 

A quick glance outside your cell shows there’s no skeleton guarding you at the moment. Convenient… or intentional. You take the moment of privacy to change, and mere moments after you’ve pulled the sweater over your head—you’re grateful you don’t have to be cold anymore—the hooded skeleton is back. 

The clothes fit, loosely. They’re comfortable at least. Judging from the somewhat sporty style they probably belong to one of the skeletons. They all seem to dress similar enough, aside from the silent black and white one, they may as well be clones.

Come to think of it, they're all pretty similar looking. Maybe they are clones. 

Cosying up on your cot in your new dry clothes and warm, you breathe a sigh of relief. You briefly wonder what took them so long to give you some, then realize the comfort of their prisoner probably isn’t too high on the priority list. 

You’ve been served breakfast this time and the variety after going so long with nothing thrills you. You don’t think you’ve ever been this excited for breakfast before.

Once you’ve had your fill you lie back and sigh. Finally warm and with your hunger and thirst sated, you find yourself almost… happy. It’s the little things. You’re cozy and the view (or what you can see of it at least) is nice. 

“damn, you look like you might start purring. you really that comfortable down here?” 

Killer’s voice startles you out of your light doze. He’s leaned over you, face inches from yours. He’s lucky you didn’t startle upright or you’d have headbutt him. 

“It’s not that bad.” You say. “Better now that I’m warm.” 

He doesn’t pull back, seemingly content to hold a conversation nose to nose. A black tear hits your cheek. You watch warily as he reaches a hand up to wipe it away. “aww, acclimated already? i’d heard humans were adaptable but that’s ridiculous.” He laughs and finally straightens up to give you space. 

You sit up and stretch, Killer watching you with a sharp grin. His sockets are guileful half-moons. “shame i’m here on business. i much prefer pleasure.” 

You flush and laugh nervously. You haven’t seen him without a tray of food yet and you did just eat, so it must be something new. “What do you mean?” 

Killer winks and saunters over to the door of your cell. It swings open with little resistance. “funny how few people actually try opening the door.” 

Your jaw drops. Has that been unlocked the whole time? You follow him through with no hesitation, eager to be free of the bars. You can’t believe it. He winks again. You have no words.

“heh, that’s a good expression.” You follow him down a narrow stone hallway and up spiral stairs. If the dungeon wasn’t enough of a giveaway, this confirms it. You’re in a castle. “the boss wants to see you.” 

The boss? If that isn’t ominous you don’t know what is. 

Killer seems to be in no hurry to get to this meeting, maintaining a leisurely pace that almost feels too slow. “What’s he like?” 

Killer smirks. “you’ll see.” 

Of course.

Reaching the top of the stairs you’re let out into a courtyard, lit by blue-flamed torches. You think the neatly trimmed hedges might have black roses, but in the dim lighting it’s hard to be sure. 

You’re flanked on all sides by tall stone walls and entryways—you think this courtyard might be the center of the castle. Even if you’d realized your cell was unlocked you would’ve absolutely gotten lost before you found the exit. Looking up you’re finally given a proper view of the stunning night sky overhead.

There are more stars than you’ve ever seen and you stop in your tracks to stare up in awe. You doubt it’s the Milky Way you know, but you can see the streak of a galaxy slicing the sky in half. The moon hangs bright overhead, full and familiar despite it all. 

“neat, huh?”

You startle. You’d nearly forgotten Killer was there… and that you’re currently heading to a meeting with his ‘boss’.

“I don’t think ‘neat’ really does it justice.” You want to sleep under those stars. 

“yeah, yeah. c’mon.” Despite the dismissive tone, you catch the slight incline of his head as you continue walking. You’re not the only one with your eyes on the stars. 

The castle proper is fancier than you expected it to be. Richly colored carpet cushions your feet as you walk through the halls, tapestries and hanging banners strung up nearly every step of the way. It feels like you just stepped into a history book yet nothing about this castle feels old . The stones all look new, the decor is pristine. 

Where are you?

Hallway after hallway gives way unto stairs. You briefly regret not trying to memorize the path Killer took you on, but it doesn’t take long for you to realize you probably wouldn’t have remembered anyway. After he turns left for the fourth time in a row, you realize perhaps this route was longer than it needed to be. He sticks his tongue out at you when he catches your put upon expression.

You only briefly wonder why a skeleton has a tongue. 

Killer stops in front of a grand set of wooden doors, carved with intricate designs of branches and leaves. There are some stars carved into the wood, making you think the large abalone shell circle set between the doors is a moon. He knocks curtly and a smooth low voice answers shortly after.

“You may enter.” 

You get pushed up to the door by a hand at the small of your back and you give Killer a startled look. He winks. “go on then. don’t wanna keep the big boss waiting.” 

Anxiety is building in you again, and when you raise a hand to one of the pearlescent half-circles you can’t help but hesitate. You bite your lip and turn to Killer. 

He tilts his head to the side as you try to get your words in order, though a minute shift in his expression betrays that maybe you shouldn’t be wasting time like this. You don’t think this enigmatic ‘boss’ will appreciate you making him wait. 

“Um. Thank you.” You don’t wait for a reply and you’re not really sure what you’re thanking him for. You just felt the need to say something . 

You quickly push your way through the heavy doors. 

You enter a massive study. The plant and celestial motif from the door is continued inside, the domed ceiling painted with an array of constellations that draws your eye. The wooden walls feature carved trees and recesses with statuettes and paintings and one wall is entirely taken up with bookshelves. You feel like you just walked into a king’s study. At the far end, facing away from a set of large stained glass windows, is unmistakably the skeleton Killer calls his boss.

He’s seated in an antique velvet armchair behind a grand dark solid wood desk, papers organized in front of him in neat piles. You think he might be using a raven’s feather quill to write… but his regal and eccentric choices of decor are not the most interesting thing about him.

His resemblance to the others ends at being a skeleton. Similar to the first one you met, Error, his bones are black. It doesn’t seem to be the color of his bones, but rather they seem to be coated in something– a viscous black substance with an iridescent oil slick sheen in shades of cyans and dim purples. Even at a distance you can tell that he’s big , roughly at eye level with you while seated. Broad shouldered and chested, he honestly looks like he could snap you in half with one hand. He’s dressed nicely, a dark collared shirt beneath a suit jacket. You catch the glint of rings on his phalanges and some kind of delicate ornament clipped into the collar of his shirt. You are staring and you know it. 

His one visible socket, the other obscured behind a layer of whatever is covering the rest of him, is focused intently on his work. He doesn’t even glance up as you enter, and if he hadn’t told you to come in you’d wonder if he was even aware of you at all. After a few moments of no acknowledgment and watching him awkwardly, you slowly make your way towards him. He doesn’t react as you approach  or when you slowly take a seat in one of the chairs set up opposite him. 

You watch him quietly, fumbling with your hands nervously, before looking away. You don’t want to be caught staring, but his appearance is eye-catching. At least his office is equally interesting to look at. You have no shortage of objects and art pieces to observe. You wish you’d been trapped in here instead. At least you would’ve had something to read.

Movement in the corner of your eye draws your attention. The skeleton has finally stopped working, putting his quill away and leaning back in his chair. He watches you with a half-lidded socket and a slit cyan eye light that reminds you of a big cat watching its prey. His head tilts to the side as you continue to meet his stare and you can’t help but look away under the intensity of it. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? 

The neutral smile on his face ticks up at the corners, just slightly, as you struggle to make eye contact for more than a moment at a time. Seemingly satisfied with something , he chuckles. “It is rude not to introduce yourself upon meeting someone for the first time.” His voice is rich and low and despite the undercurrent of vague amusement it sends a chill through you. There’s something about him that unnerves you, something about being near him that feels off . 

You sit up a little straighter, squeezing one hand tight. You feel dizzy again. “Sorry, sorry. I… don’t know why I’m here. And I- haven’t really had a real conversation with anyone in… a long time?” You clear your throat awkwardly and tell him your name. 

The skeleton echoes it in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t tell if it was a good thing or not. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Nightmare, the Guardian of Negativity.”

That means absolutely nothing to you and he can tell. His smile is patient if a little sly and you can already feel that you are well in over your head. “You are aware of the multiverse, I presume.” You nod. You hadn’t put it into perspective like that, but considering all the worlds you’ve jumped into… calling it a multiverse seems apt. 

He continues. “It is vast and chaotic. Nigh-infinite universes fighting for relevance and meaning. From outside it is possible to see how it is all connected, like a troupe of marionettes being conducted by flimsy strings of fate. Yet, from within, each seems to be its own infinity, stretching beyond the imagination… and it all hangs in a delicate balance.” 

Nightmare stands and makes his way to one of the tall bookshelves across the room. You turn in your chair to watch him pull a book and examine the cover. He replaces it and turns to you, gesturing to expansive shelves. “Consider a library. Were every book to have a happy ending, that happiness would cease to have meaning. How can you possibly cherish it without also understanding the tragedy of having it withheld?”

The silence drags on and you are starting to wonder if that question wasn’t rhetorical. Nightmare continues to look at you expectantly. There’s nothing to indicate any impatience but you still quickly search for a thought to voice. “You… make sure there are bad endings?”

 “There are no bad endings. Dreary, tragic, somber, violent… but not bad. All kinds of existences are important. In this way, balance is maintained.” 

You’re not sure how you feel about entire existences being categorized as ‘happy’ and ‘sad’. You bite your lip. “Doesn’t everyone deserve a happy ending?” 

Nightmare looks pleased, as though he was expecting you to say that. “Perhaps. But not everyone does, and it would throw everything out of balance were that the case. Where there is light, there will be darkness.” He makes his way back to his desk and reclaims his seat. You still struggle to maintain eye contact at this distance.

Once again it seems to be your turn to speak. You ball up your hands, trying to piece it all together. Trying to process the scope of what you are being told. It’s incomprehensible. “What does that have to do with me?” 

Nightmare’s eye light gleams and his sly smile widens. “I wish to hire you.” 

You look up, eyes wide. What…? 

“You have met the others in my employ. They assist me in claiming universes for my domain and maintaining those that I already oversee. You would do the same.” Nightmare pulls a page from a pile and slides it in front of you. A quick glance shows it’s a contract, the script elegant and clear despite very clearly also being handwritten. 

You lean back and shake your head. “I don’t… I’m not looking for a job. I want to go home.” Your eyes widen as some of the information he’s just told you falls into place. “You could take me home, couldn’t you? You know all the universes?” 

To your immense disappointment he shakes his head. “I do not know them all, but there are ways to identify to which you belong. If you were to work for me eventually you would be able to do so yourself.” 

You’re starting to hate being in a state of constant confusion. You’re so tired of asking questions, not knowing what’s going on. “What do you mean?” 

A stack of papers are picked up and rifled through. Nightmare scans one page before setting it down, tapping it with a long clawed phalange. “You are capable of traversing between universes, yes? I would assist you in honing this ability.” 

That’s not quite what you were hoping to hear, but still… “And then I could go home, huh. What are the terms of this ‘employment’?” 

“The terms are detailed here.” He gestures to the contract. “Only one other in this castle can create portals like you and I, and we are not always available to assist the others when they are on a mission.”

“So I’d be a chauffeur.” That doesn’t seem so bad. You get to master your weird portal power and go home. Maybe have an adventure or two along the way.

There’s that mysterious smile again. Nightmare folds his hands primly on the desk and regards you coolly. “In the simplest of terms, yes.” 

It almost seems too good to be true. Which means it probably is… but what other options do you have? “And what would you be getting out of this?” 

“A valuable asset.” You can see how having an additional person who can go wherever they want in the multiverse would be helpful, especially with weirdos like Error running around.

You stare hard at the intricately scrawled document. This is your best offer so far. The words swim in front of your eyes so you shut them tight, rubbing your temples. Darn headache. When you open your eyes again, Nightmare is watching you closely. 

You’ve reached a decision. 

Nightmare holds out his hand, his smile quirking up into a smirk. “We have a deal, I take it?” His hand is large and solid, despite the gaps in the bones of his palm. You can see all the little bones that make up his wrist. The rings look even more elegant up close. 

What else can you do?

You slowly take his hand. 

Chapter Text

Nightmare’s grip on your hand is tight, but not unwelcome. With a slight tug to your arm he leans in, single eye light glinting mischievously. He looks like the cat that got the cream, and you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“A wise decision,” he croons. You’re not so sure. 

But your head feels better, less muddled, and a weird tightness in your chest has weakened. You feel like you can finally breathe after being stifled for ages. 

The contract is once again pushed your way followed shortly after by the quill and inkwell. Your signature is messy and you drip ink along the page, but Nightmare seems pleased with your effort nonetheless. 

He pulls something from a desk drawer, holding it over a candle to his side. “Not going to read it?” He muses, and it’s only as he pours heated wax from the metal spoon onto the contract that you realise what he’s doing. A quick press of a stamp into the wax to the side of your signature, and your fate is sealed. 

You probably should’ve read it. In your defense, you’re still trying to process everything that’s happened to you in the last number of hours. 

Maybe you should’ve tried to negotiate before agreeing. “I will. Eventually.” Maybe he would’ve given you… something. Even if you have no idea what you’d want from him, aside from help and somewhere to stay in the meantime.

“I will have a copy sent to your room.” You breathe a sigh of relief. So you do have room and board at least. “Killer will show you the way and help you get settled.” 

Your contract is rolled up and tied with a neat ribbon to be set off to the side. The more you interact with Nightmare, the more at ease you feel. He still unnerves you slightly, but the antiquated demeanor and civility you’ve been treated with makes you feel… better. Less anxious. You hope it’s not a mistake to let your guard down like this.

Nightmare pushes his chair back and stands, proving your previous estimate correct. He's huge. You think the top of your head reaches just under his collar.

You hastily jump to your feet and follow as he shows you to the door. "You shouldn't have any trouble with the others, but if you find yourself at odds and fail to handle it alone… do let me know. I strive to keep a tight ship, as they say."

You nod hesitantly. You figured as much, but it is reassuring that Nightmare seems to be a good boss. 

“I expect you will be cleaned up for lunch. You will be officially introduced to the other residents then.” Nightmare wryly taps a clawed phalange below his socket. You really could use a shower… you hope you haven’t gone through this whole meeting smelling like you haven’t bathed. You haven’t bathed, but you can hope. 

He turns to face you before the large doors and the icy way he says your name stops you in your tracks. Or maybe it's the sudden drop in temperature, or the way the shadows on the walls seem to grow and curl around you. Your feet feel glued to the ground. 

"Do not disappoint me." 

Your body frees itself enough for you to nod quickly, and at the sharp glint of his eye light focusing on you you stutter out a weak, 'yes sir'. 

"Very good," he purrs, and the spell is broken. He returns to his desk and you realize you had been frozen to the ground, your own shadow having crept up over your legs to hold you in place. You shudder to think what else he can do. He waves a hand with a knowing smile. "You are dismissed." 

“R-right. Yes, um. Good bye. Thank you.” How are you supposed to end a meeting with a demi-god guardian person? You pray he can’t see the embarrassed flush on your face as you quickly exit his study. 

Killer meets you on the other side, leaned back against the railing of the landing. His hands are folded behind his head and he regards you with those empty sockets and that unnerving wide grin. He steps away from the railing with a big stretch and cocks his head to the side. “you’re still in one piece so i assume you did the smart thing.” 

That doesn’t inspire confidence in letting your guard down. You tense up and he laughs. “oh don’t take it so seriously. c’mon.” 

You follow on unsteady legs and a few steps beyond the door you feel like you might collapse. Suddenly the weight of all your fears and anxieties come crashing down on you again and you wince as your throat constricts. There is… so much going on. You still have no idea what to make of most of it. 

“oh, yeah. the boss can have that kinda effect on people.” Killer watches you with no amount of sympathy but a decent amount of amusement in sockets shaped like half-moons. 

You brace yourself against the railing as you wonder how you managed to get through that meeting without panicking. You were so… calm and collected. Your hand didn’t even shake as you signed who-knows-what away, and yet here you are struggling to stand. 

Killer pulls you upright and dusts you off. He pats your cheek and you focus on that patronising action to ground yourself. “boss was probably snacking on all your negative feelings so you wouldn’t pass out from fear during your meeting.” He pauses, then snorts. “or he was just hungry.” You have no idea what that means, but you allow Killer to grab your arm and drag you down the hall. 

You’re in a bit of a daze, not really processing all the hallways you pass through, but it doesn’t take long for him to stop in front of a door and shoulder it open. 

Entering after him you find yourself unceremoniously shoved onto the bed. You fall into it with no struggle. It’s plush and comfortable and you just barely manage to summon the willpower to lift your head and look at Killer. He’s standing at the foot of your bed with that same, wide grin. “lunch’s in an hour. someone’ll come by and bring you to the dining room. better get washed up before then, yeah?”

The words barely register in your head among the sea of incomprehensible events you’ve endured since you ended up in the antivoid. Something so mundane as lunch isn’t nearly as important to you, especially compared to realising you just agreed to work for a seemingly eldritch, multiversal being who makes sure entire universes are steeped in agony. 

What is wrong with you. What has your life become?

Killer seems to realise your predicament. He leans forward to plant his hands on the bed on either side of your legs and the grin on his face now has a different edge to it. 

“do i need to help you?” 

It takes time for the words to register, but when they and the look on his face finally process in your mind you quickly sit up and scoot back on the bed. Safely out of range, you furiously shake your head. “No!” He straightens back up with a deeply amused expression. “No. Thank you. I can take care of myself.” You can disassociate in the shower. You still need to be present in the moment. You’re stuck in a castle with people named things like Killer, Axe, and Nightmare. You need to be careful.

Killer shrugs. “fair enough. it’s a standing offer, though. i'll leave you to it.” He winks and disappears before your eyes. You blink at the sudden discrepancy, and it’s a few moments before you feel comfortable enough to crawl off the bed and investigate the room. 

Your bed. Your room. This is where you’re living now.

It’s decently sized, but given the scale of the castle it makes sense the bedrooms would be spacious. A wooden four-post bed, a warm rug beneath your feet, a desk and chair. Heavy velvet curtains stretching from floor to ceiling. Two doors not including the one you entered through, and you open one to reveal a bathroom.

You’re struck by the opulence of your lodging—the stonework in the bathroom and the claw footed bath alone make you feel like you’re in the height of luxury. As much as you’d love to soak in that bath, you don’t want to be soaking in your own grime. You want to get clean. A quick glance in the mirror solidifies that fact… and a second look reveals a black smudge across your cheek under your eye. 

Killer didn’t clean the black tears off of you, he just rubbed it in. You try not to think about what Nightmare must’ve thought and instead step into the walk-in shower. 

Do all the bedrooms have fancy ensuites like this? How many bedrooms are there? How many people live here? Your brain aches with only more questions and precious few answers.

The hot water is soothing and you relax instantly as it washes over you. You slide down the smooth stone wall to sit beneath the spray and close your eyes, letting the white noise of the water clear your mind. It works, and you robotically go through your routine with the provided products you find on the shelf. Maybe they’ll let you get your own stuff later.

You make a watery mess of the floor when you finally force yourself to leave your steamy safe place. You have to hunt for a towel, but eventually find a stack of them in the cabinet below the sink. 

Now onto the issue of fresh clothes. 

You bring your dirty clothes out into the bedroom with you just in case, but you have a hunch about the remaining door in your room. You don’t want to be presumptuous, but with the way things have been provided for you so far…

Your hunch turns out to be correct, and the third door opens up to a small walk-in closet stocked with a wide variety of clothes. There seems to be an assortment of sizes roughly around yours, but it’s all clean and that’s all that matters to you. You pause when you spot the tags on the outfit you pick out, and a quick examination of other items shows that… everything still has its tag attached. It’s all new clothes. You choose to ignore how much it all must’ve cost and instead relish in being clean and comfortable.

Nightmare clearly isn’t worried about money if he owns a castle. If he wants to supply you with a wardrobe, who are you to complain? Some of it’s to your taste and you won’t be letting it go to waste. 

Dressed and clean and seemingly with time to kill, you’re once again left with nothing but your thoughts. The bookshelf beside the desk is empty and there doesn’t seem to be anything to occupy yourself with while you wait. Your phone has long since been dead and there isn’t a charger that you can see (you should really ask for one). 

Desperate for any kind of distraction from the encroaching thoughts of your predicament, you pull back the curtains to check your view. 

You’re surprised when you’re met with a glass door leading out to a balcony. It overlooks the courtyard you passed through before, giving you a beautiful view of the full moon illuminating the garden and the blanket of stars overhead. 

The night (is it really night if it’s always night?) air is refreshing after your time in the musty cell and antivoid. It smells faintly of roses, you think. You missed being able to smell the air. 

You missed being able to feel. To see. 

You find your thoughts quieting down the longer you stare at the stars– breathing deeply and focusing on all the sensations you were deprived of. 

“never gets old, huh?” 

You startle and quickly cut off your scream with a hand over your mouth. “Was that really necessary?” You hiss. You hadn’t heard him approach, let alone open the balcony door or lean over your shoulder. 

"na, but it was def worth it." Killer straightens up and follows your gaze skyward. "you got a nice view." 

You agree. You still haven't seen a hint of sunlight since you've been here but you can't deny the somber beauty of your surroundings. 

“When you said ‘someone’ would be escorting me to lunch, I expected… well, someone else.” 

Killer laughs with a shrug. “nobody else wanted to.” 

Ouch. 

“aww, don’t feel bad. they’ll come around eventually. maybe.” He puts an arm around your shoulder as you stand and you stiffen at the contact. He boops your nose playfully. “in the meantime i’ll be your friend. your bestie by default, even.” 

You gingerly remove yourself from his hold and take a step to reclaim your personal space. “You barely know me.” 

“eh, i learn quick on the job.” You follow as he heads back into your room and out into the hallway. “plus the boss likes a cohesive team. you’d be smart to try and get on our good sides, even if we’re not what you’d consider ‘friend material’.” 

You make a conscious effort to pay attention to the path to the dining room. To your relief it isn't’ far– this seems to be the wing of the castle that people live in. You pass the entrance to a large living room and make note of the copious cushions, couches, and modes of entertainment. You couldn’t even begin to guess which of the skeletons are ‘gamers’, but you get the briefest glance of an assortment of consoles.

The dining room is a lot… cozier than you anticipated. You were expecting something grand that could host dozens of people, lavishly decorated like the medieval castles Nightmare seems to emulate. It’s not a sharp change from the style of the rest of the castle, but it’s still much more normal-looking compared to the eccentricity of living in a castle. 

It’s a big dining table for sure, but looks like it could host 10 people at most. The four skeletons sitting around the table are making the most of this, putting plenty of distance between themselves and their nearest neighbor. There are only six seats, and the two empty ones flank Nightmare at the head of the table.

The guardian of negativity makes eye contact with you as you approach and you resist the urge to laugh nervously as you sit beside him. Once again you find your mind calmed in his presence and you have to wonder if Killer’s comment about him “eating” your anxious feelings is true.

“The seat of honor was saved for you, our newest recruit.” 

You flush at that and pray he can't see. "T… thanks. Thank you." You force yourself to meet his sharp eye light for a moment before turning your attention to the spread of food before you. A worthy distraction, considering the sheer variety and volume. You're almost overwhelmed by the choices.

You're halfway through serving yourself a helping of your favorites when he speaks again.

"I take it your accommodations meet your expectations?" Nightmare's already served himself a bit of everything it seems, complete with a glass of what appears to be red wine.

"I didn't have any, but they were blown out of the water anyway. Thanks for being so… hospitable. And generous." An understatement. You wish you had more and better words to express your gratitude, but just being near him made it difficult to talk. Let alone the fact you struggled with conversation before being stuck in a void for who knows how long.

Nightmare says your name, catching your attention, and a shiver runs down your spine. How does he always say it so… mysteriously? "Make no mistake, it isn't out of the goodness of my soul. I expect many things from you." 

He made that very clear already, and you have a feeling you won't like the consequences if you fail to meet his expectations.

No pressure.

Once everyone's settled and about to eat, Nightmare taps a sharp phalange against his glass. All heads turn to him and the scant conversation dies out. 

"As you are all aware by now, from this point forward you will be working with our new recruit. They will be learning to aid you with travel and, ideally, carrying out missions." 

Gesturing to each skeleton in kind, Nightmare finally introduces you to your new coworkers. “You have already become well acquainted with Killer and met Axe. Beside them are Dust and Cross. You will undoubtedly be getting to know them better over the course of your training.” 

Considering the most you’ve gotten out of either of them is snide comments from Dust, you don’t have high hopes for your relationships. You hope at the very least they’ll be civil with you… though in the well-lit dining room you finally get the chance to see Dust’s face and the eerie smile pointed in your direction. There's a dark promise in that smile that worries you, but Nightmare did say you probably wouldn't have any issues… 

Cross at least gives you a curt nod when you make eye contact, and you file that little acknowledgement as a ‘maybe’ in the potential ally list.

“what kinda training did you have in mind, boss?” You glance over to find Killer balancing a knife by the point on his phalange and suddenly wonder if combat training will be involved. You’re about to echo the question with your concern when Nightmare answers smoothly.

“What better form of training than experience? They will be accompanying you on your next mission.” 

Chapter Text

You aren’t given any time to prepare physically or mentally. Once lunch ends you’re escorted directly to what looks like a throne room to be debriefed and sent on your way. 

The others stand at varying levels of attention before Nightmare, seated in an elegant and ancient-looking throne. You end up standing beside the looming Axe at the end of the line, though he doesn’t make any acknowledgement of your presence. Killer leans forward to catch your eye and gives a jaunty little salute that has Nightmare clearing his throat to regain his attention. 

“You will all be accompanying our new recruit to a universe teetering on the edge of negativity. They are to be kept out of the main conflict and merely observe from a distance. You are to cause your usual mayhem and leave before there is significant retribution.” 

A trial run, then. Despite how simple he makes it sound, you still find yourself nervous. Your fists tremble as you try to contain your concern. Your nails are sharp against your palms. 

Nightmare addresses you directly and you jolt. “Once they have regrouped, you will help them return.”

“Are you sure I can do this? I don’t need training first?” The words burst out of you before you can think twice about how it will be received. Icy anxiety grips your heart as you hope that this won’t be considered insolence. Despite Killer’s antics, something tells you Nightmare runs a tight ship and doesn’t leave room for disobedience.

To his credit, Nightmare takes your outburst with little more than a raised brow and an amused look. “The best teacher is experience.  You have already demonstrated you can control your abilities to some degree with your clumsy chase with Error. I believe you merely need practice to continue to hone them.” Your surprise must be showing on your face because he chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Yes, I witnessed your little run around with him. It was hard not to notice all the rips in reality you were creating.” 

You’re not sure why but you feel sheepish. Clumsy? You suppose you were just haphazardly opening portals to get away, but Error was trying to kill you. You didn’t exactly have the time to try and make pretty shapes. 

Unless he means something else? 

“This will be a more controlled environment with a simple goal– I will open the initial portal to your destination, and once the mission is complete you will open one to return. A simple test of your ability to locate a specific universe.”

That sounds exactly like a skill you’ll need to find home. Potentially a challenge, but one you need to overcome eventually. “I can do that.” Maybe. 

The castle and its surrounding area does feel different from all the worlds you jumped through previously. It doesn’t have the same patterns built into it that you noticed–and unraveled–before, and what pieces you can identify are steeped in potent, icy magic that you can only attribute to Nightmare. 

Nightmare seems pleased with your confidence. “See that you do. You should have the necessary abilities already.” He leans back on his throne with a mysterious smile that banishes your confidence. “And if you do not…” The threat is left unsaid but very much felt in the shiver that goes down your spine and the flutter of anxiety in your stomach.

You nod and Nightmare dismisses you with a wave of his hand. A portal opens up to your right, black as pitch and radiating a chill that you can feel from meters away. 

Killer elbows his way past the others and gives you a wink as he passes. “last one through cleans the common room!”

“that’s your job this week. you can’t pass that off so easily.” Despite his words, Dust shoves you out of the way to get ahead. Before Killer can step through the portal, Dust tackles him and they both tumble through in a mess of skeletal limbs. Axe rolls his eye light, but similarly moves in front of you, lumbering towards the portal.

You’re left standing beside a scowling Cross. You barely manage to catch him muttering to himself. “Why am I always left cleaning up after them?” You smile despite yourself and follow him through.

The moment you step out of the portal you’re hit with the understanding of what makes up this world. It’s instantaneous, your sense of all the little pieces and how they fit together to coalesce in this iteration of the universe. 

Equally instantaneous is your feeling of how utterly wrong it is and that it’s well within your reach to start… pulling at the strings, so to speak. Rearrange the puzzle pieces to align better. Properly. The way you know they should be. The way that’s home. 

You shove that urge down with a shaky breath and clenched fists. You are stronger than your impulses. You don’t want to thoughtlessly destroy things again. You have a purpose here and you will not be distracted.

You realize very quickly that your internal conflict already distracted you and you are now alone. You whirl around to try and find someone and spot the flash of blue, black, and white dashing around the far corner. 

They ditched you. Unbelievable.

Gritting your teeth in frustration and reminding yourself that you’re just the getaway driver, they’ll find you later, and you don’t even like them anyway … you pick a direction and walk. You’ll regroup later. You’re not lost.

You’re not sure what you’re looking for or expect. A bustling market street is definitely not it, but it’s equally a welcome change of pace. Sights and smells and people everywhere, it’s exactly what you’ve been missing. 

It’s also quickly overwhelming. A combination of overstimulation and anxiety builds up as you’re continuously reminded of the similar situation you found yourself in when you first managed to open a portal. A cute festival with lots of people and you destroyed it. You ditch the crowd for a quieter sidestreet and catch your breath on a bench. 

Your hands are trembling. You can see reality warping around them in little glitches that remind you of Error, so you clasp them tightly in your lap and will yourself to calm down. You’re so tired of panicking. Maybe Nightmare will give you a few days off after this so you can finally sit down and process it all. You can only hope. 

At least this place is nice. The sun is warm but not hot, the birds are singing, there’s flowers blooming in some storefronts. For a brief moment you think you feel at peace. 

A loud boom shakes the ground and shocks you back into panic. That’s probably the ‘usual mayhem’ Nightmare mentioned. You force yourself to stay seated and ignore it. It’s not near you. You’re fine. 

But it can’t be that simple. 

Static on the back of your neck. Only briefly reminding you of something you’ve encountered before, the magic that you sense rippling through reality is still enough to cause alarm–enough alarm that your surroundings begin to stutter with glitches. You hastily stand as the bench you were sitting on blips out of existence before returning in a shape that it definitely shouldn’t be.

You look towards the source of the magic, a glitching and blocky portal at the far end of the street, and have to wonder why you can’t catch a break.

Three skeletons step through and examine their surroundings. From this distance you can only make out their color schemes; yellow, brown, and black. 

You think that last one might be wearing all black and have black bones, but it’s hard to tell. From here the only other color you can identify on him is the shock of a bright red scarf and boots. You squint at them to try and make out more details and catch him pointing at you.

Uh oh. 

Another spike of anxiety and the lamppost across the street erupts in a burst of glitches. The pointing gets more animated, you definitely have the attention of the other two skeletons now, and you decide it’s time to leave. 

You turn and run and now they’re shouting at you and you have no doubt that they are chasing. You make it to the nearby corner and manage to get a peek of them as you go around it. They are much closer than they should be. You let out an undignified noise somewhere between a sob and a shriek and try to run faster. 

You think you might cry as you sprint, the adrenaline of being rundown once again driving you forward. You hope this doesn’t become a daily occurrence, but with your luck… 

You’re checking over your shoulder when you run straight into what feels like a brick wall. You rebound off the surface but a pair of hands grab your arms to steady you, keeping you from tripping backwards and falling. You go to shove your captor off, but the pattern of the fabric under your hands is familiar enough to give you pause.

“Woah there, it’s okay.” Cross is holding you up, a light dusting of purple over his cheekbones.

“I- they’re- chasing-!” You try to force the words out between panting breaths. Your lungs burn and you feel light headed.

Cross’s sockets narrow and he looks over your shoulder. He must spot your pursuers because he quickly releases you and moves to stand behind you. 

“Hm, they’re early. Nightmare won’t like that.” Cross says with a grimace. He unsheathes a pair of shortswords from scabbards at his hip. 

The trio has stopped chasing, approaching at a slow walk now that they’ve spotted him. They seem apprehensive. He seems just as uneasy, facing them down one against three. He swaps to holding both blades in his off-hand, pulls a phone out of his pocket, and sends off a quick text.

From this distance you can now see the eclectic outfits the three are wearing. They each look like they’re going to different places– one in an almost medieval-looking tunic and circlet, the smallest in baggy overalls and a scarf that almost envelopes him, and the third in light armor and… sweatpants. 

Looking over at you, Cross hesitates before shooing you away gently with a pat on the back. “Good- uh. Good work. We’ll take it from here. You can hide until it’s time for us to leave.” 

“‘We’?” You echo. You haven’t seen even a hint of the others since they first ran off. He must be confident to go against multiple opponents.

“I texted for backup. I can stall them until Killer gets here to even the odds, but it’ll be harder if I have to pay attention to protecting you.” The skeleton in yellow has taken the lead now and is slowly approaching. Cross’ grip on his swords tightens as he shifts into a well-practiced stance. The other skeleton stops. 

Oh, you get it. You nod and take a moment to appreciate how normal that interaction was. No threats, no innuendos, no death glares… just an awkward compliment and a reasonable request for you to skedaddle. 

You make a mental note to stick with Cross in the future. He might be the most normal out of all of them.

Cross uses a hollow blade to point you to a nearby park before creating a wall of bones between the two of you. You don’t hesitate to take advantage of the shield at your back and follow his directions. You jog lightly to the park as the sounds of a fight pick up. You can make out voices and weapons impacting and something about it… is eerily familiar. Like a distant memory you don’t want to remember.

The anxiety of the chase fades as you put distance between yourself and the fight. Are you going to be involved in that eventually, too? Are you going to have to fight? You hope to be properly trained if that’s the case. None of this ‘learning by experience’ nonsense when your life is on the line.

You come to rest by a large willow tree beside a stream. Leaning against its trunk, you find yourself comforted hiding among the hanging branches. You feel safe. 

A voice above you startles you out of your thoughts. “Are you lost, little bird?” 

You look up and are momentarily blinded by the sun directly in your eyes, despite the cover of leaves. You blink through the light to make out the shape of a figure sitting in the tree above you, and after a few moments of adjusting realize it’s not the sun blinding you but the person . 

A large pair of golden wings are the source of the radiance, attached to the back of a skeleton dressed in white, gold, and red. To your utter disbelief you think you can see a halo floating above his skull. He’s looking down at you with red and yellow eye lights and a serene smile that makes you feel… warm and fuzzy. 

All you can manage in response is an intelligent ‘huh?’ and he laughs, the sound like bells. Your stomach does a little flip against your will. The skeleton drops from the branch he’s sitting on to land gracefully beside you. The warm and fuzzy feelings only get stronger with the proximity and you realize he radiates warmth. 

“H… hello?” 

The skeleton smiles down at you and you can’t help but smile back. “Hello.” Up close and adjusted to the luminescence of his wings you can make out the golden markings around his left socket, reminiscent of a sun’s rays. 

Your name falls from your lips awkwardly. You’re not sure how to proceed with this interaction. He doesn’t seem to be a threat, and like the antithesis of Nightmare, being near him actually makes you feel safe and comfortable... but you can’t help but feel uneasy in spite of that. You’re confronted by yet another strange skeleton and you’ve quickly learned not to judge by appearances. 

He repeats your name softly and your cheeks warm against your will. He leans down and gracefully takes your hand before you can react, bringing it up to his teeth in a mockery of a kiss and the rest of your face heats up too. You quickly withdraw your hand once it’s released and hide the lower half of your face with your other. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. While it is not my true name, you may call me Helios.” Very apt, though the phrasing does pique your curiosity. 

“’True name’?” You echo. Helios nods and with a light shrug of his shoulders, his wings folding primly along his back with the motion, he begins walking. Your curiosity drives you to follow.

“Were it not for the presence of another I would introduce myself as ‘Dream’. As I’m not considered the original , I have opted for a fitting alternative.” Something about the way he says it sounds bitter, and the annoyance on his face ill-suits him. You want to see him smile again. “I am not the first to meet you who has done so.”

It’s not hard to make the connection. “Killer and the others?” While they do have their differences, the similarities are too obvious to ignore. You wonder what their real names are. 

The corner of Helios’ mouth twitches. “Precisely. You catch on quick, clever thing. Though I will admit to finding some of their choices… asinine.” The praise warms your chest and you are grateful for the change of pace. After everything you’ve dealt with, Helios’ presence is a nice reprieve. 

You find yourself nodding along. Some of their nicknames are rather silly. “Dream… like Nightmare? Are they related? I mean, are you?” You have so many questions and this guy seems forthcoming enough to give you some answers. You want to keep him talking. Partly because his voice is nice to listen to. Mostly because you want information.

Helios leads you through the park, dappled light from the trees playing prettily on the ground and yourselves. “Correct again. Though I would not consider your Nightmare to be my brother, merely a different version of him. Though we are technically related I hold no attachment to him. I have a Nightmare of my own.”

Very interesting. So there are even alternate versions of powerful people like Nightmare. You wonder how that works, what with the whole ‘balance’ thing. Shouldn’t there only be two, a ‘good’ and a ‘bad’?

“Where is he? Your Nightmare?” You both exit the park into what seems to be a shopping district, though you have no interest in paying attention to it. Helios and his willingness to drop exposition has your full focus. 

“Oh, he’s back home. I’ve been traveling. So many new worlds to see.” The way he says it, the smile on his face… in that moment you can see his resemblance to Nightmare, despite the different composition and color of his bones. That sly smile that unnerves you. You stop walking. 

“What-” A scream cuts you off and you whirl around just in time to catch sight of a skeleton shoot past on top of a large skull, his manic grin barely visible in the shadows of his hood. You think you see his head turn to watch you as he goes by and you do a double take as you realize there’s a person in the jaws of the blaster .

An explosion rocks a nearby building and you stumble. A warm hand on your shoulder steadies you and you flinch at the contact. More screams and a storefront is blown apart as Axe goes flying through the glass to tumble into the street. He stands, leaning heavily on the large axe in his hands, and you take a step back. He doesn’t acknowledge you or the skeleton by your side, slit red eye light trained solely on the blue fish monster that steps through the glass to point a spear at him. She yells something you can’t quite make out, but you can still hear the rough growl that rips through Axe before he charges again. 

“Brutish.” Helios shakes his head. “It’s a wonder there’s any balance at all with the way they go about their business.”

Is this how the balance is maintained? Committing atrocities in universes that ‘need’ it? Who decides who deserves it? Nightmare? What gives him that authority? The warmth you’d been soaking up fades into a cold dread. 

What did you sign up for?

You get your answer almost immediately. A bright blast obscures the right side of the road in a roar of power. Axe leaps back to avoid his jacket being singed and whirls to face the direction in which it came. Metal crumples under the strain of heat and sudden impact as cars are obliterated in the wake of the blaster’s beam. It feels like forever before it finally peters out and the street is quiet once more, save for the distant sounds of shouting.

“oops.” Dust doesn’t even give the monster’s remains a passing glance as he walks over to Axe, his haunting smile following you as he passes. You can’t tear your eyes from the pile of dust. “thought she’d tank it. or dodge.”

Axe rolls his eye light and hefts his namesake over his shoulder. He punches Dust lightly on the arm and the smaller skeleton glares up at him. “liar. you just… wanted to steal the show. and the LV.” 

They’re both so nonchalant about it. They continue ribbing each other as they move towards the other sounds of conflict, most likely Killer and Cross against that other group of skeletons. You wonder just how much dust and blood is on the hands of your new partners in crime for them to not even think twice about what just happened.

Your heart beats heavy in your chest as your thoughts spiral. Helios says something more but you can’t hear his words. For what feels like the hundredth time in the last two days you begin to panic, your emotions bubbling up in a frenzy you can barely contain. 

So you run.

You turn on your heel and dart back towards the park and away from the nearing sounds of commotion. The shouting gets louder as you sprint before the chaos erupts once more in bone attacks and blasters going off. It seems like the fight came to Axe and Dust.

A sob wells up in your chest as once again you’re hit with an uncomfortable wave of deja vu. 

You narrowly avoid getting hit with a white-hot beam of light to your left and swerve to dive off the path and into the treed area, tripping over roots and 

You only stop when you’re far enough to barely hear the fighting. You block the rest of it out with your hands over your ears and cower within a thicket, tucked away among the bushes. You don’t want to do this anymore. You just want to go home. 

A traitorous thought breaks through the horror. The idea that maybe you’re not so different, that maybe you fit in with this merry band of murderers. 

It wasn’t very long ago at all that you tore a world apart. How many people did you kill with that little maneuver? How far did your destruction of the very fabric of their reality extend? Does that universe even exist anymore after the damage you did? Do you even have the strength to check? 

You wonder how far you’d go to return home. Where do you draw the line? Would you cross it? 

Your head hurts. Your chest aches. You’re tired of going and going and not understanding what’s happening and it’s too much–

“Poor dear. Let’s get you out of the thorns, hm?” 

You flinch at the voice and cower further into your hiding spot. You keep your eyes screwed shut in anticipation of something , some violence or pain but… nothing happens. You’re still okay. 

It’s a long moment before you slowly open your eyes, blinking through the tears to blearily look up at Helios. He has a hand held out to you, unwavering as he waits patiently for you to take it. 

“It’s alright.” The warmth in his voice eases the tension in your shoulders and you slowly lower your hands, rubbing at the wet streaks on your cheeks. Your arms sting from the thorns you ignored in your attempt to hide. “You’re safe, the fighting is well away from here.” You look from his hand to his face, but the patient expression never shifts. 

You hesitantly place your hand in his gloved one, but all he does is carefully pull you from the thorny bush. He leads you a few steps away to a large tree and sits against it, guiding you to sit beside him. One of his wings remains behind you, partially folded around your shoulder as though in a half-hug. It radiates a golden warmth against your skin that you find yourself relaxing into.

“It’s much better over here, no?” He says. All you can do is nod. He brushes a hand lightly over your arms, and the faint sting of the scratches there fades. “A shame you saw that. An unfortunate reality of the conflict over balance.” You whimper at the reminder and burrow further into the feathers at your back.

“Is it always like that?” Your voice is faint and breaks with emotion but it feels good to talk. 

Helios hums. “Probably not. Some universes are likely more susceptible to a more subtle approach of spreading negativity. Political manipulation and the like.” You furrow your brow and he shrugs gently, his wing holding you a little tighter. “You are a new recruit, I take it?” 

You nod and tears threaten to spill again. Helios shifts to lean against you but you flinch back from the contact. He slowly returns to sitting back against the trunk of the tree, seemingly unbothered by the rebuff.

The quiet stretches on. You tear at the grass beside you and force yourself to focus on the cool feeling of the blades of grass in your hand, the resistance as you pull them from the ground. You can feel the pull to alter it faintly at the back of your mind. Deeper than that is the urge to go beyond that, peer into the inner workings of this world. The whisper of it’s wrong, fix it.

Helios breaks the silence and you startle.

“My brother, no matter what universe he is from, has always taken a direct approach to things. I would assume he wanted you to understand the worst of his methods early on. He did so in the most efficient, if indelicate way.” 

“‘Indelicate’ is a kind way of putting it.” You don’t think you’ll sleep well in the weeks to come. You hug your knees to your chest. “I just want to go home.”

That catches his interest. You can see his skull turn to face you in your peripheral vision, the halo bright where it floats lopsided over his head. “And what is stopping you?” 

“I don’t know wh-” Something shifts in the air. It’s subtle, like a cloud moving over the sun. A slight darkening of your surroundings as the temperature drops almost imperceptibly. Your voice dies in your throat.

“Ah, it seems our time is up.” You look up as Helios stands and turns to face you, wings stretching out at his back as though to take flight. 

No, you’re not done talking. You still have to get more information out of him. You move to follow his lead, pushing yourself up onto your knees to stand up. You’re about to speak, bid him to wait a moment, but you’re interrupted before you can even make a sound.

“ Leave. ” The word is a low growl that makes your skin crawl and anxiety bloom in your chest. Ice crawls through your veins and roots you to the ground. 

Nightmare looms over you at your side, his shadow frigid and writhing as he blocks the sun from your view. Four tentacles thrash angrily at his back, making him appear larger than he already is and giving him an even more monstrous aura. 

Helios takes a step back. His serene smile never wavers, though his golden eye lights flicker quickly between you and Nightmare. “It was lovely to meet you. I do hope to speak with you again.” 

In the blink of an eye all four of Nightmare’s tentacles impale the ground in front of you right where Helios was standing, Helios just as quickly now standing a few steps back. You shake your head to try and make the sudden movements make sense– how quickly did they move for it to not even register to your brain? 

“Do not make me ask again. I will not hesitate to dispose of you here and now.” Nightmare moves to stand in front of you and, despite the shift in angle, you realize you’re somehow still sitting in his shadow. Your voice is caught in your throat, the oppressive feeling of the cold seeping into you from where you touch the ground keeping you quiet. You try to scramble back away from him but find the shadow clinging to you like glue. You can’t pull yourself away from it, your hands and legs stuck fast to the darkness. 

Helios tilts his head and shrugs. “As you wish.” With another quick look to you and a sweep of his wings he makes his escape through a glittering portal bright as the sun. You struggle to look at it for more than a moment, keeping your gaze low and continuing to try and free yourself from the clinging shadows beneath you. 

Once Helios’ portal is closed the darkness recedes back to its natural shape. Despite being released you remain on your knees, watching Nightmare warily. His tentacles aren’t as animated now, instead weaving lightly through the air behind him, but he still seems tense.

It’s a long moment before he finally turns and looks down at you. His expression is careful neutrality, voice not as icy as before though distinctly not warm . “That’s enough for today. You may return to the castle and rest.” You open your mouth to ask one of the hundreds of questions in your mind but are quickly silenced with a narrowed socket. 

Later. You have to promise yourself before you fall apart again, but you will get answers later. You will come to understand everything eventually. It will all fall into place. You can be patient. You take a breath to steady yourself and nod.

Nightmare doesn’t task you with opening the portal. He silently slices through the air with a tentacle leaving an impossibly black void in its wake. You stand on shaky legs and follow him through, sparing only a brief glance behind you at where Helios’ portal had been.

Chapter Text

“You are dismissed.” Nightmare’s portal drops you off in his study, and the shift in temperature makes you shiver. You stay where you are as he ambles to his desk. His tentacles have ceased writhing, now draping limply at his back like a cloak of inky shadows. 

“What?” Just like that? You fail to untangle the knot of anxiety in your stomach. You wait for the other shoe to drop. “But I… failed.”

Nightmare tilts his head to the side. You feel like he’s analyzing you. “Yes, but not through any fault of your own. There were extenuating circumstances that I did not anticipate. I may be considered cruel by many, but I will not punish someone for faults that are not theirs.” He waves a hand at you dismissively. “You may return to your room. I will schedule another mission in a few days’ time. You may make use of the castle’s facilities at your leisure until then.” 

Oh. You scuff your shoe on the pristine stone floors below you. No punishment and freedom to just… do whatever? You weren’t sure exactly what you expected, but at the very least you thought you’d be confined to your room. 

“I… okay. Thank you.” At Nightmare’s raised brows, you tack on a quiet and slightly uncertain ‘sir’. He nods curtly and turns his gaze to the papers at his desk, beginning to sort and read through them. You take your leave quietly, just grateful to have gotten through another meeting unscathed. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Your room isn’t your room. 

It is yours. It’s where you can go to be alone and feel somewhat safe. It’s where you’ll be sleeping. It’s where the collection of clothes that makes up ‘your’ wardrobe is. But none of this is really yours. It’s a gift from Nightmare. Or your payment for your services, or whatever he wants from you.

But nothing about the room makes it… comfortable. It’s cozy enough. The bed is soft, the desk is nice. The view is lovely. But it’s the same kind of comfort you find in a hotel room. The bare minimum to be happy for as long as you’re staying and nothing more. 

The only things in the room that are really yours are what you had on you when you got trapped to begin with. Your long dead phone, which you’re certain doesn’t have any signal anywhere. The clothes you’d been wearing, haphazardly tossed into a basket to be washed someday. The other small things you wouldn’t leave the house without. Your wallet, your keys. Nothing substantial enough to make the room really feel lived in. To make it feel like your safe haven. 

You don’t want to spend enough time here to get to that point. You don’t want to be here long enough to have started living in this room. You want your room. You want to go home. You can survive being in this bare space until then. 

At least the room isn’t minimalist.

You find yourself sitting on your bed and staring at the wall, your back pressed firmly against the headboard. Despite the four walls and privacy you feel… exposed. It’s easier said than done to relax in an unfamiliar place, an infinite distance away from where you belong, and surrounded by dangerous monsters. When you were in the dungeon you at least had the illusion of a locked cage, keeping them out just as much as it was keeping you in. At least until Killer pointed out it wasn’t locked. 

But now, unaware of where the others are and viscerally aware of Killer’s propensity for appearing randomly near you, let alone not knowing if any of the others would do the same with more nefarious intentions…

You decide to lock yourself in the bathroom. You lie to yourself that it’s to get clean. That you’re braver than this, but you’re just filthy. Your hands are stained with invisible blood and the rest of you is covered in dirt and grass and grit and you need it off.

The hot water brings you somewhat to your senses. You spend an unknown amount of time just relishing the warmth and the comfort the locked door and shower’s alcove brings. You wish it had a door too, but the curtain helps a little. You feel hidden away. 

Who were those skeletons Cross fought? He seemed to know them, and you think it was them showing up that Nightmare considered ‘extenuating circumstances’. That last one you saw; his magic reminded you of Error’s, but something about him felt… different. 

And Helios.

Your thoughts are even more scrambled about him. He told you so much in such a short time and his presence alone was so strange, like the exact opposite of Nightmare’s. Warm and comforting and tempting you to follow after him. You want to know more. Why did Nightmare react so violently to him? He seemed nice enough, and it’s not like he was really doing anything, aside from talking to you.

Eventually though, your comfort comes to an end. The water pressure becomes overstimulating and the thoughts you’d rather avoid come crawling back. You feel stifled and vulnerable. You quickly dry off and find a comfortable set of clean clothes.

Despite the prickle of anxiety and the static in your fingers (you notice the glitches around your hands shifting rapidly) you feel heavy. The shower must’ve relaxed you enough to feel tired. By your rough guesstimate it’s probably early evening, though it’s impossible to tell with the ‘eternal night’ thing this realm has going on. 

The bed is a blessing the second time you crawl into it. Even with the encroaching nervousness you find yourself sinking into the blankets with ease and relaxing into the warmth. You’re still not sure what time it is, but if you’re this exhausted it wouldn’t hurt to sleep a little. Nightmare did say you could do as you pleased, and right now a good night’s rest sounds particularly pleasant. 

Still, you make a mental note to request a clock for your room.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You wake in a cold sweat. The memories of your dream are already fading beyond your recollection, but you have an entire list of recent events that it could’ve been about. You don’t try too hard to remember it.

Waking up in an unfamiliar place is still disorienting, even with how awake you feel. The room is dark and bare and the more you look around the less comfort you’re finding in it. You need out. 

You’re not sure what time it is. Again. 

The castle is vast and cold and empty. You’re not sure how often you should expect to see someone in the halls when you think there’s only five inhabitants including yourself, but it still feels lifeless. 

Maybe everyone is asleep. You do feel like you slept long enough for it to be very late at night. Nobody woke you for dinner and you’re kind of thankful for that. You needed that rest and alone time. And now the silence and emptiness is starting to get to you.

It’s too quiet. Even knowing the others are probably just in their rooms or elsewhere doesn’t comfort you. You were in silence for so long. You can’t hear the sounds of the surrounding forest from here, and the castle is otherwise devoid of noise. Stone floors means no noises of the building settling, and with how sparsely it’s occupied there’s no sounds of people just living. 

You hum to fill the void. Your voice echoes hollowly down the corridor, almost mocking, so you stop. The long rug stretching out into the darkness before you quiets your footsteps. Everything is dimly lit by the moon filtering through the tall windows at your side and the blue flames of the torches set into the walls. The statues and ornaments displayed in recesses along the corridor stand ominously, their shadows extending long and thin up to the ceiling. 

The skin on the back of your neck prickles with anxiety. You feel like you’re being watched. When you turn to look, the empty hallway stares back. You are alone.

Are the shadows moving? Deepening? Your breath quickens. You’re reminded of Nightmare’s shadow earlier, how it kept you held in place. How it sapped the warmth from your bones. You walk faster. Your heart skips a beat every time you walk in the shadows between the windows, every time the torches flicker and the shadows at your sides shift. 

You should’ve stayed in your room. This is not better. 

But you don’t know where you are, now. In the dark and alone and having walked for so long and so mindlessly . You haven’t been paying any attention to where you’re going. 

You feel more exposed than ever and the feelings are overwhelming. Confusion, fear, anxiety. You couldn’t run from them forever. 

A sob wells up in your chest and you hesitate before a random door. You have no idea what room this is or whose . You don’t think any of the resident murderers would appreciate a surprise midnight visit.

Except maybe Killer. He seems like the type to want a midnight visit.

You move away from the door and instead crawl into one of the many decorative alcoves set into the wall, wedging yourself between the cold polished stone and the statue. 

The pressure of being in a small space soothes you somewhat. You feel a little safer. Less vulnerable. Even if you’re now stuck in a little corner in a random hallway. At least the only thing that’s caught  up with you is your thoughts.

You can’t hold back the tears any longer. You cry for yourself. For your fears. For your confusion. How lost you are, how alone. You cry just to cry.

The tears seem never ending, and the more you feel the more you think. You think about how long you were isolated, how the first thing you did when you were free was destroy . You think until you can’t anymore, and you cry until you don’t have any tears left to shed. 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

A red glare out of the corner of your eye stops you dead. Your breath hitches and you whirl around as best you can with how stuck you are in your hiding spot. 

Your view of the hallway and escape route is now blocked by a hulking shadow, the glow of an unblinking red eye staring back at you. You let out a whine of fear before you can stop yourself and the figure shifts back quickly. 

“are you… okay?” You recognize the low rumbling voice, and it puts the shape of the shadow and the ominous eye into perspective. 

“...Axe?” You relax somewhat. He nods slowly but doesn’t say anything else. It’s a long and awkward moment before you realize he’s waiting for an answer to his question. “I’m okay.” Your voice is weak and it cracks a little on ‘okay’, but you do feel much better after the cry. You had a lot to process.

Axe nods again. In the dark you can barely make out the silhouette of him reaching a hand out to you. You flinch back, but can’t get very far. It very slowly comes to rest on your head, lifts up slightly, then drops back down gently. He’s patting you. You relax fully after a moment with a long sigh. 

Okay. This isn’t so bad. He doesn’t seem to mean any harm. 

It’s another long and somewhat awkward silence before he speaks again.

“hungry?” 

You nod under his hand. At the very least you need a drink of water. But you did miss dinner after a very big and eventful day. You could use a midnight snack. Or an entire midnight meal. 

“me too. i was gonna… make a lil snack.”

You very quickly realize that you’re stuck in your hiding place. You’re too twisted around and wedge in to get yourself free without a major struggle. “Can you, uh, help me get out?” Your cheeks burn with the request. You can feel the red on your cheeks deepen at the low chuckle you get in response, but thankfully he takes pity on you. 

You’re gingerly pulled out of the alcove and tumble into his chest before you can get your legs under yourself properly. Axe’s arms tighten around your shoulders, steadying you, and you’re practically enveloped by his coat. His chest is broad, his arms are large, his coat is warm, and he smells like woodsmoke and pine. You find yourself relaxing into him despite yourself. 

After a moment that feels much too short, Axe gets you upright and releases you. Your face is still warm and you’re thankful he probably can’t see your blush in the dark. His eye light seems… bigger. Rather than the slit pupil that had been watching you moments before, the center of the red light is a wide circle of black. It’s almost… cute. Like a cat. 

“Thanks. Um.” You’re saved from having to make conversation by Axe turning and lumbering down the hallway. You quickly follow. 

The kitchen turns out to be a minute’s walk down the hallway. The lights are almost blinding compared to the hallway you were just in, but you don’t mind. Axe points you to a barstool by the counter, but stops in the doorway. “one sec.” By the time you’ve taken a seat and turned to face him, he’s disappeared. You aren’t given enough time for the anxiety of being alone to take hold before he’s already returned, now equipped with a big fluffy blanket. It’s tossed around your shoulders and it’s only then that you realize you were shivering. 

“Thank you. Again.” You pull the blanket tighter around yourself and wipe the wet streaks from your cheeks. Maybe you shouldn’t have judged him so harshly by his appearance. Your first impression of him was rather rough, and he was rather scary in the fight with that fish monster, but other than that… you haven’t really had the opportunity to get to know him. Maybe he’s not so bad?

Axe shrugs. “‘m not… very good at comforting. but i’m pretty decent at… getting comfy.” You laugh a little at that, and his smile widens. Maybe he’s actually pretty sweet.

You watch him pad around the kitchen as he confidently gathers ingredients. It’s not long at all before he’s pressing a mug of something warm and tasty smelling into your hand. You absorb the warmth through the mug and breathe deeply. You can feel the tension in your shoulders relaxing as you focus on your slow breaths of the delicious steam. 

His back is to you, hunched over the stove as he reheats something, when he speaks again. “i… haven’t been home in… a long time.” You look up from your drink in surprise. “it can get lonely. weird. but you didn’t leave… on purpose. so… sorry. that you gotta deal with it.” 

You rub your arm with your free hand, the warmth of your hand seeping into the cold still clinging to your skin. “I’ll live. But thank you. It’s just a lot to deal with all at once, you know? Lots of crazy concepts. And stuff. Things that would be categorized as existential horror.”

Axe nods knowingly and casts you a dry look over his shoulder. “how do you think i feel… working with a buncha versions of me?” He pauses to laugh quietly. “and discover they’re all kinda…” Another pause as he searches for a word. He turns back to the stove. “dumb.”

You laugh again. He just keeps surprising you. “Dumb?” 

“yeah. just wait… until you experience more of Killer. he’s smart. but also dumb.” 

This time when Axe turns to face you, he’s carrying two bowls of what looks like stew. It’s thick and hearty and exactly what you need. “bone appetit.”

You snort as you set aside your mug to accept the bowl. “That was awful.” 

Axe shrugs. “i could say worse.” 

You believe it. You’re saved from the potential of a pun war by the irresistible food in your hand, neither of you willing to pause in your meal to continue the conversation. Axe’s bowl of soup doesn’t last long before he’s up and getting seconds. He hesitates at the stove for a moment before he shrugs. He returns to lean against the counter beside you with the entire pot of stew held in one arm, spoon in the other. 

You laugh. “Was the bowl holding you back?” Axe is too busy drinking the stew from the pot to answer. You laugh harder. 

You set the bowl down to cover your face with your hands, attempting to stifle the chortles. You fail, and your laughter quickly turning into wheezing sobs. It’s not too long before you peter out into hiccups and wipe your tears away. “S-sorry. I guess I’m still- still feeling a little raw.”

Axe meets your gaze with a little shrug and an awkward smile. “s’fine. can’t expect you to get over it… that quick.” 

“ Still. I should at least be able to keep it together for five minutes.” You take a sip of your cocoa and find yourself unable to meet his gaze. “I’m tired of… struggling. Not knowing what’s going on and being scared all the time and being so sad. ”

It’s a long while before Axe replies. It’s almost long enough you think he doesn’t have anything else to say, and you don’t blame him. You barely know him and he’s already been kind enough to help you this much. You don’t want to vent too much.

“we’re all sad. s’why Nightmare… keeps us around.” He says it lightly, like a joke, but you have to wonder if there’s some kind of truth to it. “and hell, Killer cries all the time. you don’t gotta… feel bad for that .” Now that’s definitely a joke, and it manages to get a weak laugh from you. 

“don’t beat yourself up. be patient… ‘nd persevere.” Axe puts his hand on your shoulder gently. “Nightmare’s… many things. but he isn’t a liar. if he said he’d help you find your home… then he will.” 

You nod and fight back the new threat of tears. You open your mouth to say something, but can’t find the words. Axe seems to get it though, and pats your head gently.

“you know where your room is?” 

You shake your head with a sniffle. “No… I got lost.” A traitorous whisper in the back of your mind reminds you how pitiful that is, but you banish the thought with a shake of your head. 

Axe just shrugs with another small smile. “s’fine. it‘s a big castle. i’ll show you.”

You trail after Axe as he leaves the kitchen. He walks slowly, but his stride is long due to his height. You have to walk quickly to keep up with him. Thankfully it doesn’t seem you got too far from your room, and within a few minutes you’re standing outside your door. 

You catch Axe’s arm as he turns to leave. You blink sleepily up at him, and he tilts his head curiously down at you. “Thanks again for helping me, I really appreciate it.” You look down at your feet for a moment, suddenly nervous. “It was very sweet of you, and… I’m glad you found me. In the hallway.”

Axe doesn’t say anything for a moment and you wonder if you said something wrong. Then, he laughs quietly. “sure.” He pats your head again, and when he drops his hand it brushes your cheek lightly. “…sleep tight.” He pulls away from your gentle grasp on his jacket sleeve and shambles down the corridor. 

 “You too,” you call after him before entering your room. 

 Your bed is more welcoming now than it was before. You’re warm and feeling more at ease. You find yourself quickly falling into a dreamless sleep, wrapped in a borrowed blanket. 

Chapter Text

It’s a few days later that Nightmare calls another meeting to discuss your next mission. You spent those days resting and exploring the castle, getting yourself acquainted with your surroundings. You didn’t see much of the other residents aside from during meals. It seemed they all wanted to rest as much as you did. 

Still, you’re a little surprised you didn’t get a surprise visit from Killer at least. 

“The next mission will be simple. We will be targeting a positive universe with the goals of luring out Dream and his associates. Our newest recruit needs a proper introduction to their adversaries, and the opportunity to observe them safely. I will accompany you to be sure there are no unexpected outcomes.” 

It seems Nightmare has rethought his ‘throw you in the deep end’ strategy. You appreciate this change of pace, though you’re still a little on edge after what happened last time. 

“sounds easy enough,” Killer yawns. “just want us to put on a show, then?”

“That is correct.” 

Killer meets your gaze and winks. “i’m great at that.” 

Nightmare gives him a stern look and doesn't acknowledge the comment. “We will leave shortly.”

Cross is checking his weapons beside you when you turn to face him. He seems surprised, eye lights looking everywhere but you for a moment before settling on your face. He frowns slightly. “Yes?”

You rub your arm nervously. “I just… wanted to thank you for helping me last time. You saved me, and I appreciate it.” 

“O-oh. It was nothing.” He’s failing to meet your eyes again. There’s a slight dusting of purple over his cheekbones, and he’s fiddling with his weapons more intently.

You lean in for emphasis, determined to make him accept your thanks. “It wasn’t nothing! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there or if you hadn’t helped me get away. So thank you.” The color on his bones deepens with every word, and he tugs his scarf up to cover the lower half of his face at your delighted expression. 

“Don’t… don’t mention it.” He turns his face away to hide further, and you decide to take pity on him. You nod and step away, leaving him to his preparations. 

Killer is talking animatedly at Axe when you approach. You walk past a silent Dust– he doesn't look up from his phone as you go by, but you’ll take that over the murderous stare he’s given you before. Killer stops mid-sentence to greet you when you get closer. “oh, heya. what’s up?” 

Axe merely nods to acknowledge your presence. You steel your nerves. This isn’t as awkward as you think it is.

“Do you want your, uh, blanket back?” 

Killer’s sockets widen. “why do you have his blanket? share a nice night together?” He looks between the two of you, his grin sharpening. “am i invited?”

Axe bonks him on the head lightly. Killer laughs and rubs at the spot. “shush. wasn’t like that.” Axe faces you and shakes his head. “nah. don’t need it.” 

You open your mouth to reply but are interrupted by Nightmare. He walks past you, his tentacles weaving in the air slowly, to open the portal. “The time for idle conversation is over.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Once again the boys are off as soon as you step foot through the portal. They seem to take their job seriously, or at least enjoy it to some extent. They leap at the chance to cause problems.

Like before you are hit with the sense of all the parts that make up this world, the way they fit together, and how wrong it is. Though… the feeling isn’t as strong as before. More things are correct than otherwise. This must be an AU that is similar to your own. You push down the urge to ‘fix’ it.

You’re standing atop a tall building overlooking a city. The sun is rising on the horizon, bathing the sky in spectacular hues, and you relish in the serene moment. You’ve spent the last few days in perpetual night and it feels good to be in the sun again.

The peace is broken almost immediately by sirens and explosions. You sigh. 

Nightmare notices your disappointment. “Eventually you will be given a chance to enjoy the sights without destruction as ambient noise,” he says, his voice steeped in amusement. “There are some universes that even I preserve.” He chuckles at your surprised expression and turns to face the sunrise. The light reflects off his bones in shades of purple and blue. “I have an appreciation for beauty as much as any other being.” 

You suppose, from what you’ve seen so far of him, that makes sense. He clearly takes pride in having beautiful surroundings with the way he’s decorated his castle– his office in particular. You wonder if there’s other rooms in the castle that could rival it. There’s still much for you to explore, after all. You can imagine his bedroom being lavish and decadent, filled with silk and other finery.

…Does he even need to sleep?

“I can sense your curiosity you know. ” 

You stiffen and meet his gaze. He watches you guilefully. His smile widens as you struggle to maintain the eye contact. 

“You can?” 

“While negativity is my domain, all emotions are within my purview as a Guardian of the balance. It would be most disadvantageous if I was limited to sensing only those feelings generally considered bad.” Nightmare tilts his head as he regards you, his eye light narrowing as he analyzes you. “How would you categorize the feeling of ‘grief’?” 

Oh no, you weren’t expecting a quiz. You think on it briefly. Grief isn’t a pleasant feeling and is usually accompanied by tragedy of some kind. The answer seems fairly obvious but, as with everything involving Nightmare, it’s probably more complicated than you think. You’ll play along. “Negative?” 

Nightmare hums. “How can one process the losses in their life without grief? Is there not, ultimately, a positive benefit reaped from experiencing that negative feeling?” 

The sun peeks past a distant building, the rays blinding you for a moment. You turn away to cast your eyes in shadow. “I suppose that’s true.” You have some recent experience experience with that.

Nightmare continues to look out over the horizon, eye light focused on the distance. “There are many facets to the emotional spectrum– a positive and negative aspect to every feeling. Even joy can be just as self-destructive as rage.” He chuckles and turns his head to look down at you. “All that to say, yes. I can feel your burning curiosity. You may ask questions until the Stars arrive.” 

Your eyebrows raise. That’s not what you were expecting to come from this conversation but you’ll take the opportunity to get some answers. You don’t waste a second.

“Do you sleep?” 

Nightmare seems taken aback by that, his socket widening a fraction. Then he laughs, a fuller laugh than the low chuckles you’d received up til now. Your cheeks flush. “Given the freedom to sate your inquisitiveness and that is what you want to know?” He shakes his head. “Yes, though I do not need to often. Still, I find it restful after a long day.”

You turn your head away to try and hide your embarrassment, though you now know he can certainly sense it. “Dream is your brother, right?” Helios implied something to that effect at least. 

The small smile on his face doesn’t fall, but something about it seems less genuine. It no longer reaches his socket. “Yes.”

You wait for him to elaborate. His expression doesn’t shift and he continues to look out over the city. “O…kay.” That seems to be all you’re getting out of him on that particular topic. “Who are ‘the Stars’?”

Some of the tension in the conversation eases. Must be questions about the family angle that gets to him, then. “That is the name given to Dream and his associates. I will elaborate on them further when they arrive.”

“How do you know Helios?”

Nightmare frowns. As the silence stretches on you start to wonder if it was wrong of you to ask. Eventually, he speaks. 

“Helios is not of this multiverse. I have yet to discern how he escaped his own multiverse or what his goals are, but he has been disrupting the balance since his arrival. There was never meant to be two guardians of positivity, let alone one like… him.” He casts you a stern glance that has you shying back. “Do not approach him. There is no telling what he wants of you and he is incredibly dangerous.” 

You worry your lip between your teeth. “He didn’t seem that bad…” 

The tentacles at Nightmare’s back thrash and the sharp glint of his eye light pins you in place. You bow your head to avert your eyes. “There is much you still do not know, but you will learn in time. Trust my judgment.”

Your nails dig into your palms as you clench your hands. You’re trying but it’s hard to trust someone that keeps leaving you in the dark. Would it kill him to explain things properly?

Nightmare watches you closely before he turns away, taking your silence as agreement. He can surely feel your dissatisfaction but he makes no comment on it. 

It’s not long before there’s a shift in the AU that even you can pick up on. 

You look up at Nightmare questioningly and he nods. “Yes, they have arrived. Slower than usual I might add.” 

You can’t see anything from your perch on the building but you can still tell a portal opened up somewhere down there. 

Nightmare is watching you closely. “AUs are largely rigid in their structure. The creator’s intent guides them through their story until they fade into obscurity and collapse. It takes a substantial source of negativity or positivity to influence them outside of their original design, and generally must be slowly seeded over time. Calculated, incremental changes are more effective than grand gestures. Otherwise they are inclined to correct themselves.”

A shadowy portal opens before you, giving you a better view of the commotion below. A multi-car pileup, glass and debris, burning buildings. You grimace.

Nightmare continues. “This squabble is not enough to permanently mar this world. It will recover in time.” The portal closes. 

One of Nightmare’s hands settles lightly on your back. You tense, but it remains. “I am aware you are capable of creating small portals as I did. Your task for this mission is to target Dream with one so that we might observe.” You can do that–he’s not hard to seek out in the tangle of strings that make up this reality, a bright beacon. 

The window you open isn’t as elegant as Nightmare’s. It glitches into existence in front of you with the grace of putting a fist through drywall. If Nightmare judges you for it, he doesn’t let it show. You at least succeeded in your assignment. You have a good view of the skeleton in a yellow tunic that you ran from on your last mission. 

“That’s Dream?” You ask. 

“It is. Fighting alongside him is Ink.” Nightmare nods to indicate the skeleton in the brown overalls and scarf. 

Dream wields a pair of shortswords like Cross, but they aren’t fighting each other. Instead, Cross and Axe are paired off against the much smaller Ink. It’s Killer and Dust that are fighting Dream– Dust hanging back and firing off blasters and bone attacks while Killer tries to trip him up at close range. 

“Dream looks strong.” He’s nimble and moves elegantly, but there’s an unexpected force behind his blows. Every hit that Killer blocks sends him skidding back slightly.

“Yes. He has an advantage when in a positive AU such as this one; he is likely holding back to give Dust and Killer a ‘fair fight’.” You wonder if that means Nightmare is at a disadvantage in this AU. 

Dream mostly stays on the defensive, focusing on protecting himself and, from what you can tell, trying to incapacitate Killer as non-violently as possible. Killer seems aware of this and dances around him with glee, trying to make openings for Dust to hit him from at range.

It’s a bizarre fight. 

On the other side is Ink, using what looks like a giant paintbrush to try and fend off Axe and Dust. He’s not succeeding as well as Dream. Axe’s blows are slow but hit hard and Cross makes up for that with swift and calculated slashes of his swords. 

“Ink is also troublesome,” Nightmare says, ”but he has many exploitable flaws. He is forgetful and, while his weapon and attacks can be formidable, not a strong fighter. If he is separated from his team he is easy to overwhelm at close range.”

Almost as if to demonstrate, Ink stumbles. He clearly isn’t sure who to focus on and in his haste to dodge Cross he takes a harsh hit from Axe. He’s knocked to the ground with incredible force, his paintbrush tumbling out of reach. 

You wince. That looks like it hurt.

Before Ink can get up Axe has his scarf in hand and lifts him off the ground like a scruffed cat. He kicks his legs and swipes his arms but the difference in size is enough to keep him from posing any trouble. Seems half the fight is over already. Cross dusts himself off and turns towards Dream. 

Nightmare hums. “One of them is missing.” He taps his chin with a sharp claw. “Unusual.” 

He’s right. You remember a third skeleton– the one in black and red. Nightmare is about to elaborate when another, more violent shudder in reality hits you. Another portal? 

A low growl starts up in Nightmare’s chest and you shiver. “He simply cannot help himself, can he?” He pins you with a stern expression. “Stay here until I return.” Before you can speak he’s already gone, disappearing into the long shadows cast over the rooftop.

Now what?

You glance back at the portal you opened. Axe is still holding Ink up, but now they’re having an amicable conversation. Ink gestures every now and then to make a point, but is otherwise seemingly content to be held up like a kitten. Axe nods along with a faint smile. Are they… gossiping? 

Cross and Killer are now teamed up against Dream. He’s still holding his own against three opponents, but they seem to be at a stalemate. Cross is viciously efficient where Killer is acting like he’s playing with his food and, with Dust  filling the gaps with precise attacks, Dream is stuck on the defensive. 

How long can they fight for? How long do you have to watch them fight? Surely Nightmare won’t leave you alone for too long.

“Ugh, fin-finally, I thought he’d never leave!” You startle with a shriek and stumble back from the skeleton that has suddenly dropped in front of you. “Hello!” 

It’s the mysterious third member of the Stars. Up close you can now confirm he does have black bones clad in black armor and sweatpants, broken up by the shocks of red that are his scarf and boots. There’s a streak of yellow stars across his cheekbones, a weirdly cute detail that doesn’t soothe the spike in anxiety you experience when you notice the glitches blinking around around his body. 

He reminds you of Error. That worries you, and the radio antenna to your right glitches in and out of existence before settling at an awkward angle. Oops.

“You’re li-li-like me!” 

The skeleton is suddenly way too close for comfort, his wide grin and big yellow and purple eye lights right in your face. You startle again and shove him backwards to keep your distance. His smile falls for a second, but he bounces back almost immediately. 

“Sorry! Per-personal space, right? Dream’s always rrreminding me about that, my ba-bad!” He holds his gloved hands up in a placating manner and takes a step back. He flashes you a brilliant smile. “We should be friends!” 

“What?” You cast a quick glance around for Nightmare but he’s still nowhere to be seen. He only just left, so there’s no telling how long you have. Maybe you can keep him talking until your boss gets back. “We can’t, we’re enemies. I… I think.” 

He pouts. “But we have so- so much in common, I can tell!” His pout turns to sadness and the glitching of his voice increases. Almost like he immediately forgot about ‘personal space’, he takes a step forward again and puts his hands on your shoulders. “You-you got left behi-hind too, right? In the.. you know.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. It sounds forced and somewhat nervous. He leans back again and his hands find his cheeks as he shakes his head. “I don’t like thinking about it! I’m sure you don’t either!”

You freeze. Was he also stuck in the anti-void? Could this have happened to you if you were there longer? Just the thought sends a shiver down your spine. “No, I don’t. I didn’t leave it very long ago.” You look down at your hands, at the impossibly black stains from your fingers up your forearms, at the little glitches that flit around your fingertips with your nervousness. Has it already happened? Could you still end up like this? “You’re like… Error, right?” 

The skeleton laughs bitterly and his smile pulls taut. There’s a deep, unsettling anger in his sockets that looks otherwise out of place on his face. You tense up. “Oh, you know him-m? Did he leave yo-ou there, too? An-another mistake to for-forget about?” 

That is a lot to unpack. Is there a multiversal therapist for these guys? A few of them clearly need some help.

You grimace. “I don’t know how I ended up there, but he tried to kill me shortly before I escaped. I’m just trying to find my way home.” You think you see a flash of pity across his face, but it’s quickly replaced by that wide smile. Still no sign of Nightmare, but this guy is starting to catch your attention. “What’s your name?”

His eye lights turn to stars and he gasps. “H-how rude of-of me, not introducing my-myself to my new friend!” He strikes a heroic pose and a wave of pity washes over you. You can see glimmers of the kind of person he probably was–and is trying to be–despite the weight of what he’s been through. “I’m the magnificent Blue! Member of the Stars and hero of the multiverse!” 

You will admit Blue isn’t the weirdest name you’ve heard so far, but it doesn’t exactly fit him. Black bones, black armor, a red scarf. The only blue on him are his teeth and the hollows of his sockets. 

You offer your name and he reaches for your hand in what you know will be a very enthusiastic handshake. He flinches back as a knife flies past, embedding itself into the rooftop at your feet. If he hadn’t moved it likely would’ve impaled his hand.

“oy, keep your hands off our human.” 

There’s a sharp tug in your chest and the sudden sensation of falling backwards as your gravity shifts. Your back hits a bony chest and an arm clamps around your shoulders. You look up at Killer and he gives you a smug smile and a quick nuzzle into your hair. You blush in embarrassment and he winks.

“you good?” You nod and Killer turns his attention back to Blue. Another knife appears in his hand and he twirls it around his fingers in a show of dexterity. “you’re good at getting yourself into trouble. i like that.”

“There’s no n-need to intrude, we were just talk-talking!” Blue whines, a glitchy sound that reminds you of Error. He pulls at his socket in frustration and turns away with a loud ‘UGH’. When he turns back to face you his wide smile has returned, but it has a sharp edge. A sword and shield glitch into his hands and you suddenly feel like you should leave. “This is why we aren’t friends!” 

Killer snorts and releases you. “there’s way more reasons than just that.” You think he casts a sideways glance at you but it’s hard to tell with his lack of eye lights. “go find the boss, yeah? we’re leaving soon.” You nod as you’re helped to your feet. 

Killer doesn’t waste a moment and attacks Blue, dashing forward with surprising agility and a wide smile. Blue isn’t worried about the onslaught of slashes at all, parrying and dodging with excited laughter. “After I beat you the human and I can go back to bonding!”

You hate to turn your back to the fight but it’s the only way to get to the stairwell door. 

You feel sharp pinpricks in your leg before it goes numb, sending you tumbling to the ground just shy of the door. There are glitching, golden stars stuck in your leg. Static-y numbness radiates from where the points are embedded in your skin. You hiss at the uncomfortable feeling and fail to stand back up.

You try to remove a star and draw back your hand with a sharp cry at the sharp sensation of electricity through your fingers. You hold your wrist as your hand twitches, grimacing through the discomfort. 

The commotion is enough to catch Killer’s attention and the smile falls from his face. Blue takes advantage of his distraction to bash him in the shoulder with his shield, knocking Killer off balance. He falls, rolls, and is back on his feet in a smooth motion. When he turns back to the fight his playfulness is replaced with ruthless efficiency. 

You’re psyching yourself up to rip a star out anyway when there’s a rush of hot air, something gold rocketing up the side of the building and into the sky above you. Before you can focus through the sunlight in your eyes that something has already landed in a crouch in front of you. Golden wings envelope you, shielding you on either side, and you look up into Helios’ face. 

“He–?” 

You’re silenced with a gloved finger to your lips. Helios shakes his head with a sly grin and lowers his hand to the stars in your leg. He deftly removes them, causing you to wince, but the sharp tingling quickly subsides as he runs his palm over the area. Warmth emanates from his hand and the numbness and pain quickly fades beneath his magic. 

Before you can thank him he gives you a cheeky wink and hops to his feet. You’re left stunned at how suddenly he disappears through a portal beside you without even a word. 

Nightmare arrives moments after, seemingly having scaled the building with his tentacles. His clothes are tattered and he’s visibly furious . Every inch of him bristles with violence and his movements are sharp and aggressive. 

His eye light lands on you before he catches sight of Killer fighting Blue, and his expression shifts. He quickly makes his way over to help you stand up, two tentacles curling around you as if to hide you away. 

“Are you injured?” 

You shake your head. Your leg doesn’t hurt anymore, and the only indication you were hurt in the first place are the small holes in your pant leg. 

“Good. It is time to go.” His hand is heavy on your shoulder as you’re led directly towards the ongoing fight. Killer’s held his own just fine it seems but Blue doesn’t look worn down at all. You wonder how long they could fight before one of them starts to tire, especially with Killer coming fresh from another fight.

Blue, to his credit, spots Nightmare quickly and breaks away from Killer before he can get too close. “Darn, I thought we’d have more time. We can continue hanging out some other time, friend!” Blue’s weapons remain at the ready, but he gives you a big smile and a little wave. 

“You will not,” Nightmare growls. 

Blue’s smile turns strained as his eye lights flicker between you and Nightmare. He doesn’t heed the warning in Nightmare’s voice, calling out, “Until next time!” before sidestepping into a glitching, star-shaped portal of his own. 

Killer throws a knife after him, but the portal closes before it can pass through. “damn.” 

Even with him gone Nightmare’s hand remains firm on your shoulder and you’re kept close to his side. “It would be best for you to avoid Blue. He has become unpredictable since…” He trails off. That’s ominous. 

“since he got fucked up?” Killer supplies unhelpfully. He saunters away to retrieve his knife.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to do that when he wants to be my friend so bad.” So bad he was willing to hurt you to keep you from running away, even. “What happened to him? Was it really just… being stuck there that did it?” 

“Yes. The same fate that almost befell you.” Nightmare is deadly serious. The claws on your shoulder tighten slightly. “It is easy to lose oneself in the anti-void, and those who do escape are only kept together by their strength of will. Unfortunately that will can concentrate on a particular desire. In Blue’s case…” He almost looks regretful. “His desire to not be forgotten, for companionship, has consumed him. He is not the same as he once was.”

You get that. Both he and Error seemed determined about something. Blue with being your friend and Error with obliterating you. “What was he like before?”

“Annoyingly enthusiastic, sociable. ‘Heroic’ even. Exactly the type you’d expect to be parading about with Dream, spreading positivity across the multiverse.” Nightmare shakes his head. Maybe he does feel sorry for him. “A tragic tale, but such are the risks of traveling outside of where you belong.” 

“That’s… so sad.” You have sympathy for him. You went through the same thing, but he came out of it worse. You’ve gotten the better outcome all things considered. 

“we’ve all got tragic backstories,” Killer snorts. He sheathes his knife in a holster hidden beneath his jacket and you get the distinct feeling he’s rolling his non-existent eye lights. “he’s nothing special.” 

Nightmare sighs. “That’s enough for today.” 

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

“well,” Killer is the first to speak upon your return, dusting debris off himself with a wide grin. “i think that went well.” 

Axe cuffs him upside the head. “you’re just happy you got to fight Blue again.”

Killer pushes him away, but there isn’t any vitriol behind it. “so what? it’s fun to mess with him.” You don’t miss the subtle turn of his head to look you up and down, or the slight furrowing of his brows. “he needs to get taken down a peg or three.” 

You frown. You don’t get the chance to comment, Nightmare once again taking a seat in his throne and getting your attention. You all line up for the debriefing. 

“While the mission was an overall success, Helios continues to be a thorn in my side. Despite his interference, he remains elusive.” Nightmare drums his claws on his armrest. “I want to lure him here so that he might be captured and contained.” 

That doesn’t sound good. 

“he doesn’t exactly have incentive to show up in a place that’ll weaken him.” Killer says. “you got something he wants?” 

Nightmare reclines in his throne and levels him with a flat stare. “I am well aware. I know my brother and, over our past few encounters, I believe I have gotten to know his alternate well enough. Helios may be a version of him, but like myself they both have a flair for the theatrical. I think that will be a satisfactory reason for him to show his face here.”

None of you have any clue what he’s talking about and it must be evident on your faces. “We will host a multiversal gala and, despite not receiving an invitation, I believe Helios will make an appearance regardless.” 

You almost laugh at the incongruence of that suggestion coming from Nightmare , spoken so ominously. It’s an idea straight out of a fairy tale.

You exchange looks with the others. Is this a normal thing? It seems like a silly, unnecessary plan that could easily fail. Something in you wonders if Nightmare just wants to throw a party. 

The others aren’t particularly surprised. Instead they seem to have varying levels of excitement–Killer is literally bouncing up and down, Cross is trying to hide his enthusiasm, Axe is deep in thought, and Dust is… unreadable. 

Surprisingly, it’s Dust that has something to say. He tilts his head to the side. “what if he doesn’t show up? it’ll be a waste of time.” 

Nightmare waves a hand dismissively with an unusual smile. “Then we will have enjoyed an evening of revelry and continue the hunt another day.” 

Chapter Text

As it turns out there’s a lot of preparation that goes into a fancy gala. Nightmare gave you the rest of the day off but informed you that you would be ‘very busy’ in the coming days. By that he meant you would be redecorating many rooms and making sure you had enough food and drink stocked to host hundreds of guests.

From what you understand this is the first time something like this has been hosted, but Nightmare seems completely prepared. He has lists and instructions for everything down to the most minute of details. 

Your list is an impressive bullet point monstrosity that gives you dread just looking at it. Most of the items are small jobs–larger tasks no doubt broken into smaller ones to ensure they’re done correctly–but the sheer number is enough to give you pause. You have a whole week to get through the list but you don’t even know where to begin. 

You’re supposed to dust all the statues and paintings in the west wing, then vacuum ‘the runners’. You assume those are the ridiculously long carpets that span the halls. That alone will take a whole day or two. Where would a vacuum even be hidden in this castle, is there an evil supply closet for you to raid? 

The task ‘arrange the tables in the ballroom according to layout’ is accompanied with a drawing that you assume to be the layout you’re meant to follow. You’re also supposed to have your outfit tailored, but you neither know what you will wear nor who would tailor it. You’ll put that off until you have more information. Unfortunately Nightmare has been in and out of the castle with his own work to do, so you don’t have the opportunity to ask. 

You take it easy. Your room is bare as ever, but you can’t miss the opportunity to take a shower and unwind after being in another scuffle.

You examine your leg and find no traces of the wounds from the little stars except for a small amount of dried blood. Helios healed you, somehow. Why would he do that if he’s as ‘dangerous’ as Nightmare says? Especially when he was in the middle of being chased down by an enraged Nightmare.

Nothing about these skeletons makes sense.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The next day finds you hunting down someone to tell you where the vacuum is. There has to be one, it’s one of your jobs. Nightmare wouldn’t give you a job that’s impossible.

Or would he.

You find Killer and Axe in the living room. They’re sitting on the floor, dozens of stacks of paper between them while they work. Killer perks up when he notices you approaching and he elbows Axe to get his attention.

“heya, come to join the fun?” Killer blinks his sockets up at you like he’s batting his non-existent eyelashes.

“No, I just had a question. Are those invitations?” You lean over Axe’s shoulder to get a better look at the piles of paper he’s sorting. The fur ruff on his hood tickles your nose and you almost sneeze. “They look fancy.”

The idea of Nightmare using a printer makes you giggle, so despite the consistency of the lettering you have to wonder if they’re all handwritten. Was Nightmare up all night making these or did he have them prepared already?

“what, did you think there’s some big AU group chat for us to text?” Killer laughs. His hands are covered in streaks of cyan wax and there’s scraps of paper stuck to his skull. When he turns away from you, you get a glimpse of a wax seal stuck to the back of his head. “the boss is going all out on this gala thing.” 

Axe licks a stamp and presses it to Killer’s forehead. Killer makes no attempt to remove it. “he likes fancy things. and drama. he probably wants an excuse… to throw a big party.” 

“who doesn’t? good food, bad laughs and probably lots of booze.” 

You’re amused at the idea of Killer dressed up in a fancy outfit and wine drunk. Considering his boisterous personality you’re interested to see how he conducts himself at a formal event, let alone one with access to alcohol. 

Though, you have to admit your mental image of him cleans up nicely. You can’t wait to see what everyone will wear. Including yourself.

“you’re gonna get… real acquainted with the booze, i bet.” Axe rolls his eye light. 

“i’m gonna get acquainted with more than just the booze.” Killer shifts to kneel on one knee, one hand to his chest and the other outstretched towards you. “do you have a date to the ball, cutie?”

Axe places a stamp onto Killer’s forehead with a little more force than necessary, almost shoving him over. Killer doesn’t look any worse for wear but you do catch the glare he levels at Axe. Axe huffs. “don’t get distracted, Casanova.” 

Killer gets back to work, grumbling under his breath. He actually looks annoyed; was he seriously asking you to be his date? You can’t tell if his flirting is serious or not, and you’d hate to be embarrassed by taking a joke like that seriously. 

You decide to ignore the comment. For now. “You have more stuff on Killer than the envelopes.” 

You take it upon yourself to clean the poor skeleton up, crouching beside him to pick at the wax on his skull. He lets you, grumbling happily as you hold him still so you can remove it. The stamps are more stubborn and you give up after the first few leave behind residue or refuse to peel off entirely. He gives you a pouty look over his shoulder when you pull away.

Axe chuckles, slapping another stamp in place of the wax you just removed. “these things’re useless. Cross… is gonna deliver it all. Nightmare just wants them sealed all fancy .”

Your next question was going to be if there’s a multiversal postal service that accepts stamps. It makes more sense that Cross will be delivering them personally. “That sounds like it’ll take a long time.” 

“couple days, probably, he’s quick. and he can pretend to be intimidating if he needs to scare some people into attending.” Killer mimes acting tough, like a bouncer at a club. “some people might need a reminder these,” he waves an invitation, “can’t be refused.” 

You hum. “I was going to ask. Why would people want to attend a party put on by Nightmare? No offense to him, of course, but he… doesn’t exactly seem the type to want to host.” Or at least host well , considering the whole evil villain thing he has going on. He lives in a dimension of perpetual night in a spooky castle for stars’ sake. 

“‘cause nobody wants to piss him off, that’s why. he can hold a hell of a grudge.” That sounded like it came from experience. Killer’s grin is tense. 

Fair enough.

You flip through the finished envelopes. Some of the names are familiar to you but dozens more are incomprehensible. Crow, Rascal, Fresh, Blue, Reaper. You even find one addressed to Error. You’ll do your best to avoid him if he does attend–you don’t think that will be a very fun reunion.

“Wow. This is… a lot.” You continue sorting through the pile. Latte, Hijack, Eri, Rook. How many people are aware of the multiverse? Although a few hundred individuals out of an infinite number of universes isn’t… that much, in the grand scheme of things.

“i reckon the boss invited half the multiverse to make Helios feel left out. hell, he even invited Dream. if he’s willing to tolerate him for an evening, he must want Helios gone real bad.” Killer stamps another wax seal onto an envelope. It looks like an embellished moon surrounded by stars and branches.

Axe snorts, tossing another sealed invitation onto the pile. “yeah. i can count the people he… didn’t invite on one hand.” 

“like that angry guy, yeah? the one that blows up anyone that sets foot in his AU. with the–” he holds his hands up to his head and sticks his pointer fingers straight up, “the horns. what’s his name?”

Axe shrugs. “dunno. him and Cross’ dad or whatever… are good examples. Nightmare doesn’t want ‘em to ‘disrupt’.” His brow furrows as he focuses on you. “didn’t you have a question?”

“Oh!” You completely forgot what you were here for. “Yes, where’s the vacuum?” 

“we have a vacuum?” Axe asks. He seems genuinely confused.

Killer gives a short, harsh laugh. “fuck if i know. never vacuumed in my life.” That tracks.

Axe thinks for a long moment then shrugs. “just try every closet. you’ll find it. eventually.” 

That sounds as tedious as the task itself, but you should’ve known they wouldn’t know either. They don’t exactly seem the type to clean often.  

You groan and scrub a hand down your face. “I will do that, then. Thanks.” 

You get up to start your search. Killer reaches out for you dramatically, falling to the floor in anguish. You ignore the theatrics. “no, please! take me with you, i can’t do this boring–” Axe shuts him up with a piece of tape over his mouth and the last thing you see before leaving the room is Killer playing dead on the floor.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

The thirteenth closet you try (not counting all the doors you tested that were not closets) has your prize hidden inside. An ancient but functional vacuum.

You waste no time and get to work. You have lots to do and limited time. The halls aren’t that dirty, but you can tell which ones see more traffic from the dusty footprints that have accumulated. 

You hum as you go. You should really ask for a phone charger and headphones, but for now you’re comfortable making your own music in the vast empty hallways. It’s not any song you know per say, just whatever you feel like in the moment. Something to keep your mind off the unending monotony of vacuuming hallway after hallway. 

A few hours in, the soft prickly of anxiety on the back of your neck distracts you from the flow of cleaning the deep purple rugs. It feels like you’re being watched. 

A quick glance around yields no results. You haven’t heard or seen anyone since you started, all no doubt busy with their own work. 

Are you imagining things? You have been working a long time, and the statues and paintings can feel… creepy after a while. Staring at the statue to your right doesn’t give you the same anxiety you were just feeling, though. Maybe you’re just hungry. You’ll keep going until you get called for food.

The next thing to distract you is the smell of smoke. You’re caught off guard. Is something burning? You turn around and are instantly met with the hooded figure of Dust standing directly behind you. 

You startle back with a shriek. Dust doesn’t react, continuing to watch you dispassionately. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking. You return his stare nervously.

“Um. Do you–” You’re shoved back into the wall as Dust’s hand slams into the stone beside your head. His posture is enough to keep you from trying to get away despite how casually he’s holding a cigarette with his other hand. Not that you could get away; your soul sits heavily in front of your chest, glitching a dark blue. You’re held firmly in place against the cool stone wall.

He’s… he just put you in a kabedon. He’s kabedon-ing you. You stare at him, wide-eyed. You’re not sure whether to feel threatened or flustered. You settle on both. 

Dust exhales smoke out of the corner of his teeth, sharp eye lights focused unwaveringly on your face. The smoke curls in purple tendrils around you before dissipating. 

His voice is low and rough when he finally speaks. “i don’t get it.” 

All you can force out is a weak ‘huh?’ as Dust leans in almost imperceptibly. The shadow cast by the light behind him and his hood put his face into almost complete darkness, the only illumination coming from his piercing eye lights. It paints the contours of his skull in bloody red and the faintest hint of blue. His head tilts to the side as you continue to barely maintain the staring contest. His sockets, already half-lidded, narrow. 

“why the others like you.” Dust takes a slow drag of his cigarette. Another exhale of smoke to the side of your head. He leans in. His vibrant eye lights fill your vision and if you moved forward even a little your noses would touch. “i don’t get it.”

Honestly, neither do you.

Axe probably pities you and Killer is just sociable in general. Cross is the most normal out of them and even then he’s only helped you because you’re basically coworkers and he’s a team player. Liking you is a whole different matter. 

Dust doesn’t elaborate on his statement. His stare is analytical as he sizes you up, unwavering and intense. You have no idea what he’s thinking, but you’re under no illusion of surviving a scuffle with him. You can feel how oppressive his magic is just from the weight of it keeping you held against the wall. This is a monster with a lot of LV and a hunger for more. 

“What are you doing?” And, just like that, the spell is broken. Cross stands at the end of the hallway, sockets narrowed and a hand resting on the hilt of one his swords. He doesn’t approach but he looks ready to jump into action at any moment. 

Dust clicks his tongue and flicks the butt of his cigarette away. Your soul flickers back to normal–or as normal as it can look now–and disappears back into your chest. “no fun…” He mumbles under his breath. Dust drops his arm as he turns to face Cross, staring at him impassively. 

Cross adjusts his stance. “Well?”

“we were just chatting. trading chores.” Dust holds up a piece of paper from his pocket and waves it at Cross. The sideways glance he gives you is sharp and leaves no room for argument. “they’re gonna pick flowers for bouquets while i put up the new banners.”

Was that one of your jobs? You can’t remember. 

Cross gives you a questioning look and all you can do is nod nervously. “Y-yeah. I… didn’t think I could do it myself.”

Cross’s brow furrows but he doesn’t do more than nod in response. What is there to argue with from his perspective? Even if all three of you know Dust is lying through his teeth. “Go on, then. We all have work to do.”

Dust casts you a passing glance as he ambles away, his stare just as intense as before. You wish you could tell what he was thinking. He continues around the corner and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you allow yourself to breathe.

You’re shaking, filled with the adrenaline expected from a brush with death. Cross is quickly by your side and his hand rests awkwardly but comfortingly on your shoulder. “Are you alright?” He asks. He sounds unsure of himself.

“Yes, I– what was that all about? What’s his problem?” You can’t look away from where Dust just was, almost worried that he’ll come back. 

“Hazing probably. You’re the newbie, so he thinks you’re an easy target to screw with.” Cross’ expression is serious when you finally manage to look at him. “You should avoid him as much as you can. He’s unpredictable on a good day. On a bad one you’ll probably lose your life.” 

You gesture to the vacuum a short distance away. “I was- I was just doing my job. And he jumpscared me.” First you’re told to avoid Helios, then Blue, now Dust? How are you supposed to avoid your coworker that lives with you? “It’s not like I wanted to run into him.”

Cross hums, uncertain. “Do your best, then. If you have any issues you can call for help.” 

You grumble. Not a lot of good that will do you. Dust will have atomized you before you can make a noise.

“Thanks for intervening, that’s the second time you’ve saved me. You’re like my knight in shining armor!” You manage a weak smile and are rewarded with another view of that purple blush on his cheekbones. 

“No- no problem.” You get another pat on your shoulder as Cross turns and leaves, his other hand held over his face to hide his wobbly smile. You laugh quietly. 

He’s no doubt returning to his own chores and you almost call after him to stay. Dust won’t come back. Probably. He’s gone and you can handle yourself. You just need to be more aware of your surroundings. If anything seems off you should portal yourself to another part of the castle. Problem solved. 

After a brief hesitation you get your list of chores out from where it’s tucked away in your pocket. Sure enough towards the bottom of your list, ‘hang new banners’ is written in Nightmare’s elaborate script. How did Dust know that was one of your tasks? 

That strikes a new kind of anxiety in you. How long had he been watching you? What does he want?

You resolve to finish the little patch of rug you were working on and call it a day. You were nearly at the end of one anyway, it won’t take more than a minute. You can leave the vacuum here to mark the spot and continue tomorrow. 

You don’t feel at ease until you’ve returned to the relative safety of your room, leaning against the door after you’ve shut it and heaving a deep sigh.

There is a black box, neatly tied with a cyan velvet ribbon, sitting on your bed. A slip of paper is tucked under the bow, but even before you read it you know exactly who this is from. 

‘To wear to the gala. -Nightmare’

You open it slowly, cautiously excited about what’s inside. Like the packaging the clothes inside are black and cyan, decadent and flowy fabrics that wouldn’t look out of place on royalty. You know Nightmare doesn’t do things by halves and that this will likely be a very fancy party, but you never thought you’d get to wear something this elegant. There’s even matching jewelry; a selection of rings, bracelets, and necklaces in the bottom of the box. You wonder if the gems are genuine.

It makes sense, you suppose. Nightmare would want to show up every guest while showing off his team, including you. You’re all meant to be the belles of the ball, so to speak. How flattering. 

Now you’re extra curious what the others will wear. If this is the new recruit’s outfit then the others will be dressed just as nicely, if not fancier. And Nightmare himself… you have no doubts he’ll look every inch the king of his castle. 

Chapter Text

The days leading up to the gala pass much faster than you anticipated. They’re spent preparing and cleaning, of course, but after the initial hiccup of figuring out what you’re meant to do and how to do it… it goes smoothly enough. 

You don’t see Dust at all over those days, not even during communal meals with the others, but he kept his word. The banners get swapped for elaborate replacements without you. 

If you had any doubts that Nightmare considered himself some form of royalty they were destroyed the moment you laid eyes on those banners. Swirls of gold and cyan on a field of purple; stars, the phases of the moon, and twisting branches decorate each one in beautiful embroidery. You wonder how long it took to have those made and who made them.

Every day the castle is made more and more stunning. You wonder if the gala was also an excuse for Nightmare to redecorate. Even your own room gets an upgrade. You return at the end of the day to find all your bedding has been replaced with luxurious midnight-blue silks, and paintings of the night sky and winter landscapes decorate the walls. 

You’re not opposed to it, but you have to wonder what the purpose was to change something in a private room. None of the guests are going to see it after all.

You decide you’ve waited long enough. People had been arriving, fashionably early, for an hour now. You’d heard the chatter in the hallways as they passed. It’s not often people get the chance to explore Nightmare’s castle, though they had been firmly instructed to remain in the halls with new banners. If they were to stray beyond, where the hanging tapestries are inky black and green, he could not guarantee their safety. 

Whatever that meant.

You stand and smooth down your clothes, checking yourself over one last time. It’s still strange wearing such finery. It fits well and is incredibly comfortable, but you feel… out of place. Like an imposter. It’s not something you chose to wear, even if you like it. 

Leaving your room, you almost walk straight into a pair of monsters outside your door– a jackalope and an owl. 

“Oh, sorry!” The jackalope says, pulling the owl out of your way. “We just got turned around.” 

“It’s fine,” you reply. “I was just about to head to the hall anyway. I can show you.” Both look relieved, then notice the room behind you. You quickly close the door and lock it. You don’t want any curious guests invading your space.

“Do you live here?” The owl is incredulous. You nod awkwardly. “I didn’t realize Nightmare kept humans around.”

“It’s… just me. And only recently.” You lead them back towards the entrance of the castle, where the foyer branches off into many directions. It’s there that you find the large doors for the grand hall, open to reveal the vast decorated space. You can already see that it’s almost full. Most of the guests must have arrived already. The owl and jackalope thank you and run off to enter ahead of you.

Cross is standing by the enormous doors in a crisp parade rest, head held high and posture perfect. He wears his military uniform-esque outfit like he’s been wearing it all his life; with utmost confidence. It’s entirely monochrome except for the purple accents along his collar, cuffs, and the jacket lining, with a focus on criss-crossing layers. It suits him. You don’t miss the subtle incline of his head as you approach. He stays stationed at the door as you go past, but gives you a curt nod as your eyes meet. 

“You look… nice.” He’s refusing to look at you now, a faint dusting of purple across his cheekbones. 

You give him a quiet, ‘Thank you, you too,’ in return and enter the hall.

Killer and Axe are dressed similarly in well-fitted uniforms not out of place in a medieval portrait. Tailcoats and embroidery and fine silks that accent them well. 

Killer stands at attention by the grand staircase, though you can see him tapping a foot impatiently. He’s refusing to wear his jacket properly, instead opting to drape it around his shoulders to expose his rolled-up sleeves and forearms. His shirt isn’t buttoned even remotely far enough, allowing you to count quite a few ribs and long chain necklaces that only attract your attention even more. He winks when he catches you looking. 

You spot Axe over by the drinks, partially obscured by the shadow of a column. He looks like a hunter or warrior, his suit hidden beneath a fur-trimmed cloak that drapes from one shoulder. He seems a little uncomfortable with the clothes, standing stiffly and tugging at his collar, but he cleans up nicely. It’s definitely an upgrade from the stained t-shirt and jacket you’ve seen him wearing otherwise.

Dust is… missing. He’ll likely make an appearance when you least expect it. Or he’ll find somewhere to hide and you won’t see him at all. You’re not sure. The more you learn about him, the more he reminds you of a feral cat–hiding more often than not and attacking you when you least expect it.

You had seen the stack of invitations that were going out, but you’d had your doubts that anyone would show. You have no idea what the capacity of the grand hall is, but considering how little room there is to maneuver between people… you wouldn’t be surprised if Nightmare had managed a 100% attendance rate. 

Speaking of…

A hush falls over the crowd as everyone turns towards the stairwell. You follow their gazes and catch sight of Nightmare standing at the top of the stairs. Judging by the smug smile on his face, he’s clearly enjoying the attention and nervous air that’s fallen over the guests upon his entrance.

Nightmare is dressed head to toe in elaborately layered regalia with a modern flair. It’s very clearly designed and tailored specifically for him; dark, rich colors that catch the light with a cyan sheen. Everything is accented by golden embroidery, multiple necklaces and rings, and a weighted cape that drapes from one shoulder from a gold chain. Unsurprisingly he’s opted to wear a crown as well–a shockingly delicate platinum diadem with a crescent moon in the center.

He is dressed every inch the king he projects himself as. 

“Do not stop the festivities on my account,” Nightmare’s voice projects throughout the hall with practiced ease. “I am sure you all expect me to make some grandiose speech. I had certainly entertained the thought. But no, please continue to enjoy yourselves without interruption.” 

Nobody moves or dares to breathe. It’s not until he’s reached the bottom of the stairs and begun speaking quietly with Killer that people start to relax and return to their conversations.

You want to stick close to the others, and Nightmare and Killer are the closest. 

You work your way between people with your heart in your throat. Everyone seems to be congregating in groups and chatting idly, creating weaving pathways between them, but you still struggle to get by without brushing anyone. You don’t want to ruin your outfit or anyone else’s with a misstep. 

Your nervousness only rises the further into the crowd you go. 

It’s loud. Everyone is competing with each other to be heard in their conversations, and with the size of the room there are likely hundreds at odds with one another. 

It’s warm. The heat from the people around you has already raised the temperature in the room, and you spot a few fire elementals that are likely making it much more noticeable.

You’re not the only one struggling with the crowd. You hear a jeer above you and look up, only to see Error resting on a network of blue strings arranged into a makeshift hammock. He points at you and his teeth curl into a sneer but you can’t understand what he’s saying from this distance. He keeps yelling at you for a minute, but gives up at your non-response and turns away with a huff. 

You grimace. Your hands are shaking. You haven’t noticed any glitches from your anxiety in Nightmare’s realm before, but you still want to try and keep calm. You don’t want to cause a scene with so many people around. 

But you can’t control that, can you? There’s no telling how many eyes are on you right now. Maybe they’re already watching you and noticing how weird you’re acting. You’re not enjoying the party, you’re just standing there being afraid and getting yelled at by Error.  

There are so many people. 

You cross your arms and hug them close to your chest, desperate for anything to ground yourself with. All you see are guests of every shape and size around you. So many skeletons, but others as well– humans and monsters of all kinds. Fish monsters and elementals and lizards and birds. 

So many people. And all from different AUs. The more you look around the more aware you become of the scraps of their code. How they differ from each other. How they are the same. Which guests are from the same AUs, or are deviations of each other. 

You stare intently at one person. A tall skeleton with sharp cheekbones a short distance from you. You don’t want to get overwhelmed, you just need to ground yourself. You can focus on this one guest– 

He turns and makes eye contact with you, his sockets narrowing, and you quickly back away and make you escape. That’s not what you wanted to do. You just wanted… 

You try and pick another target. You just need to focus on one person at a time and it’ll be okay. You can ignore everything else. He’s cute and gentle-looking and the calm brown tones of his clothes ease your mind a little. 

The skeleton startles and turns to look at you with big soft eye lights, his expression quickly turning into that of concern. 

No, that’s drawing attention. What is that, why are you doing that? You cover your face with your hands in a desperate attempt to stop whatever... this is from happening.

It doesn’t work. You continue to be hit with the details of the people around you, and you become increasingly aware of their eyes on you as it happens. Whatever is going on, everyone knows that you’re doing it, and they don’t like it.

“–ain!”

Someone hesitantly touches your shoulder and you flinch away with a sharp gasp. You shake your head, hands covering your eyes as you try and fail to ignore the barrage of information. 

“–llo? Are you al-alright?”

You drop into a crouch in an attempt to curl in on yourself further. It’s too much. You can’t process that much. Your skin itches with the sense of all the code fragments within the people around you, what makes them wrong–

“Oooh, I get it-t. It’s okay.” The hand is on your shoulder again, but when you flinch it doesn’t get removed. The grip tightens gently. “You can feel that, right? Just focus on that little-little thing. Try and ignore everything else.” Another hand finds one of yours, gently prising it away from your face to touch a piece of cloth. You keep your eyes shut tight. “What does this fee-feel like?” 

It feels like an eternity before you can filter through all the sensations around you to identify what you’re holding. Whatever it is, it’s well-loved but worn. You can feel the softness of old fabric and rough patches of stitching holding it together where it’s frayed. “...Soft.” You rub the fabric with your thumb while you cling to it. Everything seems just a little bit quieter. 

“G-great! Just keep focusing on th-that for now.”

It’s a long while before you feel calm enough to open your eyes. Blue is crouched in front of you blocking the crowd from your view, a gloved hand on your shoulder and his scarf clenched in your fist. You flinch and shut your eyes again as a wave of anxiety and vertigo washes over you. You are not ready to deal with him again. 

“No no no no, th-there’s no need for that. It’s okay-ay. I just want to-”

“What do you think you are doing?” Nightmare is standing beside you now, towering and unimpressed. His shadow is cool and unnaturally dark where it casts over you and Blue, and the moment it touches you something eases in your mind. You let out a little sigh of relief, and your grip on Blue’s scarf weakens.

Blue removes his hand from your shoulder like he’s been burned. He takes a step back, pulling his scarf out of your now gentle grip. “N-nothing! I’m just he-helping. They we-”

“Hm. You may go.” Nightmare waves him off, his hand toying with a strand of your hair before coming to rest between your shoulders. The weight settles your thoughts, and you breathe a deep sigh as you relax somewhat. 

“...O-okay. It was nice-nice seeing you again!” 

You’re pulled up by a tentacle around your shoulders and another at your waist, supporting you in a standing position. Nightmare says your name softly. “You are safe. Explain.” 

It’s a long moment before you’ve collected yourself enough to be able to reply. “Too many… I-I could… I saw numbers? Or…” Claws gently stroke over your hair and you relax at the cool feeling that washes over you. Your mind quiets, and slowly your hands stop shaking.

Nightmare hums in understanding. “You were CHECKing. It’s common for monsters, and something humans may do when in an encounter. It would make sense that someone in tune with code, like yourself, would be able to do the same.” 

You shake your head and cover your face with your hands again. “It was too much. I don’t- I’m afraid it’ll happen again.” 

Nightmare pulls one hand away from your face. “It won’t happen again because it is something you can control.” As you focus on him you’re hit with a sharp wave of discomfort and vertigo. The information you’re hit with is incomprehensible and the more you try to make sense of it the more your head starts to ache.

“I would advise against that.” He turns your face away from him to face Killer leaning against a column a short distance away. He waves as you make eye contact. “Focus on him instead.”

You return his wave hesitantly and do as you’re told. As expected, something clicks in your awareness and you… know things. 

Killer cocks his head at you but stays where he is. There’s a weird sensation in your chest; a feeling of vulnerability and invasion of privacy. Even from here you can see the way the target in front of his chest wavers in shape. Killer’s sockets narrow and he pushes away from the column to stalk off.

Oh. Is that what you were doing to everyone? No wonder it attracted attention.

“Very good. Remember that feeling, and how it is to replicate it.” Nightmare turns your attention back to him. His eye light is sharp and intently focused on you. “Do not let it happen without your intent to do so.” You nod nervously. You hold on to that feeling of understanding, of invading, of knowing, and resist it. You continue to meet his intense gaze, but… nothing happens. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank you.” 

“Well done.” Nightmare tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “It would not behoove me to let my recruit flounder at the mere existence of a crowd.” His tentacles unwind from around you and some of your nervousness returns, but it’s manageable. You’re still unused to being surrounded by so many people. You try to ignore all the eyes that are on you and Nightmare. 

You clear your throat, desperate for any kind of distraction. It’s a few seconds before you can come up with anything. “Are you bothered by the people having fun?”

“Hm? No, I am perfectly content with the ‘vibes’ of the party, as Killer likes to put it.” You laugh a little at that, and Nightmare’s easy grin quirks up at the edges. “I am not so fragile as to be affected by the positivity of a few hundred mortals, and even then approximately half of the guests are enjoying things despite themselves and the other half are miserable but too nervous to leave. A perfectly balanced outcome, I should say.” 

Nightmare casts a quick glance around at the nearby guests, his gaze growing colder as he catches sight of Dream among the crowd. He gestures vaguely at his brother. “If anything Dream would be susceptible to the ambient negativity within my realm.”

You furrow your brow. “So he’s weakened just by being here? Wouldn’t you want to use that kind of advantage?” There’s clearly some kind of bad blood between them and despite their jobs ‘upholding the balance’, Nightmare seems to get some kind of satisfaction from picking fights with his brother. 

“I said there would be no fighting permitted at the gala.” He turns to face you and takes your chin in his hand. He leans down almost imperceptibly, barely even closing the distance, but you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm at the action. His voice is calm but with an air of seriousness that sends a shiver down your spine. “...and I do not lie.” 

You nod nervously and he releases you with a low chuckle. 

“Go on, enjoy the festivities. You may call for me should you need help again.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You thank him quietly and take your leave, the burn of embarrassment on your cheeks. You’re tired of having to be saved. 

Or maybe it’s something else.

You decide to look for Killer. You’d like to keep close to at least one of the others, but you’d feel silly sitting at the door with Cross. Axe is watching over the drinks table but you don’t want to risk having to make conversation with anyone who wants to get something to drink.

It doesn’t take you long to find Killer standing in the center of a ring of guests. Another skeleton casually dressed in red, black, and yellow has his hands fisted in Killer’s shirt, pulling him almost nose-to-nose. Killer stands there with a smug grin that tells you everything you need to know– he goaded this guy into a fight. He seems calm, but from the slight twitch of his fingers you know he’s itching for an excuse to retaliate. 

The guests gathered around them are tense but excited. Before you can decide if breaking up the fight is part of your job description, the tension snaps. 

Killer pokes the other skeleton in the cheek. “you want another gold tooth, Red?” He sneers, “i can help.” 

Red growls and snaps at his fingers. Killer pulls his hand back and holds them up by his skull in ‘surrender’, but his unphased expression belies any possible sincerity. “you think you’re hot shit? you act like you’re better than all of us but Nightmare’s got you prancing around in a silly outfit like a show pony. ” 

Killer’s sockets narrow and his smile widens into something cruelly excited. “i’m a fucking stallion. i prance on my own terms.” He turns his head and gives you a cringe-inducingly exaggerated wink. You look around sharply for backup, but can’t see any of the others nearby.

“you’re a fucking asshole- ” Things are about to get much worse. There’s a tension in the air you can only attribute to magic. Red’s socket flashes with a crimson eye light. Killer stares him down impassively, seemingly unarmed but you know that can change in a blink. 

Your feet move before you can think as you shove your way into the ring and between the two skeletons, separating them forcefully.

Killer probably doesn’t have any real investment in the fight, so you put your energy into deescalating things with Red. You place a hand on Killer’s chest and start pushing him back, trying to get distance between him and Red. Sure enough, Killer doesn’t resist your attempt. Your voice wavers slightly as you give Red your best apologetic expression. “I’m so so sorry about him. He’s terrible.” 

Killer cackles and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to his teeth in a kiss. “aw, you don’t mean that.” You ignore him and continue trying to push him back. He humors you, stepping backwards towards the wall of people.

Red seems more confused by your interruption than anything, giving you a once over with a curious expression. You can see now that he has a gold fang on the left side of his sharp frown. “who the fuck’re you?” 

You don’t bother with introductions. “I’ll make sure Killer’s properly punished, he should really know better than to go picking fights like this.” The crowd parts as Killer continues to back towards them. 

Killer perks up, a hand on your elbow pulling you in against him so he can murmur in your ear. “gonna punish me?”

You quickly pull away and correct yourself. “He’ll be properly reprimanded. By Nightmare .” You should’ve known to choose your words carefully around him. He deflates into a pout. 

Red isn’t the only one watching you in confusion. Most of the crowd now has their eyes on you and it’s no wonder why; a seemingly random human is breaking up a fight involving a multiverse-wide known murderer and said murderer is taking it remarkably well. 

You shrink in on yourself as you’re overwhelmed by the unwavering attention. Your hands shake as you continue to lead Killer backwards and away from the commotion. He squints at you in some inscrutable expression and his grip on your wrist tightens slightly. 

Red gets over the confusion quickly and grimaces. “oy wait, i’m not done with that jackass! i still gotta finish what he started.” He looks like he’s about to follow, but stops short with a nervous expression trained on something behind you. 

“I thought I made it clear there was to be no fighting over the duration of this event.” Nightmare is suddenly behind you, his voice stern and expression unsettlingly aloof as he looks down on Killer. The nearby guests disperse quickly at his appearance, separating into small groups to find entertainment elsewhere.

Killer, to his credit, has the sense to look vaguely apologetic. “sorry, boss, but he was just begging me to make him symmetrical.” 

Nightmare’s eye light flickers over to Red briefly. “I see you managed to restrain yourself.” 

Killer’s regretful expression instantly melts into delight and he nudges you towards Nightmare. “naaa, they restrained me. i was about to send him into next week.” 

The flat stare Nightmare gives him is frigid. “Wonderful that you take your job as my representative so seriously.” The sarcasm in his words is thick enough to be cut with a knife. “Relieve Axe from monitoring the drinks table. You will not enjoy the consequences if I find you have left your post early.” 

Killer acknowledges the assignment with a nod and slinks away. 

You choose to follow him. You don’t want him getting into any more trouble. He’s already disappeared, swallowed up by the mass of people milling about. You work your way through slowly. Your hands shake as you go further into the crowd, but you manage to suppress the urge to CHECK. You don’t need to know about them. You don’t want to know about them. They have no bearing on you. You don’t care about them or their AUs. You just need to get through.

You push your way to the other side of the grand hall and breathe a sigh of relief. There are less people mingling at the edges towards the walls and you’re finally given the space to breathe. 

You don’t find Killer, this time. You must’ve gotten turned around at some point, because where you thought you’d find the drink table you instead find a seemingly abandoned seating area. There are a plethora of fancy plush couches, but for some reason they are being avoided like the plague. People won’t even stand near them. The closest person is a solid dozen meters away. 

You almost don’t see him at first. His dark coat almost blends into the couch he’s lounging on, only the telltale glint of metallic accents catching your eye. 

Dust inclines his head at you. You can’t see his face in the deep shadows of his hood, only the faint light of a lit cigarette between his teeth. Purple smoke twists around him languidly, and he has a glass of red wine held in a red gloved hand. He looks relaxed, and makes no other acknowledgement of your existence.  

You hesitate. “Thanks for putting up the banners.” 

Dust doesn’t reply. You don’t know why you expected him to, but you don’t want to press your luck. You find yourself staring at the black marble floor to avoid the emptiness of his stare as you turn to leave him be.

“hm.” 

You look up sharply. Dust isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead he’s looking to the side, his head slowly tilting in curiosity. He leans forward and puts his cigarette out on a couch cushion. You wince. 

When did it get so quiet? 

You turn around. “Oh damn,” you murmur, “he actually showed.” 

The hundreds of guests have fallen silent, all turned to face the center of the hall. They’ve cleared out a wide ring, giving Helios all the space he needs to stretch his wings. He looks much bigger with them unfolded, and with the luminescent halo above his skull he looks like an angel. He’s still wearing the same robes you last saw him in. You wonder if it’s because he doesn’t have anything else, or he didn’t see a reason to change.

Helios’ voice is loud and clear, ringing out through the hall like a chime. You need to get to a better vantage point. You can’t see anything. “You didn’t feel like inviting me? I’m hurt. And after all we’ve been through together.” 

You look up and see Error scarfing down snacks in his little hammock, watching everything unfold with rapt attention. There are more blue strings strung across the ceiling around him. It’s simple enough to make a portal from where you’re standing to an unused string high above everyone… it’s another thing entirely finding a way to sit on it that feels stable. You’re not sure how he makes it look so easy. 

“H-h-hey! This is my-my spot, get your o-own.” Error reaches up to his sockets to pull more strings, but stops when you shush him sharply.

“No fighting. I’m trying to see what’s going on.” You don’t look at him, too focused on what’s happening below. 

He growls, but relents. “Fine. Just d-don’t get in my wa-way. Things are finally ge-getting interesting.” 

The crowd parts quickly to allow Nightmare through. He stops at the edge of the clearing, Helios facing him in the center. Helios’ grin widens. “What a surprise.” Nightmare hums. The room is so silent that you can hear him perfectly despite the distance. “You crashed my event. Who could have expected this outcome.”

Helios laughs, wings fluttering with mirth. “Oh don’t start that. You think I can’t see that this is a trap? I just wanted to see the look on your face when your plan fails in your own realm .” 

You can see Nightmare’s dark smile from here. The shadows in the room seem to get deeper and stretch, reaching towards the center of the hall. You feel a chill as the room gets noticeably cooler. “We shall see about that.”

Chapter Text

Shadows like roots erupt from the ground beneath Helios' feet. They curl and weave around each other, rapidly creating a cage of darkness around him. They don't last long.

Golden arrows manifest around the room, shooting through the air to stab into the ground through the cage bars. The radiance emanating from the arrows burn the shadows away before they disappear in turn.

Nightmare and Helios continue to stand off against each other. The crowd waits with baited breath to see who will make the next move.

Nightmare continues the offense. His four tentacles move faster than you expected, the sharpened tips aiming for Helios' chest. Two are deflected by Helios' wings, the points where they meet causing the liquid corruption of the tentacles to blister and burn.

Helios' wings come away with dark stains, and they flutter about him as though to shake off the impacts. Another blow is dodged, and the fourth yet gets sliced, the end of the tentacle landing a short ways away before melting away into a puddle.

Nightmare growls, withdrawing his tentacles. The one that was injured weaves behind his back and low to the ground, the cut surface dripping corruption to the floor in rivulets like blood.

Something about the injury is preventing it from reforming properly, you think.

Helios now wields two short swords, his wings held closer to his body. His expression is... different, bright eye lights in wide sockets focused on solely on Nightmare. He's still smiling, but it's not reaching his sockets anymore.

More golden arrows appear throughout the hall, now taking aim at Nightmare. He swats a few away with his claws and tentacles as though they were flies, but they keep coming. One hits its mark, lodging itself in his back. He grunts and continues deflecting through the onslaught. Another hits, impaling one of his tentacles.

You can't look away.

Helios has been slowly closing the gap while Nightmare is distracted. "How interesting," he says, "you fight so differently from my brother. Your magic is stronger in some ways and yet so much weaker in others. Is your corruption a boon or your ruin?"

Nightmare doesn't reply, single eye light focused on the volley of arrows above him. He can't avoid them all.

It's just as another arrow impales Nightmare's back that Helios strikes, dashing in on Nightmare's right side. Nightmare barely manages to stop the blow from the twin swords, catching them in his claws with a dark expression.

Nightmare throws the blades to the side and swipes at Helios in turn. Corruption-tipped claws and shining metal meet with a harsh clash that sends sparks flying. The nearby gathered guests scatter backwards and further away from the fight. 

The arrows let up as Helios begins to focus on the close combat. They seem evenly matched; for each glancing blow landed yet another is blocked or dodged.

Nightmare switches to using his tentacles, claws held at the ready beside him. His movements become more graceful with the change, and you have to wonder if he's more comfortable fighting with them than hand-to-hand. It doesn't go unnoticed by Helios, either.

"Can you not summon a weapon?" Helios laughs. He continues to dance around Nightmare, blades moving in an intricate choreography that you struggle to follow. "A shame. Even my brother can, and he is far weaker than you ."

Nightmare continues to deflect the blows with deft movements of his tentacles, directing the slashes away with swift counter attacks to the flat of the blades. He hasn't been cut again, but even from where you're sitting you can see the damage just touching the blade is doing to him, not to mention the arrows still lodged in his back and tentacle.

Helios' magic is burning Nightmare.

You wonder how long this can go on. Neither is making headway. You cast quick glances around and see no movement in the crowd. You spot Dust, Axe, and Killer, but none make a move to help their boss.

You're starting to wonder if you should step in and do... something. You're not sure what. But something has to change or this is going to go on forever, or until one slips up.

Your brow furrows. Something about the fight doesn't feel right. It hasn't changed since Nightmare switched to fighting with his tentacles, but you start to recognize the pattern of movement and it feels off . Helios remains on the offensive, gleefully hacking away at Nightmare with his swords while each attack is carefully and painfully redirected with his tentacles.

Helios is looking for an opening in Nightmare's defense and only finding carefully calculated resistance at every step. But Nightmare isn't at a particular disadvantage, despite his injuries. If anything, he could still fight with his hands—

It happens almost too fast for you to see it. Helios brings down both blades on Nightmare, only to have them deflected apart and hard , far harder than he had thus far. Helios is thrown off balance, the routine of the fight completely disrupted. Nightmare lunges forward in the same movement and Helios has no time to dodge or close the opening.

Liquid gold splatters the floor beneath the two gods' feet.

Nightmare's claws are dug deep into Helios' chest. He clenches his hand and the resulting crunch of Helios' ribs breaking reverberate through the hall.

The room is deathly silent.

Nightmare removes his claws, dripping golden ichor, with a satisfied smirk. "You talk too much."

Helios drops his swords and staggers away from him, wings curling protectively around himself. His pure white robes are now tarnished with a rapidly increasing stain of the same gold dripping from his strained grin.

How is he still smiling?

Nightmare moves as if to attack again and Helios leaps into the air, putting as much distance between them as he can in a split second. He falters for just a moment, his wing beats uneven as he retreats.

"Finally run out of snide remarks, have we." Nightmare chuckles lowly, shaking off some of the blood from his hand. Helios still doesn't reply. One hand is pressed to the wound on his chest, the other is clenched at his side.

It's then that familiar dog-shaped skulls appear throughout the hall, all aimed at Helios. Their jaws open wide as light gathers in their maws, but are cut short as they're impaled quickly by golden arrows. The skulls shatter into dust.

Your eyes meet Helios' for just a moment before he rips open a portal and disappears.

Nobody moves for a few tense moments. Slowly, chatter picks back up and the crowd begins dispersing. Most head for the various drinks tables around the edges of the room, but you see quite a sizeable number head for the exit.

You glance back down to see Nightmare ripping the arrows from his back and snapping them in his grip. They fizzle into nothingness in his hands. You think you see flashes of white on his palms where the arrows met bone, but when you blink they're gone, replaced with the oil-slick black of his corruption.

You take a deep breath and try to relax.

Error's harsh voice immediately shatters the semblance of peace in your mind. "O-o-okay. That's enough now-ow. G-go away."

You don't have any time to react before the strings you're sitting on go slack and you're sent plummeting to the floor. You expect to hit the stone as a painful human pancake, but instead find yourself caught in thick arms against a broad chest. Nightmare looks down at you with a carefully neutral expression.

"Ah, there you are. Impeccable timing."

Nightmare doesn't seem half as mad as you expected him to be. His eye light is sharp and constricted, but aside from that he appears at ease. His shoulders are relaxed, his grip on you loose, and he's not actively calling for his men to chase Helios down.

Nightmare sets you down on your feet, though one of his hands remains at the small of your back.

As he sets you down you realize he'd caught you in one arm and one tentacle, his other arm held relaxed at his side... and still dripping gold onto the marble floor.

He notices your gaze and pulls a handkerchief from a pocket, cleaning the liquid from his claws. Almost like a magic trick, with a flick of his wrist the now-stained piece of fabric disappears before your very eyes. Nightmare smiles at your surprised expression.

You quickly avert your gaze before he catches you staring at him too long. You clear your throat. "Thanks for catching me."

Nightmare doesn't miss a beat. "Of course. You may repay me with a dance."

You freeze, the incongruous request causing you to falter. "Wait— what. I-I don't know how to…"

Nightmare shakes his head, holding out a hand for you. "That is no trouble. Follow my lead. I will prevent you from faltering."

You stare at the offered hand, internally warring with yourself. "Aren't you... didn't he hurt you? Do you really want to dance so soon after that? Are you really okay?"

Nightmare tilts his head slightly. He studies you intently, cyan eye light roaming your expression. You're not sure what he sees. "While there are not many things that can do lasting damage to me, Helios and Dream's arrows and blades are of the few that can. However, I do not wish my injuries to dampen the festivities." He leans down, almost conspiratorially. You fight he urge to lean away. "And truth be told, a dance would improve my mood."

You purse your lips but take his hand in yours. "If you say so." You're pulled closer, your free hand awkwardly going to his chest. You fight the warmth flooding your cheeks.

"I do." With a sharp look towards the musicians, he sets the pace. A slow waltz. The music follows shortly after, slow and hesitant.

You keep your head down to avoid the glances you're positive you're receiving from the crowd. "So you... you like to dance."

Nightmare hums, low and quiet in his chest. "Yes, though I do not get to indulge very often. Not many are amicable enough to be so close to me, you know."

"But- so soon after a big fight like that? Even if you're feeling okay, isn't it a bit of a weird tonal shift?" You cast a quick glance around you. Sure enough, most of the guests are still tense. Many are watching you and Nightmare, though, and conversation is still slowly returning to normal.

"I did not want my fight with Helios to sully the party. I wished for a distraction. This is as good as any."

You're surprised to see Dream among the dancers around you, paired with the jackalope monster you met some distance away. Dream is smiling and the jackalope is laughing, and you can't help but be curious about what they're talking about.

Nightmare is watching you intently when you look back up at him. You resist the urge to shrink in on yourself.

It's a long moment before you find your words again. "You went through a lot of trouble to lure Helios here."

Nightmare doesn't reply, instead simply raising a brow at you.

"But you just... let him go. You could've stopped him. You literally had him in your claws." You glance up at him, your brow furrowed. "I don't get it. Why bother with all of... this if he's just going to escape again?"

"I did have him, yes. But I would be a fool to assume an injury like that would be enough to incapacitate him. The fight would have only escalated from there. The moment my first attack failed to contain him I knew this venture was a failure."

You stumble slightly, your concentration on your footwork disrupted by your confusion. Nightmare rights you with a steadying hand and continues as if nothing had happened.

"Then why bother fighting at all?" You ask.

Nightmare's neutral expression shifts into a wide, disconcerting grin. His sharp cyan eye light regards you from his hooded socket. You feel his hand, the one he'd stabbed Helios with, tense on your waist. You remember the harsh sound of Helios' bones breaking. "It was cathartic."

A shiver goes down your spine.

You let the conversation lapse into silence. Nightmare doesn't break it, instead studying you as you slowly move about the dance floor.

More people have joined in, and the guests are lively. To your surprise, as he separates from you, Nightmare bows deeply. He holds one hand over his chest and the other behind his back, his tentacles hidden in the shadows of his cape. You mimic him awkwardly, and when you straighten up he nods approvingly.

"Enjoy the rest of the party, fy annwyl." With a polite nod, he's gone, disappearing with a dramatic flourish into the shadows near the grand staircase.

The music is picking up in energy and the dancers are increasing in number, but you've had your fill. You move away try to find the drinks table.

You have little difficulty navigating the crowd. The moment someone notices you they quickly move out of the way. You prefer this over your struggle before, and yet it still feels... weird. Nobody here knows you, and yet they all have some sort of recognition on their faces.

You can hear them talking as you pass.

Nightmare's human. Did you see? They're matching. They danced together. They stopped Killer from fighting. Nobody knows why they're here.

Nervousness rises in the pit of your stomach. The rumors are already swirling. People are regarding you with suspicion and varying amounts of wariness.

They must be dangerous, like the rest of those murderers.

You take a drink from the table with shaking hands and drink it as quickly as you can. You grab another.

None of the skeletons are at the drinks table. You can just barely make out Cross standing guard at the entrance, but the others have either retreated to their rooms or are lost among the crowd.

You find a quiet spot by a pillar and people watch. You sip your drink, eyes roaming the crowd. Skeleton after skeleton, monster after monster. You're not sure you've seen a single human aside from yourself.

“there you are!” You turn at the sound of Killer’s voice behind you and stumble as he walks directly into you. You let out an oof at the impact and he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from falling backwards. “i’ve been looking eeeeverywhere for you.” He smells like the wine he was meant to be monitoring.

Even though he caught you he’s not steady. You can see the way he’s swaying every so slightly. You pull out of his hold and put an arm on his shoulder to keep him still. “Are you okay?”

“m’fine. you’re fine. very fine. you look good.” He pokes your nose with a gloved finger, then gently moves his hand around to your cheek. His sockets are lidded, his posture relaxed. The red magic of his soul sparks and sputters as it slowly rotates, vaguely maintaining a wobbly heart shape.

You don’t think a drunk Killer would be appreciated at this event. He already tried to get into a fight and there’s no telling what he’ll do in this state. “C’mon, I’ll take you back to your room.” It's as good an excuse to take your leave as any.

Not that you probably need an excuse— you live in this castle. You could go to your room whenever you want, couldn't you?

"oooh, you wanna go to my room?" He says it like it's something clever and you just sigh.

Killer leans into you and almost loses his balance. You don't have the patience to deal with this right now. You take Killer by the arm and bodily drag him towards the exit.

Cross gives you a nod as you pass, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth at the exasperated expression you level him.

You avoid the gazes of the guests you pass as you make your way towards the hall of bedrooms. You're certain you make a strange pair with Killer all but draped over you; Nightmare's human and his right-hand man.

Thankfully he doesn't put up much of a fuss, and you make it to what you're fairly certain is his door with no further incidents.

"Hey, wake up. We're here."

Killer blinks at the door, then turns his head to blink at you. Black tears run down his cheekbones, and you desperately hope none dripped on your fancy clothes.

"you wanna come inside?" Killer pauses, and you can practically see the gears turning in his skull as he rotates what he just said in his mind. He opens his mouth to speak again and you shush him before he can continue that thought.

"How about this; you can ask again when you're sober." If he even remembers, you think to yourself. "For now you can just... sleep it off."

Killer nods but doesn't make a move for his door. You sigh and push him away from yourself so you can open his door. To your surprise, it's locked.

"Do you have your key?"

Killer's wide grin doesn't shift. "no."

"Did you lose it?" You sincerely hope you won't have to pat him down to find it.

"no."

You stare at him. He stares back, void-like sockets unwavering in their intensity. In the quiet, you can hear a soft hum coming from the soul wavering in front of his chest. "How are you going to get into your room, then?"

"like this." He disappears with a soft displacement of air and almost immediately you can hear a clattering sound from inside the room, as if he had fallen into a dresser and knocked things to the floor. You wait a beat, but there's no further noise.

You give him another few seconds and then turn to leave. You're ready for this day to end.

You're thankful the bedrooms are far enough away from the main hall that you can't hear anything. You're not sure what you would've done if you could still hear the music and loud chatter while you were trying to sleep.

As you reach for your doorknob, the draping fabric of your sleeves is pulled sharply to the side. You're whirled around as your long sleeves are wrapped around your wrists and pinned to the wall beside your door.

It's Dust.

He's watching you with a silent glare that sends an icy chill down your spine. Despite the intensity of the stare, his mismatched eye lights aren't as sharp as usual; they're big and blurred at the edges. At this distance you can see the way he's slightly swaying on his feet and smell the sweet wine on his breath. Seems like he took a few cues from Killer and had a few too many drinks as well.

Is he going to be better or worse when he's drunk?

"Dust?" You tug lightly against his hold on your sleeves. You stand firm and meet his gaze. "This isn't your room. Yours is down the hall."

He mumbles something you don't quite catch, followed by a soft growl and more quiet words under his breath. You lean forward into the shadow of his hood in an attempt to hear better. At this distance you now realize he's not as silent as he appeared; he's constantly muttering to himself.

You only manage to make out a soft but angry, " shut up," before it's once again too quiet to understand.

You're not sure how to diffuse this. You tug at your sleeves again and his grip tightens roughly. You yelp as your wrists are crushed but manage to still yourself.

You doubt anyone is going to come to your rescue this time.

But just as you're thinking that… he releases you. He takes a swaying step back, almost staggering as he nearly loses his footing. Your gaze meets his again, and to your surprise fuzzy white eye lights stare back at you. When he blinks you're met with his mismatched red and blue eye lights again, but they're still unfocused.

You take advantage of the moment to open your door and lock it behind you.

After a short pause there's a dull thud against your door, followed by a soft sliding sound. Sounds like you won't be leaving your room for a while. Not that it matters to you at this point.

You only just showered that morning—or whatever passes as morning in this place— but after all that you've gone through you feel... dirty. You keep replaying the scene of Nightmare spilling Helios' blood on the floor in your mind. You wonder if the puddle is still there.

You carefully put away your fancy outfit and pick out something comfy to wear for pajamas. A quick rinse in the shower relaxes you, and you heave a deep sigh under the warm water as you relish the peace and quiet. All good things must come to an end, though, and almost too soon you're turning the water off so you can get cozy.

Your bed is soft and comfortable and you practically melt into it when you finally make your way under the covers. All the excitement must've effected you more than you realized, because you very quickly find your eyes drifting shut and your mind quieting.

You dream of being trapped in a maze.

You're back to normal; no stains of void-black on your fingers or hands. You can't make any portals or glitches. All you can do is walk. The smooth black marble of the maze walls are impossible to climb, cool and almost alive under your hands when you touch them.

There are patches of vines with thorns growing up the labyrinthine walls, but they refuse to support your weight when you try to climb, instead tearing away and cutting your palms.

The sky above you is clear, an endless expanse of crystal blue that opens up an ache of grief in your chest when you look at it for too long. You can hear distant birdsong, as though you're on the edge of a forest, but no matter how far you walk you only meet dead-end after dead-end.

When you turn around the path is different. Sometimes when you blink it's as if the walls have shifted in that brief moment. No matter where you go you are lost.

The fluttering of wings catches your attention, and you spot a golden bird perched on the wall above your head. It shifts as you look at it, never quite remaining the same species. One moment it's a dove, another yet it's a wren. You blink and it's something you can't even name.

It sings to you and you coo back quietly. You hold a hand up to it, but it remains just out of reach. It cocks its head at you and hops away. You follow. It hops away again, fluttering its wings and watching you closely.

You continue like this for a while. Sometimes the bird would fly away, but it always came back, right when you were feeling helpless, to lead you down another path. You were never without its song, though. Even when it was out of sight you could hear it singing almost as if it was guiding you.

Your dream begins to fade just as you reach the end of the maze, your awareness of your surroundings melting into vagueness. There's a locked gate in front of you, blocking your way.

The bird is standing outside the exit, watching you. It doesn't move as you approach but in the span of a blink it suddenly has a wound in its breast, leaking deep red into its golden feathers and onto the ground. The bird stares at you with unblinking black eyes.

Your hands go to your own chest, clutching at your shirt. But something is in your hand, preventing you from closing it fully.

There is an iron key in the palm of your hand, heavy and intricate in its details but different every time you look at it. You quickly put it into the lock and turn it. The lock clicks with resistance, but with each turn of the key you know you're closer to your freedom.

With a satisfying sound the gate is unlocked and disappears.

The bird chirps once, and in the next blink is gone.

Icy dread clenches in your chest and you reach for where it was, but the ground gives way beneath your feet and you fall away into nothingness. Wind whips your hair about your face and you brace for an impact that never comes.

Instead you open your eyes to find yourself in your room.

Your old room. Your real room. The one left behind in your AU when you were lost to the void. You would recognize your home anywhere.

You launch yourself out of your bed and run to the window. The world is just as you left it and undeniably yours . It all must've been a weird dream. The multiverse, the skeletons, the fighting...

You turn away from the window and examine your room. Things aren't quite the same—some things are out of place, but that could just be your faulty memory. It feels like you've been away for so long and yet no time at all.

You reach for your door but grasp nothing. Your surroundings fade like smoke around you, and you dream no more.

Chapter Text

A hearty plate of breakfast is placed in front of you as Axe goes by, a plethora of delicious savoury smells bringing you out of a daze. With the gala officially over and Helios nowhere to be found, Nightmare has graciously given you and your coworkers time to relax and "better yourselves", in his words. You sit drowsily at the table, flanked by the others in an similar spectrum of sleeplessness.

Unlike the tense meals you had in the days prior, this meal is almost calm. Even Dust is uncharacteristically tame, scrolling lethargically on his phone with not even a spare glance your way.

Thick black drips from Killer's barely open sockets and stains the table as he slumps in his seat. His clothes are unkempt, wrinkled, and covered in a noticeable layer of loose fur. The ensemble looks familiar to you; you think it might be the same outfit he wore the day before the gala. Unwashed. He stares unblinkingly at his plate of food before slowly lowering his head to lie beside it.

The chair creaks beneath Axe's weight as he takes his seat, his own plate piled much higher than yours. His fork is driven through multiple sausages before being stabbed accusingly in Killer's direction. "eat. it'll help." The sausages disappear into a maw of sharp teeth and you're suddenly struck with questions about how skeletons eat. Or get hangovers.

Killer groans but doesn't touch his food.

It's unsurprising to you that Cross is the most conscious out of everyone. He's dressed in light exercise clothes and reading as he eats, though you can't make out the title or genre from your angle.

You take your time with eating. The heat from the food slowly warms you from the inside-out while the slow pace of the morning eases a tension in you that you hadn't even noticed was there. It's a blessed reprieve from the chaos of the missions, the preparations, and the gala itself.

It's far too soon when the others finish eating. They quickly disperse with a clatter of plates and chairs quickly being pushed out of the way. Everyone seems to have an idea of what they want to do with their free-time and are in a rush to get to it.

You sit in the silence for a moment and distract yourself with finishing your plate.

Now left alone to your thoughts you're immediately brought back to your time in the anti-void where you had nothing but time to yourself. You spent hours (days? weeks? months?) stuck alone and desperately trying to keep yourself occupied so you didn't lose your mind. Though your freedom has been incredibly eventful, it's still fresh. The thought of spending the day alone and aimless sends ice through your veins.

You have the whole castle to explore, if you so wished. But the memories resurface of your midnight stroll before Axe found you— you don't want a repeat of wandering the halls directionless for hours. You need a goal. Or a distraction. If you were at home you'd just watch TV or YouTube or something… but you're not home.

But there is a living room, a living room with a TV and games. You found Axe and Killer in there when they were preparing the gala invitations. That should do the trick.

You find the living room right where you remember it, though the walk seemed a little longer than you remember. While rooms seems to stay in the same place, sometimes it feels like the halls between them stretch on longer or shorter than you remember, almost like the space within the castle isn't always consistent. You try not to think about it too much and instead focus on the weirdly colorful furniture laid out in front of you.

Where the castle feels cold, ornate, and stark in a way reminiscent of a museum, the living room feels so lived in, so clearly designed around comfort and entertainment.

A handful of fluffy rugs are tossed about at haphazard angles, cushioning your feet as you pad over to an assortment of couches. They're haphazardly set up around a jam-packed entertainment center. Consoles, games, and movies you've never heard of line the shelves and peak out of cabinets stuffed to overflowing. A rather comfortable looking pile of pillows populate one corner with a throw blanket over top, the rest strewn about the couches in no order. The TV is weirdly modest, some mid-range no-frills model of flat screen that does the job. You'd been expecting either a CRT or the largest, most expensive TV you've ever seen.

The couch dips comfortably beneath you and to your surprise, the TV gets signal. You scroll through the available channels.

FMTV Presents: Documentaries. FMTV Presents: Romance Movies, followed by subsequent channels for Dramas and Comedies and a handful of other genres. FMTV's Favourite YouTube Videos. It keeps going, and you scan over a dozen channels for different genres of television shows before finally settling on a calm documentary about birds.

There must be someone out there broadcasting curated content to the multiverse and its transient occupants. Are they a skeleton, too?

Your view of the TV is momentarily obscured as Killer pops into existence in front of you. Half moon sockets with deep, dark circles beneath regard you inscrutably.

You meet his stare for a half-beat before patting the cushion beside you. "You wanna watch something?" You ask.

Killer doesn't respond. Instead the couch beside you sags beneath his knees before he collapses forward and across you, burying his face in the pillow you'd been using as an armrest with a deep sigh. You nudge his shoulder gently and he grumbles lowly. He curls further into the pillow and begins to snore. Whether it's real or fake, you're unsure, but you have a feeling he's not moving from your lap anytime soon. He at least had the courtesy not to put his sneakers on the couch, instead letting his feet dangle over the opposite armrest from where you're sitting.

Your arms hover over him awkwardly, initially unwilling to relax into the physical contact. Fascinatingly, his ribcage gently expands roughly in time with your own breathing. Does he need to breathe? Or is it all an act?

That's a question you've found yourself wondering often around him. It's so hard to tell how genuine he is.

Slowly, carefully, your hand rests between his shoulders and the other at the small of his back, rising with his 'breathing'. He sighs deeply but otherwise doesn't move.

You resume watching your show, absentmindedly tracing shapes into the back of Killer's jacket.

The hair on the back of your neck prickles uncomfortably. A shiver runs down your spine and you reflexively look over your shoulder, catching sight of a dark silhouette just in your peripheral vision. Standing in the doorway is Dust. His gaze weighs heavily on you despite the fact you can't see his eye lights for the shadow of his hood.

You slowly turn back to face the television and ignore him. It's a few minutes later that movement in the corner of your eye draws your attention again.

The sofa to your left protests with the sound of furniture that has seen too many fights as Dust stretches out on it, facing not the TV but yourself. You still struggle to see his face, but at this distance you can now make out the pinprick red eye lights burning in the darkness of his hood. It takes all your willpower not to stare back at him.

Eventually the feeling of him staring into the side of your face fades, but Dust doesn't move for hours. A few episodes of a TV show and an entire film later and he still hasn't moved an inch. He hasn't looked away from you, he hasn't adjusted the way he's lounging on the couch, nothing. You've managed to ignore him for the most part, engrossed in the possibilities of a multiverse's worth of media— but it's hard. You can't feel his stare piercing into the back of your head like you could earlier, but just he fact he's been facing you motionless for hours is unnerving.

Killer also hasn't moved much, though he as least has the excuse of being deeply asleep. You shift beneath him awkwardly, trying to stretch your legs and back fruitlessly. You wish he'd wake up so you could get up and do something else but you don't have the heart to wake him yourself, not when he looks so peaceful.

…

You sneak a peek at Dust from the corner of your eye. Could he be asleep, too? His head is resting on one hand and he does look pretty relaxed—

"killer..." The deep voice above your head startles you. Axe is looming over you from behind the couch, brows lowered and eye light a sharp pinprick in his socket. How does someone so large move so quietly?

Killer doesn't stir. The couch envelopes you as you press back into it, trying to put distance between yourself and thunderous expression on Axe's face. He growls. "ya didn't eat your breakfast, killer."

Killer's quiet snoring is interrupted by a harsh snort as you jostle him with your knee, but he otherwise remains steadfastly asleep. "that's… weird." Your hair is rustled with the force of Axe's sigh, and you're forced to lean further back as the cushion behind you is compressed under his weight. Axe rests his head on his arms, crossed under his chin, and watches you. "how long he been asleep?"

"A few hours, I think. Basically since breakfast."

Axe hums in acknowledgement and straightens up, rounding the couch to stand in front of you. "alright. hand him over." Killer's weight is finally lifted from your lap, Axe holding him under his arm like a sack of potatoes. He still hasn't reacted to anything around him.

You move to stand up, worried, but meet resistance. Axe's free hand presses down on your shoulder, a firm weight to keep you in your seat. "it's fine… i can handle him."

Reluctantly, you settle back into the couch as Axe removes his hand with a nod. He lumbers away with Killer, leaving you alone with the television and Dust.

The sensation of him staring at you quickly settles over your skin like an uncomfortable layer of static. Without Killer keeping you in place you find yourself restless again, the TV no longer enough to provide a distraction from the buzz of your thoughts.

You stand quickly, tossing the remote over to the couch Dust is sitting on. "Your turn." He doesn't reply, but you can feel him watching you as you leave the room.

You're not sure where to go from here. Considering you're in a magical castle you have a feeling there's going to be a library around somewhere, but you're equally unsure that you would actually be allowed in it. The idea of making your way to Nightmare's office to ask him fills you with unease. Though he gave you time off, you have a feeling he wouldn't appreciate being interrupted while he's… doing whatever it is he does. It seems to involve a lot of writing. Maybe cataloguing worlds?

You miss having Killer around, even if he wasn't conscious. Maybe you can catch up to Axe?

⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You think you took a wrong turn. You should have arrived at the kitchen by now. But you're sure you went the right way— it should've only been a few turns and a couple hallways. Did you miss it?

You double-back, taking a left at the creepy painting you were sure marked the path. That's not right. You don't remember this being between the kitchen and the living room. There's columns alternating with windows along your left, but there aren't columns this way. You go back and go the right way instead.

It doesn't look right either. You don't remember this serious of statues. There are many unique statues in the castle, but you've noticed each hallway seems to follow a theme. The line of angelic statues don't seem familiar to you.

You go back to the junction again. None of the attached hallways feel familiar, but the castle can't be that large either. If you follow one surely you'll find something you know. You can see the gardens through the windows; if you can find your way out to them you can at the very least get back to the main hall.

You continue on, trying to keep your mounting nervousness at bay. You have a goal, you'll get there eventually. You're just taking the long way.

The hallways stretch on and on. Your anxiety mounts every other corridor you go down that you don't recognize. Surely you should've reached the other end of the castle by now, how can there be so many?

Distantly, the sound of clashing metal.

You perk up, grateful for something to break the silence aside from your own breathing and heartbeat. The noise is quiet but at regular intervals, making it easy enough to track.

You follow the sound down another two halls, a short staircase, and through a large door into the open air. A soft dirt ground and patches of grass are the first things you notice, followed quickly by the racks of weapons, rows of dummies, and Cross. It's nice to see the stars again, though you have to wonder how the area stays so well lit without a ridiculous number of torches.

Cross is swinging at and dodging a rotating dummy with metal armor, gracefully weaving around the dummy's sword and hitting marked targets on its body with a pair of matching shortswords.

"Hey," he calls out as you approach, stopping the dummy with practiced ease and turning to face you. He's not out of breath, but you can see the slightest hint of fatigue in the sag of his shoulders, and the purple (magic? sweat??) something dripping down his skull. You have to say, the casual exercise look works for him.

"Is this an arena?"

"Training grounds," Cross explains, gesturing at a stand of weapons. "Nightmare set aside a big area for us to spar and train in so we don't, uh- damage anywhere else." Now that you're looking for it, you notice the dark burn marks, the big cracks, and crumbling areas in the stone walls blocking you into the castle grounds. Whatever the skeletons get up to in here, it's intense.

"That makes sense. You guys singe the tapestries one too many times?" It was meant to be a joke, but the way Cross immediately recoils makes you regret the question.

"No, no it was… a little worse than that. You need something?"

The embarrassing explanation of you being lost sits heavily on your tongue. You grimace and shake your head, opting for a half-truth instead. "Just looking for some company. Have you been here since breakfast?"

Cross nods and sheathes his swords, crossing his arms over his chest. "I train every day. Off days give me a chance to do some of my longer routines."

That doesn't surprise you— every interaction you've had with him has given you the impression he's a very serious, diligent kind of person. There has to be more to him than being some kind of… stoic knight person. "Do you have other hobbies? Or do you just train all day?"

Cross seems surprised at the question. "Of course I have other hobbies. I don't train all day. There's more to me than that."

"Like what?"

The wide-eyed, unblinking stare Cross gives you reminds you of a deer in headlights. You can almost see the gears turning in his skull. The longer he thinks about it, the wider your smile grows. Your hand muffles your laughter and that's when he breaks.

"I have other hobbies," he insists.

The pull of his brows is such a serious, stern expression you can't help but laugh again. "I'm sure."

"I do! I watch anime!" The offended-yet-pleased-with-himself pull of his brows immediately melts into panic when he realises what he said. Purple blooms across his cheekbones and his eye lights dart around but refuse to settle on you. "… don't tell anyone."

The color on his cheeks deepens as you laugh again, unable to contain your mirth when he's so… silly. It's a nice break from how dark or scary everyone else can be. "That's not bad. I'm sure one of the other guys like anime, too." You have no idea which one it would be, or if that's even true, but it seems to put Cross at ease.

Cross jabs a finger at you sternly, but the effect is dampened by the saturated blush still gracing his cheeks. "Still. Don't tell anyone."

"I won't," you promise with a quiet chortle.

There's a brief lapse in the conversation. Cross still won't look at you for longer than a second, scuffing his boot along the ground nervously. He opens his mouth, freezes, and closes it again.

You decide to help him out. "Can I train with you?" You look pointedly at the swords sheathed at his sides. "I have no idea how to fight, but… maybe you could help me?"

Cross mulls it over. "That might be a good idea. If you're gonna stick around you should at the very least be able to defend yourself. I figured Nightmare would schedule some training for you eventually, but we can get a head-start if you want."

That surprises you. You figured all your training would be related to your abilities, since you're just a glorified chauffeur. But you have seen the kinds of fights that you'll be involved in, and knowing how to defend yourself aside from your abilities would be a good idea.

"I would appreciate that. Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet." The playful quirk of his smile immediately puts you on edge. You follow warily as he makes his way over to a rack at the edge of the room, collecting a small shortsword. "I'm a very tough teacher."

You take the sword from him and inspect it. It feels nice to hold and swing, but as you tentatively hold it out in front of yourself, even its light weight is enough to have you feeling the strain after a minute. Cross leads you back to the center of the room while you take a few practice swings.

"Hit me." Cross readies himself, stance wide and low. "Try your hardest."

Your sword droops in front of you with uncertainty as you slowly lower yourself to match his pose. "With a real sword? I thought you'd just put me through some routines or something. Shouldn't we have practice swords?"

Cross shakes his head. "It'll be fine. Your enemies won't be using a practice sword."

"But what if I actually land a hit?"

The smirk on Cross' face immediately makes you want to make good on that hypothetical. "I can tank it— but you won't hit me." The gentle tink of the end of his sword against yours spurs you to action.

You take a deep breath and bring the sword down in a heavy swing, expecting the recoil from him blocking you with his own blade. Instead your entire arm twinges with the reverberation of the sword hitting the floor in front of you. Cross stands one step back, at the ready and smug as ever. "Go on." He nods at your sword and has the gall to nudge it with his boot. "Hit me."

"So it's gonna be like that, huh. Not even going to do me the service of blocking?" You hoist the sword up against your shoulder and switch hands to shake out the tingles in your fingertips. "What if you let me get one little hit in. Just a little one, so I can look good to the others." The banter comes easily to you, and a gentle levity warms your chest. You can't remember the last time you felt this at ease with someone.

Idly almost, Cross twirls one of his swords in a graceful arc. "I'll consider it, maybe when you stop thinking the floor is your target."

You ready yourself again and swing. Cross dodges casually and you briefly wonder what the point of him even carrying his swords is, if he's not going to use them. It continues like that, each attempt to land a blow met with nothing but Cross's cocky face as he side-steps you.

Your arm, shoulder, and back quickly burn with the weight of your sword. Each subsequent swing is slower than the ones previous, yet in sharp contrast to how your heart and breathing races. Your chest burns with the exertion and your determination.

"Keep going, you can do it!" The encouragement spurs you onward but you can't go on much longer.

With a final bold swing downward, Cross once again stepping out of range with barely a blink, you try something new. Your sword carves through the air and shears reality as it goes, the end of your blade disappearing into a portal and exiting through its twin beside Cross. You watch with growing excitement as the portaled end of your sword… just barely misses him, hitting the ground at his feet. You groan in defeat.

Your arm aches. With a deep breath and shaky arms you dismiss the portals and slowly sit on the floor. You try to hold the sword up to Cross and fail, your trembling arms incapable of lifting it more than a hand's breadth from the floor.

Cross sheathes his swords and crouches in front of you, his grin wide and caught somewhere between smug and pleasantly surprised. "Nice try. The portal thing was smart, though we should work on your aim."

Your groan turns to a sigh of relief when he finally takes the sword from you. Your arm falls to your side, limp and noodly. "This is gonna be the end of me."

"You did well. It'll get easier with time, and training." Cross' hand comes into view, and you hesitate before taking it. He hauls you back to your feet with no effort at all, and you briefly wonder just how strong he really is. "Go rest up, we can schedule proper training later."

You nod, kneading at the sore muscles in your arm. A hot shower and relaxing in bed sounds perfect. As Cross is putting the training sword away, you remember. "Hey, uh. Cross?" He hums non-noncommittally, making sure the weapons on the rack are all organised properly. "Can you show me the way back to the bedrooms?" At that he turns around and gives you an amused look.

"Yeah?"

You sigh. "Yeah… I got a little lost," you have to force the admission out, unwilling to meet his gaze. Cross seems to enjoy not being the embarrassed one for once, and walks back over to you with purpose.

"Well, can't be having the newbie getting lost now can we?" He holds his arm out for you, like a gentleman, and you laugh as you slip your arm into his. "Let's get you back to your room."

The walk is uneventful and unnervingly short. Cross leads you down a few hallways and voila, you're in the main hall. Another two hallways and your bedroom door is in sight. You go to ask him about your experience getting lost, but the words die in your throat as you second-guess yourself. You thank him, and Cross leaves.

You fall back onto your bed and breathe, enjoying the comfort of being in your own space. The moment of peace is disrupted as a sensation flickers at the edge of your memory, golden and fleeting. What did you dream about last night?

Something about how you feel right now reminds you of some aspect of the dream. You can almost remember what it was.

You think it might have been something to do with the gala.

So much happened during it that it would make sense that you're still processing it— you still haven't fully processed everything else that's going on. The gala being on your mind would hardly be a surprise. The crowd, the fight, the strange encounters.

You're reminded of how the code you could see in the people at the gala overwhelmed you, and- wait.

Can you do that to yourself?

You sit up against your pillows and look at your hands. The strange inky substance you were stained by when you were learning to open portals hasn't progressed since. Despite it and the occasional glitches you could see around yourself, it's still you.

You close your eyes and turn your thoughts inward. Your heartbeat is the first thing you notice, loud and far too fast. You focus on your breathing, on the rhythmic movement of your chest as it expands with each breath.

You search for that same pull for information, that intent to understand and—

Code suddenly floods your awareness, a constantly shifting mass of data that overwhelms you. You sense it adapting in real-time, changing as your evolving understanding of yourself does. For the first time in a long time you almost feel… at peace. Like you finally understand what's going on. Like you finally have a semblance of control.

But that's not what you need right now. You need to know how to get home.

You dig deeper.

Your code is complex and difficult to sift through and, in contrast to all the other masses of code you've dealt with so far, uneditable. While you watch it modify itself, you can immediately feel that you are incapable of changing your own code intentionally.

With it constantly changing you struggle to find meaningful information, like trying to grab a fish in rapids. Every time you feel like you're close to something helpful it changes and shifts around almost mockingly. But you persist.

You're not sure how long you spend buried in your own code. It could be minutes, it could be hours. After a while the time bleeds into itself just like the complex strings of letters and numbers you can barely understand start blurring together.

There has to be something in you still tying you to your home. Your heartbeat drowns out your thoughts as you go further and further and further until it just… clicks. Deep in your chest you just know. You understand.

You finally know where you came from.