Star-Crossed Paws: Lives Entwined

Chapter 1: Ambush

The world of Kittentale normally isn't the most exciting of alternate universes, but neither is it boring. It's relatively peaceful, besides the common spats between the cat-like denizens. A little chaos every now and then is a given, in a universe ruled by cats, but nothing quite groundbreaking or exhilarating comes from this world.

At least, none of it originates there.

A portal opens in this realm's version of Snowdin. A skeleton clothed in black and white steps out of it, snow crunching beneath their feet. The spectacle causes most cats to flee the area, darting into little house-themed dens that should've been impossible for the felines to create, considering their lack of thumbs and the intelligence needed to even plan such buildings. A few curious ones stayed behind, cautious, but ears pricked in interest.

Fitting, how the local Papyrus was one of these cats, actually coming out of his own den to properly see what the ruckus was about.

The newcomer doesn't even spare them a glance as they turn and walk into the nearby forest, the portal closing behind them. Papyrus, a courageous soul, shakes the doubt from his fur and chooses to follow, keeping his distance while tailing the stranger. He's never seen a creature like this one before, and hopes that, just maybe, they're the cuddling type. Then he can take the strange beast home and introduce it to Undyne and his neighbors and they can all come together to cuddle the beast and perhaps even become friends with it and he won't be quite as lonely anymore without-

Papyrus jolts in surprise when a sharp, glowing object penetrates the ground in front of him. Scrambling back, he darts behind a tree when another projectile flies towards him, missing his tail by a whisker. Okay, so this creature was NOT friendly, Papyrus garners, or they don't know how to properly greet a cat. After a moment of pondering his options, he retreats back to Snowdin when one of the dangerous objects breaks through the trunk of the tree, intent on notifying Undyne of this rude creature who thought throwing things at him was a good way to say hello. The nerve of it!

Cross sighs, dismissing his bone bullets and continuing his trek into the woods. He didn't come here to mess around with a bunch of cats. No, he's here to investigate and find out how Dream was brought back to life. There might be a clue somewhere in KittenTale.

That's where he died, after all.

At least, that's what he told Nightmare before he hastily left. But he quickly finds as he happens upon the scene that this was a hopeless venture.

The terrain looks nothing like how it did when the guardian died, no longer were the trees broken and toppled from battle, and no longer was the ground cracked and void of snow from heavy impacts and powerful blasts. Which makes sense, KittenTale must have seen more than a thousand resets over the past years, so anything remaining from that fight would be lost and erased, never to be seen again.

Cross knew this. Nightmare also knew this. It makes Cross wonder why exactly his king let him leave so hastily with nothing but a lousy excuse.

A lie.

Sitting himself beneath one of the trees, the skeleton leans back on the trunk, gritting his teeth. No, there was nothing he'd find here, but he just... he needed a break.

From the war, from the kingdom, from everything. And KittenTale hasn't been touched by either side ever since Dream's death. He'd be able to relax here without worrying about getting attacked by any Stars or summoned for meetings discussing how to get rid of the newest threat to the Eclipse Empire.

Here, there was nothing to plague him but his own thoughts... and plague him they did.

13 long years since Dream had died. 13 years-worth of time for Cross to process and accept the role he played in his murder. Horror had patted him on the back with the reemergence of his night terrors. Dust cast him sympathetic looks every now and then, but made no move to comfort. Killer, well... Killer was surprised that Cross felt such guilt in the first place.

Nightmare refused to make any comment on the sleepless nights Cross once again found himself subjected to.

To be fair, even Cross himself had thought 13 years would be long enough to get over his demons and move on. For a while, it had seemed that way. But the moment he saw Dream, alive and well, pointing that blazing arrow of positivity at Cross with that saccharine smile on his face... his whole world shattered. And it only got worse when he was shot in the head, knocked out and forced to witness his most pleasant memories, one of them being with the bright guardian himself.

He awoke in his room back in Nightmare's castle, and hasn't had a speck of sleep since.

A harsh breeze blows by, and he lets the bitter chill seep into his bones, trying to ground himself. It was snowing, not heavily, but it was still annoying as snowflakes landed on his face, melting on his clothes and-

Were they... shaped like paws? Yes, the snowflakes are shaped like paws, which is incredibly stupid, what an absurdly inane detail to add to such a ridiculous, nonsensical AU...

...Funny, how this of all places was where Dream died.

Just your everyday alternate universe, strange in every manner, albeit peaceful and... nice. Wholesome. Cute, even. No real conflict or plot, just silly, stupid fluff. Which was probably why Dream came here so often, why he was so relaxed and comfortable when...

...

Cross stands. This isn't helping him at all. He... he needs to go do something. Sorting out his thoughts can wait, he'll just solve this like he used to. Keep himself busy until he stops thinking about it. He's sure there's plenty of missions he can complete that has nothing to do with Dream.

He just needs a distraction.

And it's this moment that a branch chooses to lurch, spilling snow on top of his head.

Sputtering, Cross brushes off as much as the snow as he can, cursing when a large portion of it gets inside his clothes.

That's going to be a great fucking cause of discomfort until it all melts and drips, making a wet mess of the rest of him. This was a mistake. Even the stupid fucking cats had small scarves and hats and mittens made for the weather and what did he come in? His usual uniform, not made to keep out the cold.

Shivering, he curses aloud, before looking up at the flimsy branch that made his departure an even more miserable one.

Or at least, he tried to, when something else - something much more furry and alive - fell on his face.