Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

Taking Aim

A knock had Cross waking with a snap. He always jolted awake, mind never groggy for more than a few seconds after his initial stir. As he rose, shrugging off the covers, the knock sounded from his door once again. He gave a low growl, allowing himself to be annoyed. He already knew it wasn't Nightmare, seeing as the king wouldn't have bothered with such formalities. No, he would have just teleported into his chambers. Without warning, of course. 

"I'm up," He told whoever lurked outside. They seemed to pick up on his hostile tone, for after a moment of hesitation their shadow retreated from the line beneath the door. Cross grumbled to himself under his breath. He may not fall asleep often, but once he did, it was always a mental battle not to ignore everything and just tuck himself back in again. He won that fight though, standing and gathering his gear. 

Once he was ready, he headed for the throne room again. He knew Nightmare would be there, as he was usually the one sending servants to wake him. He entered quietly, the opening doors producing a soft squeal which drew Nightmare's eye his way. He appeared to have been in the middle of speaking with some monsters who he assumed were here for the tournament. Yet Nightmare abandoned that conversation as soon as he arrived. 

"Ah, Cross," He greeted with a toothy grin. "Perfect timing. I was just discussing yet another rumor with these young bloods," He said, vaguely waving a tendril at his company. Cross stepped closer, watching the newcomers closely. They appeared to be from this universe, or at least one quite similar. He didn't grant them any respectful nods or bows. Aside from Nightmare, he was highest ranking person in this palace. "Apparently a Sans from Dusttale has arrived. Isn't that quite peculiar?" He asked, leaning back against his throne with a chuckle. 

"Yes... Quite," Cross replied with his brow furrowed. Sans's usually only dared to stray this close to Nightmare if they wished to make a deal of sorts. Perhaps Dust too was in search of a place to call home. So long as he doesn't take my place, I don't see why Nightmare shouldn't accept such a powerful addition to the army. Confident that Nightmare was at ease, he spoke again with a hint of amusement. "I suppose I should test him myself. Perhaps I can finally battle someone with a high capacity for magic," He said.

"Absolutely. If he can even begin to stand a chance against you, perhaps he'll have some worth," Nightmare agreed, completely meeting his gaze. Again, his stare softened. With the shadows swarming the room, Nightmare could manipulate one into playfully swatting Cross's arm. "Go. Prepare for battle," He ordered. 

"Yes, my lord," He replied with a slow nod. He used to be annoyed or even enraged by Nightmare's bombardment of orders, but now... Well, he honestly just appreciated having a role to play. One similar to that of his upbringing, nonetheless. Plus if he were being honest, despite the way Nightmare wished to spread misery, that happiness of his seemed to be contagious. At least to me it is.

...

Cross ignored the irritatingly loud cheers of his onlookers, scanning the large courtyard's seats just once to locate Nightmare. He watched from an isolated location, the moon beaming bright behind the throne-like structure he rested on. Even with the contrasting light, Cross could make out his blue eye fixated upon him. He never spoke during the tournament, watching intently and perhaps sparing a slow clap here and there. 

Below the stands, watching from where he leaned against an ivy-covered beam, was Dust. He currently sharpened a dagger. Even with that idle task, Cross could tell just how focused on him he was. That would be a smart move. Study his movements now so he knew what to expect when they fought later. He'll find I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve. Again, so long as he didn't wish to replace him, Cross could tolerate his presence. Still, he'd win for Nightmare and his approval.