Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

The Calm

The castle had always been a dark place, but that hall leading up to Nightmare's chambers looked like a pure black void. Standing at the end of it, right in front of Nightmare's doors, he focused on his hearing rather than his currently useless sight. Within the darkness he heard a light scratching, then the pattering of tiny feet scurrying along the stone floor. He tried to lock in on its location, waving a hand to shoot a small magical blade its way. He heard it clank against the stone, and the little creature squealed in alarm. *Missed.

Knowing Nightmare wasn't far on the other side of the doors, he spoke with the assumption he'd be heard. "The rats are back," He said, another squeak sounding from the hall right as he said it. He glared as if the rodent would somehow see and understand his expression.

"They're always back," Relied Nightmare, his rumbly voice sounding from everywhere like it had in the stairwell. The king was probably still within his chambers, and just using magic to clearly send him his voice. "They're beneath me. I won't waste my time chasing them, yet apparently everyone else is too slow and stupid to take care of the situation," He complained.

Cross gave a hint of a smile. "And you're certain you're not underestimating the rats?" He mused.

Nightmare must have taken it as a challenge. He remained silent for a long time, but when Cross heard a series of tiny footsteps sound from along the wall, it was swiftly followed by a sharp squeal and a sort of wet screeching sound. Silence followed. He heard it scurry no more. "I can catch anything, and anyone," Nightmare's voice hissed right over his shoulder. The king paused for a moment. "...Ah, look at what you've done. You've gone and made me chase the rats I just said I wouldn't," He then added before he returned to silence. Cross couldn't help but lightly chuckle to himself.

The night was uneventful, mostly spent in quiet contemplation. He didn't tire either, so his mind rambled on and on with clear thoughts. He wondered what matters Nightmare could have been tending to. Did he spend the time monitoring the emotions of the worlds under his control, or was he trying to develop a better plan to handle Ink? I wonder if he could just destroy Dream's statue and completely get rid of the problem. But if he had that power, surely he'd have done so already?

The image of Nightmare, a brutal monster who Cross had once witnessed make the god of destruction bow, struggling just to smash a piece of stone seemed ridiculous. If he could torture Error into submission, obviously he could handle a glorified rock. Unless Nightmare was more sentimental than he let on. Does he have some sort of a lingering connection to his sibling? That could complicate things if the situation got any worse. I could always slay Dream for him. If I'm capable of downing a god, that is. There was a very strong if on that one. Truly, he didn't know the full extent of either being's power.

He thought about it plenty. All the dark magic Nightmare might be capable of, but he never pictured Dream's abilities too much. Seeing as she had been imprisoned in stone for the entirety of Cross's life within the multiverse, he never had a reason to think about the extent of her power. I better start considering it. If she gets out, I'll need to know for Nightmare's sake. His own life would be on the line as well. He'd fight to the death just to call this place his home.

That's what he spent the night doing. Remembering obscure rumors and old legends in order to get an idea of who Dream was, and all he could do to protect the castle from her.

...

Cross hadn't meant to drift off. He hardly had at all, seeing as his sleep was so light that the very moment the door behind him shifted, his eyes shot open. He glanced back, meeting Nightmare gaze as he gracefully swept through the shadow's. Cross couldn't help but enjoy the way his king looked when he was one with the dark like this. It also brought a sense of closeness. As if everything around him was Nightmare. "Good morning, my lord," He greeted with a gentle bow.