Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

To be Without Magic

Cross knelt down at the edge of the gravely river bank, listening to the gentle gurgle of the liquid swirling past jutted stones and bared roots. He cupped his hands beneath the waves, glad to find the water cold to the touch. He swiftly brought the water to his mouth, racing against time as it so easily slid through his boney fingers. He swallowed down just enough to quench his thirst before glancing back.

Nightmare hadn't woken. He now rested soundly against the trunk of an arched willow. The sunlight filtered in through the hanging branches, dappling his body and setting parts of his reflective gold ablaze with a pretty light. Cross still wasn't used to seeing the king like this, even after carrying him around for a couple hours.

Cross stood, having to part the hanging strands of the willow in order to join him beneath the three. "That arrow really did a number on you," He noted quietly, placing himself on a tall rock by Nightmare's side. He at least didn't seem harmed beyond his unconsciousness. "They say Dream can use weapons made from pure positivity. I think I get why it hurts a god of negativity so much," He mused before he turned his attention to the forest.

The trees here were mostly barren aside from the willow and a couple nearby pines. The river attracted life, proven by the speckled songbirds bouncing between the branches high above his head. As much as he loved the look of Nightmare's garden, this wasn't all that bad either. He tried to imagine how it would look in the colors of the night. It would be absolutely beauti-

His pinpricks and focus darted to Nightmare as soon as he saw him shift his arm. When he let out a low hum, Cross jumped to his feet. "Nightmare? My lord?" He questioned, hoping to call him completely into the waking world. It worked, as Nightmare slowly opened his eyes. Cross's own widened a tad bit at the sight of the sparkly purple pinpricks within his sockets. When their gazes met, he couldn't help but stare in awe at the way the glittery hues swirled within the floating pupil. "Do you recognize me?" He asked.

Nightmare let out an awfully familiar scoff which honestly installed some confidence. He screwed his eyes shut, shifting to shakily lift himself off the ground. Once he stood with an arm leaned against the willow's trunk for support, he met his gaze again. "Of course I recognize my own guard. Do you think I've spontaneously gone-" He stopped with a flinch. The sound of his own voice must have just clicked in his head. He remained frozen for a solid five seconds before he slowly turned his gaze to his body. "No... No, no, no!" He began to whine, definitely still sounding like a different person. "My magic! She's taken away nearly all my magic!" He exclaimed.

"I thought that might have been the case," Cross replied. He craned his neck back a bit when Nightmare gave him a sudden glare. He couldn't help but feel a little taken aback by the burst of hostility.

Nightmare took a step closer to him, nearly tripping over himself in the process. "You don't understand! That also changes me! In here!" He raised a hand and tapped his skull. Well, he was right. Cross didn't understand. His following silence apparently only frustrated Nightmare further. "The memories are there, but it's my magic which completes me. Without it, I'm..." He looked down as a sudden sorrow overtook his expression. "I'm only half of who I am," He whispered. He watched Nightmare turn his back on him.

"We'll get your magic back," Cross tried to tell him.

"And how are you going to do that with just yourself and half a god?" Nightmare shot back over his shoulder. Cross then realized he wasn't actually looking up at Nightmare anymore. In fact, he was looking down. Nightmare must have noticed it too, as he timidly stepped around the trunk of the tree. "I didn't want anyone to see me like this ever again," He whispered just loud enough for Cross to hear.

Cross looked off to the side. He let Nightmare remain in the tree's heavy shadow while he contemplated what came next. His question still stands. How am I going to get our home back with just the two of us?

...

Dust let out a strained growl as he attempted to use his hard teeth to somehow gnaw apart the cuffs on his wrists. He had already found a weak link in the metal, which he consistently worked at in any way possible. Come on! Skeleton teeth are harder than most monsters'! But in the end that didn't matter, his jaw still lacked the strength to bend the metal in any significant way. He threw his hands away from his face with another frustrated groan.

"Wow," A voice he had already grown to disdain spoke up from beside Dust. He looked over with narrowed eyes, finding the other skeleton sitting upon the cold and uncomfortable stone bench with one arm resting upon his propped up knee. He held his skull in his hand, his voided sockets watching Dust with amusement. "That was absolutely pathetic," He said, the hovering target on his chest flickering.

"Oh, like you're any better off," He replied, gesturing to the exact same cuffs that forced his hands close to one another as well. "We're both locked up and magicless."

"Welp, you see there is this one tiny little difference between us," Killer began with the most smug aura ever known. "My god didn't betray me, soooo..." He trailed off, that consistent smile of his stretching a hint wider. Dust wished more than ever that he had his magic. Not even to teleport free from his prison, but to summon a bone and whack this skeleton across the face with it.

"I don't see Nightmare swooping in to save your ass," Dust pointed out in turn. Killer began to laugh under his breath, sounding like the insane monster Dust figured Nightmare's guards to be. He turned away, glaring past the bars of his cell. "Though you're right about me. I was betrayed. When I get out of here, I'll make sure Ink understands what pain is," He insisted.

Killer stood and walked up to his side. Dust couldn't exactly get all that far away from him in the small cell. "If that's all you want, then it seems we're already on the same page," He said softly. Dust huffed. Same chapter maybe, but definitely not the same page. "If we get free and aid in Nightmare's return to the throne, you'll get pretty close to free," He told him, tapping a finger to his chest.

Dust waved his hand away. "Pretty close to free isn't enough," He argued.

"Details can be discussed later," Killer replied with a hackle. The black lines beneath his eyes glistened in the torchlight, causing Dust to note the way they looked more like actual tears than they did markings. "Point is, we both want out, and we both want to give Ink and Dream a real bad time," He continued on. "So either you go about doing that on your own and obviously die, or you make some friends in higher places like I and Cross have," He said. Dust stared at him, conflicted. I don't want to put my faith in another god. Killer shrugged at his expression. "It's your choice."

Dust let out a long sigh. I suppose I literally have nothing to lose right now. "And how are we getting out of here, genius?" He asked. A moment later he heard footsteps echoing beyond their cell. Horror, who has been doing mindless loops around the cell block, would be lapping them again shortly.

Killer pointed in the direction Horror would be coming from. "That's our ticket out of here," He told him, a sinister edge to his voice. Dust looked beyond the cell, seeing the red orb of Horror's eye slowly approaching them. "I've got an idea of how to get him on our side. I just need you to play it cool," Killer said.

Dust looked Killer up and down. He didn't have much choice but to just trust this monster. "I'll follow your lead," He decided.

Killer smirked. "Perfect."

A/N

A shorter chapter after all that. We gotta get the gang together now.