Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

The King Returns

All Cross had to do was rip Dream's magic free from the throne. Nightmare knew it, watching Cross and his new puppet with wide and expectant eyes. "Sever the connection, Cross. Swiftly," He urged, hurrying to his side. Nightmare placed his hands to his arm, his touch as pleasant as always. Am I ready to say goodbye to this version of Nightmare?

He pushed any lingering doubts aside. His loyalty and sense of duty overwhelmed him. His king needed him to cut Dream off from the throne, so that is what he'd do. There was nothing more to question.

Cross approached the throne, and alongside him walked Dream. She was still mindlessly cooperating thanks to the strings. He held out his hand, and summoned forth Dream's magic. When a light sparked in the palm of Dream's hand, the metal of the throne hummed. Odd. I can really feel the connection. And that sound- He listened to the way the humming frequency shifted. -It's almost as if the throne is communicating with me.

He may not understand it, but he could feel his- Dream's magic within the throne. Her soul appeared bound to it through some sort of spell. He figured if he called her magic back not from the throne, the spell would cease to exist. That's what he did. He harnessed every last ounce of that magic, and began to drain it back into Dream's soul. While her connection seeped away, a growly sound that bordered on a purr escaped Nightmare's throat.

The lights flickered around them, shadows dancing along the walls. Somewhere past the throne room doors, there was a shout, shortly followed by the beating steps of approaching guards. Nightmare dipped behind Cross's form, keeping himself out of any danger. Cross couldn't glance away from the throne however, intently focused. The guards yelled something at them, but still Cross didn't grace them with a look.

"Hurry, Cross!" Nightmare barked in alarm. He could hear the frustrated urgency in his tone, sharp as a knife. Cross refused to disappoint him. With a lash of the strings, the last of Dream's magic burst free from the throne. Almost as soon as the magic had been expelled, the torchlight which surrounded them snuffed themselves out. Even the sun had been snatched from the sky within seconds.

Cross was left stranded in darkness. The sound of the running guards slowed to a stop. He heard nothing in the black void which seemed to stretch endlessly around them. After an eerily long period of silence, worry began to take hold.

"Nightmare?"

Then came a loud laughter, echoing off every wall. It sounded so cruel, corrupted, and deep as the night. Shivers ran up Cross's spine. He'd know that menacing cackle anywhere. An awed breath escaped his mouth as the laughter only flourished with power. Nightmare. Nightmare was whole again.

The guards murmured nervously from somewhere behind Cross. He didn't pay them any mind, watching the blackened shadows as a singular turquoise eye slowly opened itself before him. Its horrifyingly beautiful glow cast a faint light across Cross's face. He only smiled, void of terror. He didn't cower as the eye hovered higher while Nightmare let his maw of glistening fangs begin to show. He too smiled, though with far more malice than Cross. He appeared to be fixated on the now unsettled guards.

"Oh, is it so good to be back," Nightmare hissed. Cross could hear his tendrils lashing about. When the rising moon beamed in through the window, he could better make out Nightmare. He towered over them, supported by beams of his thick black ooze. His eye narrowed in on the frozen guards. "What's this? Do you refuse to bow before your rightful king?!" He asked with a snarl.

Cross couldn't break his gaze from the king to watch, but he heard the guards' weapons rattle as they were discarded onto the floor. Seeing as Nightmare eased, he could guess they had swiftly dropped to their knees. Cross gracefully lowered himself as well, offering Nightmare the ever familiar and formal bow.