Loyal Servant (Crossmare) (Rewrite)

Between-Arc Oneshot: A Forgotten Face

The heavy dart struck the very edge of the board, wobbling about. It had nearly passed by the tree altogether. Every other dart on the round board clustered more near its center. Both Killer and Dust stared at Horror with squinted eyes. He glanced between them, face dusted red. "Hey! Night vision or not, it's dark! Plus I still hit the target!" He complained, pushing Dust. He lost his balance, catching himself on Killer's arm.

Killer laughed. "You boys want to see some true skill? Watch this!" He used his magic to lift one of the darts off the ground, bringing it into the palm of his hand. He made a big show out of gauging the distance before he tossed the dart. It wasn't actually a bad throw. It was pretty spot on. However, Dust's previous shot had been exactly that good. The metal dart hit the other then bounced right off, falling to the grass below. "Oh, come on!" Killer complained, Dust laughing and shaking his shoulder as if it had been the most hilarious thing.

Cross tried not to let the trio's commotion distract his thoughts too much, his pinpricks remaining locked on his open book. He currently sat on one of the balconies above, Nightmare sharing his bench. Whilst he read, Nightmare seemed content to just be in his company and watch the trio entertain themselves. "It's a miracle they haven't gone and gotten themselves killed yet," Nightmare noted, leaning back further. He had an arm stretched behind Cross's shoulders, while a tendril snaked its way around his waist.

"On the contrary, Horror has technically died like five times now," Cross pointed out, still not looking up from his book.

"Ah, true," Nightmare chuckled back as the trio started bickering once again. That's a testament to their friendship honestly. "What are you reading now, my dear guard?" Nightmare asked, leaning over to take a look himself.

"You mentioned we'd be trying to drive Ink and Dream away from GZtale, so I'm just looking into the world before we head out tomorrow," He answered. He shuffled closer and began reading random little facts aloud to Nightmare. Whether he already knew them or not, he didn't tell. He just listened to Cross talk, a soft smile on his face. Whenever Cross glanced up, he'd nearly stumble over his words because god did he look charming when he watched him like that.

Soon enough he had read just about an entire section of the book to him. As nice as it was to just talk and be heard, he eventually returned to reading inside his head. Nightmare spoke up before long. "Have you heard from Paperjam recently?" He asked.

"Hardly. I know from a letter that they've been living with Ink and Dream. I think they're afraid to talk to me in person," Cross suggested. He let out a soft sigh. "I'm not that mad, but I get why they'd think otherwise," He muttered.

"I'm still mad. They drugged you," Nightmare growled back. "You're owed one hell of an apology," He continued to complain. Cross easily loosened Nightmare's tension by leaning onto him. He knew there wasn't much he could say to change that opinion. Nightmare wasn't as forgiving as Cross when it came to matters like this. His ploy worked though. Nightmare immediately began to lean back into him, seeing as they were alone aside from the trio down below. He returned to reading for a while.

Their peace was interrupted by the thumps of a guard's metal boots. Cross looked up as he heard them come to a stop at the balcony doors. They dropped to one knee, bowing to Nightmare as per usual. "My lord!" the guard spoke loudly, the urgent tone in his voice catching the pair's full focus.

"What is it, Scorch?" Nightmare questioned, standing from the bench. Cross closed his book and rose as well, tucking the precious gift away. He too recognized this guard. He often stood watch at the front gates.

"Someone has arrived from outside the realm. We've brought him to the throne room. He- He claims to be a previous ally of yours," Scorch replied. Cross narrowed his eyes and looked to Nightmare, who exchanged with him the exact same expression. "He appears exhausted and is requesting shelter, my lord," The guard then added.