Poppies and Foxglove

Too Much, Too Little

•One Week Later•

{I’m getting there, I swear-}

The castle had been decorated long before Nightmare had ascended to the throne. It looked like the castle of an old and nearly dead king, furs covering the walls, ancient wooden tables, deep red curtains, and a rug that lined each hallway.

During his mother's rule, the style changed slightly. Some new paintings of the sun and the moon adorned a few hallways. Red was exchanged for purple and gold. Even the animal pelts were sold and replaced with tapestries of wonder.

Then the disappearance of the youngest heir, and another drastic change took place. As Nightmare was crowned, all the gold and yellow was taken away. Dark greens and black decorated the halls, the bright and cheery atmosphere changing drastically. The only indication that there was ever another prince was the singular portrait of the pair of them, hidden away in the current king's chambers.

The darkness of the castle wasn't just for mourning though, nor was it just there because of the current king's tastes. No, the eerie decor made for some rather quick meetings when citizens actually wished to complain.

“A-and so, i-it is entirely unjust, Y-Your Majesty.”

Nightmare watched the woman in front of him and her speech. Despite clearly having been rehearsed a great many times, she seemed to be struggling with speaking. No help from the painting of a hanging tree beside her. Or from his current “guardsmen”, both of whom had fierce expressions.

“I see. I will deal with it soon then. You shall have compensation for your farm and your neighbor shall be punished. Is that all?”

The lady bowed, nodding and muttering quick thanks before hurrying out of the throne room. The large ornate doors slammed shut behind her.

Nightmare sighed, rubbing his temples with an exhausted look on his face. He had enough on his plate without having to deal with ungrateful citizens.

“Aw, is His Majesty too tired for the crown?”

A glance to his left showed Killer, the first of his concubines to have been selected. An ex-convict turned advisor. Of sorts. Really, it was impossible to expect him to ever be serious about issues in the kingdom.

“Killer, I am not in the mood for your teasing.”

At his other side, the disapproving face of Cross looked at him.

“My King, you know I do not like to agree with Killer, but you must rest. You cannot keep doing all this, you will go mad.”

Nightmare groaned loudly, rather unbefitting of a king. But his frustrations were high, and they only grew with the fact that his guard was right. But he couldn’t just quit, he had a responsibility as the sole ruler of his kingdom!

Though…

A flash of a memory, soft yellow eyes twinkling at him as a voice so similar to his own whispered.

“Pinky promise? We’ll rule over Mother’s kingdom together?

“I pinky promise, Dream.”

“Nightmare?”

He looked up, seeing two concerned faces right in front of him. Granted, Killer’s looked a bit hollow without eyelights, but it still meant the same. They pitied him. Him! Ruler of the kingdom since he was a boy, and they believed him too weak to continue.

“I cannot rest. I must fulfill my duty.”

And with that, the king of darkness stood from his throne, leaving the pair alone as the heavy wooden doors opened and slammed closed once more.

The pair looked at each other, staying silent for a moment before one finally broke it.

“He’s doing it again,” Cross murmured, fiddling with the straps of his armor. Killer nodded in agreement, pulling out a dagger and tossing it up.

“…Dust says he had another bad dream a little while ago. About his brother.”

“Survivor’s guilt,” Cross said with a sigh. “He thinks he could’ve done something to help his brother. He’s going to go crazy with the idea.”

A beat of silence, broken only by the swishing sound of Killer’s dagger slicing through the air. 

They stayed like that for some time, the pair simply waiting in the throne room. Once it became apparent that Nightmare wasn’t going to return, the two left as well.

A maid greeted them, but for the most part they were ignored. It was common knowledge that most of the servants were terrified of the king’s consorts. Which made sense; most of them were former criminals, dangerous ones at that. 

And so the two were able to walk the castle without interruption, finally reaching their destination: the kitchen. Entering it brought an array of wonderful smells, and the sight of a tall skeleton with a broken skull.

“Hey Horror. Night pass through here?” Killer asked, forgoing all manner of diplomacy. Cross frowned at him, but Horror seemed indifferent to Killer’s lack of tact.

“No…he didn’t…didn’t eat breakfast either…” Horror seemed rather troubled by that, and Cross walked over to give him a sympathetic pat on the arm.

“Aw, he’s just in a mood today. Don’t worry about it, big guy.” There was an easygoing smile on Killer’s face, which did nothing to soothe the large cook.

“Right…well, we need…more food. Running…out.” Horror gave the two of them a pointed look, as if expecting something.

“Got it, we’ll head to the market and get ya some stuff. C’mon Crossy!”

And with that, Killer grabbed Cross’ arm, yanking him out of the kitchen as Cross called out a hurried goodbye to Horror.