notes: Could not believe that these two sillies have the same voice actor: Twohatjackva!!
Cannot believe Jakei ANIMATED FRESH!INK!?!?!? The fricken balls and talent and skill and just- praise the being that is Jael Peñaloza, animating an entire FIGHT SCENE with that 80’s parasite. AND SHE ANIMATED AN ENTIRE SEPERATE SHORT TOO-
Also props to Twohatjackva!!! Such an amazing voice and talented voice actor. Imagine having both Fresh!Ink AND Gummigoo under your belt. King.
(Backgroundless version, Fresh!Gummigoo, Gummy Fresh!Ink, and Speedpaint under the cut)
Notes: As of November 20th, it'll be 1 year since Underverse 0.8 part 1 comes out!! Huzzah!! Wishing Jakei well!! (And hoping her wrist gets better soon and her surgery goes well!!)
Did a good 'ol rewatch of 0.8 part 1 and did a silly lil drawging of it. My style doesn't really fit well for genuine and good pieces as opposed to silly doodles, but I wanted to do something for the occasion :))
notes: A silly little unfinished piece about the Bad Guys trying to recruit Cross by kidnapping him and Cross trying not to piss off the group of murderers, but also, he needs to leave his room to get a drink of water.
—————————-
Sneaking out wasn’t something Cross could do. Nightmare had informed him that they could sense every movement, intention, feeling etc. in the castle.
Cross wasn’t exactly a prisoner in the castle, but he definitely didn’t want to be there.
Still, at least he was treated nicely.
He got a nice, comfy room with its own bathroom as opposed to a cell. The others (though still made fun and teased him) were nice and talked to him. He didn’t really receive punishments or anything along those lines.
They were trying to “recruit” him.
And these psychopaths thought the only way to do that is to take a person, with their own thoughts and feelings, hostage until they agree.
That’s what this whole thing was.
That’s why Cross couldn’t sneak out.
That’s why he would want to sneak out in the first place.
But god fucking damn it, was he thirsty.
He was absolutely parched.
So weighing his options, he wasn’t going to fall back asleep, and he wasn’t sneaking out, he decided to take the risk and head to the kitchen to get a drink.
And remember when he thought Nightmare could feel every intention in the castle?
Yeah so that was a fucking lie.
Because here Cross was, pinned to the wall by two tendrils, two more sharpened and ready to strike, and an angry Nightmare glaring him down.
“What did I say about leaving? You can’t.” Nightmare _______.
”I’m not trying to leave, I’m just getting a drink of water.” Cross snapped back.
“That’s why you have a bathroom in your room.” Nightmare pointed out.
“I’m not drinking toilet water.” Cross spoke, deadpanned.
“That’s why you have a sink in your bathroom.” Nightmare specified, speaking through his teeth
“I’m not drinking sink water.” Cross bit back with the same amount of spite as Nightmare.
“Well it’s what you’re gonna have to drink if you go down to the kitchen.”
“What?” Cross questioned, furrowing his brow and tilting his head, seemingly forgetting the current position he was in.
“Yes. Where else do you drink from?” Nightmare asked.
“A jug?”
“A jug?”
“Or one of those dispensers if you’re fancy.” Cross explained as if it was common knowledge, looking at Nightmare like he was insane for not knowing.
“Dispensers?”
“Or. If you’re really fancy. From the fridge.” Cross continued, listing the ways he remembered were ways of attaining water he’s seen at his house or those of his friends.
“Water from the fridge?” Nightmare questioned, his grip loosening as he tried to understand what Cross was saying.
“Like… a water dispenser- you keep repeating what I say.” Cross shook his head, freeing himself from Nightmare's grasp and creating distance between the two.
“What the hell are you on?” Nightmare cried, forgetting it was the middle of the night and they were still in the hall where all their bedrooms resided.
“I’m not drinking sink water.” Cross said finally, trying to understand the conversation they were having.
“It’s clean water.” Nightmare reasoned.
“This is an old ass castle with old ass pipes, I’m not drinking sink water.” Cross insisted, stern in his voice.
“Filtration exists, Cross.” Nightmare exclaimed.
“Privileged ass”.” Cross muttered, knowing full well Nightmare could still hear him.
“How else do you drink water?!”
“From a fucking jug!!”
“A jug of water, what are you, a 1500’s peasant?! I’m from the Middle Ages and I have standards!”
“Sometimes you aren’t in a position to have standards.”
“Well you are now, drink your fucking sink water.” Cross blinked as Nightmare growled at him, now snarling in front of his face.
“….Oh my stars,” He put his hands up in defense, creating more distance between them. “You are insane. It’s just water.”
“I am going to kill you.” Nightmare sneered as Cross’s tone switched to one of challenging to one as if Nightmare was freaking out over nothing.
“I’m going to kill myself.”
“No you can’t.”
“I-” Cross blanked, thinking. “Yes I can?”
“I won’t allow it.” Nightmare ordered.
“I- that’s great. I don’t really care.” Cross shifted his eyes awkwardly to the side.
Notes: Cross watches the snowball fight between Killer and Dust from the comfort and warmth of the window, before deciding "No. Horror, let's go fuck 'em up." And he can't help but feel like these are memories and moments he's lived before.
You'll never guess what just happened where I am
---------------
Staring out the window in awe.
It’s not like he’s never seen snow, but it has been a while. And even back then, it wasn’t very often.
“Perfect” to him wasn’t a shivering, cold, blanket of dirty, frozen water particles.
He sat at the window, a warm mug of hot chocolate in his grasp Horror had lovingly made him. The fireplace crackled softly as the soft sound of flipping pages kept him in reality, Nightmare sitting in his chair across the room. Error in the seat next to him, clinks of knitting needles joined the ambience, a blanket or sweater of some kind slowly starting to form. Killer and Dust on the other side of the glass, making all kinds of snow figurines, snow forts, before the inevitable snowball fight broke out between the two. The window fogged up from Cross’s breath, chuckling to himself as he watched the two in the falling snow.
He was freezing, the castle colder than usual. Wrapped in a blanket, he debated joining the two in their frozen frenzy or staying in the warmth next to the fireplace. The hot chocolate was growing colder as time passed, the snow drifting and blowing as he could hear the wind howl from where he sat.
“If we leave from the back door we could pull a sneak attack.”
Sans nodded to the white-haired human, a mischievous smirk on their faces. Their brothers out front as the King and Queen talked with the skeletal scientist in the next room over. They were the older ones, Chara not much older, but older. And they were supposed to be the responsible ones, but they both just barely reached double digits, surely they weren’t expected to stay inside as a blizzard raged on outside and their younger siblings had all the fun.
The parents wouldn’t mind anyway. Too much, at least.
Cross set the mug in the sink once he was done, opting for the back door from the kitchen, having recruited Horror in his escape from the living room.
They eyed the two in the front yard, unsuspecting victims to their sneak attack. This is what all that training was for.
“They’re…. Really…. Goi’n at it.”
“It looks like they hurt.” Cross noted as Killer threw a snowball at Dust, watching the snow explode as it made impact, scattering snow everywhere. Fluttering and flying as Dust ran through the cloud of micro crystals, chasing Killer with his own armful of snowballs.
“‘S the point… right?” Horror smiled, crouching to make his own snowballs.
Cross smiled, as he followed suit.
“And that’s how you make the perfect snowball.” Chara presented his masterpiece to the other, smiling with pride.
“Wooooow.” Sans looked at the object, mesmerized, before an idea sparked.
“Do you think we could make one of those but… big.” He looked to Chara, a look of determination in his eyes. “Like. Ginormous. The biggest one to ever exist.”
Chara blinked before a devious smile grew on his expression. Quickly setting the ball back on the ground and rolling it in the snow, he spoke, nonchalant. “Of course.”
“We make these big ones when making snowmen. Here, let me show you.” Cross watched carefully as the once little round ball quickly gained more and more snow, growing bigger as it collected the snow up from the ground.
A snowball, waist high, laid before them, the echoing sounds of Asriel, Frisk, and Papyrus playing in the front yard, as they crafted their masterpiece in the back.
“We should be able to carry it, if it’s two of us.” Chara thought out loud, nodding to himself as he looked at his creation.
Sans stood in awe as he watched Chara take the once small, handheld ball of snow, and turn it into a ginormous snowball right in front of his eyes.
“Sans,” Snapping away from the enigma, he felt Chara’s hand on his shoulder and held his gaze. “My friend, you are a genius.”
Laughing loudly, Dust dodged a snowball flying fast toward his head. “HEY! We agreed no aiming for the head!”
“Oops!!” Killer shrugged, ducking, playing innocent. “I just have suuuuuuch terrible aim!”
“Ow! Nice shot!” Dust brushed off the snow on his arm before thrusting another towards the other.
“Oof! Close one!” Killer muttered, barely avoiding a snowball to the femur. “But not close enough!!!!”
Looking up at the other, Killer flinched, Dust suddenly closer than he was before, a hand pulled back, snowball in hand. Acting fast, Killer bent backwards, landing on their hands as Dust threw the snowball forward. Killer kicked up snow, creating a cloud around them as the snowball flew over them, Dust falling to the side as he noted Killer's immediate movement.
Leaning to the side, a hand connected with the ground as he stabilized his off-balanced position, watching as Killer completed their flip, back on two feet, crouched with a hand on the ground to stop their momentum, another hand behind them to follow the energy through.
As the snow cleared, they started each other down. Dust’s hand that was already on the ground twitched as he planned his next move, itching to collect the snow around it for another projectile. Though their eye lights weren’t showing, Dust noted how Killer tilted their head ever so slightly, watching his hands carefully, predicting his next move and calculating their own.
In an instant, they lunged for each other, a snowball in either of their hands.
“Chaaarrrraaaaa!!!!” The prince whined, standing up and shaking the snow off of his fur.
“BROTHER!!” Papyrus screeched, helping Frisk up as the two eldest laughed,
They were drenched in snow as the two had planned their attack when none of the three were looking. And the mission was successful.
Unfortunately for them, the battle wasn’t over.
As their laughter came to an abrupt end, they were surrounded by three shadows, ready with a snowball in hand and vengeance in their eyes.
Nightmare looked at them, a harsh gaze as they stood, like sopping wet cats, at the front door. Tracking snow into his abode, covered in the crystalized water, slowly melting and soaking their clothes. He stared, daringly, at Killer.
“Don’t.”
It took everything within Killer to not shake off the snow as if they were a silly, little puppy having just played in a mud puddle for hours. But no matter how tempted they were to absolutely wreck the shit out of the foyer, they froze in place. Tensing every non-existent muscle they had as with a single look, Nightmare listed all the ways they’d be punished for the action, from having to clean their mess to sleeping outside in the blizzard without dinner, they resisted their chaotic urge.
“Boots off. Right now.” They all obliged, hanging their heads in shame as their fun had come to an end.
A stern look from the scientist as the King and Queen looked on with disappointment.
“I am terribly sorry, we should be seeing ourselves out anyway.” Asgore stepped up, standing next to his son.
“It is alright, Your Majesty.” Gaster sighed, putting a forgiving hand up. “Please, they can warm up in here for a while. I would like to speak to… those two… for a moment as well, if I could.”
The King nodded, Sans and Papyrus being sent to their room to change, Chara and Frisk being pulled aside by Gaster in the other room.
“Sorry, sir.” Sans could hear Chara’s voice as he passed, subconsciously slowing down.
“It’s alright.” Gaster’s voice sighed. “This timeline is not worth continuing anyway. I don’t think I like this. “Unpredictable weather.”
“Wait- NO-”
“Cross?”
“Hmm?” Cross snapped his attention to his door, knocking coming through.
“Are you done getting dressed? Horror finished that stew he was making, did you wanna come down and eat with us?”
“Oh- yeah! Hold on.” Cross quickly pulled over his black jumper, throwing on another hoodie on top and opening his door. “I’m ready.”
“You really that cold? We don't have skin, y’know” Killer asked, stepping away to let Cross into the hallway.
“Believe me, Killer. If I could choose to not be cold, I would.” Cross grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.
“Whatever you say, Cranberry.” Killer teased, giving Cross a little shove.
They ate dinner with light chatter. Ambient laughter as the snow continued to fall outside the window. The warm lights reflected against the glass, Cross noticed. He watched their reflections move, the background of the falling snow as if another character in their conversation, another guest at their dinner. He was enraptured by the snow, falling gently, before being blown harshly in a new direction by the unpredictable winds. He wasn’t sure why, or where the fascination came from. It’s not like he’s never seen snow, but it has been a while. And even back then, it wasn’t very often.
“Perfect” to him wasn’t a shivering, cold, blanket of dirty, frozen water particles.
Week 62 - TB to that Crossmare Royalty Au I made in 2020 lol
creator: me :))
word count: 2,573
Notes:
It had been years since Cross abandoned Dream's kingdom to serve under Nightmare.
Though, despite the years, Cross still remembers the day he won his rightful place beside Nightmare as his right-hand man.
---
This fic lives in my head rent free purely for the fact that I have Killer call Cross a "Dreamer" because he's from Dream's kingdom and I thought I was so smart.
Anyway, this is a fic from 2020 when I accidentally turned a one-shot into my own Crossmare Royalty AU but didn't have enough written content to let it see the light of day. That is, until today. This was really fun, but difficult, to revamp and rewrite. I enjoyed looking back and seeing what I wrote and compare it to what I changed it to and why. I had to cut and change some things, I left out an entire section of "A day and a life of Cross in Dream's Kingdom" and Nightmare convincing Cross to stay because it was such BS and of its time, but everything is basically the same. Just with a more updated flare!!
Enjoy, I was really proud of this one, and I still am!! Like a collaboration with past and present me :))
---------------
“Cross.”
“Your Majesty?”
Nightmare sat more relaxed as the visitors left his throne room, leaning against his hand. “Do you remember the first day I recruited you?”
Cross thought for a moment, before the slightest bit of a smile shone through his stoic expression. “Yes, I do.”
Nightmare hid his own smile, a subconscious response to seeing the other’s mask break. “You were quite stubborn.”
“In my defense, if I may.”
“You may.”
“You did kidnap me.”
Nightmare scoffed. “I saved you from the mundane, boring routine you were trapped in.”
“I was content.” Cross reminiscent. “Of course, however, like you had said, it was a place for a perfect life, not a perfect place to live.”
“You remember?” Nightmare turned slightly to Cross, mused at his knight’s memory from years ago.
“Of course.” Cross answered simply.
“What else do you remember?” Nightmare tilted their head ever so slightly, a genuine curiosity in their voice.
“I remember becoming your personal guard and, excuse my informalities, beating Killer’s ass.”
Nightmare snorted, Cross burying his face in his scarf as he stifled his own laughter.
“Tell me about it.” Nightmare spoke after clearing his throat. “The memory seems to be escaping me at the moment. Remind me what you recall.”
“Well…”
----------------
It had been a couple months since Cross finally agreed to leave Dream’s kingdom behind and serve under Nightmare. It wasn’t easy, but at least most of the guards and some of the castle servants were nice.
They weren’t nice like people were in Dream’s kingdom, they played rough and made fun of each other, but after the first couple weeks with them, he could tell it came from a place of mutual respect and no offense was meant.
He met some new faces like Error, Horror, and Fell who were guards like him. And Lust, Mafia, and Reaper who were some of the first staff and servants he met. They were welcoming… in their own ways.
But then,
There was Killer.
Killer was the best of the best. Nightmare's right hand man. Highest guard. The chosen knight.
They were smart and fast and funny. A perfect fit for Nightmare. That's why Cross was confused when a tournament was held to see who could replace Killer. It was even opened up to the villagers if any wanted to step up.
No one did.
And no guard did.
All but Cross.
Cross didn't know what to expect. He's never seen Killer in action, so he didn't have any advantages or fear of what was to come. He just stepped up when no one else did.
"Oh! A challenger?” Killer sung, clearly not expecting anyone to challenge them. No one has for years, considering the state of the last person who tried. “And it's the Dreamer from our opposing kingdom, what a treat!”
“Well then,” Killer pointed a knife in Cross’s direction. “Step right up.”
“Magic is allowed, weapons are allowed, you know the rules. Oh wait,” Killer acted innocent, toying with the knife, before the facade dropped, and they smirked at Cross. “You don't.”
Uneasy, nervous, anxious. Those were an understatement, as the crowd laughed and roared at Cross, a new face for many of the people in the audience. With the added mentioning of the fact he was a “Dreamer,” he was certain that made it easier for the crowd to dissociate their pity for him and trade it for fuel to ridicule and mock him from the stands.
Cross had an inkling they all thought because he was a Dreamer, he would have no fighting chance. Literally and metaphorically.
Though, that wasn’t true seeing as Dream, too, had a royal guard and offered their training to those in the kingdom if they so wished. But not just that, Cross and his father had some… interesting father-son bonding time.
Despite it all though, he wasn’t sure if it would be enough to defeat the best of the best.
He closed his eyes and tried to think back to those days, so long ago. When he was just a kid, loyalty tied to no kingdom but his father’s expectations. What lessons he learned, what techniques were burned into him, what magic he could access. He was under his father’s watch for so long, something must’ve stuck.
“Ready!"
He heard out of his thoughts.
"Set!"
He opened his eyes, sharing a gaze with Killer.
"FIGHT!"
Immediately, Killer charged towards him, knife in hand. Cross quickly dodged and kicked up into Killer’s gut, sending the other tumbling backward. But everyone could tell it wasn’t all Cross had to offer as Killer was easily able to land on their feet again.
"Surprising for a Dreamer." Killer smirked, straightening up as Cross summoned knives of his own.
Killer charged again, rapidly closing the distance between them. But, just as quickly, when Killer was close enough, Cross jumped, letting them run underneath him. And when the other was perfectly under Cross, he fell and sunk his knife into Killer.
At the impact, Killer cried out, clearly not expecting to be hit. The crowd fell silent as Cross pulled his knife out and jumped off of Killer.
Killer growled as he stood up and looked at Cross. Looking at the bloody skeleton, there was a moment where Cross’s face fell, guilt washing over him. That stab must've hurt.
Noticing the other in his own thoughts, Killer ran at him, a look of understanding that Cross could be a threat to them in this moment.
Cross remained frozen, staring off into nothing, debating if he wanted to keep fighting. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like fighting. He didn’t like-
"Mistake number one."
A knife to his chest, Cross blinked.
Everything seemed to slow as Killer’s knife lingered just in front of his chest. Cross couldn’t breathe, seeing a sharpened weapon so close to his core, hearing a voice he couldn’t repress, no matter how hard he tried.
The knife in Killer’s hand turned into a hand with a spike in the middle, stopping right at his soul. He looked up, feeling younger.
"Don't let your emotions get to your head in battle." He looked up and saw his father's scowling face.
Suddenly, everything went back to normal, and Cross ducked, holding his arm out, as Killer thrusted forward and tripped over his arm.
The whole crowd cheered as Killer rolled over Cross and landed swiftly on the ground. Cross held his hand out and felt deep within his soul, using his magic to summon a bunch of knives.
The crowd let out “Ooo" and "Woah" at the amount of weapons Cross had summoned, but Cross hesitated to send the knives at Killer.
He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, but Killer had gotten up off their hands and knees and stared him down. Cross’s hands shook as Killer’s empty sockets bore into his soul, they had skidded far away and he hadn’t practiced his aim in years. What if he missed? With the distance, Killer could easily dodge, would this attack even be worth it? What was the best course of action?
Time was running out as he decided to fire his knives, but not before Killer let out a battle cry, sinking their knife into the ground, making the arena crack, red pulses of magic shooting up.
Flinching, Cross started to move out of the way when yet again, everything went slow. He could hear his father's voice again.
"Mistake number two.
The red magic was replaced by bones emerging from the ground, his father present on the other side.
“Don't hesitate in a moment of life or death." He could remember the look of disappointment on his father’s, burning an image in his mind as time sped up again.
Stumbling backward, he evaded Killer’s magic, before he felt something fly past him
"Toying with his enemy, similar attire, same tactics, reminds me of someone." He snapped his head towards Killer, dodging a knife they sent his way. But he winced, falling to the ground, a knife slashing his chest.
"How pathetic.” Coughing out blood, Cross looked up to see Killer walking his way.
“I must say I was impressed you could even hit me, Dreamer. But alas,” Killer smiled, raising a knife over their head. “It’s over for you.”
“Like a certain someone I know." Cross panted, closing his eyes as he accepted his defeat
"What was his name again? Ah!” Smirking, Killer made sure to catch Cross’s gaze.
“XGaster.”
“You are just like him."
Killer brought their knife down, but before they could get any closer, his arm was stopped by something. Looking back at Cross, they flinched back.
"I AM NOT MY FATHER!" Red targets met Killer’s as they were kicked in the non-existent gut, sending them flying up.
Ripping the knife out of his chest, Cross threw it to the side and summoned a Gaster Blaster. Aiming it towards the other, he fired with no remorse or hesitation.
Killer was barely able to dodge the blast, teleporting away just in time.
"Look, bud.” Killer spoke softly, trying to even their breaths. “Maybe we could work something out."
"I'll let you win, then, I can walk you over back to your home in Dream’s kingdom. Huh?" Cross tilted his head, eye lights following Killer’s movements.
“I’m good with the King, he likes you, but I know it’s tough here, it was for me too.” Killer walked closer to Cross, almost limping, holding a hand out. “But I had nowhere else to go. You have a place, a home, people who miss you, I’m sure.
It was their signature move.
They summoned a knife behind their back and the audience grew silent. Everyone knew the tales of Killer’s silver tongue. Their silver blade was dangerous enough, but their voice was a siren call. Pleasing to the ears, offers so tempting, voice so smooth. It was nothing like their King, true manipulation at its finest, but it was rumored the knight even had their ways to get through to their King.
And for a measly, untrained soul like Cross, an offer so tempting, a tone so reassuring, he stood no chance. But, even in the rare case he were to refuse, this had all been a warm up for the highest guard, their real skill was sure to shine through to ensure and remind everyone their rightful place.
“C’mon, kid. This is no place for someone like you. You’re good. You fight well, I admit, but you don’t deserve to be in a place that forces you to.”
Cross gave them a hard glare, before blinking, their gaze softening. A look of longing, reminiscing, nostalgia replacing the stoic expression he wore just moments ago.
Slowly reaching out for the other’s hand, Cross held Killer’s gaze, searching for any tricks, but he couldn’t find anything behind those empty sockets.
Killer smiled at him softly, Cross returning the gesture as he closed the distance between them, speaking lowly.
"Mistake number three. Never let your guard down."
A fist colliding with their skull, cracking the nasal bone before Killer could even process a word Cross had said.
Stumbling from the disorientation, Killer’s knife fell to the ground as Cross took the opportunity to kick the other half way across the arena. Skidding across the floor, Killer lay, squirming, on the ground as they tried to grab a hold of their magic, surroundings, anything as they literally got their senses kicked out of them.
Watching the other struggle from a far, Cross summoned a new group of red, glowing knives, surrounding Killer, aimed for the weakened skeleton on the ground.
With a flick of his hand, they fired.
To only stop before they could reach their target.
Looking to Nightmare who sat on a balcony, watching the battle, Cross waited for an agreement to kill his favorite guard.
Nightmare didn't make any movements, but the look on his face told Cross all he needed to know.
He tightened his fist and three knives pierced Killer's chest. Not enough to kill him, but enough to signal to those watching who the winner was.
Despawning all the other knives, Cross dropped his arms to his side. Head hanging, voided eye sockets looking at the skeleton in front of him.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the crowd cheered and clapped as Cross felt his arm being lifted up. The man who announced the fight was talking loudly into the microphone, but Cross couldn't hear him.
Fixated on the unconscious skeleton in front of him, he couldn't get the fact out of his head he did that.
He hurt them. He almost killed them. They did nothing to him. He brought this upon himself. He agreed to the challenge when he stepped up.
The next thing Cross remembers was being taken to the nurses room and getting healed. He stayed there for who knows how long, but he wasn’t as hurt as Killer, he did remember that. Because by the time he was told he could leave, he asked where his opponent's room was.
Killer was still unconscious.
The cracks were healed, but the nurse explained that Cross had a stronger punch than any of them had expected. That didn’t make Cross feel any better.
He remembers struggling against the other guards to get him out of Killer’s room after hours had passed. Cross couldn’t remember why he struggled so hard, he just felt so horrible. For doing this. For causing this. For being the reason Killer was currently unresponsive and worrying so many guards and nurses and disrupting everything. For possibly ruining Killer’s, rightful, reputation they tried so hard to build up.
At some point, Nightmare came in to talk to him. He couldn't remember what they said, something about Killer, then him being his something. Something about a room? He couldn't really make it out or remember it all. He just apologized.
He kept apologizing.
To Killer, Nightmare, himself, his father, Dream, anyone and everyone. He didn’t know why, he couldn’t remember. He remembers the guilt, the shame. There was no pride in this victory whatsoever.
At some point in his rambles and remorse, he felt arms wrap around him and he started crying. In this vulnerable state, he was certain the King used some sort of magic to get him to sleep, because he remembers waking up, still by Killer’s side.
“You’re one tough cookie.” Even with tears staining his cheek, half-awake, a guilty pit in his stomach, Cross did cringe at the statement Killer made, surprised as Killer started laughing at the reaction.
Killer winced at the movement, Cross apologized, Killer pushed him off, Cross joked, Killer joked back, they both laughed.
Cross couldn’t recall the exact conversation, but he was sure that was when they became friends. Talking in that recovery room until the nurse kicked him out, but Killer made sure to get a couple more laughs out as Cross left the room.
That was when everything changed for Cross. He rose in ranks, his magic was honed, his training was pushed, his responsibilities poured, his loyalty challenged.
But through it all, Cross remained number one. Killer, a close second. But all in friendly competition.
And despite how long ago that was, here Cross was, retelling the tale to his King in the throne room, as a loyal, faithful Dreamer who serves under his Nightmare.
