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So much can change in a matter of years, everything that used to glimmer and spark hope within the eyes of all the citizens is all but a haze of a dream. A dream filled with old memories from a time that everyone seemingly took for granted.
Days that used to burn so brightly in the light of everyone's joy has been washed away from all of the lands, all the laughter and bellows of joy are but a distant memory; something that everyone had given up hope on.
The last time Nightmare could remember the smiles and hope in everyone's eyes was way back when he was only small, when his father had just taken to the throne, people cheered and the land that made up this large kingdom were healthy and full of life. Everyone worked hard and could expect a fair wage after a long, hard days worth of work.
The streets were bustling with children as they chanted and played about the stoned lanes that had the shade of all of the strong healthy trees, lining the path and lighting them up of a night from the glow of lanterns that hung from each branch.
Those days were so bright, his father's— the King's words and promises were held by all of their citizens. His wife by his side with two beautiful twin boys that longed to run and play about with the countless other children who were screaming around the crowds.
The facade that the royal family held up as the lies that the King twisted into promises of better days has sprung hope and joy across the lands. The picture of elegance and graceful power resided on the crown allowed for people to reach out to the promise that the King sprinkled over lands, imagining brighter and better days ahead.
But it was all but a lie, woven by the King himself so he could lounge around in his gold encrusted castle with the fineries known of a king. His family was but a broken mess: scars, arguments and abuse at every turn.
That man couldn't have given less of a care to his people, the fertile fields of the kingdom had turned to sticks and dust. The lands all dried up as the rivers, that the kingdom was known for, were flooded in sludge that not even an animal would dare to drink from.
Everything slowly wilted and no one could do a thing. Whilst all of the citizens of the kingdom were dying of starvation and disease, the King sat atop his gilded throne with enough man power to take out all of the neighbouring kingdoms— he was untouchable, not even the vile words that the people made could even echo the grandiose halls of the castle. The castle being the only building in all of the lands that hadn't a crack on it, standing tall and strong; ominously looming over all those that dared a glance at the stone work that sat high for all to see.
The broken family?
The twins mother only ever got be with her boys of a mere four years before her untimely demise struck her, whilst the King had messaged out that she was not of full health, those inside the castle knew the truth.
One cold winters night, everyone was scrambling about to ensure the warmth of their King, they had all turned a blind eye to all of the horrific screams that curdled through the castle. Nightmare could still recall all of the events of that night.
All the servants running around to gather firewood and throws to ensure the King bathed in his undeserving warmth. One of the newer maids had given his majesty a well made quilt...
A quilt, in the King's own words;
"Quilts are for peasants!"
What the King had ordered for was the most finest of silks to be brought to his quarters, furs that had golden thread lacing the outer perimeter— only the finest that no one else could afford. He would have even taken a blanket that had encrusted jewels embedded into the corners; all though uncomfortable, he would have made due.
But a quilt!? Are you mad?
It's nothing but a waste, scrappy fabrics that had been sowed together out of boredom from the servants. Utter filth!
Whilst Nightmare's mother was quite fond of the quilt being handed over towards her, the King was ready to rip it to shreds. Even after the countless subtle attempts of calming the king and trying to persuade him that it was quite fine; his mother got the brunt end of his anger.
Insolence! The disrespect for such a blanket to even dare grace the Kings eyes and for the Queen to wish for it? Someone had to put her in her place.
And that was exactly what the King had done...
From the gap in the doorway of King's chambers, Nightmare quivered as he stared at how his mother had tried to quell the taller monster, only to fall to the floor in a pool of her own blood... Her body dusting away as her life left her being...
Nightmare could recall every cry, plea and scream for help, and yet... No one came...
After Nightmare's mother had passed, that lead to the line of abuse falling upon the twins, His father would have never called it abuse— it was training! He needed his sons to be able to stand tall amongst the bruises and breaks to make men out of the pair. Diamonds are formed under pressure after all.
Nightmare had tried his hardest to keep his younger brother safe, to keep him out of their father's line of fire. There were countless times where he would help Dream to hide so Nightmare could take the punishment himself. There were always arguments from the twins about the matter but Nightmare had always won these disagreements and sacrificed himself to keep the brightness of his brother safe.
Dream had carried that same energy and smile that their mother had done, gracing everyone with smiles and uncontainable happiness despite how the world spun around them.
But Nightmare wasn't always there to protect his brother, he was forced to undergo training, to become a true soldier.
'You need much discipline' his Father had taunted. Whilst the prospect of not being in the castle was a joyful dream, the barracks were no kinder or softer.
Commanded by his father, the captains and guards were ordered to beat the ever living daylights out of Nightmare until a soldier bloomed in his spot. Respectful, dignified and above all else, subservient.
His time away from the castle never promised him of a greater life, if anything it had done the exact opposite. Not only was he still getting beaten day in and day out, he wasn't at home to protect his brother... it was all part of his father's sick plan.
To destroy them and rebuild them into rule following husks of their former selves. The perfect princes...
As the years rolled over, the citizens were angry but with no help. They worked together to try and achieve some sort of food and water supply, but they could never leave. The King's guard was ever so present on the outskirts of the town, threatening everyone who dared to enter and dared to leave. The towns people could barely afford to sleep of a night and yet the King lived his life in the comforts of the castle, leaning into his greed and gluttonous attributes.
The twins had somehow grown into teenagers; strong, resilient and silent. They obeyed their father's every order and word so they wouldn't be met with the rings that spun around his hands. Nightmare always chose to hold his tongue back by biting down on it, the taste of his own blood being a warmth, constant comfort every time he had to meet up with his father.
His father held excellence and perfectionism over any other virtue, when a neighbouring kingdom had gifted him an essence to craft the strongest warrior, he did not hesitate to try it on his eldest son.
It would either kill the boy or make him the epitome of a warrior who would win all wars that their kingdom, The Kingdom of the Glistening Grove, would come across.
It was vile serum made from the Outastrian Empire, the empire known for their advancements in science and health. So what was his father going to say? That they would do the exact opposite of what they were profound for?
Without a moment to doubt the formula that rested in the glass bottle, corked shut and sealed with wax, he poured Nightmare the entire contents into a gem encrusted goblet with a sinister grin. Maybe he did have doubts on if this concoction was truly what he had asked for but he was using it on his son, the King after all, did have a spare if this concoction dusted his oldest son.
The contents in the goblet were thick and dark, flickering with a red iridescent gloss that shifted in the light from the candles that laced the formal dining room.
Nightmare remembered how his anger and words were stuck beneath a wedge that threatened to close his throat over. How his hands clenched around the golden cup with all of his might, praying to any being to free him from this life he was born into. To give himself and his twin a chance at a better life...
But he knew, staring into the liquids that resembled the abyss itself, the spirits had left his family long ago...
The Glistening Grove valued the spirits as they were the ones to guide the first people to this place. The ancestors of this land planted a tall and strong oak tree in the middle of the now kingdom; a tree that constantly grew purple and gold apples all year round.
The night Nightmare's mother was murdered was the day that tree was axed down by no one else but his father. The lands had grown cold and sour, any spiritual beings that were overlooking their lands had all surely left, despising the place this kingdom had become.
As Nightmare glared into the cup, he was sure that whatever it held would turn him to dust, all he could feel was anger. He was angry from the life he was never able to have, angry at the man who had taken everything from him. It wasn't even just anger that fiercely swirled around his soul, he was fully enraged from being battered down from years of torment and abuse.
There might have been a glint of happiness as his purple eyes glared at the liquids sloshing around in the goblet. His pleas for help slowly turned into pleas of hope, hope that this concoction would surely remove him from the world.
What was even the point of trying to survive this hell?
With a gentle sigh, Nightmare raised the cup to his mouth and welcomed in the awful tasting drink, gulping down every drop in hopes his soul would stop beating for good.
The liquids thickly flowed into his mouth, mingling with his magic to be absorbed into his mana-lines. Nightmare slammed the goblet to the table with the force of all of the years of anger and resentment that flooded his being.
It started off slow, but he could feel how the magic within his bones turned into a substance similar to lava, threatening to burn himself from the inside out.
His purple eye lights glaring at his father as he gritted his teeth, refusing to give the man what he wanted. Nightmare wasn't going to grace the man with his screams or cries as his body stiffened, his gaze turning colder and angry as the seconds passed.
It was only himself and his father in the room, no one would come running for him if he even dared to scream for help. He just glared cold and hard at his father, trying to wait out the pain that coursed through his entire body. His father just sat there with that stupid grin across his face, finding pleasure in how Nightmare was holding himself back, almost taunting his oldest son to do something.
Even if Nightmare wanted to reach out and throttle his father, he didn't have the time.
As every bone in his body burned in pure agony, they also snapped and jagged. Forcing the young prince into a possessed like dance. His back snapping straight as his arms contorted behind his body.
Nightmare tried to keep himself silent, but that was until a loud crack filled the room; his spine breaking halfway down as his body forced his upper torso backwards, unnaturally so.
With every snap and break of his bones, Nightmare finally screamed out, every one of his limps and joints snapping to contort to whatever he just drank's will.
Whilst the pain twisted around his body in a hot boiling flame of pure hurt and agony, his body never gave him the peace of being able to blackout. He had to feel every snag and jolt as his bones bent around, his soul clenching in on itself.
In that moment, all he could feel was the anger and hatred; all of it bubbling up and escaping Nightmare's mouth in a blood curdling scream that no one came running for. He felt how his magic drained from his body, flooding over his body in an almost oozy slime state.
It was all too much, but with a sudden jolt from inside his body, he felt something force its way out of his skull with the disgustingly loud crack of bones shattering. His head filled with so much pressure as some sort of black appendage broke forth and destroyed the right side of his skull.
All he could see was the black goop that slowly flooded over his being, he could feel every inch of his body shattering against the matter that was trying to break its way out from within his bones.
The laughter of his father wasn't even the loudest thing in the room, the chilling sound of how his body flexed and contorted against his own will was what filled that sense...
His father's dedication to perfection payed him well, he got a warrior after all. Nightmare was feared around the castle and no one dared to look in his direction during court. Whilst they kept the crude comments to themselves, they could feel the all encompassing power that emanated from Nightmare's body.
He was feared in the barracks and it didn't take long for Nightmare to ascend through the ranks, becoming the commander of all of the guards and military at the age of only eighteen. He was a tool to the crown that didn't hesitate to kill someone where they stood. The anger in him being the fuel for his strength that he used to pummel all of his unsuspecting victims without an ounce of regret.
No one stood a chance against Nightmare, and how the civilians feared the heir to the crown. If the King was this bad, just how awful would the monster the King called his son be once he takes to the throne.
Nightmare hated who he had become, every string of anger that twanged in his soul was nearly uncontrollable on the battlefields. He had killed and spilled innocent blood because his father had commanded it. He didn't enjoy it, not one bit... But what choice did he have?
It's either he killed or he would be killed...
His body was in a constant argument within himself, what was the point of even trying to survive this world? He had countless plans rattling around his mind and yet never the courage to enact on it.
He had to keep Dream safe, the only person in this whole world who even cared about him; even now when he looked like a demon who crawled its way out from the firey depths of below.
For a kingdom that used to shine a beacon of hope across the world... it sure became a dark horrendous place that no one would dream of entering...
Nightmare knew what he had become, he knew how no one liked his presence but he couldn't disappear. Not yet, he had to secure a safe place for Dream...
Dream would be the perfect ruler to grace these lands, he would be able to change this place back into the glorious haven it once was. The people loved Dream. When out on the battlefields, Nightmare could hear how everyone wished Dream was the rightful heir to the throne.
And Nightmare couldn't help but to agree, Dream was regal and poise, he was gentle but strong. He wouldn't hesitate to stop evil if it hurt the people he cared about.
The only problem was that the true evil was untouchable, playing the twins against each other and the world with his tricks of manipulation. If Nightmare could just figure out a sure plan to get rid of his father, he would happily step down so Dream could take to the throne, he would be everything that past rulers were.
Nightmare was anything but, he had spilled blood and now barely looked back when someone called out for help within the castle walls. He was living a life he had never wanted, a life forced upon him with no escape or hope for better days. Just an endless spiral of darkness and the corruption that weighed over the crown.
—
Within the blows of the battlefield, Nightmare yearned to feel an ounce of emotion that wasn't anger or the deep seated depression that took root in his soul. He stood in the open lands as the troops behind him cheered and yelled in victory.
Nightmare was unchanged, he couldn't have cared if they had won or not, he wanted to feel something other then the hurt and pain that tormented his being, anything other then the abysmal darkness that had become his standard. He stood there in amongst the flames and dust with some rulers head in his hand.
Blood soaked the grounds he stood on and he couldn't help but close his eyes in a silent prayer. This was a pointless battle, blood did not need to be spilt but, as things go, his father had commanded it.
"Here, I can take that..." a voice gentle spoke from beside the monster, voice low so they would startle the prince who seemed to be very deep in thought.
Nightmare's arm just reached out and dropped the old rulers head into their hands without much of even a sigh from his mouth. He was angry at the world, angry at his fathers and yet there wasn't a single thing he could do about it.
"Thanks, Killer" Nightmare spoke almost robotically, keeping any ounce of emotion buried under the layers of corruption that coursed over his being.
"Aye aye, Captain" Killer chuckled slightly as his hands grabbed at the head that was no longer attached to its original owner.
"It's commander " Nightmare added and Killer just rolled his eyes as he stepped away, his own armour clanging against each plate with every step.
"Really? I wouldn't have know" Killer added in a playful manner as he handed the part of the carcass off to another soldier who was standing with a crate in his hands.
Nightmare couldn't help the small smile that worked its way up his face, he could have sworn that not a single soul wouldn't be terrified of his presence. He knew that even deep down, Dream was frightful but Killer? Never once has he shown a look of disdain, disgust or fear when looking at the tentacled, corrupted prince.
"Maybe if you payed more attention..." Nightmare started as he turned to follow the skeleton, walking after the man who somehow could knock the darkness from his soul with his sly comments.
"To you? Nah, I'm good. You just drone on and on like a sad teenager" Killer smirked as he stopped in his tracks to allow the prince to catch up.
"Well, it does take one to know one" Nightmare spoke back as he took his place beside his right hand man. He glanced down at the skeleton who held a playful grin across his face, a grin that had never faltered since the day they met.
Killer was but a orphan of a kingdom that had ran itself into the ground, Nightmare was there to pick up the pieces to bring them back home to his father and secure the freshly fallen land as their own. Nightmare's men were commanded to pillage every building and ensure there were no survivors, there weren't many but Killer was quick on his feet and tried to plea for safety and sanctuary.
He laid his body down at Nightmare's feet in defeat, crying to the man to allow him to survive. He would do anything to keep himself alive, anything and everything.
It was the first time Nightmare had ever hesitated on killing someone, there was a certain air to Killer that drew the demon like skeleton in. Being in a city that was nothing but rubble, he knew that Killer shouldn't have pleaded for his life. The man had lost everything and everyone and yet he still grovelled at the prince's feet in pleas.
Nightmare knew that if he was in Killers situation, losing the few things that actually mattered in this world; he would beg for a quick demise. He couldn't even bear the thought of not having Dream by his side, he would much rather choose death over being alone in the dark and dreary world that they lived in.
Nightmare could sense that Killer was strong, that being on his knees in front of the prince would be very unbecoming of the man.
'Can you fight?' Were the words that came out of Nightmare's mouth. Killer glanced up at the Prince without even knowing much of who the man was. His eye sockets were blank but piercing, and that damned playful grin spread across his face telling Nightmare that he would be in for more than he had bargained for.
'Oh, I can fight' Killer chuckled and that was enough of an answer Nightmare needed to keep this skeleton alive, and close to his side. He would take any abuse of his father to keep Killer close, there was a certain aura he gave off that Nightmare was addicted to from day one. The way Killer held himself, the way he talked, the way he could wipe out nearly half of Nightmare battalion; it was a breath of strength Nightmare hadn't seen in a monster. It wasn't an act nor was it from a senseless daily beating. It was just who Killer was.
"And that's why we're meant to be, one of the same" Killer laughed as he met Nightmares cold gaze, his playful smile turning into one of just genuine happiness. The pair had grown close over the years, especially over the last two years on this battlefield that they had claimed.
"I suppose so..." Nightmare spoke, allowing his words to trail off as he continued to advance forwards, going towards where everyone was gearing up to take the long road back home. Stocking up carriages and wagons as others were already getting onto their horses to start on their way.
Killer was slightly shocked by the choice of words Nightmare had chosen, it was almost sentimental in a manner. His words almost feeling like a warm embrace of enamoured affection by the way they had fallen from the prince's tongue.
"Let's get going!" Nightmare boomed over the crowd of soldiers that were to make their way home, half of the men will stay in this place to ensure that everyone else knew that this land had been claimed. The other half were to go back home to swap out with the next line of infantry.
—
Whilst their Kingdom was never a sight to see, everything seemed so much worse than it already was. Somehow everything looked deader and more sickly than when Nightmare had last seen this place, before the war. Everything held a touch of eeriness that was hard to explain, gloom and despair floated around the air.
It wasn't much of a coming home, not that Nightmare was expecting the towns people to be lively and celebratory. But it was awfully quiet, the few people that were out and about seemed to have seen the most horrendous thing, their faces marked in shock and fright alike. They quickly took to cover themselves from the guard's that galloped their way through the roads.
The odd soldier getting off of their horse to retreat to their own home and families that had been awaiting their arrival for months on end.
Nightmare couldn't shake the ominous feeling that lingered around his body, it was almost as if there was a pit forming in the depths of his stomach. An odd twist that pulled and churned, almost begging the man to turn around now and leave this place for good.
There wasn't much here, for a kingdom anyways. The farm lands were shrivelled and diseased ridden, the live stock looking as sickly as ever. This was no home, it was a place where people came to die. There was not much to offer except for the few places of fertile fields that barely kept the civilians alive day to day.
Nightmare just shook his head as he galloped ahead, following the old stone paths up towards where the large castle stood tall and proud in all of its hellish light.
Maybe Nightmare should have listened to how his stomach pulled at his being, begging for him to return to the battlefields. At least he knew what to expect on the frontlines, what was behind the grand castle doors was never certain. He could be walking straight into deaths hand or straight into a trap that was to test his loyalty and endurance.
What he didn't expect was all of the grim faces that laid upon everyone's faces as he dismounted from his horse. There was no warm welcoming or even a glint of something happy in all of the worker's eyes.
Killer remained at his side, the pair mirroring the other in their battered and bloodied suits of armour, and yet their armour was the most sparkling thing that graced across the dark halls.
Servants and workers jumped out of their way and bowed respectfully when they noticed it was the prince that was walking through the grim halls, taunting all those who worked within the palace with the golden fixtures of candle holders and picture frames.
"Fuck me dead... who died?" Killer chuckled slightly as he mumbled under his breath to the point not even Nightmare could hear the words he muttered out.
Nightmare continued forth, his soul screaming at him to run back now, while there was still some hope... but was there ever any hope to start with?
Nightmare deeply sighed out a breath, that he didn't even realise he was holding, as he pushed the doors open so he could enter the great hall.
As the doors swung open, everyone that was standing around the large table all turned to look in the prince's direction. Their attire didn't go unnoticed, everyone seemingly wearing the colour of mourning as their faces grew grim.
Killer was now regretting the words he had mumbled prior, everyone was standing around in a stand still. All the prestigious nobles and advisors standing around the large table in front of Nightmare. Behind the prince stood a good handful of soldiers and guards alike, the room was eerily silent and the tension was thick. If a needle could fall through the tension of the room, it would be noticed by all as the sound would almost be booming in the room.
No one dared to speak or move, except for Nightmare who took the first step into the the grand hall, every eye in the room watching his every movement as if the world would crumble beneath the prince's feet.
Nightmare glanced over every face of those who had attended court on this miserable day, everyone shied away under his intense glare; biting their tongues as if what they were about to say would end their own lives.
Nightmare stepped in further as his eyes trailed the length of the solid table, their golden embellishes going unnoticed as his eyes dart towards the head of the table where two empty seats were found. Nightmare felt his whole body freeze and the grip around his soul tighten as he glanced at the two empty seats.
On the table in front of the smaller chair sat a golden crown, one that should never be so disrespectfully left; as the King would say. Every fibre in Nightmare's being ran cold as he stared at the lone circlet just lying atop of the wooden table.
No one needed to utter a word for Nightmare's world to catch up. It was plain as day, some how his feet carried him to the top of the table, his fingertips gently caressing the golden circlet that used to bring him so much love and happiness into this cold undeserving place.
Countless nights that were spent chatting and laughing away, placing a bandaid over the wounds that would never fully heal. The circlet just laid there for all to see. Nightmare picked the band up in his hands, his fingers tightening around the band as he glared up at all the people who tried to hold their breaths.
Nightmare glanced at the other empty chair beside his brother's. It laid their bare, no signs of a person occupying the spot for the last few weeks.
"What. Happened." Nightmare loudly spoke through gritted teeth, worried that his frustration, anger and sadness would warble his voice if he didn't choose the words correctly.
He knew what happened, he just wanted to know how it happened...
"The King, may he rest in peace, had been ill—" Nightmare slowly zoned out as his father's attendant rattled off some sort of sob story, ultimately deciding on a story that made his father out to of been a frail old man that had met his untimely demise...
That bastard! He died because he was ill!?
Nightmare had planned exactly what he was going to do when he arrived home from the war front. He had dreamt of strangling the man with all of his strength, prolonging the man's death to make it as torturous as possible. It was the one thought that kept him sane in amongst the chaos that the battlefield was known for. He had dreamt of every way he would kill his father like a child would count sheep. Yet he died from an illness!?
He lived his life to please himself, he never cared for those around him and yet he got a simple death, where was the fairness in that? The man had killed his own wife and tortured his sons day in and day out and he died because he had some flu!?
Nightmare chuckled as he glanced up at his father's— late father's attendant, his chuckle was the only response he had as his soul surged through emotions he didn't know how to deal with.
"Dream?" Nightmare asked as he clenched harder around the circlet, praying to anyone who would listen that this was just Dream misplacing his crown and was out in a field somewhere late for court. He couldn't bear to think of Dream in any sort of other light...
"The late prince—" Nightmare's whole body stuttered at the words 'late prince'... he didn't want to hear the end of what this pitiful excuse of a man had to say, but his body didn't move; permanently stuck in place as he glared hard at the circlet he was almost crushed between his large hands.
Nightmare couldn't follow the words fully as his whole soul begged for Nightmare to end his suffering now. There was something about a disease and something along the lines of a cure not working...
The whole world seemed to freeze as Nightmare battled within himself on what to do next, every stress he thought he had on his shoulders just expanded by tenfold. His eyes forced back tears that tried to well up at the bottom of his sockets, his one good teal eye light glancing up towards the doorframe.
Seeing the skeleton standing there with his red and white target of a soul soothed something in Nightmare's soul. He just prayed Dream had gone peacefully because he would be damned if he didn't try everything in his power to revenge his death.
"—A coronation has been planned for when you had returned, at your order we will set the preparations up" the attendant finished and Nightmare didn't dare to advert his eyes from Killer's piercing gaze. There was a sense of comfort and safety in the blankness of his sockets that held Nightmare together.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"