Chapter Text
“Decades ago, a war took place on our once peaceful lands.
However, this wasn't just any war, for it was the largest, most deadliest fight monsters, and humans alike, had ever seen. The conflict itself was caused by fear: humans were scared of us monsters, and the power we wielded. It's common knowledge that a human’s soul is incredibly stronger than a single monster’s soul, but that does not mean we are weak, quite the opposite in fact. What monsters lack in soul power, we make up for in raw, natural magic. Humans can also harness magic, with enough effort, but it will never be as pure, nor as strong, as a monster’s magic.
Humans, being selfish and greedy, believed they could absorb our power by killing us all. This influx of power would make them unstoppable. So, they attacked us.
We fought back valiantly and, ultimately, won the battle. We lost many of our kind because of this terrible battle, and certain monster species have since gone extinct. However, we were prosperous compared to our foes; partly because after the Great Battle, almost no humans remained. They were all but wiped from existence. To this day, their numbers are still remarkably low compared to monsters, making them…”
Nightmare yawned, staring with boredom at the small nanoscreen in front of him and his twin, Dream. The two princes were sitting in the royal gardens behind the large castle. It was early spring, so the garden was exploding with vibrant greens, and flowers were popping out of the fresh soil, blooming and filling the air with a faint floral scent. It was a warm, and sunny day, Nightmare and his brother were shielded from the warm rays by the leaves and branches of the largest tree in the garden, one they affectionately called “grandpa oak”. Around them, castle staff were buzzing about like honey bees, tending to the flowers, shrubs and other plants the young boy didn't know the name of. The grass was soft beneath him, and the warmth was beginning to make him restless. The last thing he wanted to do right now was watch a tiring lecture about the kingdom's history. Unlike his twin (who was technically ten minutes older, and who took every chance he got to remind Nightmare of such), he honestly didn't have much interest in how BlightView, the city his parents dutifully governed over, came to be, or how it runs now. Dream seemed to be absolutely enthralled when it came to these sorts of lessons, which was clear to see by the way his large, star shaped eyelights shone on the screen, seeming to sparkle.
While Dream and Nightmare were twins, they were not identical. Dream had bright, yellow, star shaped eyelights, while Nightmare had two circular ones, one being a shockingly bright blue, and the other a simple purple. The other obvious difference between the boys were their birthmarks: Dream had a small, yellow star on his left cheek, and the other prince had a crack over his right eye.
Flopping down onto the grass, the boy sighed. His twin huffed slightly, looking back at him briefly and pausing the video their parents had told them to watch. “Nighty, come on. You can't pay attention if you're laying down!”
The younger of the two twins stuck out his tongue, gaze lazily roaming around the garden again and stopping when he spotted his father in a hustle. He was walking along the path with his royal advisor, a tall skeleton named W.D. Gaster. Nightmare remembered asking what the W.D. stood for once, only to be brushed off and told that it wasn't important.
The advisor himself was much taller than the king, and Nightmare was pretty sure he was older than his dad as well.
Grinning, he nudged his brother. “Papa's out!” That quickly caught Dream’s attention, his eyelights snapping to where their father was. “Race you to him?” He added, grin turning mischievous.
With a giggle, Dream grabbed the Nanoscreen, shoving it rather carelessly into his small yellow backpack. “You're on!”
The two boys sprung from their spots, running towards their father. They weaved through the staff, nearly knocking over a young gardener, yelling out to their parent, much to Gaster’s annoyance.
The king laughed, noticing his two sons easily. He kneeled, the two princes colliding into him. Once the two boys stopped giggling, the king spoke up. “Did you two finish your assignment for today?”
Nightmare pursed his ‘lips’, shaking his head. “It was boring.”
His father chuckled, rubbing the top of his skull. “It's important for you to learn about our history, Nightmare, you boys will be kings one day.”
Above them, Gaster cleared his throat, clasping his hands. “Your majesty, with all due respect, we still have plenty of things to get done today.”
Their father sighed, letting go of his sons, and stood. He dusted off his white pants, though the knees on the pants remained a subtle brown. With a sad smile, he said, “Why don’t you two head inside for an afternoon snack? Gaster is correct, we must get back to our duties.”
With that, the two grown skeletons began walking away, their conversation starting up again. Nightmare wondered briefly what work a king, of all people, had to do, and why Gaster had been so insistent that they get back to work so quickly. This wouldn’t have been the first time the prince had questioned whether or not the advisor actually liked him and his brother or not, and he doubted that’d ever change. The monster always seemed to have an air of displeasure around him. Beside him, Dream was tugging on his hand, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Come on Brother, Mr. Kyo told me they were baking apple tarts today!”
He smiled, letting his older twin pull him towards the castle. He decided firmly that it didn’t matter to him if Gaster liked him or not, he had his brother, and that’s all that mattered.
*****
“....Night….”
“...Nightmare…”
“Nightmare! Wake up!”
Nightmare jolted awake, a squeak escaping him when he noticed his brother hanging upside down from the top bunk of their bed, glaring at him. The light from both of the boys’ eyelights barely illuminated the sheets covering Nightmare, and the white moonlight was shining in through the windows, the blinds having been left open before the princes went to bed that night. “You sleep like a freaking log.”
Dream sat up, scooting down the ladder to sit next to his twin as he yawned. “Sorry… Why’d you wake me up? It’s still dark out.” Nightmare mumbled, rubbing his right eye socket.
The question seemed to make the yellow eyed monster nervous, he idly fiddled with the hem of his pajama shirt. “... I heard Mama scream. And Papa.”
Nightmare cocked his head to the side. “What?”
The prince huffed, puffing out his cheeks. “I don’t know, ok!? I wanna check on them, and-”
“You’re scared of the dark?”
“...Yeah.”
Nightmare sighed - sure, he loved his brother dearly, but sometimes he came off incredibly childish. I mean, they were 10! What 10-year-old was ever scared of the dark? “Ok, I’ll go with you to Mama and Papa’s room, but they’re going to be fine, you know.”
The two boys left their room to the dimly lit corridor outside. The castle’s architecture was styled to look like it was from the middle ages, but the technology inside was highly advanced, and none of the fires were actually real, only illusions created from magic. Nightmare reluctantly took his brother’s hand when he felt him reach out for it, huffing in embarrassment. No wonder everyone in the castle treated them like babies.
The walk to their parent’s room was quick, and when they found themself standing in front of the royal bedroom, they felt a sudden, sharp jab to their souls. The door was surrounded by guards, some with tears in their eyes, all of them talking in hushed whispers. Dream pulled away from his twin, pushing past the guards, pulling their attention to them. With a start, Nightmare followed him, ignoring the guards attempting to stop him and his brother.
The normally neat and tidy room was in shambles; lamps and vases were shattered on the ground, the curtains and bedsheets ripped and laying in heaps on the ground. The heavy aroma of something coppery assaulted Nightmare’s nose as he stood at the entrance of the messy room, making the small prince feel nauseous. The only other time he had smelled blood like this was when he had been 7, and a guard had come back from a particularly violent bar fight in the city. He and his partner had been sent out to put a stop to the rowdiness after getting multiple calls from the surrounding area. The guard, who’s name Nightmare had forgotten, had come back with a deep cut on his arm, caused after a patron had pulled a small switchblade on the monster.
That was the first time the twins had learned about what really happened when a monster died (The guard himself didn’t die, but their parents figured this was a good way to easily bring up the topic without it being too jaring). The whole thought of a monster turning to dust seemed absurd to Nightmare at the time. But now, seeing the flaky, white dust that covered the bed and surrounding ground, it seemed more terrifying than unrealistic.
Gaster stood next to the bed, and although it was probably close to 2 in the morning, he still wore his fitted suit, unwrinkled and unchanged from early that day. He looked too tall in the room, and it felt like the air around him was heavier and thicker than anywhere else, waves of negativity rolling off of him. He watched the princes stare at the clutter with wide, scared eyes.
“You two weren’t supposed to come here.” Gaster’s voice was steady and unemotional. It made the younger of the two princes think of a robot, and if the situation had been anything but this, he would have laughed at the mental image of the Royal Advisor being a machine.
“Where’s Mama and Papa?!” Dream’s voice wavered, tears pooling in his eyes. The older monster looked down at him with a condescending gaze. The man took a moment to respond, but when he did, Nightmare felt like his whole body would crumble to dust on the spot.
“My apologies, my prince, but the king and queen have been murdered. They are dead.”
Dream let out a small sob, sinking to the floor. Nightmare watched his brother curl up on himself, feeling his own breathing speed up. This had to be a joke. There was no way this was real! A heavy ball was forming deep in his gut, unstable like a hurricane. It lashed out like a whip, striking Nightmare’s soul and spine with a sharp, agonizing lash. He balled his small fists, fighting back his tears. “No. You’re lying!”
“I can assure you that I most certainly am not.”
“Yes, you are!” The hurricane was growing, dangerously close to consuming Nightmare’s soul in its rage. It lashed out again, striking the middle of the boy’s spine with more force than before. He bit back a yelp.
“Your majesty, we must ask you to calm down-” It was one of the guards behind him who was talking, and the sound was grating on Nightmare’s ‘ears’. The hurricane inside him suddenly burst, a shockwave of pain coursed through Nightmare’s body, a scream ripping from his throat. He collapsed to the ground, body twitching as pain continued to roll off his body. His spine was the worst of it, seeming to pulse and burn, as if something were trying to escape from inside his bones.
He felt someone move to his side: Dream. His brother was saying something, probably asking what was happening and if he was ok, but he sounded distant and muffled to Nightmare. His skull felt full of water, heavy and anything he tried to think of that could explain what was happening to him was quickly swept away by the violent waves. His vision was growing cloudy, his body being overwhelmed by the neverending hurricane.
The hurricane won the battle, flooding his body completely, overriding all his senses.
The world around him went dark as he collapsed to the ground.
*****
He awoke in the white walled infirmary on one of the sterilized beds. The sheets were strangely crisp and itchy against his cold body. He was rarely in this part of the castle: the infirmary was on the second floor of the castle which was dedicated to the guards. The Armoury, bunk rooms, and an entrance to both the underground dungeon (which was rarely used anymore) and to the outdoor training area in the courtyard.
His head felt heavy, and his soul and spine ached as if he had been physically beaten. Next to the bed, circled up on one of the metal chairs, was Dream. He was fast asleep, making Nightmare wonder what time it was, and how long he had been out. What had even happened to him in the first place? As far as he could remember, nothing like this had ever happened to him before - thinking about it, he was pretty sure he had never passed out like that either, until now.
“Ah, Prince Nightmare, you’re finally awake.” The boy jumped slightly, not noticing Gaster had entered the room and was standing by the door. He opened his mouth to speak, but the older monster held out his hand. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions about what you just went through.” He took a seat, crossing his long legs. “I had advised your parents that they should have talked to you about this in your early years, I had a strong feeling this would happen. Sadly, it’ll have to be me to walk you through your unfortunate condition.”
“Condition?” Both Dream and Nightmare were given regular check-ups all throughout their life, and they had always been told they were perfectly healthy (Except for that one time Dream had a horrible flu that lasted a little over a month).
“Yes. You see, when you and your brother were born, the doctors that checked over you noticed something odd about your soul. You see, your majesty, when you experience a large amount of negative emotions, such as anger, grief, and even fear, your soul starts creating an excess amount of magic. As you get older, your body naturally creates more magic for you to survive, so when you create more than you need, it makes more… well, dangerous is not the correct word, but problematic. Your body will need to find a way to release that magic, or it will build up inside you. That’s what caused you to pass out, your body doesn’t know how to clear itself of your built up magic.”
“But why? This doesn’t happen to Dream, why does it happen to me?!”
“I’m afraid we don’t have an answer to that. However, I do have a few ideas of how we could find a way to stop it from happening.” He glanced at the still sleeping boy beside him. “I have not talked to your brother about this, but your parents and I had a conversation long ago about what would happen if they passed on before you two boys were of an age to rule. They said they would want me to take care of you, and rule as king until one of you marry.”
To say Nightmare was surprised was an understatement. Even though his parents had been king and queen, and he’d heard them express their worries of someone trying to hurt them in the past, he never would have guessed that they would plan what would happen if they died! Also, they wanted Gaster, of all people, to care for them? Sure, he was the Royal Advisor, so him taking over as king did technically make the most sense, he would know the most about what his parents did and how to do their job, but the man himself had never shown any real interest in the boys, let alone any kind of friendly care. “Does that mean you’re our dad now?”
A flash of distaste crossed the older skeleton’s feature, but he quickly covered it with his neutral expression again. “I suppose so, yes. If the two of you wish, you can refer to me as your father. Perhaps it’ll even help you to recover from this incident faster.” He stood back up, towering over the 10-year-old-boy. “We’ll start working on those tests next month, to give you time to recover.”
With that, the new king left, leaving Nightmare alone with his sleeping brother (how he could sleep in that stupid chair, he had no idea) in that blindingly white room.”
*****
Six months.
Their parents had been dead for half a year now. The kingdom was still in mourning, and adjusting to the new ruler. So far, Gaster hadn’t made any serious adjustments to how things were run in Blightview, but for all Nightmare knew, he was only biding his time.
There were changes, of course. His brother, for one, had changed. It wasn’t much, but it was deafening to Nightmare. Before their parents’ death, Dream had still been childish, had still enjoyed watching cartoons and stealing tarts from the kitchen. Now, while he would still act like a kid before bed or before they had eaten breakfast in the morning, and was still as optimistic as a ray of sunlight; he was focusing on his studies even more than before, and in general seemed to be trying to act older than the two of them really were. Nightmare hadn’t noticed how much he loved his twin’s kiddy side until it was almost completely gone.
There was also Bethenny Hunt now. A little after Gaster had started really taking over as ruler, he hired a caretaker for the two princes, claiming he didn’t have any time to make sure they weren’t getting into trouble. They’d never needed a nanny before, but Nightmare couldn’t really complain. Bethenny was kind to them, helped them with anything they may need, and could listen to them for hours on end (She probably didn’t have an actual choice on that, but it was still nice to think she was doing it solely because she cared). She was also the only human he had ever met, and he was sure she’d be the only one he’d ever meet.
The last change was one Nightmare didn’t like as much: Gaster’s “tests”.
When he had first brought the idea up to Nightmare, he had been envisioning Gaster taking a closer examination of his soul, checking his other vitals, maybe even making him say “Ah” so he could look down his throat like other doctors did.
Instead, Gaster had taken him to a small laboratory in the basement, one Nightmare had never seen before. He had explained that it was his own personal lab, and it was in such a secluded area because he wanted his privacy.
The room itself wasn’t all that big, and was only lit by a single hanging light in the center. Under that light was a surgical table with restrains screwed into them for the wrists and ankles. A rolling metal cart was next to the table, surgical tools set out neatly on the top, and there was surely more hidden away in the cart’s drawers. There was a small jutted out square in the center of the room. It looked like it was covered in a mirror, but going by the door right next to it, it was most likely a one way mirror. Lastly, hidden amongst the shadows of one of the corners of the room, was a large machine. Nightmare could barely make out any actual details on the mechanism, but he knew it wasn’t anything he wanted near him.
Gaster got the small prince to lay down on the hard table. Nightmare watched Gaster secure the restraints, locking him in place, a ball of fear forming in his throat.
For the next hour or so, the man poked and prodded at Nightmare with needles and other instruments the boy didn’t understand. By the end of the session, the king sternly told the prince that he could never tell anyone about what happened in this room, and Nightmare, too scared of what might happen if he disobeyed, promised not to.
Nightmare would go down to that cold, dark room once or twice a week, and each time the “test” seemed to get more extreme. Today, Gaster said he was going to do something special. The idea of what he was planning was enough to make Nightmare nervous enough to throw up.
“Darling, are you feeling alright? You haven’t even touched your soup.” Nightmare blinked, turning to Bethenny, who sat patiently beside him, watching with concern. Truth be told, he wasn’t hungry, but he knew the pink-haired women would only get more worried if he said that. Monsters didn’t technically need to eat - their bodies were almost all magic, so the food didn’t fuel them like it did with humans, but it still tasted good, so most monsters ate anyway.
Dream had finished eating a while ago, and Nightmare could see him playing in the garden with one of the guards-in-training. The boy, Cross, had apparently been found in the street, and was taken in by one of the guards after expressing his dream of being one himself. Even though he was only a year older than the princes, Nightmare was pretty sure he had heard they were already teaching Cross the basics of fighting and using his magic for both defense and in battle. He was also pretty sure his brother had a huge crush on the boy; especially considering how much time the two spent together and the way Dream’s cheeks would turn soft yellow whenever Cross got just a bit too close; and how much the boy loved to gush about the other skeleton, it was pretty obvious at this point.
“Ah, your majesty, it’s a pleasure to see you.” Nightmare turned, eyelights landing on Gaster’s tall figure in the entrance. He was smiling for once, but there was something about it that unsettled Nightmare more. “Is it time for prince Nightmare’s appointment already?”
Gaster stepped forward, placing his cold hand on Nightmare’s shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine. “It is. I would like Dream and yourself to come with us this time, however.”
The young prince blinked in surprise. The king had made it very obvious that Bethenny and his brother weren’t supposed to even know about the room, let alone what Gaster did down there to his adoptive son. Regardless, the human woman agreed. She couldn’t say no without risking her job, Nightmare was sure, and went out to usher Dream back inside. The boy went with only minor pouting, saying goodbye to his beloved friend.
Bethenny and Dream were shooed off to the one-way mirrored room at the back of the lab, then Nightmare was strapped to the table. Through a speaker, Bethenny had asked if he was alright, but Gaster waved her question off. He told them that everything he was doing was safe, and was for Nightmare’s benefit.
If that was true, then why was he so scared? His bones felt on fire, preparing for whatever Gaster decided to poke into them today. Instead of taking something off the metal cart, like usual, he pushed it to the side. He grasped onto the large machine that hadn’t been touched before. Nightmare could see that it was covered in dust, the non-monster kind, and it creaked as the large skeleton pushed it so one of the bulky arms stood above the prince’s skull. At the end of the arm was a mask, looking similar to a gas mask, but there were tubes in the eyes and mouth area.
He jerked against his restraints, struggling to get away. He didn’t want this, there had to be a different way to help him! Gastered gloved hands fell swiftly against Nightmare’s cheek, the sound of the slap echoing in the dark room. The door to the viewing room rattled - had Gaster locked them in? What was his motive in this? “Behave.” He moved to the back of the machine, flipping it on. He then moved the mask closer to him, latching it to the back of his skull. He gagged and thrashed, everything was dark as the plastic tubes entered his eye sockets and mouth. He could feel the hurricane building in his gut for the first time in months. He could hear the machine whir to life, something inside it was moving, it sounded like it was a liquid. There was a thunk, and suddenly a bitter tasting fluid flooded in through the tubes. Nightmare’s scream was choked down, tears pricking his eyes; the hurricane had grown to be much worse than it was the first time he had felt it, beating against his spine and soul. His bones were melting, he was sure of it - they felt on fire, and his spine felt like it was being torn in two. Someone was screaming, he wasn’t sure who, though. Perhaps it was Bethenny. Or Dream.
Most likely it was him.
Then something burst from his back - it was long and Nightmare could feel its magic flowing through it, he could feel it curl around him with sharp edges. Then another, and another and another. There were four, all spasming and trying to stop whatever was happening to the body they were attached to. Something was covering his right eye - it was sticky and dripped down Nightmare chin. The hurricane itself had calmed down, apparently whatever had torn through his spine had greatly helped - it was changing now, too. It wasn’t fear, or sadness anymore.
It was rage, pure and unkempt.
With a scream, the tentacles wrapped around the restraints, yanking them from their screws and throwing them to the ground with a clang. Next was the machine - Nightmare grabbed onto it, yanking it off his face and chucking it into the wall. Bits and pieces flew off, smoke stemming from the now ruined contraption.
Nightmare rolled off the table, his new appendages curling around him protectively, ready to lash out. Gaster was pressed against the cracked mirror, staring at the prince with… fascination? His rage spiked. How dare he?! Was he proud of this?
One of the tentacles lashed out to him, Gaster was quick to summon a hand to stop him, but the tentacle shattered it easily, striking the king in the shoulder. His eyes widened, obviously surprised the ten year old could overpower him so easily. Blood soaked into his white shirt.
“Why you-” The door to the viewing room burst open, Dream running into the room, quickly latching onto his younger twin.
“Nightmare! Stop it, stop it please!” He was sobbing, each tear smothering the fire of rage in Nightmare’s soul. Slowly, he hugged the other prince gently, the tentacles retreating back into his spine, whatever had been covering his eye and the rest of his bones also disappeared.
Without the anger, the fear returned, worse than before. What had he done?! What had he become because of this odd condition? He sobbed, clinging to the back of his brother's shirt.
Gaster was panting, his magic making the air around him fizzle. Nightmare tried to shrink away - he knew he had done something very wrong.
“Your majesty-”
“Dream, away from him. Now.”
Dream sniffed, wiping his tears. “But father, he’s-”
“He’s dangerous. He tried to kill me.” His gaze on Nightmare was like venom - had he really tried to kill him? Sure he had been angry, but he would never actually dust another monster.
Would he?
“He is too dangerous to be left in the public, Dream. We must lock him up. It is what’s best for him.”
“But-”
“If you want what’s best for your people, Prince, you will listen to me.”
*****
“Where are you taking me father?”
Dream watched Gaster’s back as he took him back down to the laboratory in the basement - the last time he had been here, his brother had had a full blown breakdown, and was now locked up for his “safety”.
All alone.
The thought sent a wave of guilt over the prince. He knew he should have done more to stick up for him, but truth be told, he was scared of Nightmare after seeing what he was capable of. Admitting that made Dream sick - he knew deep down his brother would never hurt him. And yet, there was still a hook latched to his stomach that would yank and pull at him to run away wherever he got just a bit too close to the other prince.
“We need to take care of something. After seeing what Prince Nightmare did, well, it could leave lasting impacts on your mental health. It was rather traumatic.” He opened the heavy metal door, gesturing for Dream to go in. The room had been cleaned from the attack, the mirror was replaced and the broken machine, whatever it had been, had been completely removed. “I am going to give you something that will help you deal with it.” He picked up the small monster, placing him on the hard surgical table. The same one Nightmare had been chained to only a few days ago. “Do you trust me to do that?”
After a moment, Dream nodded. “Yes, I trust you father.”
“Good.” He took out a syringe filled with a bright pink liquid. “This will only pinch a bit.”
He pressed the sharp instrument to the prince's bare shoulder, pushing the strange liquid into his bones.
And everything around him went dark. Or that’s what he would remember later on. He would also remember something new: his brother had always been cruel and had hurt him before.
Gone were the memories of them happily playing, of promising to always be together; they had been replaced with a cold hatred.
Gaster’s plan had succeeded.
*****
Nightmare pressed his head to his pillow, rubbing the magic shackle that was secured tightly to his neck. After his incident in the lab, Gaster had brought him to the tallest tower in the castle, one he honestly hadn’t known about. He’s beginning to realize there’s a lot about his home he didn’t know about. The door was mechanical with a keypad on the outside, his adoptive father explained that only he and Bethenny would know the code and be able to visit from now on.
The room itself wasn’t all that bad. The walls were painted a dark purple, and the floor was carpeted. In the center of the room was a low wooden table. There were unlit candles placed on top, along with a small cup filled with pens and pencils. Next to the door was a small cupboard filled with paper and other craft materials. Right next to it was a dresser for his clothes. Beside the dresser was a door to a clean, white bathroom that held a counter, toilet (that Nightmare didn’t need, unless he were to vomit) and a bathtub. There were also more candles - Nightmare couldn’t see any lights or switches, so he was guessing the candles would be his only light source at night. The idea made him shiver - funny how he used to complain about Dream disliking the dark, and here he was, scared of being stuck in the dark. Next to the bathroom door was his bed. It was neatly made with soft purple sheets, and the pillows were soft and fluffy. On the wall behind the bed was a large tapestry of the moon. On the adjacent wall were two large bookshelves filled to the brim with fairy tales, history books, sci-fi’s, romances and everything in between. There was also a singulare window that looked out over the city. The window was blocked by thick metal bars, as if Gaster was scared Nightmare would jump out, even if the fall would mean certain death.
Before the king left the room; which would leave Nightmare in isolation, for what he guessed would be hours, he’d put the shackles on the young prince. There was one on his neck, wrists and ankles; Gaster told him that they were made for dangerous criminals who couldn’t be trusted to control their magic (That little tid-bit felt like a job to the soul, did his father really think of him as a dangerous criminal?) “This way” He said. “You will not be able to hurt yourself or anyone in the room.”
He’d been in this room - or would it be more accurate to call it a cell? - for two weeks now. Two long, lonely weeks. Bethenny would come to him multiple times a day for meals and school lessons. She told him that Gaster had made an announcment that he had attacked the king and prince, attempting to murder him, and that he was now, sadly, dead - which, of course, was a flat out lie, but there would be mass panic if the kingdom knew he was still alive and relatively well, health wise.
He’d only seen his brother once, and he was different. Much different. Before, he had been reluctant to believe Nightmare was dangerous, he didn’t actually want to lock up his twin. But now he seemed to full heartedly believe everything Gaster told him: that he was a liar, a traitor, and incredibly dangerous to the both of them. Dream had gone from loving his brother, to absolutely hating him.
And that’s what hurt Nightmare most.
A firework went off outside Nightmare’s blocked window. With sluggish movements, he sat up and walked over to the window, sitting on his knees and watching as the colourful explosions lit up the sky.
This happened every year since the twin princes were born. Every year on their birthday, the whole kingdom rejoiced.
This year, Nightmare didn’t feel the excitement he usually did. He was not given cake, or birthday presents, and no one sang happy birthday to him. He was not congratulated for turning eleven.
This party wasn’t for him; he was the forgotten prince. The lost soul.