Chapter Text
It had just started to drizzle when Killer left the pub, hands clenched into fists and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. The tails of his coat swept around his legs as he strode through the streets, straight to the castle gates. The guards did not bother to stop him for identification, knowing who he was intimately these days. He had almost horrifically killed all of them at least once, and they knew better than to question the Captain’s judgment. Killer would not be the man he was today if he let a little thing like nepotism slip through his fingers, taking every advantage he was afforded.
Sweeping through the front doors, he felt more than saw Dust as the darkly hooded skeleton fell into walking just behind him. He had no doubt Dust already knew the news he carried with him.
They marched through the grand halls, passing tapestries and paintings that covered the walls from ceiling to floor. Each told a story, of conquest and pain, hard won battles and joyous victory. A glorious history of their great kingdom, and the King that had built it brick by brick.
Killer did not care to look at any as he passed, ignorant of the puddles of water he left in his wake. He had something too important at play, something his King needed to know right away.
Something that was going to change things.
Dust stayed just behind and to the right as Killer marched directly into the King’s war room, ignoring the way the other bishops and lords came to abrupt attention. He even ignored the sword that was suddenly at his throat, his own knife tapping it away in a fluid motion as he knelt before his King in the next breath they all took.
“M’ Lord, I bring news from th’ Outlands.”
A pair of golden eyelights flit from the large map set on the stone table between them all, settling squarely onto Killer’s visage.
“Tell me, then Killer."
Killer grinned, offering up the parchment he had kept hidden in his cloak till now. It crinkled softly in his gloved hand. “They’ve found yer brother, m’ Lord.”
Sockets widening in shock and not a small amount of old, ancient sorrow, Dream took the parchment from him, opening the seal with quick work and reading carefully.
Then, without a backwards glance, Dream ran from the room, Killer up and on his feet in pursuit as Dust followed. The guards would deal with the quarreling lords and noblemen now, Killer knew.
His fealty was to Dream and Dream alone, and right now? His King needed him.
It didn’t take long for the horses needed to be readied, the three of them carefully armored and packed up for the long journey to the Outlands. It was a desolate place, full of people that were lawless.
A place outside of Dream’s leadership, but if that was truly where his brother was…
Killer wondered why Dream had not told his Captain, surely Cross would want to go with them. But he had decided as the night went on and things became more and more tense, it was not any of his business.
“Tell me, Killer.” Dream’s voice cut through the din of the stables, set on the outskirts of the city. Killer perked up from where he was packing his saddlebags for their several day trip, only a little distracted.
“Yes, m’ Lord?”
Dream turned to look at him, gold eyelights piercing at the best of times. “Do you think he is truly there?”
Killer opened his mouth to provide some kind of mindless reassurance, but his breath stuttered to a halt as Dream was suddenly in his space, nuzzling the side of his mouth.
“No. Do not answer immediately. Think it over a moment, because this is not the first time I have gotten this exact news. Not the first time someone has been certain, been so sure it was him.”
Killer stared into Dream’s eyes for a long moment, but instead of following the distinct (and inappropriate) desire to pull his King into a searing kiss, he bowed his head.
“I believe ‘e is. I trust m’ sources with m’ life.”
Dream huffed a joyless laugh. “I hope so. I will not chase a shadow in the night without there being consequences.”
Killer swallowed, taking the warning for what it was. “I would not ‘ave brought y’ the information if I thought it was false, m’ Lord.”
Dream nodded, turning back to his mare. “We will see then.”
Dust was in the corner, listening, always listening, but he stood after a moment, slipping into the saddle of his stark white steed.
“onward.” he murmured, almost silent, and Dream nodded in agreement, climbing into his own saddle.
“Yes. Onward.”
Killer jumped up and onto his horse’s bare back, having affixed the saddlebags with care that they would not fall. “Onward, m’ Lord.”
Dream stared out into the night for a moment, taking a brief, long breath in, then letting it out with a whoosh.
Then he was galloping out into the darkness, Dust following behind and Killer bringing up the rear. It would be a lengthy trip; they had a long way to go and a short amount of time to do it.
Killer could only pray his men had actually brought him accurate information, because if they hadn’t… it would not only be his head that would roll.
No, if he was wrong, there would be hell to pay. Dream would be furious, and he would be within his full right. Nightmare was not simply a tall tale, a whisper in the night about the King’s “evil” twin brother.
He was someone Dream cared about, feared for. A person that did not deserve the lot it sounded he’d gotten in life, despite the tales of whatever he’d done to be cast out in the first place.
So it was a good thing, wasn’t it… that Killer was always right.