Chapter Text
Nightmare knew he was not the best in the Multiverse.
Hell, he was not even good.
He was the God of Negativity, a title that followed him like a curse carved into his very bones, and it made perfect sense that someone like him would end up completely alone.
That was what he told himself every single day, even when the silence pressed in so tightly that it felt like it was cracking his skull.
The castle was too big for one being.
The halls stretched on forever, dark and hollow, and every step he took echoed back at him like a reminder that there was no one else there.
No servants, no subordinates, no enemies trying to break down the doors, just endless stone corridors and shadows that clung to the walls like they belonged there more than he did.
Outside, the wind never stopped.
It howled against the tall castle walls and slipped through the smallest cracks, filling the empty rooms with a low, mournful sound that never truly faded.
For weeks, that had been the only voice he heard, and it was slowly driving him insane.
Nightmare would sit alone in his throne room, staring at nothing, listening to the wind scream in the distance as if it were mocking him.
He had wanted power, had wanted control, but he had never expected the silence that came with it.
And in that silence, with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company, even a God of Negativity could start to feel small.
He deserved to be alone.
That much, no one could deny.
At least that was what Nightmare told himself whenever the silence grew too loud and his thoughts started to wander somewhere dangerous.
With his twisted, tar-like body and the way negativity dripped from him like a living shadow, he was a sight that made even hardened monsters hesitate.
His grin was sharp and wrong, his presence heavy and suffocating, and the air around him always felt colder than it should.
It was no wonder that monsters ran screaming the moment they saw him, tripping over themselves just to get away.
And his personality did not help.
He was cruel when he wanted to be, sharp-tongued and bitter, and far too quick to snap at anyone who dared to look at him with pity.
Even if someone had tried to stay, he likely would have driven them away himself.
Of course, there was another reason.
Dream had warned them.
Dream, with his soft smiles and shining light, had made sure everyone knew exactly what Nightmare was capable of, and monsters listened when Dream spoke.
Nightmare preferred not to think about that part.
He preferred not to think about Dream at all.
Because every time he did, the memories clawed their way back to the surface, and they hurt far more than the loneliness ever could.
Nightmare sighed as he stared down at the paperwork fumbled across his desk.
The pages were uneven, some half crumpled at the edges, others stained faintly with dark smudges from his claws where his patience had worn thin.
He had tried to drown his thoughts in something productive, something structured, but clearly that plan had failed.
Paperwork was supposed to be mindless.
It was supposed to demand just enough focus to keep his thoughts from drifting toward loneliness and old memories, but not enough to frustrate him.
Instead, it only made the silence feel louder.
Even though Nightmare had only conquered five AUs, there was a ridiculous amount of documentation waiting for him.
Reports about resources, updates about territory stability, complaints from lesser monsters about fear quotas not being met properly.
Forms that needed signing, documents that required review, endless stacks that never seemed to shrink no matter how many he completed.
He had no idea where most of it even came from.
Every time he finished a pile, another seemed to appear as if the castle itself was mocking him.
For a being meant to spread negativity across the Multiverse, being buried alive in paperwork was not exactly how he imagined ruling would feel.
He debated giving up.
Just standing up from his throne, letting the papers scatter to the floor, and walking out without a second glance.
Maybe he could open a portal and conquer another AU, just to feel something other than this dull, endless boredom.
It would be easy.
Spreading fear, bending weaker beings to his will, watching hope crumble under his presence, that was simple and predictable.
At least it would be loud, at least it would drown out the silence that haunted his castle day after day.
The problem was that once it was done, he would still come back here.
Back to the empty halls, back to the cold throne room, back to nothing waiting for him.
Conquering something did not fix the quiet that followed.
He did not have hobbies.
Immortality stretched on endlessly before him, and most of it was painfully dull, filled with nothing but responsibilities and his own restless thoughts.
There was no art he enjoyed, no games he cared to learn, nothing that held his interest for long.
He could not even get a pet.
He did not trust himself with something innocent, something fragile that depended on care and warmth.
He was made of negativity itself, and he refused to risk corrupting some harmless creature just because he felt bored.
Just as he was about to stand up and abandon the entire mess, his eyelight caught on something written in bold italics.
The words stood out sharply against the rest of the dull reports, almost as if they had been designed to grab his attention.
Nightmare paused mid-movement before slowly lowering himself back into his chair.
He reached forward and pulled the specific page from the pile, the paper crinkling faintly between his claws.
For a moment he simply stared at it, narrowing his eyelight as if expecting it to change or disappear.
Then he began to read.
Something New.
That was the name of the AU.
A newly formed timeline, recently stabilized, and according to the brief description below, its Sans was an emotionless being.
Nightmare’s eyelight flickered faintly.
An emotionless Sans.
No fear, no hope, no joy, no despair.
That was… unusual.
Most Sanses were lazy, sarcastic, sometimes broken or corrupted, but never truly empty.
This one, however, was described as hollow, detached from any feeling entirely, as if emotion itself had been stripped away.
For the first time in weeks, Nightmare felt something other than boredom.
Not excitement exactly.
But curiosity.
If he could get this Sans, then maybe he would not have to endure the silence alone anymore.
Even if the being was emotionless, even if it felt nothing at all, it would still be a presence in the castle.
A second set of footsteps in the halls, a figure standing in the throne room instead of empty space.
An emotionless Sans would not recoil from his aura.
It would not feel fear when negativity seeped into the air, would not crumble under the pressure that made others tremble.
It would not look at him with disgust if he lost his temper, nor would it laugh at him or mock him the way some variants tended to do.
It sounded almost ideal.
Too ideal.
Nightmare’s eyelight narrowed as suspicion settled in.
He slowly lowered the paper onto his desk, staring at the bold words as if they might reveal some hidden trick.
He did not remember requesting information about this AU.
He did not remember any scout reporting it either.
He did not even know where the document had come from.
And that, more than anything else, made him uneasy.
He looked around the empty throne room warily, half expecting someone to step out from the shadows and admit this was some kind of trap.
The wind howled faintly beyond the tall windows, but there was no other movement, no hidden presence waiting to laugh at him.
After several long seconds, Nightmare let out a deep, tired sigh.
It did not matter where the paper had come from.
It did not matter who had written it, or why it had appeared among his reports without explanation.
What mattered was that it was here now.
And he wanted this Sans.
No.
He needed this Sans.
The thought settled heavily in his chest, firm and unshakable.
An emotionless being would not be corrupted by him, would not flinch at his touch, would not abandon him because his presence felt wrong.
It would simply exist beside him, unaffected and unmoved.
That alone was enough.
Nightmare straightened in his throne, folding the paper carefully before setting it aside.
Whatever Something New truly was, whatever risks waited within that AU, he would handle them.
Nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted.