Summary: Nightmare will always curse his brother's name.
There was something peculiar about Nightmare- more specifically, with the way he cursed. The usual expletives such as funk, witch, or plastered never left the other's jaws. He swore a name with the same amount of malice instead. Over the years, his friend and allies came to terms with this odd quirk. However, long before they had gotten to know the dark king better, things were quite... different. His choice of swearing often caused some problems in their Haventale hideout.
"DREAM!" The angry howl echoed throughout the castle, followed by a crash.
Killer shot out of his bed, startled, and reached for the nearest knife before slamming his door open and dashing through the corridors. His mind was racing. That voice. It was Nightmare. Were they under attack? How far had Dream's forces infiltrated?
Given his swift speed, the tear-stained skeleton reached the site first. Then Dust popped up soon after him, looking somewhat irked, followed by a sleepy Horror.
What they saw constituted as unexpected. The dark hall held no invaders or anyone, aside from themselves and Nightmare. One of the windows embedded in the stone was shattered; Broken shards of glass littered the ground, but there were far and few in-between. A spot along the wall was noticeably empty as well.
Killer spoke up first, "Nightmare, what's going on? How many are attacking us? Where is Dream?"
"Did he come alone?" Horror inquired, glancing around the hall lazily.
"You threw him out the window, didn't you?" Dust stated, bluntly.
Nightmare leveled them with a confused expression. "What are you lot going on about? Dream is not here; He doesn't even know this place exists. If anything, he's more likely to be in Candytale. Did all of you have nightmares?" The goopy skeleton questioned, frowning slightly.
"But, your shout..."
"The window?"
" 'm tired."
Nightmare sighed and gestured toward the window. "When exiting my room for a nightly venture, the candles blew out, and I stubbed my toe on that-" He pointed outside at an old decorative furnishing. "godforsaken cabinet." The last two words were hissed with unparalleled hate.
"Okay. What does this have to do with Dream, though?"
Nightmare scoffed. "Do you even have to ask? His very existence is a plague upon monsterkind. His very being is a curse upon my life. Why wouldn't I curse him?"
Dream jolted awake and shuddered. He had a feeling. A certain unpleasantness that only happened when his brother cursed his very name. The action always sent a dark chill down his spine. It happened quite often. Unfortunately. The light skeleton settled back in bed, snuggling into his sheets.
Why couldn't Nightmare return to the way he used to be? Why did he insist on cursing Dream's name with such intensity?
The Guardian of Positivity didn't sleep well that night.