A/N: As per request, I have created a separate book for this story.
As suspected, Nightmare was up to his usual shenanigans and dastardly deeds- except reaching an all-time low nigh inconceivable for the Guardian of Negativity. Both the affected AU and his location within it could be pinpointed with shocking ease. That in and of itself was a terrifying realization. The self-proclaimed King of Darkness always - without failure or a single mishap - prevented Dream from sensing him as much as possible. To abandon that strategical advantage- Nightmare either had to of become enraged beyond care or decided to no longer hold back in battle. Or, believed Dream had finally given up on chasing after the shadow of his older brother. For all the yellow-clad skeleton knew, the malicious monster and his goons may believe him to be dead, which was a plausible possibility. His universal absence could not have gone unnoticed by anyone.
Not that it mattered right now; There were more important affairs to attend to, like giving his brother a chance to be in Palette's life. A chance to make a change for the better. One last chance to prove his guideless path was the one he wished to follow. And, in the event it proved useless to persuade him, Dream would leave him be- give up on reuniting with the silvery-boned skeleton he once called brother.
Palette was his priority now. As such, Dream could not chase after a fanciful notion and risk his child's health and safety in the process. (Ink already did enough of that for both of them: not being around to defend Dream and their unborn child when needed, running off on inane quests at the drop of a hat, vanishing for weeks/months on end. Not to mention, making Dream question why he married the artist in the first place.) His precious little miracle deserved a parent that would put him above all else. Dream wanted to become that parent; would do anything and everything to achieve said goal. Success was the only option.
Hence, why the skeleton now quested to locate some light but sturdy armor before embarking to the afflicted AU. His usual battle attire - while not only too small due to his size - was crafted with long-range combat in mind. Which, in hindsight, should have been rectified ages ago, as Dream always ended up on the front lines alongside Ink and Blue. How many injuries could he have avoided by changing it to something more suitable for close-range combat? A majority. His naive beliefs also brought about unnecessary pain. Nightmare would hurt him, no matter how much he wished otherwise.
Mercy did not exist. Not even between brothers.
Exactly why Dream decided to proceed with caution. Before - during a time when an adorable little soul wasn't growing inside him - it did not matter; A millennium of fighting taught him how to take a hit. Whether a punch, kick, slash, magic attack, etc.- Dream could handle it. Palette, however, was frail and tiny. A single errant strike would dust the baby before he was even born.
The Guardian of Positivity refused to allow that.
While rummaging through his own disorganized wardrobe, Dream finally found the sought armaments: a silky, canary yellow scarf that added plus fifteen defense, light leather armor with mythril plating on the interior, and sturdy pair of boots. Perfect. For its purpose, at least. All in all, the outfit looked like it came straight out of RPGtale; It didn't exactly scream hero either. The dark-hued leather pieces were far from welcoming in design. That, coupled with the ominous aura they exuded, made Dream seem more like a yellow-scarfed highwayman then anything else.
With a little difficulty, he changed switched his cozy garb for the combat-ready armor. Luck appeared to be on his side, as the outfit was just big enough to fit on him without being uncomfortable. The discarded clothes were tossed in the nearby laundry basket.
Now that that is settled, I need a weapon.
It would be foolish, if not suicidal, to confront Nightmare and his gang unarmed. What options were there? The light bow? No, his current size made the weapon awkward to use. A staff? That could work- however, Dream was very out of practice. The sparkly pink pistol Ink had given to him as a joke on their wedding anniversary? Not his style; He wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot pole, anyways. That left... a sword. Cross, the Multiverse's finest swordsman, gave it to him awhile back, claiming he needed to learn new ways to defend himself. And Dream did- He trained both day and night, whenever Cross had the opportunity to teach him. As it turned out, swordsmanship was his second-best skill. Archery was his first.
Dream smirked and made his way over to the blade. The simple silvery weapon hung just beside his (and Ink's) bed on a small sword rack. In design, Cross' giant sword dwarfed the modest falchion and put its creator to shame. However, he rather enjoyed the simplicity. Especially after witnessing all the atrocities Ink had created in the name of fashion or creativity. A steady hand carefully plucked the blade from its' resting place and affixed it to his side. With that final piece, he was ready to face his brother for the first time after a year of absence.
Heavy snowfall shrouded the landscape as a fierce blizzard raged on in the lands surrounding Snowdin. Snowflakes whipped around in the air like a chilled fog; Preventing the town's residents and visitors from seeing an inch in front of them. The gale's howling echoed throughout the large, forest-esque hollows. Almost deafeningly. Dream trudged across the landscape, fighting against the winds- which, for whatever unfortunate reason, were blowing in the direction opposite of the one he needed to go in. His bones rattled due to the frozen air and icy winds. Cold seeped through his armor. The thin mythril plates inside slowly sapped any residual heat out of the leather. Thus, proving that while it was the better defensive choice, it was not favorable in this sort of climate. Dream shivered as a harsh chill mercilessly nipped at his body. Silently, he couldn't help but wonder if this - going to confront Nightmare - was a mistake.
The ill-clothed skeleton journeyed for what felt like an hour. Snow continued to pour relentlessly from the sky, obscuring patches of ice and deathly drops. Dream managed to avoid them, though, slipped on icy spots occasionally; catching himself before any real damage could be done. It was disconcerting. For multiple reasons. Firstly, the negativity of the AU was weakening him. (And running around in the blizzard certainly did not help conserve energy. Alas, as much as he wished he could teleport into town, the influx of negative emotions there prevented him from doing so. Yet another downside to being the Guardian of Positivity.) Secondly, the leather-mythril armor proved to be more of a hindrance in the weather than anything else. It was not built to handle this type of weather. If Dream could go back in time and slap himself for choosing this armor, he would. Twenty times over.
As he shivered and traversed the harsh environment, a warm light glistened beyond the sheer white veil. Its' yellow-orange hue inviting any chilled traveler to stop by and escape the cold. Oh, thank the stars, he nearly exclaimed aloud upon sighting it. Soon he would be out of this God-awful weather. Likely the town: Snowdin, which was where Nightmare and his gang were.
I hope my plan works.
With slight trepidation, Dream stepped passed the snowy barrier and inspected the little town. A magical forcefield surrounded the area, preventing the unrelenting storm from affecting the townsfolk; meaning, the wind and snow's bone-chilling bite not longer nipped at his bones. He felt relief at that. However, the state of Snowdin was far from comforting. Dusty clothes and ashen trails littered the ground. Four identical sets of footprints led through the carnage, leading any who follow directly to the causes of said carnage. He took a step forward and then another before pausing. I'm really doing this, aren't I? A hand found its way onto his armored stomach. It... It is not too late to back out; To go back home where it is warm and safe.
A frown settled on Dream's skull. His yellow-tinted eyelights drifted down until the hand and protected middle was in view. This plan- was it a good idea? If things went south, would he be able to defend himself and Palette?
But... if I don't do this now, will I ever get another chance to make amends?
No, the likelihood of another opportunity like this was slim to none. Sanses, Papyruses, Charas, Frisks- Nigh the whole Multiverse was out for the blood of the wicked, and they would stop at nothing to get it. And, unfortunately, Nightmare was next on their hit list. To ignore this chance - pass on it without giving a second thought - would only bring about regret later.
Dream nodded to himself. That was that; His decision was set. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, gazing resolutely in the direction Nightmare went in. It's time I finally spoke with my brother.