Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The heels of Nightmare's black dress shoes clicked against the dark tiled floors, echoing off the empty hallway of his castle as he made his way towards his office, grumbling under his breath. Eventually, he made it to his study, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

It had been a hectic few months.

Between prepping AUs for destruction and distracting the creator long enough for Error to destroy said AUs to maintain the Balance of the Multiverse– while admittedly both tedious and exhausting– it was worth the extra bit of breathing room they had to rest and brainstorm further plans. His boys had more than earned it, all of them fast asleep in their rooms, and if their dreams just happened to be dreamless for the next week– well, no one could exactly prove anything.

Nightmare could admit the occasional nap was nice, but he wasn't as much of a sleeper as it was. Sure, he often 'slept' to do his job in the plane of dreams, but that was more akin to meditation. Natural sleep, though, didn't come easily for him. Nonetheless, he managed to get in a 2-hour power nap, breaking a new record for him. The sludge-covered skeleton felt refreshed, so being tired wasn't why he was disgruntled.

Recently, a considerable influx of negativity has been going off at random somewhere within the multiverse. Being so busy at the time, Nightmare was annoyed with himself. He didn't have the opportunity to check the source of said influx.

That is, until now.

The extra negativity was making him jittery, like one too many cups of coffee; the scale was tipped a bit too far in his direction to his liking. Contrary to his brother's thoughts, he dropped the whole 'taking over the entire multiverse' thing when he unintentionally grew attached to his minions.

He sighed, running a hand over his skull. It couldn't be helped; he had it sitting on the back burner for long enough, longer than he would have initially liked. Plus, he felt it would be a short time before Dream was back in action. His twin always tended to bounce back like some kind of stubborn ball, which was both impressive and infuriating. 

He supposed now was as good a time as any. There was no time like the present and all that nonsense.

Without further thought, he straightened up his usual business casual clothes with a calm gaze, disappearing in a blink of black sludge.

Chapter Text

What was waiting for him on the other side surprised him slightly.

What he expected– at the very least– was maybe another wayward Sans to recruit potentially, the whole Underground on fire, or even the goddamn apocalypse.

No, what greeted him instead was a giant field of poppy flowers under a warm, bright, sunny blue sky, with woods off in the distance or what used to be the woods surrounding the poppy field. The trees and sky above were pixelated and glitching, fading into a pure white void reminiscent of Cross' universe. The AU seemed to be deteriorating, and the white void was slowly overtaking what was left. However, that was different from what caught his attention.

No, what grabbed his attention was the female figure sitting amongst the bright red flowers, the source of all the massive spikes in negativity for the past two months.

The mysterious woman plucked a flower, and Nightmare let the code of what remained of this AU wash over him, along with this person's deepest fears, regrets, and other negative emotions. What he found in those emotions made his usual resting grin widen. Oh, now that was interesting.

The poppy resting delicately in her hand glitched, disappearing out of existence, and appeared back where it was previously plucked. Not seeming to be phased by this, they quietly continued to pick the flowers.

"You should leave. There's nothing here left to interest you."

The young woman spoke in a bitter tone, not turning around. She vaguely gestured to the white expanse that was beyond the field she sat, to further point out the near nothingness of what used to be an entire universe. Nightmare blinked before he gave a short chuckle in response. This person thought he was someone else, he tilted his head in bemusement.

"I believe I'd have to say the contrary."

She whipped her head around at the unfamiliar voice, her eyes widening at the sight of the black goop-covered skeleton. Finally, she twisted her body around to face him as she stood.

Almost everything about this situation reminded Nightmare of when he first met his subordinates, giving him a sense of nostalgia. Sure, this woman was no wayward Sans. However, the look she had in her eyes was the same.

He checked her soul without pulling it out, eye socket momentarily widening in surprise.

An upside-down purple heart.

Perseverance.

Ah.

So, they weren't Human as he had assumed. They were a Monster, being one of those 'Elves' he heard of only in mythology (and upon closer observation, she did have pointed ears). They were beings created to be the close evolutionary cousins of the Monster species if he recalled correctly. However, Elves differed from Monsters because they had slightly more 'stuff' than the average Monster, the perfect mixture between magic and the 'stuff' similar to what humans were made of. As a result of this extra 'stuff,' Elves had Monster souls with the trait colors of human souls, they were powerhouses, but peaceful beings by nature. With how rare Elves were within the multiverse itself, they were almost like a strange anomaly, very different from the usual formula the Creator went by.

According to the Destroyer, the Creator wasn't one for creating Fantasy AUs all that often. Oddly enough, one would think that was something one could go loose and get pretty creative in. As evidenced by the fact the Elven female in front of him was dressed in a black tank top and dark blue denim shorts rather than a medieval dress, this AU, in particular, must have been set in or around modern times.

Perhaps even the creator himself knew Elves could potentially pose a risk to his little game and his toys—especially if one of them were to become an Outcode—even if the risk was a low possibility. Each fantasy AU the Creator made increased that chance.

And that Outcode risk just so happened to be standing right before him; lonely and disillusioned with the world with quite literally nothing left to lose. She just screamed minion potential.

Huh. It truly was similar to when he first recruited his boys.

The Elven female hesitated a moment, uneasy eyes flickering between his face and the appendages on his back. Like she was trying to reassure herself about something, Nightmare noticed. It seemed like she succeeded because something in her eyes changed, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.

Seeing this as a good sign, he placed a hand on his chest and gave a slight bow. "I am Nightmare, Demigod of Negativity. May I ask who you might be?"

Her reply was both reluctant and resolute, yet Nightmare heard it all the same.

"...Poppy. My name is Poppy."

Nightmare's grin widened.

"Well, Poppy… how good would you say you are at distractions?"

He didn't understand the baffled look he got.

"Huh?"

Chapter Text

Poppy didn't understand Nightmare.

He was strange.

He wasn't strange in how he dressed; he looked instead put together for a demigod of Negativity. He wore all black, with a turtleneck sweater, an open suit jacket, pressed slacks, and business shoes. It wasn't his goopy appearance either that made her think he was strange.

No, she thought he was about to ask something about selling her soul to him, but then the next moment, he was asking how good she was at distractions, fighting, and whatnot.

She had told him she was decent enough, but still. Strange.

However, if Nightmare was strange, his subordinates were the whole mango basket .

She got along with them quickly enough. Killer, though, oh boy, was a whole different story. It took them both a while to warm up to each other.

On her first day at the castle, she got into a fistfight with Killer not even a minute after being introduced to him and the others. She won, of course, but by a mere technicality.

In her defense, the asshole deserved it. The very moment after Nightmare finished explaining the situation to his gaggle of minions and their new teammate, Poppy, the skeleton perpetually crying mascara gave a snide comment. Now, she was already exhausted and moments away from a mental breakdown, so that small insignificant comment that typically wouldn't have gotten under her skin…

She quite literally lost it.

All the emotions she kept shoved down and bottled until then exploded outwards. She was just so… angry . Sad. Bitter.

One moment, she was standing beside her new boss. The next, she was strangling her new teammate's skeletal neck.

She doesn't remember most of what happened, but at some point, Horror and Dust gave up trying to pry the two of them apart. Letting them duke it out on the stone floor, in a mess of flying limbs, nonsensical screaming, shouting, tugging, and kicking- in the hopes that eventually they would tire each other out or divine intervention, whichever came first.

Everything happened in a blur of motion. She couldn't even recall what Killer said in the first place. Her vision became blurry as her body worked on autopilot, and her punches slowly became sloppy.

She was tired.

So, so tired.

She just…

"That's enough."

A cold tendril wrapped around her middle, making Poppy pause mid-punch from her position on top of a pinned Killer. All her energy seemed to suddenly fade and dissipate. She slumped, the tendril being the only thing supporting her weight as it pulled her away and off her unfortunate target.

"Sleep."

And she did just that.

As her consciousness quickly faded into peaceful darkness, she faintly wondered why her face felt damp.

________

The next day, she woke up in an unfamiliar bed feeling like shit. Did she get drunk? While it would explain why she was in a bed she didn't recognize- a very comfortable bed, she admits- she barely drank as it was, not being much of a drinker. Maybe she was drugged? A possibility, but she doesn't remember going to any clubs or any reason why she would- wait, oh yeah, her world was... Then why…? Why wasn't almost everything white? Where was she?

Poppy turned her head on the pillow at the sound of a page-turning, blinking in recognition at the sitting figure. Oh yeah. A goopy skeleton showed up. Right.

Her new boss, Nightmare, sat in a plush chair reading a book.

At first, the demigod was a bit iffy about why he felt that her recruitment into his team of misfits was necessary. Only when she accepted Nightmare's offer did the negative guardian explain everything. The information he divulged about the Balance and the current state of the multiverse was all the convincing she needed to be on board. In Elven Monster culture, balance of many varieties was seen as a very important aspect of life and was taught to children from a young age. And she was no exception.

Groggily sitting up, her memories of the other day came rushing back into Poppy's mind. Embarrassment shot through her like an arrow, as she hunched over and groaned into her hands in misery.

Did… she really break down like that? Immaturely attacking someone over something as small as an insult? In front of everyone? 

…Oh stars, she did . 

"You're awake now, I see."

Nightmare didn't bother looking up from his book, not that Poppy could see, turning another page. Her shoulders slumped, guilty.

"I messed up, didn't I?" Her voice came out defeated and small, albeit slightly muffled. The elven woman with natural white-ish blonde hair wished she could just melt and disappear into the bed. Her ear twitched slightly at the sound of a book softly closing and a heavy sigh.

"No. I owe you an apology."

Surprised, Poppy peeked through her fingers at Nightmare, searching his gaze like it would answer her evident confusion.

Feeling her confusion, the demigod explained further.

"I was… overzealous, I admit. I want to stress that this is no fault of your own. I should have waited,” Nightmare sighed again, placing his book on the armrest of the chair he sat in before folding his hands together in his lap.

"You were in no emotional state to be doing anything, let alone making introductions. I should have waited until you were ready before introducing you to the boys—especially knowing how they can be. I am at fault, and for that, I'm sorry." 

There was silence for a few moments as Poppy tried to muster up something—anything—to say. Despite the little time she'd spent with the business casual-clothed demigod, she could tell that Nightmare was a prideful and proud being by nature. Judging by his faintly constipated face, he probably didn't admit to his wrongdoing often,  though he admittedly did a good job hiding it.

She was touched.

"...I- thank you - I don't know what to say…" She admitted, sheepishly twisting her fingers within her lap.

Looking anywhere but at his newest recruit that he had failed, he softly reassured, "You don't have to."

Poppy ducked her head with a content yet grateful smile.

The two spent the rest of the day in companionable silence.

Chapter Text

Killer flipped his knife in hand, his expression blank. The door to his bedroom closed behind him, and his feet dragged down the hallway toward the kitchen for a midnight snack.

Frankly, the skeleton bearing liquid hate tears wasn't hungry; it was more of an excuse for why he was roaming the long winding halls in the late hours. Especially since his room was the farthest away from all the common communal areas, to the endless befuddlement of his teammates. Despite Killer's favorite pastime of being an annoyance, he wasn't Nightmare's right hand for nothing. Killer had a penchant for strategy; everything he did was with a purpose in mind. An expected outcome, an end goal.

Walking helped him think and clear his head, which was… nice. But in his eyes, that wasn't enough of a purpose, if any. There wasn't much of a reason or ulterior motive to it; walking was just what he did when he felt… lost . 

Just like back in his-

The grip on his knife tightened.

It was for that reason that he tacked on excuses for why he was wandering around the halls—not that he would ever admit to such a thing. No, walking with purpose is far more preferable than walking without one—infinitely superior, in fact!

Distracted, extinguished eyelights roamed over the intricate paintings and vases he passed by, pondering over the past week.

He was currently at a loss.

Ever since their impromptu wrestling match, their newest recruit avoided him like he was Death himself.

Which, okay, may not be his finest moment. He'll admit that.

Clear, wet tears fell from above, dripping onto his face–

He only wanted to push her buttons a bit, to annoy her, to get on her nerves, which also served as a way for Killer to test the waters of her temperament.

–white long hair cast around Killer like a curtain, pooling onto the floor, a fist pulling back for another punch to his face–

He wasn't expecting the despondent white-haired Outcode to teleport and tackle him to the floor, fingers wrapping around his neck like a vice. At first, he was gleeful at the unexpected violent reaction, all too eager to repay in kind. It was all fun and games. 

–her eyes screamed of anguish and desolation.

Until it wasn't.

It was at that moment that Killer realized he had crossed a line instead of precariously toeing it, which he took pride in. A faint twinge came to his warped soul, which he ignored.

He had miscalculated.

Begrudgingly, he was impressed by her strength, which he could respect. He supposed that's what he got for constantly flying so close to the sun.

Admittedly, when Nightmare called for a meeting that day, Killer wasn't expecting Poppy, let alone the fact that she was now considered part of the team. She was an unknown. 

He was more expecting an update on the Balance or a last-minute mission, maybe another alternate version of himself that the Boss recruited.

Nope. 

Not to mention, it totally broke apart his running theory on Nightmare having a weird fetish with specifically only recruiting Sanses, but eh, good to know the boss wasn't full of himself.

That aside, what was truly annoying him was the rookie's avoidance. He didn't understand or see the purpose behind it, and it was starting to get on his nerves.

Him. Killer. On his nerves.

That's not how it works. It was supposed to be the other way around.

He finally arrived at the kitchen, wandering towards the fridge and opening the door. Reaching for a cucumber, knife already in hand, he decided to have some cucumber slices and call it a night before making his long trek back to his room. Or at least, that was the plan. 

Until it wasn't.

"Killer?"

He jumped at the voice behind him, hitting his head on the fridge ceiling. He cursed, knife clattering out of his grip, hand moving to rub his head. Killer stood to see whoever startled him.

Oh. 

The rookie. 

She was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a long white nightgown with a mug of tea cradled in her hands. If Killer didn't know better, he'd say the Elven Monster came from a Victorian-era AU and not some cyberpunk fantasy one based on the nightgown alone– but he knew better.

And she managed to catch him off guard for a second time.

"S-sorry! I didn't mean to startle you…! A-are you alright?" Poppy asked, concern clear on her face as she got to her feet, hands flat on the table, and tea forgotten in her hurry. This threw Killer for a loop. First, the rookie avoided him like her life depended on it for weeks, and now she was talking to him as if they were old pals. Was this some sort of test? He didn't understand. Was he missing something?

"I'm fine."

"O-oh um…t-that's good."

Silence loomed over the room for several minutes. During that time, Poppy was back in her seat, staring at her tea, occasionally taking sips from the ceramic mug, and Killer had got what he came for: cucumber slices.

Picking up the plate of veggie slices, he took a seat across from the quiet woman, knowing for a fact that if he ate in his room, Nightmare was going to rip him a new one. The demigod had a way of going through with threats that usually would be impossible. Still, the former tree guardian somehow always found a way to make it a reality– especially when it came to the few rules the Negativity King laid out for the castle's residents. Besides, most other threats the demigod made weren't followed through or severe, and one could easily find the difference if they knew Nightmare's tells.

Munching on a cucumber slice, he observed the still elf sitting across from him and how she stared into her teacup with distant eyes. He noted the dark bags under her exhausted eyes, how the nightgown she wore was rumpled, and how her unnecessarily long hair was messy and knotted, unlike its usual kempt appearance.

Belatedly, he recognized the familiar smell in the air as one that subconsciously brought him and other castle residents a sense of comfort: midnight chamomile. It was a unique blend that the boss made himself, sharing it on their bad nights to help calm nerves while he quietly sat with them. Speaking of, he noticed a distinct lack of goop and literature within the room.

"Is the boss not around?"

"Hm..? Oh! Uh n-no… he went to check on Cross."

"I see."

That made sense. The monochrome guard had been sick for the past two weeks, bedridden with a bad fever. As a result, he was in no state to partake in introductions when Poppy first joined the group. The former royal guard was in quarantine for the most part. The only ones allowed in the room were Horror and Nightmare. Horror was given permission only to drop off food that the sick monster could keep down, while Nightmare took up the role of caretaker due to the known fact most mortal sicknesses tended not to affect the spirit. The last Killer heard the ex-guard was improving, and the stubborn fever was now down to safer levels.

He was staring out the window, watching the heavy rain pour outside when Poppy's sigh broke the long silence between them.

"...I'm sorry."

Killer turned his gaze back to the Elven woman, wondering if he had heard incorrectly. 

"Pardon?"

The white-haired rookie raised her head from staring into her mug of midnight chamomile tea to make eye contact with the skeleton, squaring her shoulders and repeating her words with more certainty. 

"I'm sorry."

This only further confused Killer, tilting his head to the side as he inquired, "What for?"

"For avoiding you. You just remind me of someone, is all," she admitted, eyes briefly tracing over his black tears with an emotion Killer couldn't identify. "But you're not them. You couldn't be more different.  I see that now. I'm… I'm embarrassed it took me this long."

She sighed with a weak grin, gaze returning to her midnight chamomile, "For that, I'm sorry."

Oh.

He… wasn't expecting that.

At all.

He blinked, taken aback as he tried to process and figure out precisely what he should do with this information now that he had it. If he even could. So, he did the next best thing.

He grinned, "Heh. Don't worry about it." As an afterthought, he added, "For a second there, I thought you felt bad about our little tussle."

She huffed, though the grateful look in her eyes at the change of topic gave her away.

"As if! Why would I feel bad about kicking your ass? You deserved it!"

He raised his hands in surrender with a shit-eating grin, "All right, you got me there. Though I warn you, you won't be so lucky next time." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mascara Lord."

"M-mascara Lord??!" He sputtered, yet again caught off guard by the elven female. Poppy shrugged, mirth in her eyes as she took in his apparent speechlessness and smirked into her mug of tea. "Your tears remind me of mascara."

"You wound me, Rookie."

"You'll live, unfortunately," Poppy teased, setting her mug back on the circular wooden table. Killer pouted, which only made her laugh.

"I'm glad the two of you are finally getting along." A bemused voice came from the kitchen doorway. Poppy jumped slightly in her seat, a faint flush painting her cheeks when she saw it was only Nightmare. Killer raised a hand in greeting, all too used to the king showing up silently out of nowhere. "Heya, Boss!"

"Killer," the negative spirit acknowledged before turning to address Poppy, tilting his head towards her now empty mug. "Would you like another cup of tea?"

She shook her head with a smile, standing up, "I'm good, thank you. I think it's about time I head back to sleep anyway." The elven monster cleaned her mug, setting it on the counter to dry. She nodded towards the two skeletons, a small, genuine smile on her lips. "Goodnight, you two."

"Night, Rookie!"

"Goodnight."

Chapter Text

Nightmare watched from his seat at the kitchen table, sipping from his coffee mug, as Poppy animatedly conversed with Horror, helping the quiet giant prepare breakfast. It's been two months since he recruited Poppy, and besides the few initial… hiccups , she was settling in quite nicely.

Her mental state was a little more stable—or as stable as it got when it came to his group—so she wasn't in danger of completely melting down at a moment's notice. 

This was good; it meant they could start moving forward to the next steps. 

Horror always served breakfast at 6:00 AM sharp without fail and cleaned up by 7:00 AM. Designated mealtimes were not to be missed, period. That was another rule of Nightmare's castle; though Dust suspected this rule was implemented to benefit Horror's mental health, the manic monster let it be. It was free food, and he only occasionally had to do the dishes? That was a good deal if ever he saw one. 

Towards the end of breakfast, Nightmare spoke up when there was a lull in conversation. 

"Poppy,"

The Elven woman gave him her full attention, curious and a bit wary of what her new boss had to say to her. Perhaps she had done something wrong? No, she made sure to follow the house rules he had laid out for both her and the others.

"Today, you are sparring with the group. Do not hold back."

She was surprised but gave a curt nod of her head, "Understood."

Killer hooted in glee, slapping his hand on the table excitedly. “Ha, the rookie is gonna be joining us! I call first dibs!” Dust elbowed the murderous skeleton in the ribs with an irritated scoff, ignoring the resulting exaggerated whines of feigned betrayal. “Shut up.”

“Let’s eat our food first before someone gets ahead of themselves,” Poppy dryly suggested, snorting at the near-feral grin Killer gave at her obvious jab. Horror gave a rumble of agreement, eye narrowing at the said skeleton. Killer shrugged, turning back to stuffing his face and getting a look of barely concealed disgust from Cross from his lack of table manners. Bingo, exactly the reaction he was hoping to pry from the uptight guard. Oh, Killer had table manners, he just chose not to use them to get the visceral reactions from others around him. Cross, especially, was the most fun out of everyone when his buttons were pushed, giving the best reactions that amused Killer to no end, which was why the liquid hate-bearing skeleton kept doing it.

It absolutely drove the soldier up the wall.

The rest of breakfast and cleaning up went by uneventfully, Poppy parting ways with the group to get dressed in something more suited for sparring, still in her nightgown. She closed the door to her bedroom behind her, moving to sift through the meager clothing in her wardrobe, having made a quick trip with Nightmare after her first night in the castle to gather the necessities. The trip was quick to avoid detection by Nightmare's brother, but she managed to grab what she needed. It was temporary until the dark king could pin down the Destroyer and have him tailor clothes more suited to her tastes. Something about his threads being more durable? Whatever that meant.

Nightmare was having trouble, however, since said Destroyer was nearly constantly on the move to keep the balance. The glitch had apparently not stopped once during these two months for a break, working nonstop and not slowing down even for a moment. This both awed and concerned Poppy, but her boss reassured her that Error would turn up sooner or later. 

He didn't mention whether or not the Destroyer would show up in one piece. 

But he would show up.

The Elf woman pulled off her nightgown and dressed in a sage green tank top, black cuffed sweatpants, and white chunky sneakers. She groomed her blonde-white hair into a braid, which lay on the middle of her spine and reached her lower back. 

Satisfied with her appearance, Poppy stepped back from the full-length mirror, took a deep breath, and nodded. With that, she turned on her heel and left her room.

When she entered the training area, Nightmare was overseeing Cross through some warmups with his sword. Killer was at the door to greet her with a grin, “Ready for me to kick your ass?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, punching him in the shoulder, feeling great satisfaction when he winced and tried to play it off. “In your dreams, asshole.”

“Damn, got quite the arm on you,” He rolled his shoulder, rubbing it, a wide smirk on his face, “Makes me wonder how good that arm of yours would be in b–” 

Another punch to his arm.

“Not another word. I'll break your femur.”

“Ooo, kinky.”

She sighed, crossed her arms, and stared up at the ceiling in exasperation while a smug Killer nursed his shoulder. She was unable to believe this guy was the right hand of Nightmare, given how he seemed to disregard danger as if it were   merely a suggestion. 

Well, then again, no true strategist always gets the information needed or makes progress by completely playing it safe. She supposed that being willing to flirt with some danger was basically part of it. 

However, Killer seemed to take it to a whole new level. 

“My my, take me to dinner first, at least,” she drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Certainly, he was just trying to push her buttons. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last, to her misfortune. 

This made the murderous skeleton snicker, turning to walk away to stand at his king's side. However, he pouted after he got smacked in the back of the head by a disapproving stray tendril. She hummed, admiring the strong saturated magic within the walls of the sparring room, pulsing with the familiar negative aura of a certain king. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt such strong spellwork of this caliber,” she commented, earning a surprised glance from the king. “Can you sense the protective wards I’ve put up?”

“...Yes?” 

She was confused, tilting her head in question. Why wouldn’t she be able to do so? Especially ones so strong and masterfully crafted as this, keeping the place from taking any damage and crumbling around them during matches.

“Remarkable,” Nightmare breathed, his cyan eyelight genuinely impressed, “Elves are more sensitive to magic than I previously thought…” He soon began muttering in words she could not decipher. After a moment, the Demigod nodded to himself and turned to Killer with a demanding gaze that intimated the elven woman. The right hand of the demigod didn’t need any words spoken, giving an offhanded nod and wave as if he already knew what Nightmare would say. “Yeah, yeah, another thing to expand and test the limits on, got it.”

Ah, right. She had forgotten that this particular ability was shared by only members of her species.

…Just how long had she been in her deteriorating world? Let alone forget such an important detail? 

It was all that bastard's fault–

She shook her head, pushing her thoughts aside as Dust and Horror entered the sparring room. It didn’t matter. Right now, she needs to focus her energy on these upcoming spars.

Nightmare gazed at the elven female standing across from him in the sparring area, taking in Poppy’s shocked face with a widening grin. She quickly regained her composure, however. 

Good. That composure would save her in battle.

Nonetheless, he repeated what he said to clarify and show that, yes, in fact, he was serious.

“I am your opponent. Remember, do not hold back. Am I clear?”

She straightened up with a nod, “Yes, sir.”

“Good, good. Now…”

The appendages on his back swayed menacingly, so Poppy took that as her cue to slip into a battle stance. 

“...Begin.”

Or at least, they would have begun if not for a glitchy portal opening and a bloodied heap of something landing on the floor in front of her. That heap, she realized, was a heavily injured black-boned skeleton. There was a gasp and a startled scream that came from behind her.

“ERROR!!”

Chapter Text

“Don't just stand there!” Poppy snapped at the boys, Nightmare already by Error's side along with her, assessing his injuries. “Killer, grab the first aid! Horror, grab a bowl full of hot water– but not too hot! Dust, grab some towels!”

They seemed taken aback by the previously soft-spoken Elf barking out orders like a seasoned nurse at war. “Idiots…stop gawking and listen to her; go!” Nightmare demanded, tendrils moving in agitation as he carefully rolled the unconscious Destroyer onto his back. Like a whip hitting them on their backs at their king’s voice, the boys got to it– Killer and Dust teleporting away while Horror ran off in the direction of the kitchens. 

Nightmare helped to peel away the glorified rags on the glitch, providing a clearer view of his injuries. The elven woman winced in sympathy at the multitude of cuts and slashes on his ribs, some ribs missing all together. That has got to hurt.

“You poor thing…” Poppy whispered, resting her hands just above his chest where his soul sat. “What are you–?” Nightmare cut himself off, breathing in awe at the sight of her hands beginning to glow green, her eyes focused and jaw set with determination. 

“You know healing magic?”

This changes, so so many things.

Poppy bit her lip, unaware that this would be such a surprise to the Negative King, but answered nonetheless. She was taught to heal at a young age. “Yes…but I haven't had a reason to use it in a long, long time. As you can imagine, I'm rusty– but I'll do what I can to stabilize him so we can move him. Do you happen to have a room that's more equipped and sanitary, by chance?”

The dusty and dirty floor of the sparring room wasn't exactly the shining example of clean. In fact, most rooms in the castle were like that. Dusty, cobwebs in corners, with dried dirt and who knows what else trailing on the floor.

The most deep of the injuries began to knit together and close as if never there. 

The king of Negativity pursed his mouth, answering with a curt nod. “The infirmary will do.”

Poppy could only hope this infirmary was clean and sanitary as Nightmare said it was. 

When the boys returned with what she requested, Poppy got straight to work cleaning and disinfecting any wounds she wasn't able to close while– unknown to her– Nightmare watched with a gleam in his eye. These wounds, however, were thankfully not life threatening. 

With a final bandage taped into place on the glitch's cheek, she let out a sigh of exhaustion, pulling her hands away and folding them in her lap to hide their shaking. “That should do it… we should move him now.”

The dark king gave a nod to Horror, who grunted, stepping forward and lifting the unconscious destroyer easily in a princess carry. 

With the god of Destruction on one of the beds in the– thankfully just barely passing clean– infirmary, Poppy watched as Nightmare hooked said god to an IV drip, muttering to himself. The boys were off doing their own thing after Nightmare shooed them out with a simple look.

The elf absentmindedly tucked the Destroyer in, noting the fragile, chalky grey quality of his bones. She frowned, he was severely malnourished and dehydrated. Just… What has this god put himself through to keep the multiverse in some sort of balance? 

“Poppy, sit. I can feel your exhaustion from here.” 

“I don't think that's how that works, but okay.” 

Without protest, she sat on an unoccupied bed, shoulders slumping just now registering how tired she was. “You should rest, Error won't be awake for awhile yet. I made sure of that.” 

Oh woah, okay. Must had used his sleep magic on the poor glitch or gave him a sedative strong enough to knock out 10 elephants. Oh who was she kidding, it was probably both. Giving the Destroyer of worlds another glance, her gaze softened. 

He needed it. 

“Well…” She hesitated, lying back on the bed, Nightmare's tendril pulling the blanket over her, “If you're sure…”

“Oh, I am. We'll talk later.”

Ah, there it is. Did she do something wrong? 

A skeletal hand came to rest on her forehead, violet sparkling in her vision as she fell into a deep slumber. 

It was later when she woke up, feeling refreshed, that she finally had enough of the dirty space around her. The infirmary was better by miles, but still had cobwebs and dust in corners. Did none of the boys know how to clean? She stopped and considered that; Killer definitely did. She had gotten a glimpse of his room, not a single thing out of place and each item had its purpose. Cross was similar to that effect, though he had more knick knacks and taco memorabilia. 

The kitchen was the only place that was spotless, so Horror definitely knew how to clean. Whether he applied that to his own living space, she wouldn't know and didn't plan on knowing.

Dust was… Dust.

Nightmare had mentioned being part tree spirit at one point, and growing up outside with his brother. 

Apparently, what was ‘clean’ was going to look different to a forest spirit. Plus, he probably didn't know the first thing about the upkeep of a castle when it came to cleanliness. 

She shook her head, exasperated. The elven woman sighed, stretching and grabbing a clean rag. Well, she better get started then. 

And the infirmary was her first target. 

Poppy made sure to be quiet while cleaning, knowing that Error was still resting. What needed cleaning the most was some cabinets and corners caked in dust, otherwise everything else had her metaphorical seal of approval. After well needed dusting, she moved her sights on gathering more cleaning supplies and then swiftly left to begin her cleaning efforts in the infirmary bathroom. 

It was a big castle, so she would only focus on the most used rooms for now. Those rooms could be completed later, right now the infirmary was the most important on the list in its need to be thoroughly clean and sanitized for obvious reasons. 

Wiping the sweat from her brow, she gazed upon her efforts with satisfaction, both the infirmary and its adjoining bathroom were spotless. She was pleased with this, leaving to put away the cleaning supplies and freshen up a bit herself. Error was still out cold by the time she returned, Nightmare sitting by his side with a book in hand. Though he seemed to be taking in the clean state of the room with an air of appreciation that warmed her soul.

“Is he still out?” She murmured softly, placing the back of her hand on the glitchy skeleton’s forehead, checking him over. He was improving, his ribs were halfway done regenerating, which was a surprise to Poppy. 

Was this the power of a god?

Nightmare gave a brief hum, closing his book and placing said object on his lap. “He’ll be out for a time, as long as the Balance will allow it.” He spoke regretfully, this information clearly frustrating him. Clearly, it was something that was out of their hands. 

“That's… unfair! The way they treat him…he's the one holding it all together– it's–!” 

She couldn't find words, gesturing her ire vaguely with an upset sound. Yet, the negative spirit knew what she was trying to get across. 

He stood and took her hands in his, gazing at her with a weariness that spoke of lifetimes. 

“I know.”

Poppy softened, thumbs gently running over the back of Nightmare’s hands.

All was quiet in the room except for Error's breathing and their own. 

Taking in this reality.

What a cruel reality it was.