#queue-bert

You're not sure, exactly, how you came to fall into the fold with a trio of murderous skeletons working under a literal God of negativity, but here you were, taking your turn to tend to the dungeons.

You were gathering the dirty dishes of the prisoners from a recent information based mission Nightmare had headed.

The boys were trying their hands at each of their tactics to get the prisoners to spill what Nightmare was after, but none had been successful just yet.

It'd be easiest, of course, if Nightmare himself could just… root around in their minds or something, but he was off dealing with some sort of… business dispute that had his full attention.

“You don't look like you belong here.” one of the prisoners piped up, eyeing you suspiciously.

You stand from stooping to pick up a tray, and face the prisoner with a raised brow. “Why, because I'm not a skeleton?”

“You look too kind.” They respond bluntly.

You hum noncommittally, returning to your task without further comment. 

“What do you even do around here?”

You finally make your way to the prisoner’s cell and regard them for a moment, taking in their brutalized body and barely healing, carefully placed wounds.

So, they must be one of the tight-lipped informants the boys have been working on. 

Well, if they wanted to keep talking…

“I do a little of everything. They’ve got me in more of a flex position, here.” You divulge quietly, reaching for their tray. “Most of it is cleaning up after the skeletons of the castle.” You shrug, standing again. 

“But, why? Can’t you just… go?” They ask, confused.

You sigh and stare down at the trays in your grasp, sensing the delicacy of the situation. Maybe you could get him to trust you enough to give you some information…

You give a cautious look around the dungeon, as if checking the coast were clear, before responding in a whisper, “I can’t.” Not entirely a lie, you couldn’t leave your boys. 

You catch a hopeful look of surprise on the prisoner’s face as you turn to grab the last tray. Apparently, a week of torment can lower one’s reservations (and guard).

“Work with me,” they breathe, eyes frantically searching the dungeon’s depths, “we can both be free -”

The heavy door opens at the top of the stone staircase and you give an apologetic nod in the monster’s direction. “I have to go.” You whisper, adding a mouthed, ‘we’ll talk.’

The monster gives a nod, hands trembling as you take your leave, your form replaced by the skeleton that dragged an axe ominously behind himself.

With a gulp, the monster accepted that they’d be going to bed with less digits than they woke up with, today.

~~

You’d been working on the monster in the dungeon for a couple days alongside the boys, and got some decent tidbits from him, but you could tell that your time was running out.

You hadn’t realised how short you were on time, until you were out of it.

Killer shortcuts you right outside the prisoner’s cell, revealing Dust struggling with his LV inside the cell.

Dust was a statue, gripping a deadly sharp bone in one hand as he stood over the weakened monster, his hood having slipped off his skull at some point.

This was bad.

The monster inside was grappling valiantly with their consciousness, blood and dust leaking from a few ragged and hasty wounds. 

Killer silently opened the cell and shoved you through the door, pulling a gasp from you that had you choking on the stifling weight of Dust’s unruly magic in the air. 

Your voice is hardly above a whisper when you call out to your mate. You watch every minute shift, trying to gauge just how far he’s slipped.

Dust’s frenzied lights brighten and his skull tilts almost imperceptibly to the side, but he makes no move to take his eyes off the monster in front of him.

You take a slow breath and go to speak again, but the prisoner beats you to it.

“Looks like the pet you keep around finally gets to see you work, huh?” They choke on their strangled laugh, glaring up at their tormentor. “Did’ja hear how terrified they sound?”

Dust’s sockets narrow, lights dimming and fingers twitching around the sharpened, iris coloured bone in his grasp.

You take a few quick steps forward before you can think, drawing Dust’s gaze immediately to you. Though the intensity of his unreadable gaze sends shivers up and down your spine, you can’t help but be grateful he’s not paying attention to the monster at his feet, anymore. 

With a delicate smile, you close the gap between you with measured steps while also keeping an eye on the prisoner. “Hey, why don’t you let me tag in for this one?” You murmur in the tone you know doesn’t hurt his head.

“There’s hot cocoa up there that the big guy’s making right now, can you please make sure he leaves me a cup? You know Killer’s gonna drink it all, like the dick he is.”

“I resent that!” Killer scoffs from outside the cell, pout turning tight when several bone attacks aim for his face. The magical barrier of the cell makes them disperse before they can reach him, and he’s thankful he isn’t in there with Dust. 

You froze when the barrage of bones flew for Killer - Dust hadn’t even looked away from you to send them off. When his hand lowers to his side again, you step forward until you could reach for him.

“He’ll kill you,” the almost forgotten monster pipes up, “I don’t understand… You’re stuck here like me, so why…?”

A growl starts up in Dust when you reach for his hand - the one still tightly gripping a deadly bone - but you know it isn’t for you.

“I suggest you quit speaking if you truly want to get back to your king,” you murmur, focused on your mate before you.

Your fingers brush the caustic magic of the summoned attack, confident that the Intent there wasn’t for you, either. Your unharmed fingers gently tug his hand toward you, coaxing him to release the weapon in favour of twining his gloved fingers with yours. The knife-like bone clatters deafeningly to the stone ground.

Seeing what you’re doing, and foolishly believing you were still on the same side, the monster wisely shuts up.

Dust’s sockets seem to relax slightly at the contact, his magic pulling back to be less suffocating when you flash him an encouraging smile.

“There we are.” You bring yourself toe to toe with him, raising your free hand slowly to lift his hood where it’d fallen from his skull. Once it was situated how he normally liked it, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek bone while squeezing the hand still in yours. “I’ve got this. Go cool off.” You encourage, ignoring the shocked gasp from your captive.

Like a child waking in the middle of the night and being told to go back to bed, Dust gives a hesitant nod and slowly shuffles out of the cell with Killer’s help.

These doors only open from the outside, after all.

You turn back to the monster at your feet, taking in their disbelief.

“I don’t understand…” They repeat their earlier words.

“I told you, I clean up after the skeletons.” You notice Dust’s bone knife from earlier was still sitting on the ground where you’d left it, and you stoop to pick it up with a smile. Seeing that the monster is still hopelessly confused, you sigh, “Let me spell it out for you, then.”