Nightmare turned in his bed for maybe the hundredth time, he had trouble finding a comfortable position, a position in which he didn't feel that heaviness in his chest, like something was crushing him. His body hurt, and he knew it was bad, he knew he should have gone to Dust, he had told him to himself, that no matter the hour of the day, or in the present case the night, Nightmare should come get him if he felt bad, but old habits died hard and Nightmare was sure that if he just slept he would feel better in the morning...

Dust had told him that magic could get affected by strong emotions, and he had a lot of those in the last few weeks, so Nightmare knew he needed to be careful, especially since – he hadn't told Dust at the moment, he forgot – his magic was almost entirely based on emotions. But he didn't have time with all the preparations for the reception, and even after that, he had spent the next day writing letters with his brother to thank everyone who came, and apologize for having suddenly left, then the day after that they wrote even more letters, sending congratulations for marriages, for babies, condolences, best wishes of recovery, asking how one was doing, … they treated all of the news the guests had told them, and they told a lot. So now it was night, two days after the reception, Nightmare still hadn't relaxed, and everything hurt. Eventually, he fell asleep, or rather he passed out, too exhausted from the pain to stay awake long enough to ask for help, even with Killer at his side...

He woke up with a paralyzing bolt of pain piercing through his body, his breathing stopped in his throat for a moment, and he brought his hands to his chest, feeling as if a cage was closing all around it, a cage that was made of his own ribs caving in. He couldn't see anything, partly because it was still night, but mostly because his vision was blurry, filled with black stains. He wanted to scream, but didn't make any noise. Mother didn't like it when he screamed, so he forced himself to remain silent as the pain made him shot his head back against his pillow, staring at the ceiling without seeing it as his back arched, convulsing despite being painfully tensed. He brought a shaking hand to his throat, it started burning, the sensation soon spreading to his face and chest too. He could hear his soul beating like drums in his head, making the noises surrounding him muffled, impossible to tell apart, all he could tell was that there definitely were noises, and movements, around him. Was it Killer ? Did he wake him up ? Did he call someone else ? He couldn't concentrate on anything, on the things, people ? Moving all around him.

He started to choke, a disgusting gurgle escaped his mouth, already opened in a silent scream. He couldn't breath anymore, and he started panicking even more, until he felt firm hands on his back sitting him up enough so he could vomit the black goop, feeling the burning of the passage as it came out in chunks from his mouth and nose, falling on his legs as he had brought his knees up when he tensed. Noise was filling his head, he felt agitation all around him, different energies that his magic intercepted without Nightmare actually being able to see who they came from. Were his friends here ? He couldn't focus, and with his throat allowing for air to pass again, he started hyperventilating.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, heard someone speak to him, the noise was muffled but he thought he heard ''magic'' and ''out''. Another bolt pierced his soul, he felt like he was being impaled, and the voice started to get more insistant. It sounded like Dust. Nightmare searched for him, reaching out until his hand grabbed onto something, the other one still around his throat as he felt another urge to throw up, and choked on the goop once more. The other hands were still holding him up, on his back, as the goop fell out. His eye stung, was he crying ? He hadn't noticed, it wasn't important. He felt the cage around his soul tighten, and so did his grip on what he thought was Dust's arm, his vision darkened again, and Dust yelled at him, loud enough for Nightmare to understand : he needed to let his magic out.

Mana build up inside of his chest, menacing to burst it open, and Nightmare released a first chockwave that shook the walls and everything around, plastering it with pink and purple crystals forming peaks. He panted, feeling a weight lift from his soul, though it didn't last long as the feeling quickly returned, tensing his body as he released another wave, crystal peaks rising all around his bed. Some pression left, and he was able to concentrate a bit more, enough to recognize who was in the room with him : Horror behind him, Dust in front of him, Killer by his side, Cross having backed up to dodge the peaks, Dream at the knight's side too... He felt someone else, someone he didn't know, standing in the back, but he didn't have time to try and guess who it was : a third wave was coming, and he released it too. The presence disappeared, everything turned around him for a moment, he let go of Dust's arm, and felt Horror catch him when he fell over, drifting into unconsciousness...

An uncomfortable feeling in his back woke him up. He felt heavy, sore, he didn't want to move but the feeling in his back persisted and he knew what it meant. He was laying down, his head on something sturdy that definitely wasn't his pillow, but he didn't take time to question it, instead rolling on his side to give just enough space for his tentacles to come out. He heard gasps and three of his tentacles reflexively curled around him in a protective manner, the fourth one curling around the nearest person who turned out to be Horror, Nightmare's head resting on his laps.

There was some light in the room, and the crystal had vanished. Did his friends stay with him the whole night ? He felt touched at first, but that feeling soon got replaced with worry as it meant his tentacles were out in front of them. He didn't dare look up, he didn't want to see the look of disgust on their face, because they surely had one. He heard Dream talk, but he was still dizzy and sound was still a bit too muffled for him to make out the words yet. Horror's hand rested on his shoulder, delicate, comforting as his thumb rubbed on the noble's bones. Killer curiously touched a tentacle, and the appendage curled around his wrist, making him flinch, but he didn't try to pull back. Nightmare dared turn his gaze over them, slowly, and saw how Dust was looking at the tentacles in awe, and how Cross scooted closer to take a look too, slightly worried, but very much amazed too, they were quite the unusual sight after all.

Nightmare felt relief wash over him, relief upon seeing his friends stay near despite the freak show they just witnessed, relief upon not feeling any disgust from them, relief upon once again being proven just how amazing they were... he could have cried if he wasn't so exhausted, and if he wasn't already falling back asleep. Maybe a tiny part of him also wanted to stay on the viking's laps a bit longer...

He woke up again later, he wasn't sure what time it was but the room was now very well lit by the sun, which at least told him it was later in the morning. Horror and Killer, having been made hostage by his tentacles, hadn't moved from his bed, but Dust, Cross and Dream weren't in the room anymore, they surely left to eat breakfast or get dressed. Nightmare shifted, startling Horror who thought he was having another crisis and waking Killer up, but the two calmed down when the noble yawned and his tentacles untangled to stretch themselves and roll up at his sides again.

- Þú'st sakeyrir ? Horror asked if he was fine, a hand on his back in case he fell over again.

Nightmare nodded, rubbing his eye and looking down at his hands and legs. He was filthy. He was also in his night clothes, with his shirt falling a bit from his shoulder from his convulsing, but he didn't have the strength to care at the moment. Killer shifted, sitting closer to him, he bent down a bit to catch his attention as Nightmare's gaze was turned towards the mattress.

- Auxilio tibi opus est ad surgendum.. ? He asked if he needed help to stand up.

Nightmare thought for a moment, he still felt very sore and tired, but he couldn't ask them to help him in the bathroom, it wasn't their job. He sighed.

- Mirandam voca... quaeso... he answered to call for Miranda.

Killer nodded, and practically jumped out of the bed to go look for Miranda. She always helped him after a crisis, when it left him too tired, she would help him get cleaned up and dressed, like when he was a kid and couldn't do it himself yet. She had been one of the rare ones not to have been afraid of his corruption, not to have changed any of her habits.

Horror was still with him, not thrilled about leaving the other alone after the night they just had, and Nightmare, even without using his magic, could tell he was still worried. The noble tried his best to give him a reassuring smile, regretting not having Dust's dictionary under his hand to tell him he really was fine, he actually felt lighter than he usually would after such a crisis. Releasing his magic instead of trying to hold it back inside of him really did help... he would have to thank Dust again and again, though he was pretty sure Dream already did.

- Merci d'être restés... he thanked Horror, and the others, for having stayed.

The viking looked at him for a moment before smiling and giving him a small pat on the shoulder, putting his shirt back in place at the same time, a gesture that, even if he tried not to show it, flustered Nightmare a lot. Killer came back in the room before he had time to think more about the viking's fingers brushing on his bare bones, Miranda following him. She of coursed had been informed about the events of the night. Nightmare thanked the roman and let Miranda help him walk to the bathroom, his tentacles half dragging behind him and half serving as a cane, as the other two left : they needed to get dressed too.

It took a moment for him to get ready, he had chosen some more loose clothes than he was used to, opting for comfort above style, and retracted his tentacles just enough so they wouldn't drag on the floor while still keeping them out to burn the eccess magic that still made his chest itch a bit. He thanked Miranda, and joined his friends as they were discussing in a small living room. They stopped talking when he arrived, and Dream was the first to get up and come to him to check if he was fine, rapidly imitated by Dust.

- Dream told us about.. about what happened, about your mom, the crisis, the punishments for using your magic... he confessed in a low voice, I'm sorry you had to hurt for so long, do you feel a bit better now... ?

Nightmare didn't understand everything, only that Dream talked to them about their mom, that Dust was sorry, and that he was asking if he felt better. Maybe Nightmare should have been mad that Dream revealed his past without him, but right now, he could only feel relief at the idea of not having to do it himself, not having to find the words and say them out loud, not having to dive into these memories once again. He nodded, he did feel better, lighter, like he could breath again after having been drowning for too long.

- Merci... he thanked him, to which Dust smiled, relived too to know he felt better.

He let his twin guide him to a couch, help him sit as he had to shuffle his tentacles to the side and struggled a bit to find a comfortable position, not use to having them out, and finally sighed once he settled. Killer shifted a bit on his seat, catching the noble's attention.

- Uh.. he hesitated, unusual for him as he glanced at the others, Dust et ego ideam habuimus... Dust and him had had an idea.

Nightmare tilted his head, curious, and waited for the rest, a tentacle curling upward next to him.

- Mater tua te laesit... eeeet... putamus tibi prodesse si eam vicissim laederis...

His mother hurt him, and they thought it would make him feel better to get back at her, have a sort of vengeance. The noble frowned, glancing at Dream who didn't seem surprised, already knowing about the idea. Nightmare wasn't particularly against the idea, God knew he had wished many times for misfortune to happen to his mother, but there was still one tiny but important problem to consider...

- Mater mea mortua est.

His mother was dead. He didn't see how he was supposed to get back at her in this condition.

- That's the next part of the idea, Dust informed, and Killer nodded before talking again.

- Tu et frater tuus res eius comburere potestis.. ? Killer suggested Dream and him could burn her belongings.

- Par condicion que vos soiiez consantant, Cross rapidly added that it was only if he consented to it.

The noble frowned, thinking about the proposition, he wasn't sure what to respond to that. He hated his mother, he wished her nothing but the worst, but burning her belongings ? It felt highly dishonorable, very disrespectful, if anyone heard of it their name would be stained forever and he would be even more disliked among the nobles, they wouldn't talk to him anymore, wouldn't invite him to receptions, wouldn't come to receptions at his house either, he wouldn't have any more marriage proposals, even with a lower ranked woman, he would lose any interaction with nobility that he currently had...

- Je suis d'accord, he quickly nodded yes.

Killer sighed, relieved that the proposition hadn't been met with anger or outrage, and Dust smiled too.

- Whenever you're ready, then, Dust reassured.

Nightmare looked at Dream again, he felt ready to say goodbye to Nim forever, he always did, but what about his brother ? He knew he didn't particularly like her either, but he still had a better relationship with her than Nightmare ever had, would he want to keep some things ? An item that belonged to her ? A portrait ? His twin turned to him, his eyelights were sparkling, and Nightmare knew : Dream wanted to burn her just as much as he did. He smiled, he already knew what they would make disappear.

The morning stayed calm, Nightmare relaxed a bit, let Dream take care of gathering the items to burn with the others as he stayed with Killer, the roman being particularly curious about the tentacles, a curiosity that the noble couldn't help but smile at as he let his friend watch them from closer, poke them, let them curl around his fingers and arms... it felt nice not to be seen as a beast.

They ate dinner, a little later than usual as they had woken up later too, and finally went out in the garden in the afternoon, where Horror and Cross had helped put the items in a pile, far from denser vegetation as to avoid an uncontrollable fire. There were mostly jewelery and dresses, the fourniture having been in the house for generations, and still being in use, they didn't bring them. Paintings had been taken out of their frames, they could be used again after all, with the latest portrait of their mother put on top of the pile, looking at them, waiting for its fate, her destiny.

Dream had taken out his bow as well as Nightmare's crossbow. They had both learnt how to hunt as it was a very popular noble activity, but Dream had never enjoyed it and avoided it as much as he could when their mother was alive before abandoning it completely after her death, and Nightmare was often too sick to join in on parties, and when he did it soon became apparent that his back was too weak for him to use a bow, so he had switched to a crossbow, more gentle on his shoulders. He didn't particularly enjoy hunting either, at least not when it was for fun instead of a necessity to feed oneself, in which case it was acceptable, so when his mother passed and his brother expressed his disgust towards the sport, he was more than content to stop too. Since then, their weapons had been safely stored away, sometimes Dream still trained with his bow, finding pleasure in archery and hitting his targets, but only when said targets weren't alive, and sometimes Nightmare joined him with his crossbow, they would take horses and go train in the woods, hitting trees and branches that after some time became easily recognizable targets for them to shoot at. It was fun, even if Dream was way better than Nightmare at hitting his mark, but the simple fact he was having fun with his brother was enough for him to be happy.

And now, he was standing in front of his mother, crossbow in hand, about to make her disappear forever, remove her completely from this house in which she caused so much suffering, about to put an end to the hold she still had on him, and yet, he couldn't lift his weapon, couldn't grab one of the arrows that waited next to him, next to a torch so he could light the tip of the arrow on the fire before shooting. He had frozen, staring at the portrait as if it was his mother staring back, and she knew what he was about to do. Could he really do it ? Could he destroy the only things left of his mother ? Could he betray her, betray his family like that ? Could he disrespect the woman who had given birth to him, to his twin, in such a way ? He had already armed his crossbow, all he had left to do was grab an arrow, but his arm refused to move. His tentacles twitched.

- You can still say no if you don't feel like it... Dust reminded him.

They were all here, waiting in silence, giving him time and space, his brother was by his side too, letting him shoot the first arrow whenever he was ready to. He swallowed his saliva, glanced at the torch, and back at the painting. He shook his head, he wanted to do it, he just had to grab an arrow and shoot it, it wasn't hard...

- Nous pouvons faire cela une autre fois... Dream told him they could do it another time., worried that this might be to much for his brother for now, that they had rushed it.

Nightmare didn't want to do it later, he wouldn't have the strength to do it later, it had to be done now, while he was in front of it, while his friends were there, while it was still his choice and not a chore, a burden to be taken care of later. He wouldn't allow his mother to put another burden on his shoulders. He lifted his empty crossbow, and pointed it at the portait. A soft purple light shone around his weapon for a second, and his own arrow appeared. He shot it, and hit his mark, right in the heart. The magical arrow ignited the portrait, purple flames slowly strating to eat at it, growing taller as they spread to what was underneath. There was a sort of irony in watching his mother crumble under the very same magic she had tried to keep locked away. He lowered his weapon.

Silence for a moment, then Killer cheered, rapidly imitated by Cross and Horror. Dust pat his shoulder, smiling proudly at him, and Dream stared at the fire, arming his bow with his own blue arrow, he followed his brother's example and shot at the portrait. Purple and blue flames danced together without mixing, consuming everything that could have reminded them of her. It felt... liberating. Nightmare didn't think it would feel so good, and yet he found himself smiling with satisfaction as he watched Nim's face get eaten by the fire.

They stayed in front of the fire, watching the flames grow and die out, Nightmare would shoot another arrow each time it happened to revive it, eventually throwing the torch on the pile as well as to not waste it. Dust had started chanting ''burn the witch'' when he grabbed the torch, the others joining him, though none of them knew what it meant, but they could easily guess it wasn't some nice words for the woman.

Overall, the burning of Nim had been quite festive, and lasted until all that was left of her were ashes that the wind carried away, never to be seen again.

It had been nice, and now they were back inside, relaxing in a living room. Dream had gone to bed early, tired from the night he spent awake, worrying for his twin, so Nightmare was alone with his friends. He was sitting on a couch next to Cross, he had grabbed an old project of his in his room, a nice lace pattern that he decided to continue, and juggled with the bobbins, planting his needles in the stiff pillow under the fabric to guide the strings and create the shapes he wanted. The knight was looking at him work, mesmerized, though he sometimes glanced at Dust and Horror playing a game of chess on the small table, Killer playing with the eliminated pieces that had left the board.

It was peaceful, relaxing, so calm that Nightmare's vision started to blurry and he had trouble focusing on his work. He held back a yawn, looked down at his bobbins, and decided that he was too tired to do a nice work with them. Lacing was meticulous, he couldn't do it if he didn't see the strings. He tied the bobbins together with a ribbon so they wouldn't move, and put his work to the side, opting for watching the game of chess, one that he didn't know the rules of as it was a game from Horror's time.

He watched them until he struggled more and more to keep his eye open, and eventually fell asleep, his head falling on the knight's shoulder, and his tentacles curling around them both...

He missed how Cross instantly froze, staying as still as possible as to not disturb his friend's sleep, a slight blush on his cheeks as a tentacle wrapped itself around his waist, how Killer stopped playing so he wouldn't make noise, how Dust carefully moved his lace project from the couch to the table so it wouldn't fall, and - lord he would have hated to know that he missed that - how Horror carried him back to his bed when they decided to go to sleep too...

It was morning, everyone was up, and Nightmare wasn't doing any better... Cross was worried, he didn't know what to do, he needed to talk to him but he didn't know what to say to help him, he didn't even know what was wrong, did they say or do something ? Was Nightmare feeling sick ? Did he miss his home ? Did he forget something important in Dust's time ?

Currently, the noble was sitting on the bench, fidgeting with his sleeve and looking at the ground, avoiding Cross's gaze. They were all a little worried for him since the previous night, Horror especially, he didn't like how Nightmare had skipped dinner and had kept looking his way wishing he would eat something, but Nightmare had just went outside and Cross didn't see him eat anything when coming back in to sleep.

The knight sighed, standing up from his chair and going over to the bench, since the others were outside with Horror, watering the plants in the small garden. He sat next to Nightmare, the noble looking up at him, frowning, a little nervous it seemed as Cross looked at him with nothing but sympathy and worry.

- Pöez me dierre queus aist problesme.. ? He asked, wanting him to tell him what was wrong.

Nightmare stayed silent, staring, thinking for a moment before shaking his head, not feeling like talking for now.

- Por coi... ? Cross asked why.

He really just wanted to help, wanted to do something to make him feel better.

Nightmare looked away for a second, having visible trouble maintaining eye contact with the knight, before mumbling an answer.

- Je ne voudrais point vous importuner...

He wouldn't want to bother him, he said, and it pained Cross to hear that as his friends talking to him could never bother him. What would he be if he couldn't hear them ? If he couldn't help them ?

- Vos ne m'enuiiez mie...

Cross tried to reassure, tell the noble he wouldn't bother him, but still Nightmare refused to talk.

- Il y a des choses plus importantes qui requièrent votre attention...

There were more important things to do, he told Cross, and while that was true - Cross did need to go into town to grab some meat and bread - the well-being of his friends would always be more important to him, but what could he do if Nightmare didn't want to talk to him ? It was obvious the noble wasn't ready to open up yet, and Cross couldn't just force him to speak...

The knight sighed, he hated giving up so easily, but he didn't exactly had a choice there... still he asked if Nightmare would like to join them.

- Volez-vos en nostre compaine alier en bourg.. ?

Nightmare looked up for an instant, but ultimately shook his head. Cross nodded.

- Ben.. nos feromes viste... he informed, saying they would be quick.

He got up to go to the door, stopping for a second to glance back at Nightmare before going out to join the others behind the house. They were exchanging their words for the vegetables as Cross and Horror had done themselves. They looked up when he arrived, and he told them they needed to go to the market. Dust seemed rather excited at the thought of going in town, but, honestly, Dust was excited about anything, which Cross did find quite endearing.

With everyone agreeing, he smiled, quickly going back inside to grab a basket, Killer following him to presumably grab his bag, but the Roman didn't follow him back outside, instead looking at him as he smiled.

- Hic maneo, sine me discede, Killer told as he closed the door after waving at them.

Cross looked at the door confusedly, didn't Killer want to go with them ? He was usually rather curious, Cross would have thought the market would have interested him... he glanced at the other two, who seemed just as confused as he was.

- Hann koma eigi ? Horror asked, pointing at the door.

Cross didn't really know what to say, it seemed that Killer preferred staying home...

- Nos, uhh.. partomes a treis.. he guessed, saying they would be just the three of them.

He just hoped the two others would be fine without them...

After closing the door, Killer turned to Nightmare who was already staring, rather confused too, and a little nervous. Killer didn't pay it much mind, going to sit on the bench right next to him.

None of them talked for a few minutes, Nightmare fidgeting with his sleeve as he looked to the side, knowing the Roman was staring right at his face and not wanting to have an awkward staring contest with him at the moment. Then finally, after an eternity, Killer talked.

- Scire volo quid sit problema, he said, wanting to know what the problem was.

Nightmare looked up, feeling his chest burn once again, why couldn't they just leave him alone and ignore him ? Didn't they see he only slowed them down ? That he didn't serve any real purpose in this adventure ?

- Soli sumus, Killer added, stating they were alone, libere loqui potes.

He could talk freely, Killer said. Nightmare didn't know if he should believe that, after all what stopped Killer from laughing or telling the others once they would be back ? But... Killer didn't speak their language, even if he wanted to, all that Nightmare would say to him would inevitably stay between them, and without his brother present, Killer really was the only person he could talk to... maybe he could try and hope it wasn't a lie and Killer wouldn't use his vulnerability against him... ? He looked down for a moment before looking up again.

- Quaeso noli me irridere... Nightmare asked him not to laugh.

Killer frowned.

- Mea intentio non est ea, It wasn't his intention, he reassured.

Nightmare nodded, looking back at the ground. Killer seemed genuine, but still he was nervous, not knowing where to start, how to start... He flinched when he felt a hand on his back, his head shooting towards Killer, he just saw him tilt his head, offering him an encouraging smile.

Nightmare didn't know how much he needed someone to smile at him, how much he needed a change from all these frowning and worried faces until now, until he felt himself choke and his vision blurried, and he broke into pitiful sobs, hiding his face in his hands...

Killer gently pat his back, not commenting on the break down, feeling it was already a great step forwards.

- Veniam peto.. pro omnibus veniam peto... ! He apologized between sobs, choking on air.

Killer didn't answer, letting him go at his own pace, letting him pour his heart as much as he needed to, he let him cry and try to compose himself, let him find his words and control his breathing, and when he was ready to speak, he listened.

He listened to how Nightmare was sorry for having been so distant, so cold, that when he fell in the mud and looked up only to see them laughing it reminded him of all the mockeries he endured in his youth and he got scared it was happening again. He explained how he got scared, terrified of them despising him too and thought he could protect himself by keeping his distances before it got too much, but it didn't work, instead he just felt worse, so much worse for slowing them down, for making them worry for him even though he didn't understand why they would worry, why they would care. He told Killer that he tried to do better, to be useful for once, but he had failed and only made a mess for Cross when he didn't mean to, that something as simple as cooking he had managed to fail it and he felt so bad, so much more useless, and he didn't get why Cross still worried when he should have been mad he broke something in his house, when he should have seen how he only made him lose the little money he had by having to buy a new pot. And Nightmare felt bad, so bad, he saw them all together and wanted to be part of that, but he didn't know how to after what he did, he didn't know how to make his way towards them nor if they would even accept him back, and he was so terrified of being rejected, of being alone by contraint again, so he chosed to be by choice, even if it hurt, he was used to handling it, at least he had thought he was, but he was apparently wrong for that too, and now he was just lost, so lost on what to do...

Killer stayed silent, letting him speak, and when Nightmare had poured everything he had to pour, he gently pulled him into a hug. He felt the noble tense, but he rapidly relaxed into the hold and didn't fight back, wiping his tears away as he stayed against the Roman, seeking some comfort.

- Ignosco tibi... Killer forgave him.

Nightmare nodded, letting out a small whine as he pressed himself against him a bit more. He had needed to hear that.

- Hoc aliis explicare debemus... Killer stated that they needed to tell the others.

Nightmare nodded again, he knew he had to explain everything if he wanted to be with them again, even if the thought scared him, even if he was terrified of being rejected.

Killer got up, letting go of the noble who's gaze followed him. He went to the bed, grabing his bag, and shoved his hand inside to pull out Dust's book, seemed like he had forgotten it before leaving. He put it on the table before taking a pencil and a scroll from his bag too, and putting it next to the dictionnary, before signing for Nightmare to join him.

- Epistula utilior erit, Killer pointed, saying a letter would be easier.

Nightmare quite agreed with him, he didn't want to say everything again and risk losing control over his emotions, or get too nervous at the last minute and stay silent, plus he wouldn't be able to explain correctly to Dust or Horror by speaking, so preparing a written letter for them to read would be the easiest way to do it.

Now, neither Killer nor Nightmare spoke English, but Dust had kept scribbling the words he learnt, both in Latin and French, above the words in English, so with that little help, a lot of thinking and confusion, and Killer learning some obscene words Dust had noted, they managed to write a simple yet clear message in both English and Old Norse, Nightmare having added Old French too for Cross. He did feel bad for having rejected Cross's offer to speak, but Cross already had so much to manage, he didn't want to add his own emotional conflict on top of it...

Once done, Killer put the book back in his bag, not wanting to damage it by letting it on the table.

- Gratias... Nightmare spoke up, thanking Killer.

He was thankful for his help, for not having given up on him when Nightmare gave them all the reasons to do so.

Killer simply smiled at him, nodding. In all honesty, when they all appeared in the Dust's backyard the first time and his gaze landed on Nightmare, on his clothes with such thin details and shining bits, and he saw his manners, he almost despised him on sight, seeing once again an aristocrat with surely no regards for the lower borns like him. But with the strangeness of the situation, with all these new people and these barbaric languages, he hadn't focused much on that point, and looking back now ? He was glad he never payed it much attention, sure Nightmare had been a little arrogant at the beginning, not wanting to mix with them too much, but he had never been outwardly mean or disrespectful, Killer could see there was more inside, that he wasn't as rotten as the aristocrats he knew, and he was right. Nightmare had needed time and patience, but Killer felt he was finally beginning to let go of the rules he had put on himself. It was good to see.

When the others came back, it was Killer who brought them to the table, Nightmare having almost frozen when seeing them, shooting Killer some worried glances from his chair as they sat down, looking rather worried, to read the letter.

In all three languages, they could read the same three texts in order: "I was not nice. I am sorry, I thought you do not like me because you laugh. I was scared because of bad memories. I will be better, I promise." for Dust, "Vas-k-a háttr. Em-k-a harmfullr, ek hugðisk þér nei elska ek því þér hlæja. Vas-k hræddr því gørask minni. Ek munu betr, ek heit." for Horror, and finally "Eo mie estoie pleisant. Eo mant pardon, eo crëoi vos ne me mie amiiez quar vos reïstes. Eo avoie esteit esfreié por cause de malvais sovenirs. Eo me renderai meillor, eo jur che." for Cross.

Nightmare didn't dare look up, hearing them whisper, he was ready to just get up and go out when he suddenly felt himself tense as he was being grabbed and pulled against something that he rapidly identified as being Horror's chest, as the Viking had decided to sit him on his laps and hold him in a tight embrace. Nightmare froze, feeling his soul fasten and his face get warmer as he was pressed against Horror. He had wanted to free himself at first, but with how gentle yet firm the hold was, with how Horror looked at him with such care in his gaze, Nightmare just didn't have the will to move, and instead melted into the embrace, pressing himself against the other... he could've cried again if Dust didn't speak up.

- We're sorry we made you feel like we were mocking you... we didn't mean to, really, we do like you... he apologized

Even though Nightmare only recognized the words "sorry" and "we like you", it was enough for him to understand.

He looked at them, Dust was holding the letter, looking at him with regret, Cross was looking so guilty, truly ashamed to have hurt his friend by accident, and Horror was just holding him so close...

Nightmare simply nodded, finally relaxing a bit as things had turned out rather well. He saw Killer smile, he would need to thank him properly later, to do something for him, to let him know how grateful he was for his help... but for now ? He wanted to enjoy the warm hug and the gentle rubbing on his sore back after having slept on a bench and not moving much...

He would need to do something for them all, to find something meaningful, something for them to know that he appreciated them despite him having struggled to show it, something they would like...

He would need to, but not now, for now he was enjoying the comforting warmth...

Everyone turned when they heard the yell, looking at the new skeleton at the end of the alley. Cross frowned, unsure about the stranger, and glanced at Nightmare to know if they had a threat or a friend in front of them. 

Nightmare stared at his twin, feeling all of the pressure that had been compressing his chest finally leave for a moment: his brother was there, everything would be fine now, he could talk to him, tell him about all that happened, all that he felt, and let Dream find the words to reassure him like he always did. 

He saw Dream make a step forward, as if unsure that he was really here, before rushing to meet him. Running wasn't proper for someone their rank, but Dream didn't care about that right now. Nightmare caught a glimpse of Cross in his peripheral vision, the knight was about to block Dream's way but he stopped when he saw Nightmare open his arms to welcome his twin, twin that was arriving really fast... a bit too fast maybe. Much too fast. 

- Dream att- ! Nightmare tried to warn him, backing up, but Dream didn't wait and tackled him to the ground in a tight hug. 

He saw Cross wince, and regret not having put himself in front like he initially wanted to. Nightmare had felt the air leave his magical lungs when he hit the ground, and he knew he was lucky not have felt his ribs crack, but still he was happy to feel his brother's embrace again as he let him hold him tight, let him sob as he rambled about how happy he was to see him again and that he didn't run away or got kidnapped or worse... Nightmare felt bad about having scared his brother, of course, even if all those jumps weren't his fault, but a little part of him felt glad that Dream had worried, relieved that there was still someone in his time that liked him enough to wonder where he had been... he cast those thoughts aside, now wasn't the time to think about his social problems, he was wet and on the dirt, Killer was wet too, and the others were probably all confused; they couldn't stay on the ground. 

- Dream, je vous expliquerai tout, mais nous devrions nous lever... he told him he would explain, but first they needed to get up. 

Dream looked up, his sockets full of tears, and quickly got up when he saw the stares on them, suddenly quite embarrassed by his improper display of feelings. 

- Mes excuses... he apologized, helping his twin stand up too. 

Cross, being the closest, was the first to come check on Nightmare to see if the fall had hurt him. The noble quickly reassured him with a hand gesture and a smile, he was touched that he cared, but he was fine. Dust approached them, looking at Dream's clothes, now a bit dirty after the hug, not that the positive skeleton seemed to care as he was wiping his tears with his sleeve instead of a tissue. Horror got a bit closer too seeing that the new one was apparently a friend, and Killer followed right after, holding Horror's coat tightly in his hand, still shaken up from the previous encounter with the peasant, though Nightmare saw that a glimpse of his usual curiosity was back in his otherwise empty sockets. 

- Bien.. je vous présente mon frère, Dream, et Dream voici mes.. mes amis, he introduced them all, hesitating a bit on the "friends", it was the first time he called them that out loud, it was... strange... to say that word. 

Dream glanced at his brother before looking at the group in front of them, quite surprised, but a smile slowly spread on his face. He bowed down, saluting them as he would salute the other nobles. As Nightmare was telling him their names and roughly explaining that they didn't speak French very well, he saw Dust grab his dictionary from Killer's bag, thankfully still mostly dry after the fall in the fountain, to look up words for Horror. 

- Okay so "frère" is brother, which is... bróðir, and frater in Latin, and friend.. we know that word, Dust smiled, looking up from his book at the goopy noble. 

Horror looked up too, but Nightmare didn't meet his gaze, not wanting to get embarrassed in front of his twin, and thankfully said twin was already signing for them to follow him. 

- Vous êtes tous les bienvenus ici ! Suivez-moi, nous allons vous faire visiter ! He welcomed them, inviting them to visit their house. 

Nightmare let them go first, seeing them all at his place was strange, but it felt nice, to be home together... at least here he knew he could be useful, he could make sure they had a good time in his period... Cross stopped to look back when he noticed Nightmare wasn't following, this simple gesture snapped him out of his thoughts and he quickly caught up with them to walk alongside the knight, offering him a smile to reassure he was alright. 

They made their way through the gardens, and eventually reached the principal alley leading to a first flight on stairs on top of which was the small a courtyard where the chariots could stop to drop people off. The second flight of stairs, on the other side on the courtyard, leaded to the door of the great house, a beautiful baroque styled manor with three levels: the first one had the ballroom, the reception room, the living rooms as well as a library, the second one was more for private use, with the apartments, dining room, some small living rooms and offices, and the kitchen. The last floor, the one under the roof, was for the domestics, where they had their own apartments, dining room, kitchen, and areas to rest after work. All the hallways and rooms were richly decorated, with paintings and some sculptures, most of which where inheritance from family members or gifts. 

Now that Nightmare looked at everything, he did feel a little ashamed of his wealth, of how big his house was when he had seen how Dust and Cross lived, and knowing Killer and Horror were probably in the same boat as the first two, he felt like he was.. bragging in their face, in a way, showing them the abundance he lived in knowing they were struggling each day... it didn't feel right anymore, all these riches looked out of place, like he didn't deserve to have them... 

He felt a hand on his arm, and looked up to see Dust had stopped him to point at a painting, a portrait of someone Nightmare knew very well. Unfortunately. 

- This woman is in a lot of paintings, who is she ? Dust asked. 

Nightmare looked at Dust for a moment, he had understood the last part of the question, and he was pretty sure he had seen the word for mother in the dictionary, when he was looking through it for his letter... he searched for a moment, tried to remember the word in English and Old Norse, as the others had stopped too when Dust halted, and finally remembered after a moment. 

- Ma.. mother.. ? Móðir.. ? Mater mea, aist mienne mere.. he answered for everyone. 

Killer got closer to look at the portrait of the woman, squinting and tilting his head, looking back at Dream and him. Nightmare didn't blame him, they looked nothing like her after all, Nim had green moss-like skin with dark green hair, white eyes and a tree root growing from her forehead, and yet her sons were skeletons. They looked more like their father, but the paintings they had of him had been put away years ago when they were still children, their mother having claimed that looking at those after the death of her husband was too painful, but Nightmare knew the true reason was so that she could have more rooms for paintings of herself. Killer looked at him again. 

- Conventuri sumus eam ? He asked if they were going to meet her. 

Nightmare stayed silent for a moment, looking at the roman as he once again rummaged through his memory to find the right word, one that this time he was almost sure they all knew as Dust had written it in all of their languages. 

- ... Dead. No uh.. no live. Eat flowers uhm.. from under.. ? He tried to explain with the words he remembered, in case they didn't understand the word, and then decided to just say it in the other languages to be sure: morte, mortuus, liflátinn, he said pointing at the portrait. 

Silence fell over the room, and everyone's gaze slowly turned to him, all with various chocked expressions on their face. Maybe announcing it that way hadn't been his best idea. He made a thumb up, he had seen Dust do it to say something was fine. It did not make the looks go away. 

- Let's.. just continue the visit... Dust eventually said, to which the others agreed. 

They followed Dream again, who had been patiently waiting for Nightmare to finish explaining, though this time they were a lot more silent, not daring to ask about the other people in the paintings... who were also all dead, some long before the twins were born, some they had known, but none that had left a very pleasant memory in their mind, so they didn't really care. 

The visit was quick, as they were all quite tired after both the day and jump, it was just so that they wouldn't get lost too quickly. They had encountered some domestics, to whom Nightmare asked if they could prepare rooms and baths for their guests, as well as clothes, good ones, he wanted them to be treated with most care after all. Killer had stared at the domestics, shifting closer to Horror like he had done it after the fight with the peasant, he had seemed to analyze them, to analyze how they were interacting with the twins, and had finally relaxed when he saw one hug Nightmare the moment she saw him, cupping his face between her paws to check for anything wrong, not caring that she was embarrassing him in front of his friends. She was a goat monster with black fur, golden horns and claws, and red eyes, her name was Miranda, she had been Dream and Nightmare's nurse, and had always felt more like a mother to them than Nim ever had, especially to Nightmare. She had held him for a moment, gently scolding him about his sudden dissapearing and coming back all dirty, and finally let him go after having planted a kiss on his forehead, going to prepare his room and food. Nightmare didn't dare look at his friends nor his brother, and he was pretty sure his cheeks were a bright cyan at this moment, especially when he heard Killer snort. Thankfully, they didn't comment, and Dream lead them to the rooms once they were ready. 

They each had their own, Nightmare believed they deserved some intimacy to wash themselves and rest, take time to process everything, have some alone time if they wanted to. The rooms were next to each other anyway, so if there was any problem, he would be close. 

- Vous pouvez vous laver et vous reposer, j'ai demandé à ce que l'on vous apporte à manger, Nightmare told them to wash and rest, he had asked for food to be brought to them, it was already past dinner time so he wasn't going to ask the domestics to set the table again at this hour. 

They had understood wash, rest and eat, and with that Dust was the first to slowly open the door to his room, peeking inside to glance at the fourniture, look at the tapestries and paintings on the ceiling. Cross followed him, waiting to see if Dust was alright or needed anything before he too went to explore his own room. Killer didn't lose much time, going to explore too, secretly hoping he could steal something from a drawer or two, only Horror didn't move. Nightmare was about to repeat what he had said in case he hadn't understood, but Horror spoke first, looking at him with worry, having seen how he would get lost in his thoughts at some points of the visit. 

- Beiða neinn hugsjúkr, hvatvetna sakeyrir.. 

Nightmare stayed silent, having guessed that the viking said something important but he didn't know what. He eyed Dust's room, the dictionary would have helped... Horror frowned upon receiving no answer, seemed like the noble hadn't learned these words yet, so he tried to come up with a translation. 

- Aller.. bien.. pas peur.. ? He tried, not sure if these were the right words. 

"Doing fine, no fear" ? It was Nightmare's turn to frown, what did he mean by that ? What was there to fear ? They weren't in danger at his house, he would never allow them to be in danger here. Dream approached them. 

- Je pense.. qu'il ne veut pas que vous vous fassiez du soucis, mon frère, que tout va bien.. Dream interpreted, saying Horror told him not to worry and that everything was fine. 

Horror nodded, that sounded like the right translation to him. Nightmare looked at his brother, then back at the viking, feeling his soul warm up. He didn't want him to worry about them, about doing well in his time, it was... strangely reassuring, to think he didn't have to make everything perfect, even if he would do his best to give them a good time here, there were no expectations to meet... not for Horror, at least. He slowly nodded, not knowing what else to say and not sure he could talk without stuttering, and watched Horror smile at him before going to see his room as well. 

Dream elbowed him, making his brother turn to him to see the smile on his twin's face, a knowing smile, a smile that Nightmare wasn't happy to see. Before Nightmare could talk Dream took him by the arm and dragged him to his room. 

- Je veux tout savoir ! As expected, he wanted to know everything. 

Nightmare couldn't help but smile, feeling so much relief in being able to talk to his twin again, to tell him everything about his little adventure and know that Dream believed him, as he had always believed him with anything, even when everyone was against him, Dream always chose to defend him. 

They talked for a while, Dream demending more and more details, especially about Horror, so if Nightmare had any doubt whether his brother noticed the attraction or not, he was now very sure he did, unfortunately, though he still made him promise to keep it a secret as he was pretty sure the viking didn't feel the same thing for him. 

When Dream left his room, it was already quite late, Nightmare had already eaten what Miranda had brought him, and he went to take a bath once alone. Nobles usually didn't take baths, water wasn't reputed to be clean, so instead they used lots and lots of perfume, believing that the scent would protect them from illnesses, but warm water always helped sooth the pain in Nightmare's bones, so he had to take regular baths. The other nobles often commented on this strange habit, on the strange smell as he didn't wear as much perfume either, the mix with his goop not being the best, and once again Dream had decided to be on his side: if they were going to criticize his brother for taking baths, then he would take more baths too, and they would both be strange ! These were his words, and since the nobles all loved Dream, they progressively stopped with the comments. He was lucky to have him, to have all of them, he didn't know why God was being merciful now, but he was certainly not complaining. 

Nightmare sighed, sinking deeper into the large bathtub, he let his magic work in his back, liberating the four tentacles, one more mark of his corruption that he kept hidden around others. He stretched them, letting out a pleased groan, and let them float, letting the small movements of the water massage them. He thought about his friends, hoped they were doing fine in their rooms, that the beds were comfy, that they enjoyed their meal... he had felt so useless before, he couldn't do anything in Cross's house, he still felt bad about the pot he had broken, but here ? He had the means to do things for them, he could make sure they were fine, pampered as they deserved to be, that they didn't have to worry about anything, he could make sure things were good. For once he would be useful. 

Once the bath was over and his tentacles were hidden again, he changed into something light for the night, and went to bed, sliding under the heavy covers with a slight smile. He was quite glad to be back in a proper bed, but curiously, he couldn't find sleep as he kept turning on the matress, feeling like he was missing something, but he couldn't tell what: everyone was doing fine, they were in their room and they had eaten, so he couldn't put his finger on what was bothering him... The creaking of his door made him turn around and sit up straight on the bed, tilting his head to see who required him at such an hour. Killer slowly entered, stopping when he saw that Nightmare was awake, before fully coming in and closing behind him. Nightmare watched the roman trot to his bed, climb on it and slide under the covers next to him without a word. They looked at each other for a moment, then Nightmare laid back down. Was it proper to have someone in his bed in the middle of the night ? No. Did he care ? Also no. If Killer wanted company, Nightmare would gladly give it to him, and deep down, he felt like he might have needed it too, seeing how he fell asleep not long after the roman had joined him... 

He was used to being alone, but... he had gotten attached to them, to their presence, even when he was mad he knew they weren't far, and it was reassuring... so yes, for them, he would do anything he could.

☆☆☆

It had been two days since they had gone to see the troubadours in town, and despite Cross's worries they had all liked the activity. Cross was happy that everything was finally going well for everyone, no incident was to report, and they all seemed to be having a good time. The knight felt reassured, he didn't want his time to be stressful, he knew he probably didn't have the best period, nor the best place to stay at, but he at least wanted them to feel welcomed and included, so to have them happilly chat about the troubadours and ask him questions about the story had been great. There was at least one part that he didn't fail. 

He glanced at them through the window from inside the house where he was preparing a pie with Dust, the other three being outside, listening to Killer who was holding his wooden sword and waving it in the air, seemingly showing his newly acquired skills as Nightmare hadn't been there to watch him the first time. Cross couldn't hear them, but he saw Killer point his sword at the noble, say something, and then pretend to fall before looking back at Nightmare, who stared back, looked up at Horror standing next to him, before nodding at Killer and watching him take a few steps back. Cross frowned, not really getting what the plan was, especially since neither Horror nor Nightmare had a sword of their own, so it couldn't be a duel, but he trusted Killer not to hurt them so he didn't feel the need to go interfere. He watched curiously, looking at the roman swing his sword like he had taught him before swiftly pointing it a Nightmare's throat, without touching him. Cross could have thought it was a normal show of skills, but he saw the noble dramatically bring a hand to his forehead once the sword was pointed at him and fall backward, Horror catching him with a hand on his back so he wouldn't hit the ground, seemingly faking having fainted. Killer smiled brightly at that, straightening his posture and putting his sword away, at least pretending to as he didn't have a scabbard, before taking Nightmare's hand to help him back up, yapping excitedly and almost bouncing on his feet, the two others smiling too. Seemed like they were having fun and helping Killer pretend he won a fight. 

- Do you think it's ready ? Dust asked, catching Cross's attention. 

The knight turned his gaze back on his friend standing in front of the oven, watching the pie cook in the fire. He went to grab some pliers to pull the mold out of the fire, inspecting the pie, and took a knife to stab it on a side and check the blade. The blade came out clean, nothing stuck on it, no blood from the meat inside, so he concluded the pie was cooked enough and put it aside on the stone counter to cool down before going to put the fire out. 

- Pöeiz quarre à lis altres ? Cross asked if Dust could call the others, pointing at the window. 

Dust looked at the direction showed, first looking at the window in question, frowning with a slight incomprehension, before glancing at their friends outside, a torch lighting up in his head as his lips formed a "oh" of understanding and he went outside to inform them the meal was ready. Cross used this time to set the table, a little nervous, he had an idea for an activity this afternoon, but just like with any other idea he had had, he was afraid it wouldn't interest them at all, and they would have to fake liking it just to please him... He sighed, shaking his head, thinking of the worst wouldn't be of any help, he would see for himself by just asking them. 

Horror was the first to come back in, instantly smelling the food, he was rapidly followed by the others. Killer went to put his sword away on the mezzanine before joining them around the table, thanking Cross with a "mercit" in old french when he handed him his slice of pie. The knight smiled, always happy to hear them try saying words in his language, and sat too when everyone was served. 

He watched them eat for a moment, making sure they all liked the pie, especially Dust as he helped prepare it, before speaking up, catching their attention. 

- Li estat... he began, hesitating, tornoiement de cevaliers, eo voleie vos y meneir.. 

There was a tournament in town, knights fighting each other, he thought that could be a nice thing to show them, especially since Killer seemed very interested in sword fights. 

- What is that ? Dust asked. 

- Un tournoi de chevaliers, Nightmare translated for Dust, dicit certamen equites est, and then for Killer. 

Dust thought for a moment, squinting, he tilted his head slightly to the side. 

- A... tournament.. ? A knight tournament ? Do I even have that in the dictionary.. ? He thought out loud, grabbing his book. 

He shuffled through the pages, searching, until he found words close enough to do a correct translation for Horror. 

- Vera við bardagi ór orrostumaðr, he slowly pronounced, Cross vilja vera at vitr, he added. 

Cross couldn't help but admire them all, how they all managed to communicate, to trust each other to not alter what one would say, to give the best translation they could come up with, Dust especially was impressive with his book, finding the words so quickly, translating a language into his before turning his into yet another one... Cross felt so proud, so honored to be friends with such amazing people. He didn't think he deserved it, didn't think he was worth their presence as he didn't feel special himself, but he was happy nonetheless, and wanted to enjoy it before it would come to an end. Good things never lasted after all. 

- Voleiz y alier ? Cross asked if they wanted to go. 

Nightmare was the first to nod, having understood the question faster, but the others eventually agreed too when remembering the meaning of the verd. Cross smiled, maybe things would go well... 

They went after dinner, already hearing the noise of all the townspeople gathered in the field where the tournament took place. It had already started, but games like that lasted long so Cross wasn't worried about having missed much. He gestured for them to follow him towards a less crowded spot, somewhere they could see better without having to squeeze themselves between people. Horror stayed behind, he was the tallest, he didn't need the front row like his smaller friends did. 

Two knights were already on the arena, one at each end of the long dirt alley, on their horse, with a spear in hand. They looked at each other, the horses excited and unnerved by the noise of people all around shouting encouragements at their favorite party. Then finally, the knights gave the signal for the horses to go and the two bagan galloping towards each other, gaining speed with each step, and holding tight on their spear. The sound of the weapon hitting the metallic armor was loud, hollow. The knight having received the hit had almost fell down his horse, but had miraculously managed to regain his balance just in time to turn around and face his opponent once more. Killer cheered with the crowd, always excited to see a good fight involving weapons. Dust and Nightmare were a little more hesitant, having both flinched when the knight got hit, not that used to such a violent combat. Cross hoped there wouldn't be any death this time, he wouldn't forgive himself if he had brought his friends to basically see a public execution. Horror seemed rather curious too, though not as invested as Killer, he still watched all of this with a certain interest. Cross didn't pay much attention to the fight, already knowing very well how they worked, he was mostly occupied making sure the others were fine, that none of them, because of the display of violence, felt unwell and needed to go farther to calm down. He knew these tournaments were hard to watch the first time and some people just couldn't stay for the whole game, or come at all, and he didn't want his companions to feel sick, so if any of them showed any sign of discomfort he would be ready to take them someplace else, away from the heat, noise, and smell of sweat and blood. He glanced at the game at the smell of blood, the spear of the knight in green banners, the one having been hit the first time, was shaking in his grisp: he was about to lose, his forearm was bleeding. He turned his attention towards his friends again, just hearing the battle was enough for him to know what was going on, to know one fell off of his horse and was crawling in the dirt, alive, thankfully, even if inevitably hurt. 

- Is it always like that ? This violent ? Dust asked him, an expression of shock on his face. 

Cross only understood the first part, the one asking if this was usual. He nodded. Was it a problem ? Did Dust feel un at ease ? Did he want to leave ? Was it too much ? Cross knew this wasn't a good idea, he knew he shouldn't have showed them the tournaments, he should have sticked to cooking lessons, they should have stayed at home or should have gone for a walk in the woods, the tournaments were too big, too crowded, too violent for them, they weren't used to that ! Cross felt awful. He was about to ask them if they wanted to leave when a familiar voice called them. 

- Cross ! Blue called, having spotted them and now running towards them. 

Seeing his friend arrive, smiling brightly as he saluted everyone, brought relief upon Cross, if Blue was here they could talk to him and divert their attention from the fight taking place as new knights would take the place of the previous ones rapidly, and so they would be spared from the view of more blood and maybe they could even leave before the first potential death. 

- Aleiz ben ? He asked if they were fine, to witch Cross nodded. 

Blue seemed happy to see them again, judging by his smile, until he saw Nightmare and took on a worried expression: the last time they saw each other was at Ccino's inn, and the noble was doing rather poorly. The blue eyed skeleton went to the noble, taking his hands in his owns as he asked him how he was doing, if whatever that had been troubling him had finally ceased to. Nightmare seemed rather confused at first, but was soon touched by the skeleton's worries and reassured him that he was feeling better. Cross let them at their discussion, Killer having tugged on his sleeve to catch his attention. 

- Potesne et tu id facere ? The roman asked, excited, pointing at the fight. 

Cross frowned slightly, did Killer want to fight too ? He wasn't allowed to, and even if he was it was far too dangerous for him, he was inexperienced and Cross didn't even know if he knew how to ride a horse to begin with. Killer, upon seeing that Cross didn't understand him, tried to think of words in the other languages. 

- You.. peux aussi.. ? This.. ? He tried. 

If Cross could do it too ? If he could participate in a tournament ? Hypothetically or realistically ? He hesitated, he could technically participate, as a knight he was allowed to, but could he fight well enough to win ? Would he stand a chance against his opponent ? That he wasn't so sure, the knights participating were all well trained, they knew what they were doing, they were strong, Cross wouldn't last long against them... Dust joined Killer, curious about the answer too, and Cross felt his nervousness rise in his chest. Would they be dissapointed if he told them he wasn't capable of doing what the other knights could do ? Would they think less of him if they knew he wasn't a good knight ? That he only got accepted and passed because they needed more soldiers ? They should ask Blue instead, Blue was a good knight, he was the one who had taught him most of what he knew now, Blue could answer them better than he could, and he had participated in a tournament before, and even won ! Blue was just so much better than him, so much more skilled... Blue would surely deny it, he would say Cross was the best of his promotion, but Cross didn't believe it, sure he had the better results , but was it really because he was good ? Or because the others weren't ? In any case, it surely wasn't because he was the best, he just knew it, everyone knew it, everyone told him: he was not a good knight, just a lucky one. A very lucky one. 

He looked up at his two friends, he hadn't answered them, his thoughts having drifted away again. His thoughts always drifted away, he was always thinking about something else, worrying about something when he should be focused on what was in front of him, instead of being so stressed, so anxious about possibilities, about troubles that he could avoid by just doing his job well like all the others. He blinked, tried to focus again. Here he had thought they would need a break from the fight, but it had turned out he was the one needing to get away for a moment, not wanting to let his emotions out in the middle of the crowd. He always had such big emotions, the other knights called him too emotional, immature, not manly enough, a crybaby even, for those who saw him when he first got accepted and realized just how hard the trainings were, how harsh the other trainees were with him and him alone. He needed to gather his thoughts, and he couldn't do it if his friends were waiting for an answer. An answer that would dissapoint them. 

- Uhhh.. B.. Blue puelt postre à vostres questionnettes, vo.. voiz aichiteir de quoi mengier... he blurted out that Blue could tell them while he was going to buy something to eat. Blue ? He called, a bit of urgency in his voice. 

His friend turned over, alerted by the tone of his voice. 

- Poez leur ansignier lis precepts ? Cross asked if he could explain the rules, implying, of course, answering their questions too. 

Blue nodded, even if a bit confused, as Cross thanked him, backing already while mumbling he was off to the bakery to see if there were any pastries left. 

Cross quickly left, sighing once alone and away from the noise. He hated leaving them like that, but he just couldn't answer their questions knowing he would inevitably let them down, so the best solution in his opinion was to let them with Blue, a more experienced knight, a good knight, a real knight, and come back once all of the questions would be spent... 

He reached the small town again, the streets being almost empty with all the people having gone to watch the tournament, it gave him time and a relative silence to clear his thoughts in peace, taking his time to follow the way to a bakery. Guilt took a hold of his stomach, twisting and clenching it between its claws, at the thought of having fed his friends with lies. Maybe not directly, he had never pretended to be the best knight, but he hadn't told them either about how the time and setting at the moment of his training must have just played in his favor, he just let them believe he was a full knight and never told them that no, really, he wasn't that worth being admired... He had thought they would have figured it out seeing his house, but they had never seen another knight house before to compare with, so they didn't question it much, and Cross had sunken deeper into the fake view they had of him, and now he was too scared to lose their friendship if he told them the truth, to lose their trust... because what would they think ? They would think he lied to them since the beginning, they would think he put them in danger when they were in the forest, when he stood guard while they were sleeping, even when he stood guard in Dust's home, they would think he was an impostor, that he took the place of someone more deserving... he didn't want them to think all that, he wanted them to like him, egoistically, he wanted them to see him as a somewhat decent knight, as a friend, not as a failure who got lucky enough to be knighted... that was why it was preferable to let Blue handle the questions about their work while he took care of the questions about his time, something he couldn't mess up. 

He flinched when he felt a hand grab his shoulder and swiftly turned around, ready to grab the arm of the potential threat to keep it away, but instantly relaxed when he saw it was only Horror. The viking was looking at him with a worried expression, both standing in the middle of an empty place, Cross hadn't even realized he had stopped walking and just stood there thinking instead. What was Horror doing here ? Why wasn't he with the others ? Did the noise bother him ? Did he not like the show ? Did he want something specific from the bakery ? 

- Hverr ir rangr ? Horror asked, his voice soft despite the natural rumble he always had when he talked, as if the words rolled in his throat before coming out. 

Cross didn't understand the words, but it was obvious with just his gaze that Horror was worried about him, that the sudden departure alarmed him enough to go after him after surely having exchanged a glance with the others. They always exchanged glances, the eyes telling so much more than words could tell, especially when they couldn't understand said words. Cross didn't know how to answer, if he should tell Horror to go back as to not miss the tournament and that he'll be back soon, or if he should fall into the other's arms and confess everything, let go of the weight he constantly carried with him. He stared at him, feeling his jaw shake slightly, and he looked away, at the ground, shrugging, he avoided Horror's gaze so he couldn't read his. 

- Tout vait ben.. he answered in an almost whisper. 

"All is well", another lie, but at this point, one more or one less wouldn't do much of a difference... 

Horror frowned, not convinced by the shrug, and made Cross look at him again as he put his hand back on his shoulder, having been swept off when the smaller turned around. They looked at each other for a moment, Cross doing his best to not let his jaw shake, to not let his eyelights lose focus, to not be a crybaby again in front of the viking. Horror was so strong, so impressive to look at, he didn't need an armor to make him look tougher, didn't need a sword to make him look dangerous, nobody would want to mess with him, and yet he was so sweet, so gentle, so soft in the way he looked at them, at him, Cross was so admirative of him, of his strength and confidence, of all that Cross wasn't and dreamed to be. He didn't want to seem weak now, but he couldn't stop the tears from forming in the corner of his sockets as he looked down at his feet again, his clenched fists shaking against his sides. 

He was crying again, good lord, he was crying again. Once a crybaby alway a crybaby, that was what they all said. He didn't resist when Horror gently pulled him against his chest, didn't resist when the pitiful sobs came out, when all he could do was hold onto the other's coat as a last barrier keeping him from completely crumbling down. He let Horror hold him, pet his head, let him bring some comfort into his aching soul. 

None of them talked, they didn't need to, words wouldn't do anything, Cross already knew everything he needed to know: that his friend was there, that he wasn't alone, wouldn't be alone ever, that no matter what he could count on them all to be there and hold him as he fell apart and put him back together. Even if he wasn't perfect, even if his emotions got too big for a moment. 

When Cross eventually backed away and wiped his cheeks with his sleeve, still sniffling, Horror just smiled, gave him a tap and a rub on his shoulder and slowly guided him back to the tournament, an arm around his back, not paying attention to Cross trying to tell him he hadn't gone to the bakery yet. It didn't matter, they didn't need food. They needed their friend. 

When they came back, no questions were asked, no one gave Cross side looks, no one asked him where was the food, why he took so long, why his cheeks were still tinted with a soft purple, Dust just grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to the barrier where Nightmare moved to leave him the place in the front, preferring to watch the fight from a distance, Killer then took place next to him, pointing at the race to require some explanations for Dust and him, some facts, who were they, what was the goal, what would they win... Cross looked back at Blue who simply smiled at him, he knew his friend enough to know what had been wrong, and he had handled everything so Cross wouldn't have to, and for a moment all truly was well, and Cross could smile back and turn his attention to the fight again, feeding his friends' curiosity with answers as he forgot about his troubles for a moment, feeling he was right where he needed to be, right where he belonged. 

The first night in Cross's house had been fairly calm, Horror and him had managed to make a bed for everyone, though Nightmare preferred sleeping on the bench on the kitchen side of the house, Cross couldn't blame him honestly, straw wasn't what someone would call a fancy beding, compared to it anything would be better, even a bench. Killer was very happy with the straws and kept making little braids with it, five in total, and he gave one to everyone afterward. Horror was fine too, Cross never heard the viking complain about anything anyway, so either he was really fine with it or he was just very polite. Dust was strangely excited, Cross didn't think it was possible to be excited about straw beds after having used the amazing couch in his house but here he was, mumbling things to himself as he sat on the bed.

It luckily hadn't rained, so the humidity didn't come in and they were able to keep a certain warmth inside of the small house. Usually peasant houses shared the space with the cattle and the warmth of the animals would heat up the house, but Cross was a knight, he didn't have animals, so he had to rely on fire, but as he didn't have infinite wood he would most of the time keep it to cook and use this heat to warm himself up.

Cross had been the first to wake up and had rapidly been followed by Horror. He saluted him with a smile.

- Dieus vos doinst boinjor.

- Kveðja, ér sofa vel ? Horror answered.

"Vel" meant "well", that Cross was sure, and he remembered Horror using "sofa" to say "sleep", with these two words he guessed he must have either asked if Cross slept well or informed him that he slept well. Cross nodded, both answering the question if it was aimed at him and showing satisfaction if it wasn't.

- Volez avoc moy aler a jart ? Cross asked if Horror wanted to go to the garden with him, pointing at the door.

He needed to pick some vegetables for dinner and the others were still asleep, so he might as well grab them now and not bother his friends later. Horror looked at the door, frowning slightly.

- Ek þurfa vitja úti ? He asked, confused.

Cross was confused too, what did Horror understand ? He looked around for a second before grabbing a basket and showing it to Horror, then going to the door and signing for him to come along as he went outside and around the house towards the small garden. Horror followed, curious, and watched as Cross pointed at the different plants than at the basket. Did Cross want him to pick those plants and put them in the basket ? He slowly picked a carrot and looked at Cross as he put it down, seeing him nod, he smiled, and both of them started picking the vegetables, teaching each other their names. It was nice, and when they went back inside, everybody was up.

Cross put the basket on the table, letting Dust inspect it, he seemed rather curious about the vegetables, surely comparing them to those he had at home. He glanced at his countertop, he had just enough bread for today and maybe tomorrow morning, he would need to go in town tomorrow in the afternoon and buy some more. He could bake some, sure, but it was time consuming so he preferred buying already prepared ones. He also checked his water supply, he needed to go to the well.

- Eo dei a puit aler. Dust, volez moy sivir ? Cross gathered all his courage, asking Dust to follow him.

Dust looked up at him, thinking, his sockets always squinted a bit when he was thinking, and he ended up looking at Nightmare who was staring at the bench, well, not the bench, but the little straw braid Killer made him and that he had put on the bench for the night.

- Nightmare ? What d-

Nightmare flinched and sharply turned to look at him.

- Oop, sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Dust apologized, what does "sivir" mean ?

Nightmare hesitated, his gaze diverting for a second, before he talked, for the first time since the forest, though his voice was low, not as self assured as when he would talk in Dust's time.

- S.. suivre.. ? He stuttered.

Everybody caught that, but nobody commented.

- Suivre ? Dust repeated, like uhh... I know this word, I've seen it on social media... oh ! Follow ! Yeah ! He turned to Cross, smiling, yeah I'll follow you ! I'll uhh.. sivir vos.. ?

Cross smiled, feeling a rush of warmth in his chest, he just invited Dust to the well, he did that, oh god. He quickly nodded and grabbed two empty jars before heading to the door that Dust opened for him.

- Nos anteruns viste !

They will be back soon, he said as he went out with the hoodied skeleton, leaving the three others together.

- So... what's a "puit" ? Dust asked as they walked.

- Por panre l'aigue, li n'en estat gueres à maise.

He explained as simply as he could, telling him it's to take water as he didn't have any at home. Dust just frowned.

- Huh-huh. Well you know what ? "Aigue" sounds like "agua" in Spanish and since you've got jars I'm gonna say it's for water. That or wine. I don't know what people usually drink in the Middle Ages.

He finally answered. Did he understand ? Cross had no doubt he did, Dust was smart, he always figured out stuff.

- Now if we're going to grab some water I guess it's either a river or a well ?

Cross liked hearing Dust talk, he had such a sweet voice, so confident and yet always sounding unsure at the end of his sentences, as if he was expecting to be wrong about every supposition he made when really he was probably the most smart of them all.

- ... Did I say something stupid ? Dust frowned, sounding a bit nervous.

Why would he feel nervous ? Cross didn't see any reason to feel- oh god he had been staring. He quickly shook his head and looked forward, a purple blush on his cheekbones.

- P-pardon. He apologized.

- Okay.. ?

The walk to the well was... awkward, Cross didn't dare look at him, he didn't want to stare again, at least with his arms holding the jars he wasn't tempted to grab Dust's hand.

Once they arrived Dust looked at the stone well with wonder. Was it the first time he saw a well ? He did have water directly in his house, so maybe wells weren't a thing anymore in the future ?

Cross put the jars down, grabbing the bucket attached to the log above the well to make it fall in until it hit the water and slowly filled itself. Dust was watching carefully, bent over the hole, his eyelights were almost sparkling with curiosity and Cross could see the water reflecting on his bones... he would give anything to be allowed to hold him close and-

- It's full, Dust announced, straightening.

- O-oh uh, oil.. ! Cross was brutally shaken out of his thoughts.

The bucket was full, so Cross pulled on the lever until it came back all the way up to grab it and pour the water in the first jar, when he straightened up Dust was looking at him. He made a grabby motion towards the bucket.

- Can I try ? He asked, badly masking his excitement.

Cross couldn't help but blush as he handed him the bucket and watched as he put it back in the well to wait patiently for it to fill. He didn't think such a simple activity would interest Dust so much, and yet here he was, happily filling the jars with water. There was something childish and yet so attractive to it, Cross wanted to protect that, he wanted to protect that amazement for everything that surrounded him.

- Estrez tanz jolif... Cross said without thinking.

He instantly blushed, he really didn't mean to call Dust pretty. Well, Dust was pretty, but he didn't mean to say it to his face !

- Huh ? Dust answered, not having heard as he was putting the bucket back on the edge of the well.

- E-Eo diseie nos devrïens antrer !

He corrected, saying they needed to go back home as he grabbed the two full jars.

- Oh, we're going ? Don't you want me to hold one ? They look heavy, Dust asked him, going to grab a jar but Cross stopped him.

- Eo puys porter, mercit ! He thanked, telling him he could hold them.

- If you say so, Dust didn't insist.

Cross smiled at him, and lead the way back home with two full jars and a soul racing like never before.

The tournament had lasted for a good while, but eventually they had to leave, Cross didn't want to push his luck and risk having his friends witness a painful death, so with Blue's agreement they left the place. They had seen most of it anyway, the fights were roughly the same and lasted as long as there were contestants, so it wasn't like they would miss much by leaving now. Things had been better than Cross though: they had not seemed too repelled by the violence, which was a great relief for the knight, he didn't want them to be disgusted by the entertainments of his time. 

They were on their way to go back to the house when they came accross a little group of people gathered around what seemed to be a small arena, that, judging by the noise, Cross quickly identified as a gallodrome: an enclosure in which roosters were fighting. Cross has never been a fan of rooster fights, he didn't understand the point in making animals fight to death when they already had the tournaments, of course he knew that making two roosters fight was a good way for farmers to put a term to a disagreement without getting themselves hurt, but there was a difference between a quarrel and some meaningless show. 

Dust stopped next to him, tilting his head at the people screaming at the roosters, one already considerably hurt by the other, the blades they had tied around their legs in place of the spur were bloody, some small feathers were stuck on it, and many others were on the ground. 

- These things aren't illegal ? Dust asked, frowning. 

- Aist combat de jal, Cross said it was a cockfight, without knowing if it was the question. 

Killer got closer, looking at the new distraction with interest. 

- Potesne nos observare ? He asked. 

- ... Combat de jal.. ? Cross tried again. 

- Il souhaite regarder, Nightmare translated for him, saying that Killer wanted to watch. 

- Oh... ben, si vos li voleiz, if they wanted too then yes, they could watch for a moment. 

Killer smiled as Nightmare simply nodded for the translation, and grabbed Dust by the arm to pull him towards the gallodrome. The four others stayed behind, though Cross still kept an eye on them, the two knights sharing their dislike for the activity, the noble having had his dose of violence for the day, and the viking preffering to stay away from the noise, the tournament having already been enough in his opinion, he didn't want to risk having too big of a headache. 

Cross watched from the distance, looking at Killer who was cheering at the winning rooster, and Dust who was taking notes despite looking quite hesitant towards the whole fight, if the grimaces said anything. He honestly didn't see the point in taking notes in something that so obviously repelled him, but Dust seemed to be very attached to documenting as much as he could, one thing that Cross could only admire, another proof of the intelligence of the hoodied skeleton. 

He let them watch the show, listening the conversation the other three were having, or rather Blue and Nightmare, as Horror was simply listening without understanding much, though he could maybe catch some words. Blue was asking Nightmare about what they had done so far, any interesting activity, and Nightmare answered they had baked and went to see the troubadours, he also told him about the sword fighting lessons Cross had given Killer. Switching to one French to another wasn't an easy thing, many words were very different and the pronunciation wasn't the same, but by speaking slowly and trying out different words they managed to have a rather fluid conversation. Cross felt happy that his new friends were getting along with his best one. 

Shouting noises caught his attention, and he looked at the gallodrome again: one rooster was on the ground, unable to get up, it had lost the fight, but the yelling wasn't about the rooster's inability to get back up, it was about the money that had been bet on it, a man was angry, and he was yelling at Killer who seemed to have frozen in front of him. Cross frowned, that wouldn't do, who did the man think he was, yelling at his friend like that ? He got closer, ready to intervene, but Dust was already next to Killer trying to deescalate the situation. 

- Sorry sir, uh, monsieur, ugly fuck.. ? This is.. pas nostre cock, jal.. ? Nous pas avoir écus.. ? Dust tried to explain that it wasn't their rooster and they didn't have money. 

- Aist li vostre ! The man, owner of the winning rooster, argued the loosing one was theirs, eo veuil miens ecus ! He wanted his money. 

Dust sighed, gesturing for Killer to back up as he took his place in front of the man. 

- Li pas nostre, monsi.. he got cut off by the man pushing him, making him fall backward. 

That had been the last straw for Cross who didn't lose time to reach them as he saw the man grab the cane of an elderly who had been watching them, bellowing that he wanted his money. Killer had already knelt besides Dust as soon as the other fell, putting himself between his friend and the raised cane that was about to hit his back, only for the cane to get stopped by Cross who had caught it mid swing. 

The sudden departure of the knight alerted his friends, but Blue had gestured to them to stay out of it, having seen the spark in Cross's eyelights, and knowing he had the situation in his hands, even if he too wanted to intervene. 

The man looked at Cross, angrier now that his swing had been blocked, and promptly tried to pull on the cane to get it back, only to fail as Cross didn't let go, his arm barely moving under the strength put in the pull. The knight took it as his turn to pull, and swiftly snatched the cane to put it aside, handing it back to the old man who grabbed it without a word before backing up, not wanting his property to get stolen again. The knight and the man stared at each other for an instant, and as Cross was about to turn away to check on Dust he saw the man prepare a punch. The knight blocked it, grabbing the man by the wrist with his left hand and returning the punch with his right, hitting the stomach, a tender area for anyone not a skeleton. The man groaned in pain, backing up for only a second before charging again. 

Cross had heard Killer get up with Dust, Dust complaining about something, "we need to help him" he heard, but didn't quite know what that meant, not that it mattered, because all that mattered to Cross was that he was back with their friends, back with Blue and Horror, and so Cross could actually concentrate on the man charging at him. He shifted his weight on one leg, enough to be just out of the trajectory not to get hit but close enough that he could grab his shoulder and push him on the ground in a small cloud of dust. Cross didn't back up, instead preparing himself as the man was getting up again. The people were watching them, more interested in their fight than the roosters. Once the man was up he tried to swing his arm at Cross's face, forcing him to duck and block the reverse with his own arm, using that opportunity to grab the forearm and pull the man against the barrier of the gallodrome. At that point, Cross started to suspect the man was coming back into the fight more for his pride than for the money. 

Cross focused on dodging at first, as a knight he didn't want to hurt a civilian, but as a person he was mad that this peasant tried to harm his friends, and eventually, his friends won in his mind, and he landed a punch on his opponent's temple, making him lose his balance for a moment as he held onto his head. The rooster owner tried to reciprocate the move, but the dizziness growing in his head made him slower, and Cross had no problem ducking to avoid the hit and kicking him in the legs to make him trip and fall. Some people cheered as the man rolled on his back, groaning, but this time not getting up to pursue the fight. Cross nodded to himself, and wiped his hands on his pants before turning his back away from him, having more important to do now, such as: making sure Dust and Killer were okay. 

He joined his friends again, Killer was leaning against Horror, the viking having an arm around him, the roman looked a bit shaken, understandably, he had almost been hit after all, and Dust was with Blue and Nightmare, looking at Cross come back with... was that a hint of purple blush on his cheeks ? Was Dust blushing... because of Cross ? 

- Mercit... Dust thanked him once the knight was close enough. 

Cross smiled, finding Dust all the cuter when flustered that someone fought for him. 

- Ce fust plaisir de siervir, it was a pleasure to serve him, he answered. 

- N'êtes-vous point blessé ? Nightmare asked him if he wasn't hurt, he too looking worried for the knight. 

Cross shook his head, he was fine, none of the hits had touched him: his opponent, though bigger, wasn't a strong fighter, but the worrying for his well-being was still appreciated. 

- Nos devrïens aleir chies vos... Blue suggested they went back to his house, to which Cross agreed. 

They had enough emotions for the day, going home would be good, the could rest and maybe eat something. 

- Oil, alomes, Cross nodded. 

And with that, he gestured to Blue to lead the way, taking place next to Killer to ask him if he too was alright. Killer only nodded, looking at the ground without speaking and staying close to Horror. Cross didn't like that sight, but what could he do ? They could only wait for him to think about something else and clear his mind... 

The way back home was calm, Blue made some small talk with Dust, as much as he could with Nightmare's help, and Cross stayed near Horror and Killer, watching over the whole group. 

As they arrived, the air started to feel.. sharp, around them, tingling. Blue felt it too and Cross saw him look up, expecting a storm to be coming their way, but he knew it was not a storm, and seeing the others exchange glances between them, they knew that too. Cross tried to rush to his best friend, wanting to warn him, to tell him they were jumping through time again so he wouldn't get scared to see them dissapear, but he didn't have time as he started to see the world shift around him after the first few steps, and he soon couldn't see Blue anymore. 

One by one, they dissapeared, and soon Nightmare was the last one still there, not for long though, as he turned to see Blue worryingly glancing at where their friends stood not a few seconds ago. He needed to say something... 

- Le temps change.. he only had time to say time was changing before he too felt everything shift. 

The world was black for a second, then Nightmare felt himself fall, again, before being plunged in cold water with a big splash. He quickly sat up straight on his knees, not excited about the idea of drowning, took a breath in, and looked down to see he was sitting on marble and the water only reached his stomach. A second splash was heard that drenched him further than he already was, making him flinch as he looked to see Killer had fallen in the water too and was now trying to hold onto what seemed to be a small wall, looking very confused. Nightmare couldn't help but snicker at that, the improper sound making him almost slap a hand over his mouth. Oh. So that was what they meant when they said the situation could be funny without the aspect of mocking someone. 

He saw Killer snap his neck to look at him, but as the roman was about to splash him on purpose Nightmare felt two strong hands grabbing him by the midsection to put him back on his feet on the dry land. He looked up, and saw Horror do the same for Killer, scooping him and fishing him out of, he could see it now, the fountain they had landed in. Killer checked his bag as soon as he was on the ground and Nightmare heard Cross and Dust behind him, meaning everyone was there. 

He kept staring at the fountain made of white marble and gold, frowning, he tilted his head to look at the engravings, and recognized the apple tree, emblem of his family. He looked around, looked at the garden they were in, at the many apple trees carefully planted years ago, at the paved ways and statues marking the corners... 

He turned to the others who were looking at the rich decor too, Dust having his mouth slightly opened, and took a small breath in, shaking when the fresh air pressed his soaking shirt against his bones. 

- Bien.. soyez les bienvenus chez moi, j'imagine... he welcomed them at his place. 

The gazes turned to him, and Dust chuckled. 

- Damn, I really did live in a stable compared to that... sorry for thinking you were a bitch, he apologized, for what ? Nightmare hadn't understood. 

He was about to answer something when a voice was heard from the end of the alley they were standing on. 

- Nightmare ?! The voice of his twin resounded. 

Cross woke up early, as he was used to, before the sunrise. He stretched, yawning as he got up from his bed, he glanced at the others, all still asleep. Nightmare had moved from his bench to the beds, still feeling quite unsure about being close to them again, but wanting to make a step forward to show he meant it when he apologized. Cross had felt so ashamed of himself when reading the letter, that was now folded in Killer's bag, he should have seen the discomfort of his friend a lot sooner, he should have asked him sooner, when they were still in the forest and he first started to keep his distances, or when they left Ccino's inn and he heard the night hadn't been great for the noble, he should have insisted more when he was alone with him in the kitchen, or before he went to town. He sighed, the most important was that he was doing better now, Killer took the situation in hands and everything finally had a chance to look better thanks to him. Nightmare had finally talked to them, and that was all that mattered. 

He went to the kitchen side of the house, looking at what they brought from the market, he had bought more than usual, as he had more mouths to feed, but it was fine, his income was enough to sustain them for a while, at least for the time they would stay here, as they were all semi-expecting to travel again even if they didn't know when it would happen exactly. He took out a pot of honey and some quinces he put on the counter, taking a metal pot he poured the honey in it and let it on the table to go make a fire in the stone oven. As he was preparing for the fire he thought about what they could do this day, now that - hopefully - everyone would be there, maybe they could go in town ? He was almost sure he heard people say the troubadours were coming this day, would it be a nice thing to show them ? Sure they wouldn't be able to understand what they would say, but with the music and miming he still hoped they could maybe still have a good time ? Maybe it would help them catch some words too ! Plus, he was almost certain Dust would be happy regardless if he understood or not, he had already been delighted to go to the market with Horror and him. He nodded to himself, today, they would go see the troubadours.

He took the pot of honey and placed it above the fire, letting it heat up slowly for a moment before he turned around. To his surprise, Nightmare was sitting on his bed, rubbing his eye for a second before looking at Cross, saluting him with a nod. Usually Nightmare was the last to wake up, but he did sleep a lot in the afternoon so might not have been very tired when going to bed. Cross smiled, gesturing at him to come join him in the kitchen as he started to peel the quinces. Nightmare hesitated for an instant, looking around to see if anyone else was awake, but seeing he was the only one he realized Cross was asking him to come. He got up, and slowly made his way to the kitchen.

- Ben dormy ? Cross asked if he slept well, not too loud as to not wake the others up.

- Ma nuit fut bonne, je vous remercie... Nightmare answered with the affirmative, thanking him, et la vôtre ? He asked the same back.

- Ele fuy agreable, Cross told him his night was pleasant.

Nightmare nodded, not adding anything, his gaze drifted towards the quinces and Cross's hands peeling them and putting them aside. He wondered what he was preparing, but decided not to ask as to not bother him with a surely stupid question; he would see when it would be done. However, Cross saw how he was looking at the fruits and keeping his hands to himself. Nightmare had tried to cook two days ago, he remembered, it had ended poorly and the noble had felt bad about it, but maybe if Cross was there to guide him he would feel confident enough to try again ? Would he like to try again ? Cooking was a meaningful thing to do for others when it was in a small group like theirs, intent was naturally induced in the dish during the process, so maybe if the noble tried to prepare them a meal and the others liked it he would feel more welcome in the group ? Cross really didn't want him to feel like he didn't belong with them.

- Voleiz panrre part ? He asked if he wanted to participate, eo quisinoi un condoignac, he then informed on what he was making: some condoignac.

Nightmare almost flinched, not having expected to be asked something, and, fidgeting with his fingers as he looked slightly to the side then back at the quinces, he shyly nodded. He had never made condoignac, he was rather curious about the dish and also rather excited to help, that Cross was willing to do something with him after all that happened.

Cross smiled, handing him a peeled quince and a knife, that Nightmare carefully took, before indicating him the counter next to him on which he could settle. He waited for the noble to finish studying the fruit in his hand and turning it around to give him the instructions.

- Li falt lis fandre par quartiers, he told him to cut them in quarters.

Nightmare looked up at him, then down at the fruit and the knife, then back up at Cross, unsure on how to cut exactly. He knew what quarters were, and he knew how to cut food, but was there a particular method when cooking ? Did he need to cut in a particular way ? What if he cut it wrong and Cross couldn't cook it anymore ? The knight took notice of his distress quite rapidly, he put the new quince he was peeling down and took Nightmare's right hand, the one holding the knife, in his to, gently, guide him. He showed him how to cut it in half first slicing from top to bottom to have two identical halves, then he placed the two halves flat on the counter, cut the first in the two, then cut each smaller halves in two again to have four quarters, he then did the same on the second big half and ended up with eight quarters. Nightmare watched carefully, taking mental notes, internally relieved that Cross took the time to patiently explain and went slowly so he could catch everything. The knight then took a spoon and removed the seeds, putting them in a bowl to dispose later.

- Entanduit ? He asked if Nightmare understood.

His new student nodded, watching him peel the rest of the next quince before he handed it for him to cut. Cross watched him, making sure he didn't cut himself, though with how careful Nightmare was being, there was little chance a finger would get cut. He let him at the cutting, and took a new fruit to peel it, putting the peels in te same bowl as the seeds, he looked up when he felt a tap on his arm and turned his head towards his friend; Nightmare had finished cutting his quince and removing the seeds, and even though the quarters were a little uneven, he seemed quite proud of himself, waiting for Cross's verdict on his first fruit. There was something cute in seeing a noble, who surely was complimented all day long, waiting all nervously to know if he did a good job cutting a fruit. It made Cross smile as he nodded, approving of the good cutting job, he was almost sure he saw Nightmare's pupil dilate slightly before he turned his head towards his quarters and placed them in the pot Cross pointed him to. He handed him another quince, and Nightmare happily cut it too.

It was nice, none of them talked, but the silence was comfortable, both busy preparing the fruits with only the noises of the fire in the oven and the knife slicing the quinces. It was calm, domestic, and Cross was happy to just be there with them, to know they were all fine, all of them, all safe in his house... 

Soon all the fruits were cut and in the pot, and Cross could incorporate red wine, one of the best he had, into it and place it above the fire next to the honey, letting it cook for a moment, giving him time to take out a clean piece of cloth he put on a jar as a lid, all under Nightmare's curious gaze.

- Li faldrat couler en estamine quant le vins eistra chauz, he explained, saying they would need to strain it when it would be hot. 

They both waited, and once Cross deemed that the quinces had cooked for enough time he took the pot out of the fire and poured it on the cloth, carefully as to not drop some on the floor, and only kept the fruits infused with wine. He checked the honey, and saw it was boiling, so he added the fruits in it and grabbed a spoon to stir. He didn't let Nightmare do that part, not wanting the noble to burn himself so close to the fire, but he let him watch and explained that he needed to stir until the honey reduced in half. once it reached the desired volume, Cross took the pot off of the fire and put it on the stone counter, not wanting to burn his table. He rummaged for a moment in his cupboards, and grabbed some hypocras powder that he added to the mix before taking the spoon back and handing it to Nightmare.

- Li falt torner enjusque le mel seyt fredie, he explained he needed to stir until the honey was cold.

Nightmare nodded, taking the spoon, he dipped it in the mixture and started stirring, with a little struggle, but he was there and he was trying and it was enough for Cross. He let him at his stirring, and went to wash what they were done using. Dust woke up when he was rinsing the bowl, and quietly joined them, looking over Nightmare's shoulder to see what he was doing. The noble stopped to look at him and, without a word, handed him the spoon. Dust looked at the mixture for a moment, before taking the spoon and taking turn in stirring, Nightmare using this moment to rest his arm, not used to cooking, and he simply held the pot in place for Dust so he could use both hands to stir better. Cross watched them do so, silently taking turn when one started to get sore, cooking together as if they had always done that. He had been so scared they would be bored in his time, but guess a little cooking did the trick to untertain them... 

Horror had woken up with the smell of hot honey, but had stayed on the bed, seeing that they were already three in the kitchen, he didn't want to disturb them, plus it seemed that Killer had taken his arm hostage in his sleep. Killer was.. rather clingy when he slept, and even awake, he liked to be close to one of them at all time, not that it bothered them, at least they knew he wasn't wandering somewhere else and getting lost. Horror didn't mind the proximity either way, so he didn't try to push him away and let him wake up when he decided to. Eventually, Killer opened his eyes and sat up to stretch his arms and legs, letting go of the viking who could finally get up to walk a little, his legs being a bit numb from laying down.

- Cross ? Vôtre plat est froid, Nightmare informed him the mix was cold.

Cross smiled, and returned his attention to the pot to finish the preparation, Dust looking at his very move. The rest was easy, he just needed to pour it on a platter, let it harden just enough to slice it in cubes, and let it harden more. Then, the candies were done and ready to be eaten with some dry pastries he bought in the market alongside the bread.

They all sat at the table, Killer still half asleep, as Cross put the pastries and candies in the middle for them to pick some. He let them eat first, wanting to see their impression on the little treats from his time, and it seemed Nightmare was just as - if not more - impatient to see if they would like it, after all, he helped a lot during the process. Killer was the first to try, taking a piece, he sniffed it before putting the whole thing in his mouth and chewing for a moment, taking time to analyze the taste, the texture, before deciding it was worth taking another piece. Horror was second, taking a small bite to savor a little more than the roman did. Nightmare looked up at him, watching closely for his reaction, and when the viking turned to smile at him, having liked the small treat and recognized the intent tinted with care and hope, Nightmare looked back down at the table, looking slightly embarrassed, but also very much delighted if that small smile Cross could see meant anything. The knight gave a friendly pat on the noble's shoulder, handing him a piece of candy and pastries that Nightmare accepted with a nod to thank him.

- That's good ! Dust exclaimed, having tasted too, what's the name again ?

"Name" was a word they knew, and so Cross was able to understand Dust's question, as well as his opinion on the candy that he, fortunately, seemed to like.

- Che se nonme du condoignac, Cross answered, taking a piece too before Killer ate everything.

- I'll need to remember the recipe, Dust nodded, taking a pastries.

Cross smiled, though he was not sure to have understood, but all that mattered and that he could see was that they were all enjoying a nice breakfast, all together at the same table like they had been at Dust's place, making small talk, as much as they could that was, and even Nightmare, though still hesitant, tried to participate, mostly just answering Killer, but the roman was happy to chat with him. All was fine, finally, and Cross happily bit into his candy, savoring this calm morning, knowing he had an activity in mind for this afternoon.

He hoped they wouldn't be too late. The troubadours were supposed to arrive today, he wasn't sure when exactly, but as they all took the direction to the city, he was practically sure he could already hear noise, people going out and gathering, so either the act had already begun, or it was about to. Either way, they didn't lose time and followed Cross as he guided them through the streets until they reached a little crowd gathered around a small group, some of them having instruments, others moving and dancing, miming what some others were singing: the troubadours. Cross smiled, taking them to a spot where they wouldn't be too much overwhelmed by people.

- Nus poduns panrre place issi, he explained they could settle here.

There was a big wooden box next to them, and Killer didn't lose time to jump on it and sit crossed legs to be a little higher, though he eventually bent down again to grab Nightmare by the arm and pull him next to him, patting the box for the noble to sit too. Nightmare looked at the box for a moment, wondering how on hearth he was supposed to climb it, but didn't have time to figure it out as Horror had already grabbed and lifted him to help him sit. The noble had tensed up when his feet left the ground, but eventually relaxed once seated, and shuffled a little to find a better position, that was sitting on the edge with his legs hanging, Killer next to him and Horror having opted to stand leaning on his elbows on the box, arms crossed. Which left Cross and Dust standing side by side, for the knight's greatest joy.

- So these are the "troubadours" you talked about ? Dust asked him, looking at the spectacle.

Cross nodded, happy that Dust seemed interested. The troubadours were singing about battles today, the Battle of Roncevaux to be exact, quite a famous one from 778 in which Roland, Charlemagne's nephew, lost his life, and was told in The Song of Roland. Stories about knights had always been Cross's favorites, to hear about their glorious battles, the honor of fighting for their kingdom, protecting their land, ... it was what he wanted to do, protect others, show his worth. The song was already at the second part, the one telling the battle, right after Ganelon's - Roland's father-in-law - betrayal that leaded the troups to be attacked by surprise.

"Oliver est desur un pui muntet.

Or veit il ben d’Espaigne le regnet

E Sarrazins, ki tant sunt asemblez.

Luisent cil elme, ki ad or sunt gemmez,

E cil escuz e cil osbercs safrez

E cil espiez, cil gunfanun fermez.

Sul les escheles ne poet il acunter :

Tant en i ad que mesure n’en set ;

E lui meïsme en est mult esguaret.

Cum il einz pout, del pui est avalet,

Vint as Franceis, tut lur ad acuntet."

Cross really hoped they would understand with all the miming and acting, as he doubted even Nightmare could translate fast enough for Killer and Dust, and Dust wouldn't be able to translate everything to Horror. Now that they were in front of it, maybe taking them to the troubadours hadn't been that great of an idea, but he had wanted to show them something from his time, something he liked and he had hoped they would like too, but if they didn't understand anything, would they even like it ? Or would they get bored ? He wouldn't hold it against them if they wanted to leave before the end, after all, these songs tended to be quite long and it was often that some people didn't stay until the end, either because they had things to do, or because they lost interest halfway through, so them leaving wouldn't actually seem weird to anyone.

"« Cumpainz Rollant, l’olifan car sunez,

Si l’orrat Carles, ferat l’ost returner,

Succurrat nos li reis od sun barnet.

Respont Rollant : « Ne placet Damnedeu

Que mi parent pur mei seient blasmet

Ne France dulce ja cheet en viltet !

Einz i ferrai de Durendal asez,

Ma bone espee que ai ceint al costet :

Tut en verrez le brant ensanglentet.

Felun paien mar i sunt asemblez :

Jo vos plevis, tuz sunt a mort livrez. »"

Cross looked at them, suddenly nervous, maybe he should have sticked to showing them places and recipes, things they could understand more easily, for which they wouldn't need to think too much about the words, try to guess the meaning of everything with only movements, miming and voice tones. Were they even trying to understand ? Did they give up and simply listened to the song ? Cross wouldn't judge them if they did, after all it was his fault he didn't think this activity through.

"Dist Oliver : « D’iço ne sai jo blasme.

Jo ai veüt les Sarrazins d’Espaigne :

Cuverz en sunt li val e les muntaignes

E li lariz e trestutes les plaignes.

Granz sunt les oz de cele gent estrange ;

Nus i avum mult petite cumpaigne. »

Respunt Rollant : « Mis talenz en est graigne.

Ne placet Damnedeu ne ses angles

Que ja pur mei perdet sa valur France !

Melz voeill murir que huntage me venget.

Pur ben ferir l’emperere plus nos aimet. »"

He heard the sound of a turning page on his left, turning his head he saw that Dust had taken his small notebook out and started taking notes on what was happening in front of him, of the different troubadours and their role among the group, he seemed rather interested, his gaze going from one to the other, his eyelights dilated. He heard Killer say something, and Nightmare responded, both looking at the dancers. Horror was nodding in sync with the music, gently tapping on the box with his finger. They... they seemed fine, interested in what was going on, in the spectacle, curious even. Cross felt a wave of relief wash over him, and a weight lifted from his chest. It was good, all was good, they were having a good time, he didn't mess everything. He could finally allow himself to relax, and enjoy the activity with them, now reassured that they didn't hate it.

"Franceis se drecent, si se metent sur piez.

Ben sunt asols e quites de lur pecchez,

E l’arcevesque de Deu les ad seignez,

Puis sunt muntez sur lur curanz destrers.

Adobez sunt a lei de chevalers

E de bataille sunt tuit apareillez.

Li quens Rollant apelet Oliver :

« Sire cumpainz, mult ben le saviez

Que Guenelun nos ad tuz espiez.

Pris en ad or e aveir e deners.

Li emperere nos devreit ben venger.

Li reis Marsilie de nos ad fait marchet ;

Mais as espees l’estuvrat esleger. »"

He felt good, so good listening to the tale with them, with his friends, having them all next to him. He would need to explain the story to them once at home, it would be long, but he would happily do it, just as he would happily answer all of their questions if they had any.

When Cross and Dust came back from the well the knight directly started cooking, knowing it would take long for a five persons portion to heat, and he didn't want to lose time or make them eat late. He cut the vegetables, put everything in a small cauldron above the fire, added spices, not too much, he didn't handle spice very well, Dust cooked with spices once, Cross thought he was going to meet God sooner than initially planned. He then mixed everything and kept an eye out on everyone as he was doing so.

Dust was reading his book, trying to memorize some words to make conversations with Horror more fluid, the latter was sitting next to him, he could use some English words too, Killer was back on the mezzanine looking through his old stuff, honestly Cross didn't see what was so interesting up there, but the Roman was curious so he let him explore, and Nightmare hadn't moved from his bench, looking at him as he cooked, he looked like he was taking mental notes of everything Cross did, which, honestly, was a little stressful. Was Cross passing some sort of test ? Was he doing well in whatever the test was about ? He hoped so.

Dinner was calm, Cross had made some soup, something simple but still good that everyone could enjoy. He didn't have forks like Dust had in his time, only spoons and knives, so soup was a good choice, and nobody complained.

He thought the afternoon would be calm, that he could maybe take them to town and show them around, but Killer had decided otherwise, calling him from the mezzanine where he went back after eating. Dust and Horror were back on the book.

- Croooooooss ! Inveni gladii ! He yelled, possumus pugnare ?!

Cross looked up to see Killer holding out two wooden swords, the ones he used to train with Blue. What did he want to do with that ? Did he want Cross to teach him sword fighting ? Or was he just curious about their purpose ? He turned to Nightmare, wanting to ask for a quick translation, but the noble was currently staring a the ground with a very pitiful expression. His mind was... far from his body right now. Cross really needed to talk to him when they would be alone, but first he needed to know what Killer wanted.

He turned to the Roman again who had climbed down the ladder with the two swords. He handed one to Cross.

- Quaeso ? He said.

This one meant please.

- Are you guys going to sword fight ? Dust asked, looking up from his book.

Cross looked at him confused, what was "sword fight" ?

- Sword, he repeated, pointing at the wooden swords, fight, he then punched the air.

Did he mean fighting with the swords ? So that was what Killer wanted ? Seemed like he had guessed right for once. He nodded, sure, he could teach Killer the basis of sword fighting.

- Neat, can we watch ? He asked, closing the book.

Cross nodded again, though not understanding everything, did Dust want to look at it or try sword fighting too ? Either way, he was more than welcome to join ! Horror and Nightmare too, of course, though Nightmare would probably stay inside knowing the noble. Killer smiled, rushing outside excitedly with his own sword, Dust and Horror following him. Cross began to follow too but stopped next to Nightmare to put a hand on his shoulder, making him flinch and look up at him.

- Voleiz avoc nos joyndre ? He asked if he wanted to join them.

Nightmare stared for a moment, frowning slightly, before shaking his head, looking at the ground once again. Cross frowned, but didn't insist, not wanting to make him even more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be.

- Ben... nos dehors serommes... he informed they would be outside.

He waited for Nightmare to nod before joining the others behind the house. Dust had taken his magic rectangle out, Horror was watching curiously, and Killer was waiting for Cross to arrive, bouncing on his feet.

It was usually Blue who would take the role of the teacher, but he could do that, he could teach Killer how to use a sword, it wasn't that hard, and Dust was watching so he had to do it good ! He went next to him and first showed him how to hold it with two hands, usually he would have a shield in one hand and the sword in the other, but to begin it would be easier with just a sword as he didn't think Killer was familiar with this kind of weapon.

He showed him the basic movements, how to feel the weight of the blade to swing it efficiently. Killer watched carefully, replicating the movements the best he could and letting Cross correct him. When Cross felt Killer had a good handling of the sword they started the serious part: dueling.

Teaching without words was surprisingly easy, Cross would show something and Killer would redo it. Cross would hold the sword with the blade in front of his face, wait for Killer to do the same, and hit Killer's sword, forcing him to put strenght in his hold as to ward off the attack, then redid the same but this time placing the sword to his side.

Killer was a good student, he had to admit, he understood fast and was excited to learn, he was soon ready for a little fight.

- Fight ?

Cross used Dust's word, shooting him a little glance to see if he noticed.

- Pugna ! Killer agreed excitedly.

So "pugna" meant fight, good to know. Cross smiled, getting in position, rapidly imitated by Killer. The knight was the first to make a move, attacking on the side, he was pleased to see Killer react rapidly and block his sword, swinging it out of the way and attacking right away from above. Cross blocked him, swung his sword around, and took it off of the Roman's hands, making the wooden weapon fall on the grass.

- Oh, Killer simply said, looking at his empty hands.

Cross couldn't help but chuckle, Blue used this trick so many times on him, it felt nice using it on someone else. He let him pick his sword up, and they started another round, this time Cross let him make the first move.

After only a few duals, Killer had learnt from his mistakes, now keeping a firm hold on his sword while still being flexible with his wrists, making him a nice opponent.

Cross attacked from above, Killer blocked the blow and deviated Cross's sword to the side, as the knight had his eyes on the weapon, the Roman let go of one hand to grab a knife in his pocket and point it at his opponent's throat, effectively stopping him in his track.

Cross looked at the knife, then at the smug, panting Killer in front of him. That was one way of ending a fight. Not a fair way, but if it meant staying alive, he guessed it could be authorized. Cross smiled, lowering Killer's arm as he relaxed his stance. He bowed.

- Ce fust nobile combat, he saluted the good fight.

Killer bowed too, happy to have won. Cross heard Horror clap, turning around he saw Dust smile too, he was about to join them when a noise from inside the house grabbed his attention. Now, it probably was nothing, but with how unwell Nightmare was at the moment, he couldn't ignore it. He gave his sword to Killer.

- Eo revieng.

He'll be back, he informed, before quickly going inside.

He slowly opened the door, in case Nightmare was behind.

- Nightmare ?

He received no answer but heard a clanking noise. He came in, glanced around the room, and spotted Nightmare kneeling on the ground, his back turned, gathering what seemed to be pieces of a broken clay pot, one that must have contained parsley judging by the small twigs scattered around the noble.

- Nightmare ? Aleiz ben ? He asked if he was fine, getting closer.

He saw the noble flinch before completely freezing and, slowly, turning to look at him with an expression that Cross could only describe as panicked. Cross stopped, keeping a distance, not wanting to be completely above him as he already saw his breath fasten and his hands shake on the piece of clay he was holding. A quick glance on the counter and Cross saw some vegetables awkwardly cut in a flat bowl. Did Nightmare try to cook something ? Was it why he was watching him make dinner earlier ? He looked back at him, he was shaking.

- J-je suis navré je.. je n'ai pas fait exprès, je vais nettoyer.. ! Je vous rachèterai tout.. ! He quickly apologized, gathering all the pieces together.

Cross knelt next to him, putting a hand on his to gently stop him in his movement, feeling him tense up. He didn't care about the bowl, he could buy a new one, and the parsley could still be used, it just needed to be washed, what mattered to him was why Nightmare felt the need to cook and why he was so worked up about having dropped an old pot.

- Tout va ben, ceci n'aist point important..

He told him it wasn't important, making sure to keep a calm tone of voice. Nightmare looked at him, he didn't seem to believe him but at least his breathing was slowly returning to a normal rythm. He smiled at him, letting him calm down as he picked up the parsley and pieces to put them on the table for later, getting up. He looked down at Nightmare again, holding out a hand. Nightmare looked up, looking even more sad than before, and took his hand to get up too, not once meeting Cross's gaze.

The knight didn't know what to do, he didn't know what went wrong for Nightmare to be this way, to look so miserable... he tried to ask him since they were alone but the noble didn't answer, letting go of his hand to shot a rapid glance at the vegetables before sighing and returning to the bench, laying down with his back turned.

Cross watched him, powerless, he didn't like seeing his friend like that, but Nightmare clearly didn't want to talk to him. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

When time for supper came, Nightmare pretexted he wasn't hungry and went outside to take a bit of fresh air. He came back in after everyone went to sleep.

Cross hated that, he hated not being able to help and he hated that he needed to go in town the next day and couldn't stay with him.