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llamagoddessofficial · 6 days ago

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Thank you, @vee-vee-the-starchild, for commissioning [drumroll] FAE NIGHTMARE!!! I absolutely love writing him, he is a mysterious and otherworldly delight! Now please enjoy him searching high and low for his wife.

I highly recommend listening to this winter ambience track on YouTube. I had it on repeat while writing.

---

There was no wind, in the forest. There hadn’t been for some time. The trees were heavy with snow, branches creaking low under the weight, threatening to dislodge upward with the faintest touch... but the powdery white that twinkled in the eternal starlight had seen no wind for days. It was smooth, light, full of lumps and pockets, no signs of the sweeping curves that a strong wind could carve into the ground itself.

Not that it mattered. Nightmare knew that even if the winds had been howling, and the blizzard had been smog-thick, Horror would still be able to follow your trail through the woods like a bloodhound behind a fox. There was nowhere in the entirety of the Winter kingdom that you could go where Horror would not be able to find you sooner or later.

perhaps that’s what makes you confident enough to run out into the snow like this, Nightmare thought. if you were back in the human realm, you never would have gone so far from home.

The larger fae trudged ahead, heavy cape-like wings dragging behind him, compacting the snow into a sheet. The two fae had let their horses go some distance prior, allowing the steeds to return home as they continued on foot. Horror’s large red iris was turned downward, flickering back and forth across the ground - that eye caught details that even Nightmare would not have noticed. The ghosts of footsteps, corners where cloaks scuffed against the snow, traces where a hand touched a tree for support. A world invisible to most.

Nightmare watched, intrigued. He had no eye for such details. He could track and hunt, of course, as anyone in Winter could. But no one alive could track like Horror.

“... close now, m’lord.” Horror said, softly, breaking the silence.

Nightmare hummed. “good.”

When you disappeared into the forest, it was of no concern. It was not the first time you had taken away into the endless night to explore. Your fur-trimmed cloak and walking boots had been missing from your room, so no one batted an eye, least of all Nightmare; he knew enough his own bride’s affection for his homeland. Your tendency to vanish away for hours-long ‘strolls’ was something of an in-joke amongst his closest courtiers. A newcomer to our realm loves it more than our King himself. You adored to be lost in Winter, finding new marvels and sights, new places to delight in bringing him to.

... So even when your horse returned home riderless, he hadn’t thought to be concerned. Sometimes, you simply wanted to walk alone for a little while, or you worried your steed was growing tired or cold. Your horse had made his own way back enough times for nothing to raise the alarm. All this was notwithstanding the intricate silver ring Nightmare always wore; a marvel of magic craftsmanship that allowed the wearer to instantly recall whomever bore the ring’s twin. You never left home without yours, and he never removed his. In theory, there was nought to fret over.

... But then... Nightmare’s most beloved hunting dog, a shaggy grey wolfhound who stood so tall his shoulders could bump your hips, returned alone.

That dog was your guardian when Nightmare could not be. Even when you thought you were alone, the hound was close by, ensuring you never had anything to fear. It would have followed you into bear dens, through packs of wolves, it would have followed you to the very ends of Winter to where the shimmering starry filament met the mountains, and yet further still. Nothing could have deterred that beast.

But he came back alone. Head drooped, tail tucked.

Nightmare paused only to assure the beast with a caring touch to its head. He took his own cloak, his own boots, and called Horror to his side. The largest fae obeyed wordlessly and his courtiers parted like a sea. From the hound returning alone, to Nightmare and Horror setting out into the white wastes themselves, little more than two score minutes passed.

... Were his mind not full of the kinds of thoughts that could darken the sky into thunderclouds, Nightmare would’ve thought it heartwarming how eager Killer and Dust were to aid in the search for you.

“but why can’t we come?” Killer was all but frothing at the bit, pacing in short circles like a caged lion at one of Dream’s ridiculous feasts. “the more eyes the better, surely. we can cover more ground.”

Nightmare fastened his cloak around his neck with a silver moon brooch that glinted like a blade in the low castle light. The cloak was midnight black, lined with thick fur, and decorated with fine embroidery in silver and blue thread. It twinkled faintly, something else sewn into the fabric, something glittering and intangible.

Dust passed him dagger and compass. Nightmare tucked them away into his cloak. Dust said nothing, his face betrayed nothing. But the fact that he was helping Nightmare get ready as fast as possible said more than words or faces could.

“i know my way through the forest.” Killer continued on. “what if she’s been kidnapped? what if she’s in summer? i know both realms. horror’s not the only one with a penchant for travel. we should...”

Nightmare looked down at Killer. Killer’s mouth shut, with an audible clicking sound.

“horror is the better hunter,” Nightmare said. His voice was carefully controlled. “familiarity alone does not qualify you. you would get in the way.”

Killer’s jaw visibly clenched.

... Nightmare... felt a twinge of something, as he looked at his small underling. Guilt? No, nothing that strong. But he thought of what you would say to how he had just spoken. How you would glance at him. How you would say nothing aloud, to publicly respect his authority, but your eyes would spell out every word of your disapproval.

Nightmare exhaled, through his nasal cavity. You had well and truly wormed your way into his skull, hadn’t you? Even when you weren’t there, he did everything you asked him to.

“... you two are far more useful here,” Nightmare added. “i don’t trust anyone else to maintain the castle while i’m gone. keep everyone calm, say nothing.”

That was all it took to visibly settle Killer’s nerves. Dust did not appear convinced - but he was quiet, for now.

Though Nightmare was the King and founder of the Winter kingdom, he had to admit, Horror was far more capable in the snowy wilds than he. Nightmare took to the cold outlands with boredom; a resigned sort of love, a dull kind of fearlessness, the lack of enthusiasm that comes with knowing every inch of magic that filled the trees and snowdrifts. He knew nothing in his kingdom could harm him, and he treated it thus.

Horror, on the other hand... Horror lived the cold. He breathed the cold. Winter had welcomed him where Summer had scorned him, and it was clear the wastes were a place of great comfort. Every twitch of his eye, every footstep, it happened with reverence. Nightmare, like the neglectful parent he was, purported to know much about Winter’s outer forests and wilds - yet in reality, he knew very little. He knew what it’d been thousands of years ago. Much had changed since then.

... You, on the other hand... a smile tugged at the corner of his downturned mouth, like a child tugging at his robes. You saw beauty where he had never thought to look for it. You showed him things about his own home he had never noticed. Like how the aurora glistened in the snow, how starlight glanced in the frost on the corners of the windows. How you could hear running water far below if you pressed your ear to the surface of a glassy frozen river - how the hidden hot springs sent plumes of warm steam up into the sky like bonfires. He never knew why you so clearly preferred Winter to the endless warmth and light of the Summer kingdom, but... he wasn’t about to try and convince you otherwise.

You made him see the world differently. You made him happy.

... Nightmare’s almost-smile disappeared.

Just like...

...

A thought was itching at the edges of his mind. One that had been itching there for as long as you’d been by his side. One he wouldn’t let fully form, not yet.

Nightmare looked ahead to Horror’s back. To an outside observer, Horror probably appeared to be a courtier Nightmare didn’t care much for. The two barely spoke, barely even looked at one another, especially when compared with how often Nightmare was around Killer; Horror spent very little time actually in the palace, instead disappearing for days into the snowy wastelands around Winter.

But the truth couldn’t be more different. Horror was one of Nightmare’s closest companions - perhaps the closest to being someone Nightmare considered a friend. Horror had been one of the very first fae to abandon the Summer realm and follow Nightmare into the cold. He had loyally remained by his King’s side for centuries yet.

... And Horror was the only one who knew the truth about a certain rumour that swirled the court.

Dream, King of the Summer court, took lovers like birds took flight. As one would expect of the handsome and charming ruler of all that was golden and good. A new pretty thing on his arm every season, even you yourself had once been Dream’s favourite. In stark contrast, before your arrival, Nightmare had sat alone for thousands of years. He entertained no touch and treated all flirtation like a personal insult, swiftly removing from the inner court anyone who dared proposition him.

Why Nightmare had no taste for romance was the subject of endless debate. Nightmare could not love, Nightmare could not feel. Nightmare had no heart, or Nightmare did have a heart, but it was made of pure ice and beat once a moon.

... And... one rumour, considered farcical by most, circled by the particularly poetic and romantic. That Nightmare did have a lover, once, before the written records began. One that he adored with all his Soul. But one day, that lover vanished. And a heartbroken Nightmare resolved never to take a partner again.

...

Horror was the only one who knew the truth. The one living creature to whom Nightmare had confessed.

Nightmare’s memories of his old love were... foggy, by now. Even creatures of eternity could forget, when time stretched out long enough behind them. But there was no fog thick enough to obscure sunlight. When he closed his eye, it did not matter how long had passed. He could still feel her cheek on his palm.

...

There it was again. That itching thought. Nightmare began to twist the silver recalling ring on his finger.

... It felt foolish. It truly did. To think such a thing possible.

... And yet... you looked like her. You spoke like her, you walked like her. You laughed like her. You used the same nonsensical turns of phrase, you wore the same colours. You brushed your hair the same way. You liked to be kissed in the same ways. Everything you did sent vivid shocks of deja-vu through his body. And your eyes...

...

Nightmare had wondered, since the very moment he laid eyes on you in Dream’s kingdom, if you were the same person as all that time ago.

Perhaps it was foolish. Perhaps he just had a very rare type. But... there was a reason Nightmare had given you his true name so early into knowing one another. He had the growing suspicion that some strange fate was going to befall you. And there was no weapon he could arm you with that was greater than a fae king’s true name.

Horror eventually came to a stop, ceasing the rhythmic heavy crunching of snow underfoot. Nightmare looked up. The two had entered an area where the trees parted just enough to see a clear patch of sky. It seemed like the sort of place that had once been a clearing, but over the centuries, nature had reclaimed it, closing in over the sky above.

“... trail... ends here,” he said. His breaths escaped as steam from between his massive teeth.

Nightmare came around Horror’s side. The itching was stronger than ever. Nightmare’s eye darted around the clearing, sharp and tense, glowing brightly enough to light some of the strands of fur on his cloak into a glimmering cyan.

“i know this place,” he murmured.

i have been here before.

They were before a stone circle. Five black stones, half submerged in snow, like obsidian icebergs rising out of a white ocean.

Five stones.

Nightmare felt... unpleasant. And he could tell Horror was equally as off-put. It was hard to describe to one who did not understand, but the fae had a natural sense and reverence for numbers. It was why they were so fond of threes. Three was a delightfully strong and naturally powerful thing, rich with magic, almost everything important to their kind was done in threes; the number of times an incantation was spoken, the number of ingredients used in concoctions, the number of challenges bestowed upon unfortunate humans, the hour at which the veil between worlds was thinnest.

Five?

Five was uncomfortable. Five was beyond. Five visible planets in the sky, five fingers on the hand. Five was looking over a cliff edge, stumbling into an ancient tomb, five was calling upon something not yet comprehended.

... And your trail ended here. In a circle of five black stones.

“what is this?” Nightmare asked. He wondered if Horror could hear the way he tried to disguise a vocal tremble. Nightmare knew the gnarls of the surrounding trees, the edges of the stones, it was like catching a scent on the wind and unlocking a memory you long thought beyond reach.

“... transportation... circle,” Horror replied. Neither of them dared step any closer. “old. very old. i’ve... seen some before. but not this one.”

“do you know where it sent her?”

“no,” he murmured. “... could be anywhere. any time.”

Any time.

... Nightmare looked to the ring on his finger.

“how long has she been on the other side?”

“time... works... differently. hours here. there... could be seconds. or years.”

The day you vanished, all those years ago, you had promised him with such conviction that you would return.

...

Gods. It had been you, hadn’t it? He almost laughed. He’d always known, but he’d never had the courage to admit it to himself. Not until now, not until the answer was staring him in the face.

This was where he first met you. Thousands of years ago. This ring of five black stones. This was where the love of his life had appeared out of nothingness and stumbled, wide-eyed and confused, into his arms.

Thank the aurora he gave you his name. What better defence against him, than his own true name?

He was a different beast back then. Back when he was young. He was wrathful, spiteful. He was, by all means, a tyrant. The famous duel with his brother that resulted in the splitting of the kingdoms had happened mere decades prior, and his scars had still been deep and fresh - rivers of blood, both human and fae, ran in the name of his wounded pride. He took what he pleased and cared little for consequence.

... But you tamed him. Just by being yourself, you had bought the storm to heel. He still remembered it, how intensely he wanted you, how much he needed you to like him. How he had felt himself willing to jump through any hoop if it meant you would keep looking at him the way you did.

...

You were the reason that, in the present day, everyone knew Nightmare as a quiet, stern, but ultimately fair king. A man with an iron fist but a careful touch. Because the day you vanished, you promised you would return. He forged that man he was today, out of the fires of his proud and foolish old self; he learnt to control his temper, to stay his hand. He learnt how to behave like a king. All so that when you came back - if you came back - he would be a man worth returning to.

...

Stars. Nightmare did laugh, quietly, the pieces falling into place. Is that why you put up with him back then, with all his vices, when no one else would? Why you were so loving despite his rage? You were patient, because you knew what he could be. You had already met what he could be. You already knew.

You loved him in the past, despite his foolishness, because of who he was in your time. But he only was this way in the present because you had given him a chance back then. It all came back around again.

...

“... it... was her,” Horror said. He looked a touch concerned. Anyone would, after hearing Nightmare laugh. “wasn’t it?”

Horror was so much more intelligent than anyone gave him credit for.

“yes,” Nightmare replied, simply. He raised his hand, letting the ring catch the moonlight. Magic started to prickle through him.

... He was about to steal you from his past self. The irony of it did not pass him unnoticed. He was about to deal himself the greatest heartbreak of his life. He was about to take the only person who had ever loved his lost and furious young self, the only person who had ever looked beyond the faces he exposed to the world.

...

But... it was a necessity. Because without this, you wouldn’t be given a reason to think him worth loving.

Power flooded through his body, prickling the long scars on his shoulders, through his arm, and into the ring; his cloak lifted in a sudden wind, the fur on Horror’s hood began to sway, the trees began to hiss and whisper.

... Nightmare... didn’t know why. But for a moment, he stayed there like that, allowing the ring to simply shimmer on his finger. Perhaps he wanted to give you a warning that he was calling you back. So that you could say goodbye - and say all the things that that foolish young man needed to hear.

...

Nightmare clenched his hand. A nova of pure white light escaped the ring, gleaming out in all directions, a star bursting.

There was something like a bang without noise. A pop, a change of pressure in the air. Then suddenly, a tiny human woman was stumbling toward him. You tripped, immediately, likely not expecting the change in scenery; Horror jumped forward, but Nightmare was faster, catching you by the elbows before you were able to fall.

You gasped, grabbing onto his tunic, looking up at him. You were in vastly different clothing to what he had sent you out in. Your eyes were wide and bright, your cheeks rounded and healthy. His past self had taken good care of you, at least.

For a split second, he... he was worried. His eye met yours, and all he could think about was how you must think of him now that you knew how he once was. Would you be ashamed? Would you hold his past violences against him? Would you be afraid, or... what if you didn’t think he had changed enough? What if you were disappointed?

You stared up at him. Wisps of magic rose off your shoulders and hair.

...

“... Y-you dress so much better now,” you said, stunned.

...

At that, Nightmare could only laugh, and draw you into his chest.

All those years alone were worth it. Even for just a single moment with you in his arms.

#commissions #llama writes #faeu nightmare #i hope i was able to get the time travel shenanigans across

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