Chapter Text
Nightmare flicked a tentacle in disgust as another suitor presented a speared marlin- too tough, too flashy. The crowd oohed at the glittering scales, but his stomach churned at the idea of taking a bite.
He wanted fat, grease, the crack of tiny, flimsy bones, calcium carbonate and chitin between his teeth. A natural scavenger like him had no need for showy hunts; big game with more muscular meat was less than appealing, but Nightmare had already upset his mother enough after rejecting the first twenty in a row.
Begrudgingly, he'd reluctantly accepted a few gifts just to keep her from accusing him of being too fussy- and also to stave off his hunger, as he was forbidden from feeding himself during this period to avoid filling up.
Now he regretted it, feeling the tuna, grouper, and snappers roiling uncomfortably in his belly. His digestion - optimized for breaking down softer tissues that were rich in proteins - was having trouble accepting the cartilaginous fishes over the oily snails and crustaceans he preferred.
"Your suitors will provide for you," his mother had reassured him prior.
"You'll know when you find the one, when they make sure to foresee your needs."
Of course... Except, not a single one of these dizzards seemed to have even the most basic understanding of what octopuses preferred in their diets. They just saw him as a high-born womb to nurse their eggs. A trophy to add to their menagerie of past triumphs.
It was miserable.
"Next," he sighed, ignoring the insulted squawk of the parrotfish mer as he was led away by the guards.
Dream had told him that he was simply being pessimistic when he objected to taking part in the mating season this year. Told Nightmare that everything will turn out well in the end...
But of course Dream would think that. He was the pretty twin. He had no shortage of admirers who actually fancied him as a person. Nightmare was simply the second-best, the easier prize if one wanted to stroke their ego by lying with a prince for the season.
What suitor was really here for him...? Honestly, he should just forsake the consequences and just-
A commotion built up from the back of the crowd, swiping the octopus' focus from his deprecating thoughts.
And then he appeared.
A great white, scarred and hulking, drifted towards Nightmare's perch. He was easily one of the biggest mer Nightmare had ever seen in his life, likely measuring up to six meters easy. As the crowd parted, many sneered behind the stranger's back over his ragged fins, the old divot splitting the left side of his skull.
But Nightmare was more interested in the bag of woven kelp and landdweller rope that he held.
Sharks were unusual participants in mating seasons- as they tended to congregate among their own and indulge in certain... scandalous traditions.
Nightmare’s tribe saw them as brutes, barely more than beasts with teeth and territorial instincts. And this one looked like he’d survived enough fights to prove it- yet he apparently wasn't below using the same crafty methods his people would typically demean.
Interesting...
The great white stopped just short of the offering stones and met Nightmare’s eye. His grin - wide and all jagged teeth - should have unsettled Nightmare.
Instead, he flushed. It was a very different look to the one all other suitors had given him.
The shark reached into his bag and, with careful precision, laid out his tribute: a mound of still-twitching eels, bloated sea slugs, crushed crab, and even a rare giant isopod, its armored belly already split to reveal buttery innards.
The air thickened with oil, decay, and calcium stink.
Nightmare’s pupil dilated.
He leaned forward despite himself, one tentacle curling to hide his mouth, not wanting to be caught drooling over a feast he'd fetch himself on a regular day. A strange noise came out of him- low, wanting, embarrassingly eager.
“You can eat now, lil' princeling,” the shark crooned. The voice was deep, slow, and laced with a mocking softness.
But Nightmare was too hungry to care, rewarding himself in indulgence with a large bite of crab. Not at all minding the haughty scoffs of other suitors, speaking excuses among each other for Nightmare's enthusiasm- a clear contentment that hadn't been shown for their own high-ranking catches.
When he licked his fingers clean- and later the entire haul, the shark’s tail flicked behind him like a pleased wag.
“What’s your name?” Nightmare asked between his final bites, braver now with food in his belly.
“Horror,” the shark answered, like it was obvious. Grin confident and cheeky, like he knew something Nightmare didn't.
It made Nightmare's gaze linger on the mer, watching him lazily - almost mockingly for his fellow competitors - drift into the group that would move onto the next challenge. He glared at the shark's back, suddenly feeling determined to make them work much harder than the rest.