#morpheus x daunt reader

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 14 |

Chapter 15: Forget Me Not

TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.

I really struggled with this last chapter! 😅 I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!

Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.

Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”

Or not…

Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”

“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”

This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”

Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”

“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”

“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”

“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”

“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”

Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”

“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.

Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”

He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.

The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”

She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”

Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.

“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”

“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”

“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”

Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”

“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further. 

The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”

“Stubborn.”

“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”

Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”

*

It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.

The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.

You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.

Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.

You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.

The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.

Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."

As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.

The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.

The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.

The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his. 

“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”

You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”

“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”

Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”

“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”

“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”

“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”

You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”

His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”

“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”

“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”

“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”

“You’ve been expecting me?”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”

“Speak of what?”

"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”

With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”

Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”

“How?”

“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”

Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”

“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”

You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”

Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”

*

Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.

For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.

Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.

“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”

Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”

Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes. 

“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”

“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”

You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”

Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”

“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.

“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.

"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.

The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."

The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."

"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."

The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."

"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.

"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."

All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.

Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.

Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."

The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."

The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."

*

The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.

"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one. 

Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"

The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."

The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"

The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."

"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."

"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."

The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."

The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."

"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.

"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.

You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"

More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory. 

A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.

It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.

The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed. 

You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"

The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."

"You should rest," The Maiden said.

"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.

"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."

The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."

The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"

The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."

"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."

"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"

The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you. 

As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"

*

"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.

"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."

“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.

“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole. 

Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”

The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”

Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”

“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”

“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.

"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."

"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.

“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”

You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.

The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.

“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.

“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.

You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”

A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”

Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”

“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.

The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”

“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”

“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”

“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”

Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”

“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”

You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”

“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.

“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”

Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”

You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”

“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.

“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”

Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”

Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”

Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”

“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”

“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”

Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”

You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”

Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.

“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”

“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”

He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”

Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”

You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”

Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”

Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”

“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.

“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”

You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”

The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”

Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”

“Need a nightmare?”

Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”

*

Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”

The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”

The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”

“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”

"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."

The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."

The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"

"It is."

The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."

“Thank you… my mothers.”

The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”

“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”

With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”

“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong. 

You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”

Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”

“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”

“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”

He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”

The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”

“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”

"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."

With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."

"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."

Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

Maso’s Krampus Christmas 2022

Morpheus

Summary: Dark!Christmas Special Edition 🎄

Song inspiration: Hypnosis - Sleep Token

Pairings: Reverend!Malakai x Reader

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @damnnhausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @sldghmmr , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @blaquekittycat

Lift, oh lift me out

Of my own skin

Of all my doubt

Oh, and take, take from me

Leave nothing left

Take everything…

The bright shade of white covered the asphalt and ceilings, given the deserted street a peaceful atmosphere. The yellow, almost orange-like streetlights cast a faint glow inside the isolated church, making the black walls and altar appear even more daunting than before.

Purgatorio - as it was known - was not an easy place to find. The church was constantly changing cities and states, gathering new followers and stopping wherever Reverend Malakai felt drawn to.

No matter where The House went, only a handful of people ended up finding the church in the midst of their darkest times. “Just the ones who need purification are the ones who will deserve a seat in these benches” Was the Reverend’s mantra that never changed. Alas, today was the final day the church would be in this city. The moment the sun rises on December 25th, the House of Black would retreat into the darkness until their next calling.

For reasons you could not explain, the sight of the thick coating of snow over the church didn’t fill you with the usual feeling of comfort and safety. On this day, the visual brought deep emotions of despair and sorrow comparable to the feeling of death.

After the special Mass Of The Damned and the big celebrational feast you were the only one remaining in the empty church. All the members of The House had left along with their followers, and the only thing left behind were the last remnants of black candles and yourself.

The dead silence could be considered sinister to some, but not to you. You were familiar with the emptiness, having flirted with it for years, but no longer scared by it thanks to him and his powers.

Reverend Malakai was truly a blessed man, he showed you the path within the darkness, taught you how to find your strength within the shadows instead of letting it scare you away. But if that was the case, why do you suddenly feel consumed by the black flame of loneliness? The control seemed to be nothing but an illusion now that you are faced with the prospect of not having him with you anymore, leaving you consumed by feelings of rage.

The strong emotion presenting in its most ugly version, blinding you and blocking reality. Your eyes focused on the still smoldering candles, giving a mere illusion of warmth that served only to mock your feelings as they grew colder.

Without thinking, you pressed your hands against the cool dark wood of the altar, pushing it until a deafening BANG echoed through the church, the trembling of the ground beneath you matching your emotions.

“You’ll never be alone, Sugarplum. I’ll always be with you” Was what he whispered to you after tonight’s sermon. But if that was the case, then why do you feel so empty?

“FUCKING LIAR!” Reverberated from the church’s walls after you screamed. You wanted nothing more than to see him once more, just so you could unleash this anger towards its rightful source.

…You know you hypnotize me, always…

From the darkness he watched. Mesmerized by your outbursts of rage and how easily you could express such powerful feelings. The lack of control looked incredibly powerful and even inebriating. Malakai felt himself under the spell of your cuss words and aggressiveness, feeling drawn to your burning fire, like Icarus being drawn to the sun.

Your actions only proved that you learned nothing - which most times would infuriate him - but not now, not when such anger came from you. Your lack of discipline and control triggered something in him, something not even he knew he could feel until now. The pathfinder for once felt lost, so lost. Lost in the depths of your most primal being, of your absolute instinct…the real animalistic instinct, the one that shows no signs of control or end.

Malakai thought he could only watch you from the shadows - at least that’s what his original plan was - but now he felt like it would be impossible to not do something. Isn’t that what pure rage does, though? Obliges you to act, to fight the demons you once feared and avoided until there’s only one survivor: you or them. Isn’t that lack of control a twisted form of disciple too? Isn’t surviving by pure and sheer instinct the most primary form of survival? Isn’t that what he preached about?

“In the search for balance and control, first and foremost chaos needs to exist. For there is no order without chaos”. Isn’t that what you are? Chaos in its richer and foulest form?

The House already had order and discipline, but for the first time, Malakai felt the lack of chaos. In reality, control brings you nothing more than coldness and the constant feeling of being numb as if you’re under some sort of tranquilizer. And this is what The House lacked: the burning and painful livid fire of rage.

Stepping out of the shadows and into the low light, Malakai began “One must have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star”

The sound of his voice made you momentarily stop your assault on the church benches to look over your shoulder “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster” The tone in your voice made it clear that the phrase was directed towards him.

With a faint chuckle Malakai asked “I see you know a bit of Nietzsche then?”

“Ik ken hem heel goed”

The cheekiness in your dutch comeback only served to draw a throaty laugh out of him. “Aren’t you full of surprises?” An amused smile was plastered on his lips as he watched you threatening him with the broken leg of the side chair you were now using as an improvised bat.

“What do you want here? I thought you were supposed to be gone. Aren’t you and your people like vampires? Can’t go out in the sun otherwise you’ll burn to death?”

“Is that what you’d like? For me to burn?”

“Well, I’d only wish you’d be dead. The way you meet it is irrelevant” You shrugged while pressing the tip of the wooden bat against his chest “Although I guess I could test my vampire theory right now” You applied more pressure into the wood, making it sink into his black dress shirt and bite his skin under the thin fabric.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid that the only thing you’ll find out is that I’m as human as you are, Sugarplum” His chuckle made you frown, not understanding how he could be so peaceful under such threat.

Truth is, Malakai felt alive for the first time in many years. He could feel his heart beating, ferociously pumping warm blood through his veins and keeping his senses alert of your smallest move. Adrenaline, oh yes, this incompatible feeling of being alive and indestructible, unstoppable by any rational measurements or actions. He missed this, oh how he missed this.

“Do you want to kill me?” His voice was stern yet light, with no true reprimand behind it.

Your loud scoff only served to make him smirk “Yes, at least a part of me does”

“And what does the other part of you want?” Malakai asked, curiosity lacing his every word.

…And you make it more (You know you hypnotize me, always)

Than I (You know you hypnotize me, always)

Could ever feel (You know you hypnotize me, always)

Before (You know you hypnotize me, always)...

“To love you” Your eyes locked with his in the semi-darkness “To be hopelessly devoted to you. To let you consume me until there’s nothing left behind”

“The deeper the love, the deeper the hate?” He smirked before slowly pushing the bat away from his chest. Your eyes stared at his hand, admiring how the ink adorned the light skin and made it look ethereal beneath the faint glow of the streetlight.

“No” You locked eyes with him again “They can exist without each other just fine…but the thing is that when they coexist, they make each other stronger. They enhance the other”

“There is always madness in love” Malakai quoted, as you took a step closer to him “But there’s also reason in madness”, you finished the sentence for him before feeling one of his arms closing around your waist.

“Is this what this is?” He whispered against your cheek. His temple pressed against yours, softly rubbing your skin together “The dance of chaos?”

“Perhaps it’s all just a dream” Your lips brushed against his when he pulled back to caress your cheek.

Malakai grinned before tracing your bottom lip with his tongue “Or a beautiful nightmare”. The minute you felt his hand closing around your throat, the black candles went out in the wind and the street lights flickered before they turned off.

Leaving behind, on the inside of the church, nothing but a dark, cold abyss.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Dreamswept: Chapter Fourteen

Dreamswept: In which Dream’s imprisonment brings out his darker side. Y/N’s mother works for the Burgess’s as a nurse, and after stumbling across what is hidden beneath Fawny Rig’s mortars one summer, Y/N’s life will never be the same. A darkness has attached itself to her and no matter how long she is kept from the Endless in the basement, he has not forgotten her kindness and brief moments of comfort. No, he has not forgotten, and now he craves it. 

Warnings: Explicit Language, Dubious Explicit Content (Unprotected Sex is a No No), Manipulated Reader, Major Mind Fuckery.

To Note: Dark!Morpheus/Dream x Female!Reader, Inspired by 'Claiming His Queen' by @moonmaiden1996 (Go Read It!).

Word Count: ~2.4k

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You were sitting in the gardens, staring blankly out into the distance with your hands in your lap. The entire point of you being out in the gardens was to enjoy the view, but you had stopped paying attention to the incredible views the moment your mind had a chance to wander. It had been nine days since you had tried to escape from your home and you were… confused, to say the least. What had convinced you to try and run away from your home, from Morpheus? Did you not love your husband and home? Your confusion was confusing. For the first time since you had sat down, emotion crossed your face in the form of a frown. The Dreaming was your home, was it not? You felt something shift in your mind, like tendrils wrapping around that thought of doubt and evaporating it from your mind. Your head hurt for the briefest moments as those tendrils clawed at your uncertainty… then nothing. You blinked rapidly, your mind now empty. 

“What am I doing in the garden?” You questioned, looking around in curiosity. The flowers were in full bloom, perfuming the air with their lovely scent, and the mountains in the background always provided a breathtaking view. You must have come to enjoy the views. “I really should stop forgetting things.” You mused to yourself, rising from your seat and clutching the shawl that was draped around your shoulders, closer to your body. It was cold out and you were chilled. You had clearly spent an extended time outside off in your own little world to have gotten this cold. Stepping away from the vacated bench, you wandered back towards the palace, seeking the warm and comforting environment of your home. 

Upon entering the palace, the temperature change was immediately more comfortable, but it would be a long time before you warmed back up. A perfect excuse to head to the library, find a book and sit in front of the fireplace in your sitting room. That brought a happy smile to your face and you picked up your pace, eager to see what new books now graced the shelves of the library. You swept into the library, the skirts of your lavish dress sailing across white marble as you walked. Your eyes started searching for Lucienne, surely she was somewhere within the library, she always was. “Lucienne? Are you here?” No answer. Apparently, she wasn’t around this time. You would have to go in search of a book to read by yourself. 

A daunting task since the bookshelves seemed to be endless, constantly shifting and growing, rearranging themselves and even playing tricks. You had gotten lost the last time you went in search of a book by yourself… but in your defense, you got entirely turned around when the shelves started changing and they didn’t seem to want to let you leave. Standing in front of a line of shelves, you gave the aisles a wary look. 

“Are you going to play nice with me today?” You questioned, eyeing the dark shelves scrupulously. The library creaked and shivered, reacting to your words. For a second you felt as if you were being mocked. You huffed and wrinkled your nose, stepping forwards in refusal to be intimidated by wood. You stalked forwards, determined to be unflappable while running your fingers along the spines of the books. Most of the books in this section were books of dreams and while it was interesting to read about what people dreamed about, you felt this was an invasion of privacy. You finally wandered to the section of books written by human hands. You pulled out a few books and checked the covers, tabbing through the first few pages of a couple. Nothing particular was standing out to you. A shiver went up your spine and you trembled. Your hands clutched your shawl closer. You really needed to pick a book and warm up. You spotted a book higher on the shelf, The Secret Garden, and reached up to retrieve it. It was just out of your reach. Then an arm appeared over yours and plucked the book for you. 

You stopped stretching up on your toes, feeling the warmth from Morpheus’s body behind you. Leaning your head back, you looked up into Morpheus’s face, once again caught up in his intense gaze. He placed the book down on the edge of the bookshelf and wrapped his arms around your body. A noise of appreciation bubbled in the back of your throat as you bathed in the sudden warmth surrounding you. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” You questioned softly, confusion once again running through your mind. Your mysterious husband was a very busy man, even you knew that, so why was he here with you? Morpheus leaned down and pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling your skin. You sighed as the heat from his lips and breath caressed your skin, heating it from its chilled state.

“I will always have time to spend with my beloved wife,” Morpheus spoke into your skin, further nuzzling your throat. The hands at your waist followed your arms to trail across your wrists, then he slipped his long fingers between yours in a comforting grasp. “Your skin is cold and you shiver, my dream. What reason does my queen have to be cold?” Morpheus was far from happy to find that you were chilled to the bone, what had led you to be in such an undesirable state? You leaned further into his arms, blinking at him with innocent eyes. 

“I was out in the garden,” You explained, a troubled look crossing your face. Morpheus felt your confusion. “I think I might have fallen asleep, I can’t remember why I was out there.” You tried to think harder about what you had been doing in the garden, your eyebrows pinching together. A headache bloomed at your temple and your face scrunched. Your hand left Morpheus’s and you rubbed your forehead. “I think I—“ Morpheus cut you off, sliding his hand up to cover the one you had at your temple. You felt a shiver of magic rush through your body and your headache disappeared, along with your thoughts of the garden. “Sorry, what were we talking about?” Morpheus smiled at you, gently pulling your fingers away from your forehead. 

“You are cold, my dream.” Morpheus prompted, directing the conversation and delicately maneuvering your body in a semicircle so you were facing him. His arm slid around your back and pulled you against his chest. “Shall I see to warming your body?” As Morpheus spoke to you, you felt heat start to simmer beneath your skin. You squirmed in place, feeling a desire nip at your veins. You softly moaned when Morpheus began nipping at the column of your throat, teasing you with biting kisses that made your heart speed up in your chest. Then you were pressed back against the bookshelves with Morpheus’s pelvis pressing into yours. Your stomach twisted and you felt a throbbing sensation between your legs. A soft whimper escaped your parted lips. That was all it took for Morpheus to decide to chase after his desire for you. You were far too irresistible in this state with the sweetest sounds escaping from your parted lips. He had to have you. 

Morpheus’s hands dropped to your waist and he effortlessly lifted you. You found yourself precariously perched on a ledge of the bookshelf, hard book spines along with wood pressed into your back. But you didn’t have time to notice what was pressing into your back. Morpheus quickly had his mouth on yours, greedily running his lips over yours in a repetitive motion as if he couldn’t get enough of the sensation. He couldn’t. With one hand gripping the bookshelf, you lifted your other to press your fingers against his jaw. Your thumb stroked the sharp bone softly before Morpheus tugged on your lower lip. You gasped and he drank that sweet sound until it consumed him. He wanted more. Needed more. So he took it. On your next breath of air, he dove in, drawing his tongue across yours and making hungry sounds in the back of his throat. You tasted better than the nectar of the gods. Morpheus continued to kiss you, devouring as much of you as he could get while you clung to him, oblivious to his true desires. Oblivious to his obsession to have you and never let go. 

His hands dug into your skirts, roughly pushing them up as he caressed your skin and imprinted his touch on your body. Your body jolted and tingled against his touches and lips breaking apart, you breathily moaned while trying to catch your breath. The departure of your mouth from his led Morpheus to descend back to the flesh of your throat. He started roughly laving at your skin, eager to leave behind his touch and presence. You moaned deep in your throat when fingers pushed up your inner thigh and curled around the band of your underwear. 

“Morpheus,” You breathed, your eyes fluttering and the hand in his hair tugging the strands. “We’re in the library!” Morpheus bit your neck in retaliation to your words. You cried out, your grip on his hair sharp. “We can’t just—“ You sputtered to a stop when his lips began kissing all the right places on his way up your neck. Then you squirmed once more as he pressed his jean-clad body father against yours. Without the thick fabric of your dress between your bodies, you could feel just how hard his cock was through his jeans and your body only burned that much brighter. You were fighting a losing battle. “Morpheus, Lucienne—“ 

“Will not meddle in the affairs of her king and queen,” Morpheus stated firmly between the kisses he pressed along your jaw. “And I will have you wherever I so choose,” His fingers tugged at your underwear once more and you felt the fabric dissolve to nothing. Then his hand seared your flesh, stroking your cunt and teasing you to an almost unbearable state. Already you were ready for him, your body reacted instinctively to his touch. Good, as much as he loved to taste your nectar and watch as you fell apart beneath him, he had to be in you. Now. With a rustle of jeans and a zipper, Morpheus freed his cock and ever so easily sank into your cunt, watching as pleasure ricocheted across your face and your eyes rolled. You never looked more beautiful than when you were filled with his cock, save for when you were lost in the rapture of orgasm with Morpheus’s seed dripping from your body. 

Just like the previous times, he had taken you, your body welcomed his cock with velvet softness that Morpheus would never tire of. He withdrew from you at a torturous pace before thrusting forwards once more, his hips bumping into yours and pressing your body further into the bookshelf. A hiss slipped from your lips at the first raw strokes, then the sounds coming from your honeyed lips turned sweeter, addicting. Letting your head fall back, you focused on your breathing as hands gripped your body in a bruising grip. Morpheus pressed his face against your bared neck once more, teasing the skin with his lips, then teeth. He nibbled, explored, and drank in the feeling of the blood excitedly rushing beneath your skin. Oh, how your cunt flexed and clenched around his cock as he thrust into your body over and over again. 

The library was spinning as you felt the most incredible pleasure. Even with wood and book digging into your back and the uncomfortable position you were pressed in, you could only feel pleasure. You whimpered in pain when Morpheus struck a sore spot within your body, tensing in his hold with a quiver. Morpheus was quick to purr words of calming reassurances in your ear, his face rising to nuzzle yours. 

“Relax my dream,” His words curled across your skin in a gentle urge. You hiked one of your legs over his waist and held him closer, your back arching as electric pleasure rolled through your body like a tidal wave. “You are an enchantress that has locked me in your spell, do you not see how much I desire you? How much I crave you?” Harsh kisses were pressed against your lips, and your tongue was instantly busied by Morpheus’s as he kissed the oxygen from your lungs. Your hand dragged through his scalp to cup the side of his face. You had to break the voracious lip lock to suck in much-needed air and while you did so silver eyes seared into yours. “I have never wanted anything in my entire existent as I want you.” 

You would have flushed if you weren’t already drowning in heat, but your walls did constrict around Morpheus’s cock. He smirked at you as your noses brushed together. Morpheus knew that he was bringing your body close to ultimate pleasure, he could feel it boiling beneath your skin, threatening to take over. You always looked so lovely blissed out when he brought you to an orgasm and he knew that this one would be no different. 

“Come for me my queen,” Morpheus demanded, pressing his forehead against yours as you dug your fingernails into the hardwood beneath your body. You let out a tormented moan, your thighs quivering under hand. “Revel in the pleasure I bring you, show me how you were sculpted to perfection just for me, show your king your devotion to your marital duty.” Your body did as commanded, arching and twisting in ultimate pleasure. 

The mewling keen that poured from your mouth as you came hard around his cock was loud enough to echo through the library. Even the palace shuddered as you became undone with a gush. Morpheus himself shuddered, basking in your ecstasy and growling out his pleasure. His seed filled your cunt, filling you with all his desires and wants in one virile action that left you twitching. You whimpered in his arms, your face burrowing to his neck as you weakly grasped onto him. Morpheus placed a trail of kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. He kissed you slowly, repeatedly, enjoying the softness of your lips and the taste of your mouth. You were his ecstasy. 

Date Published: 12/21/22

Last Edit: 4/3/23

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[alittlepunkrock]

where you go (i will go) - part iv

Summary: A visit to the Dreaming brings about new revelations and confrontations.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x f!reader

Words: 5.5k+

AN: See end of chapter.

series masterlist // ao3

. . .

“I flew solo most of the way,

Until you popped up and got in the way;

And I mean that line in a good way.”

     - hazel inside, blackbear

. . .

part iv

“Let go,” he growls, pressing down on your throat harder. The hot tears clouding your vision are growing dark and blurry, the room around you dimming in spite of the smoldering fire beside you. You blink, trying to clear them away, but they don’t leave this time around. They persist, crawling inward, inching over your sight. The anxiety in your chest rises to a new pitch. You feel your body try to hyperventilate, only to choke on the emptiness in your lungs.

Something at the edge of your awareness calls to you, encourages you to do as he says and just let go. The rest of you bucks and rebels against it, fighting tooth and nail to hold on. Even in this moment, in spite of all that’s happening, you’re not ready to go. Not ready to leave him. You had so much to look forward to, so many plans. So much love to give. You were ready to give him it all.  It was all happening tomorrow.

The chaos in your chest reaches a fever pitch. Your heart hollows out at the thought that there will be no tomorrow for you.

As darkness envelopes what’s left of your vision, you feel his hot breath on your face one last time. “I don’t want you anymore.”

. . .

When mortals think of heartbreak, their minds typically turn to thoughts of star-crossed lovers, of loved ones lost, of relationships ended on bitter terms. As you creep through the small motel room you’ve found yourself in, tip-toeing around empty liquor bottles and haphazardly tossed cigarette butts toward the sleeping figure in front of you, you understand that heartbreak comes in many forms. You see it in the way the man sleeps slumped over in his chair, his hair unkempt, skin pale and sweaty, face covered in a gritty stubble. You feel the heartbreak in the way his fingers twitch for drink, seeking the comfort of a glass bottle even in slumber. Heartbreak is the fact that he sits in this dark motel room alone, though you can see a picture of himself, a kind-faced woman, and two young boys glowing on his phone’s lock screen. They looked happy.

Your eyes settle on the withering white, red, green, and orange attachments trailing from his heart, across the litter-strewn floor, under the motel door, and out into the night. A pale halo of blue philautia stutters around him. The solid black thread pulsing out of his chest is darker than all the shadows in the room.

Your heart sours at the sight. Ever since your assignments had been dropped at your door at midnight, you’d been flitting across the globe, trying to finish your daily duties before sunrise. Today was the day Matthew was to take you to see Morpheus in the Dreaming, and you wanted to be ready for him. The sight of the black attachment makes you all the more eager for your visit with the Dream Lord.

“Come here,” you whisper as you take the pale philia, eros, storge, and pragma threads in your hands. You hold them gently as you take a moment to ponder your choice of action. “When you wake, call your wife and sons. Be honest with them. Your wife has already found the help you need, but she’s waiting for you to love yourself enough to take it.” You pause, wetting your dry lips. Your fingers shift to trail over the weak glow of philautia surrounding him. “You may not feel you’re worthy of love. I know. But you are. You don’t have to do this alone. Accept the love they have for you. Let it sow the seed for you to love yourself again.”

As your voice trails away, the rainbow of attachments solidify and shine. The black thread remains, but seems less daunting when surrounded by a halo of radiant colors. You smile softly, pleased with your work. In the back of your mind, though, you fear it won’t be enough. What if Desire’s attachment overcomes what you’ve done?

Staring at the black thread before you, an unsettling air creeps through the room. The back of your neck prickles, hairs rising as you get the eerily distinct feeling that you and the mortal are not alone. That you’re being watched.

You spin around hastily, eyes sweeping the shadows of the room. But nothing, or no one, is there. You jump slightly at a low rumble arising beside you, only to exhale in relief when you realize the man has begun to snore quietly. With a shake of your head, you glance over the room again. Though no one else is here, you still can’t deny what your body is feeling. The sense that something is wrong.

With a run of your fingertips over the next set of names on your list, you slip into a new part of the world. The sensation slips away with it.

. . .

“Hey, uh, Lady Love? It’s me, Matthew. Remember, the talking raven? Can you let me in, please?”

“Matthew!” you exclaim with a grin. At the sound of his sharp beak tapping on your kitchen window, you toss your fantasy novel aside and jump out of your chair. Always eager to be part of the action, Theo slips between your feet as you hustle to the window. With an appropriate “Oh shit–,” you stumble forward, narrowly catching yourself on the kitchen window sill. Matthew’s large, dark eyes blink at you in surprise. With a laugh, you open the window, righting yourself as the messenger raven steps inside. “Sorry about that. Guess I should have left the window open for you, shouldn’t I?”

Matthew ruffles his feathers, stretching his wings after the long journey. You note that a new pouch of sand is tied to his leg. “Oh no, you’re fine. Honestly, I’m just glad you were awake. I told the boss– or, uh, Lord Morpheus that you might still be resting. It’s pretty early.”

Your eyes slide over to the clock on your stove, noting the time there. He’s right – it’s just barely past six in the morning, but you’d been up for hours. You were sure you’d never finished your daily assignments as fast as you had today. And without coffee, no less. It really was a shame Cliff didn’t open until seven.

As you finish setting up Theo’s food, water, and toys for the day, you make idle conversation. “So, ‘Dream?’ ‘Boss?’ That’s some friendly language. You and Dream Lord must be pretty close.”

Matthew’s dark beak inclines slightly, his inky chest feathers fluffing with pride. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I mean, like I said, I’m basically his best friend. Besides Loosh. Funny, when I first came along, he didn’t even want me around.”

You give Matthew a friendly grin as you finish lacing your canvas sneakers. ‘“Sometimes the people we don’t expect to need are the ones who become the most important to us.”

Matthew seems to cock his feathered head in contemplation. You extend your arm to him, and he hops on with a flutter. “Huh. You know, I like that. That’s pretty good. The next time he tells me he can handle something himself, I’ll be sure to use that one.” Your laugh rings through your quiet townhome, and Matthew ruffles his wings appreciatively. “Are you ready?” he asks.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’d be lying if you said that your trip to the Dreaming wasn’t all you’d been thinking of for the past two days. Not only were you eager to get onto your partnership with the Dream Lord for the sake of your Realm, you were incredibly curious to see his work crafting dreams and nightmares. How did one create something so intimate, so unique to each individual, so limitless? Maybe you’d end the day with a better idea of what was going on in that tousled head of his.

“Alright, then. Matthew, Grand Messenger Raven of Dream of the Endless, first class provider of transportation, at your service.” With a caw, Matthew dips his head and snips the sand pouch on his leg with a flourish. Sand spills to your feet, settling for only a moment before it jumps to life. The vortex that forms around you is becoming more familiar, the fierce winds that whip around you less startling than your first go around. In spite of this, you still find yourself closing your eyes when the sand starts to skim your cheeks.

When the winds have died and you hear the sand whisper against the floor, you open your eyes to find yourself in the Library of Dreams. Though you’ve seen it before, its majesty is not lost on you. A slow smile warms your face as you turn in a slow circle, drinking in the sight. “This place is incredible,” you murmur.

Matthew hops from your arm to perch on a tall stack of books sitting on one of the tables. “Yeah, I guess it is pretty awesome if you like books and all. Which, by the look on your face, I’m guessing you do. I wasn’t much of a reader in my life as a human, but I’m gaining a better appreciation for them now,” Matthew says. Though his face gives nothing away, you can hear the grin in his voice. The sound of soft footsteps sound behind you, and Matthew’s attention flicks that way. “Hey, Loosh!”

You spin to find Lucienne emerging from one of the breaks in bookshelves behind you. Each room is filled with so many books that the spaces between the shelves are almost camouflaged. Her dark eyes smile as they land on you. “Ah, Miss Love. Welcome back to the Dreaming.” Her dark lips pull upwards, her expression open and kind. “I trust your journey went smoothly?”

“Oh, yes. Matthew is an excellent escort. And I’m getting used to all the sand.”

“I’m quite glad to hear that. Such an acclimation will serve you well here.” You chuckle softly, watching as she places a fresh stack of books on the table beside you. “Lord Morpheus is attending to some business with Mervyn, the palace’s custodian. One of our resident dreams, Fashion Thing, appears to have spilled a blood and perrier cocktail in the main hall. Quite the mess.” She shakes her head tenderly, obviously amused. “He should be finished shortly. Perhaps you’d like to peruse my library in the meantime?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Oh, absolutely.” Lucienne smiles widely, a glimpse of bright white teeth peeking through her lips. “Matthew, please inform Lord Morpheus of Miss Love’s arrival,” she requests. At her instruction, Matthew caws a, “Yes, ma’am!” and takes flight toward the colossal stained-glass doors at the end of the long hall. Meanwhile, Lucienne beckons you farther into the library, away from the throne room.

“As I informed you at your last visit, this is the Library of Dreams. The dreams and events of every human life reside here, as well as the stories they invent, published and unpublished,” Lucienne explains, her bespectacled eyes drifting over the bookshelves with adoration. “I am the keeper of them all. The entire library is organized by century and alphabetically by last name. It makes it quite easy for myself, Lord Morpheus, and any other guest to find whatever record they like.”

You nod, lips parted in awe as your gaze moves from the stories of floors above you to the long bookshelf beside you. At the top of the shelf, you find an iron signpost reading “1500s - S.” Within moments, your eyes land on the book you’re looking for, the name embossed on the thick spine in gold lettering: William Shakespeare. “Shakespeare,” you murmur, fingers slipping the book from its shelf and thumbing through the pages. “Now, this guy and I have been through some times together. He made my job easy in some ways.” You laugh, eyes drifting over the countless thoughts, stories, and dreams recorded in Shakespeare’s book. “And maybe harder in some others.”

“Oh, yes. Lord Morpheus paid a special visit to Shakespeare in his youth, inspiring two plays in particular. Lord Morpheus has been instrumental in the inspiration and success of playwrights, composers, writers, and other dreamers all throughout history.”

A small smile graces your lips as your fingers close Shakespeare’s record gently. Your mind ponders all the artists that you yourself have encountered throughout the years, so many of them inspired by love, both reciprocated and unrequited. Bach, Mozart, Austen, Goethe, and so many more. Perhaps you and the Dream Lord’s paths had crossed more times throughout history than you’d thought.

“As I said, Miss Love, my library holds all records of mortals from the dawn of time. Perhaps you should like to take a trip down memory lane with your own volu–”

“No.” The exclamation is out of your mouth before you can reign it back in. Your eyes snap to Lucienne, register the surprised look on her face. You hastily try to stamp down the rising panic in your chest, to smooth your strained expression into something more neutral. A weak laugh escapes you as you try to play off the outburst. “Ah, sorry, Lucienne, but that won’t be necessary. It’s impossible, in fact. I don’t recall my mortal name. I don’t recall anything about my mortal life, really. I lost all of that when I became what I am today.”

Liar.

Lucienne’s face softens, her dark eyebrows furrowing. “Oh, Miss Love, I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean to overstep–”

You raise your hands hastily, shaking your head. You can’t deny the guilt that gnaws at your heart in the wake of your dishonesty, but you press onward. “No, please don’t apologize. There’s really no need. You didn’t know.”

Just as you’re trying to find some avenue of conversation to change the subject, the towering doors to the throne room slowly creek open. Your attention turns, grasping the distraction like a lifeline. With Matthew perched on one cloaked shoulder, Morpheus sweeps through the doorway, walking past the many reading tables to approach you and Lucienne. As he draws nearer, you can’t help but notice the same distinct feeling you did during your first visit to the Dreaming. A hum against your skin, a whisper in the air, a pull in your chest. Having seen him in the Waking World and the Realm of Attachment now, you realize just how potent his presence is in the Dreaming. Some distant part of your mind absentmindedly wonders if you give off a similar presence in your own Realm.

When he comes to a stop a few steps away, Morpheus dips his head slightly in a polite welcome. “Greetings, Love, Deity of the Realm of Attachment,” he murmurs, his voice a rumbling timber in the expansive library. He lifts his head, blue eyes catching yours. “I trust that Lucienne made for excellent company while you waited.”

You nod earnestly, smiling brightly at Lucienne. Though she returns the gesture, you can still glimpse a lingering apology in her eyes. “Yes, thank you. Lucienne was just showing me around her library. It’s extraordinary.”

“Indeed.” With a gesture of his hand, Matthew lifts off Morpheus’s shoulder to land on a lamp by Lucienne. The Dream Lord takes a step closer to you, his long cloak sweeping the floor near your sneakers. “I regret to interrupt your exploration of the library, but we have much to accomplish before dark. It is time for us to go.”

“Alright, Dream Lord. Lead the way.”

Today, when you catch a glimmer in his eye, you’re not so sure it’s simply a trick of the light. “We shall take a shortcut today,” he says. In a flourish, he grabs the long tail of his black cloak and sweeps it over the two of you. As the fabric flutters around you, a gasp passes over your lips. Because you were right the other day - within the Dream Lord’s cloak lives an endless expanse of cosmos. Stars twinkle all around you in the midst of deep navy, a particularly dark ripple of space snaking through the sky above you. The Milky Way. The constellations glimmering around you feel close enough to touch.

Just as quickly as you found yourself in the midst of a night sky, you find yourself exiting it. As Morpheus’s cloak ripples around you, sunlight pierces through the darkness. When the night scene is swept away, you find yourself standing on the black sandy beaches of the Dreaming. The sky of Dream Country, so bright and blue during your last visit, is softer today. The sun peeks through the thinly overcast sky, casting the clouds in muted shades of warm gold. A gentle breeze slips over the waters surrounding the Dreaming, carrying the refreshing scent of saltwater to your nose.

“This is where you go to craft dreams and nightmares?” you ask, following Morpheus’s dark form as he leads you toward the shoreline. As you approach the water, the black sand becomes speckled with dark beachrock. Its surface is slick and uneven under your canvas sneakers, and you pointedly step around the rocks to keep from falling.

“It is.” Morpheus comes to a stop just before the sand transitions into beachrock entirely. You halt beside him. The waves lap up onto the shore, nearly close enough to lick the tips of your shoes. A glance downward reveals small shells in a variety of hues nestled into the nooks where the sand meets the beachrock, tiny flecks of color amidst the dark. A tan sand crab scuttles out of a pit in the rock, hustling up the beach toward the sand. You smile at the sight. “The solitude permits me to think uninterrupted, and I find that the vastness of the ocean puts me in a productive headspace for crafting.”

You nod thoughtfully as your eyes survey the waters. He’s right – standing here on the edge of everything, anything seems possible. “So, how do you start?”

The Dream Lord remains silent for a moment, his blue eyes trained on the shifting waves before you. Then, he murmurs, “It all starts with an idea.”

You consider making some kind of teasing quip, an “of course it does,” but pause. Instead, you say, “Tell me more.”

Morpheus tucks his chin between the lapels of his cloak, closing his eyes in contemplation. When he speaks, it’s with the voice of something ancient, a tradesman with eons of experience, a master of his craft. An Endless. “It all starts with an idea. What does humanity require? What may the Dreaming offer them? What shall prompt them to thrive, what shall prompt them to learn? Dreams are meant to bestow joy, fantasy, inspiration, and hope. They are a reprieve from the Waking World, a safe haven where weary humans find rest. Nightmares, too, are meant to serve humanity. Their function is to serve as a dark mirror that reflects a dreamer’s greatest fears back at them. Nightmares afford dreamers the opportunity to face these fears in the safety of my Realm, so that they may overcome them.”

You nod, soaking in this information thoughtfully. The idea that nightmares were meant to serve humanity rather than frighten them was something you had never considered before. “Do you create dreams and nightmares for each individual mortal?” you ask.

“On occasion. To do so for each individual human would require a considerable amount of time. More often, I craft a dream or nightmare with a particular function. To take a dreamer back to their childhood, to allow them to fulfill a fantasy…then, my creation may go to the dreamers and fulfill their function whilst tailoring it to that human’s lived experience.”

You mull over his explanation in silence for several minutes. As a deity whose work involves visiting each mortal individually, albeit not every day, you understand firsthand how time-consuming that can be. “Okay, so we’re creating a dream with a blanket purpose that can be individualized to different dreamers. What are you thinking?”

Morpheus raises his head. As a sea breeze ruffles his dark feather-like hair, he opens his eyes and turns to you. “You walk amongst humans daily. I should like your thoughts on the matter. What do you believe would bring them joy, reprieve?”

You blink, surprised. You had expected to be more of a passive observer today than an active participant in Morpheus’s work. Your mind quickly turns to the man from this morning. Fingers twitching for drink in his restless sleep. His family, his joy, ripped away by a vice. He must feel so alone. “Freedom,” you say. “Freedom from the vices and burdens that feed upon them. That impair their ability to be happy.”

“Freedom.” The word sounds foreign on Morpheus’s tongue. “Intriguing. I spoke with someone very recently who wished for the same thing.”

“Did they get it?”

“One might say so. Though not in the way he expected.” Morpheus dips his hand into his cloak pocket, procuring a palmful of sand. “But we shall give the humans what they desire. Freedom.”

He sweeps his arm outward, scattering sand all around you. Rather than dropping to the beach, the sands dance through the air, shifting and shimmering. The world beyond them blurs like a mirage. You blink quickly, disoriented. When you open your eyes, you are no longer standing on the beach. Instead, you’re standing in the center of a lush, rolling meadow in full bloom. Wildflowers form a sea around you, each color of the rainbow represented in a speckled tapestry. The grass stretches as far as you can see, and an endless blue sky yawns above your head. It’s beautiful.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind whips around you, sending your hair flying in all directions. It whirls around you again and again, giving you only a moment’s reprieve before it spins around you a final time. When it does, it spirals with enough gusto to lift you off your feet. Your laughter is bright and joyful as it rings over the field. Though the wind is a fantastical creature, you don’t find yourself startled or frightened. As it suspends you in the air and twirls you around, it seems almost playful.

At your side, Morpheus seems untouched by the childlike breeze. He lifts one pale hand slowly, palm facing upward. The very air around you seems to hum with life. “Freedom. A world without limitations, without burdens. Where one can feel weightless.” He closes his hand into a fist, then unfurls his fingers and guides his palm outward. Slowly, the scene around you shimmers and shifts. The glimmering sands around you follow Morpheus’s command to drift forward. They dance along his arm, around his fingers, gathering into a humanoid shape in front of you. The soles of your shoes gently return to the ground, burying themselves in beach sand once again as the meadow fades away.

A quiet gasp escapes you as you gaze at the dream taking shape before you. A collection of grass blades and petals flitting around on an invisible breeze, confined in a humanoid shape. You can see dandelion pappus gathering in two curved lines on the being’s face like fair eyelashes resting against a cheek. Chinese silver grass fans down its back like hair. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

“It will be some time before she comes to,” Morpheus says at your side. His blue eyes sweep over his creation, giving rapt attention to each detail. For the first time since you met him, there is a glimpse of gentleness on his normally stoic face. “Even dreams require rest.” After a few quiet minutes, he turns to you. “Do you have questions?”

Questions? What a ridiculous thing to ask. Of course you had questions. Your brain feels like a shaken beehive; all chaotic, curious energy with no sense of direction. There is so much that you want to know. The only coherent thought you’re able to form is, “You spend so much time inspiring others. What inspires you?”

Your question gives the Dream Lord pause. He looks down at you in silence. It suddenly occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, no one has ever asked him that question before. What inspires the one who spends all his time inspiring others?

After a long moment, Morpheus turns his gaze back to the dream in front of you. Delicate chaparral currant blooms have gathered to form soft pink lips on her gradually evolving face. “I came into existence with the first being that required rest,” he murmurs quietly. “I understand that without them, I would not have become, and cannot be. One day, when my sister brings this world to its conclusion and rest is no more, I, too, will be no more. Some of my siblings – Desire, Despair – feel that their purpose is to be served while we exist. I recognize that my function is to serve. But although I am Endless, I cannot simply do as I please. The universe craves balance, requires it. As you have a set of scales, I have my own, in a way.” He pauses, pink lips pursing. “There cannot be fantasy without fear. But I have found that both fantasy and fear alike have the capability to transform.”

Your mind races, turning his words over again and again, reading the lines between his sentences. “They gave you your life and function,” you whisper quietly. Your eyes search his face for some vulnerability, some emotion, but find none. “You want to return that gift. You want to serve them by helping them reach their potential.” His lack of response is an answer in its own way.

The two of you stand on the beach in silence for some time, lost in thought. When you finally speak again, the dream before you has sprouted two cirrus cloud wings. “So, what’s next? A nightmare?”

Morpheus gradually draws out of his reverie. “Yes,” he says slowly, voice low. “You were once human. Tell me, what do you fear?”

Though his voice is soft, the question rings loudly in your ears. Your head thrums with the pounding of your heartbeat as you turn your eye inward. Looking within yourself is something you strive not to do, self-reflection something you have pointedly ignored ever since . . . well, ever since everything happened. You had tried, of course, to ask yourself in the aftermath: Why? What could I have done differently? Pain was the only response that had echoed from the depths within you. A solitary existence was, in a way, both the cure and the contagion. Loneliness served as both a coat of armor and an endless provocation to look inward, only to find that which you did not want to see.

Your mind turns to Desire’s opposition, your conditional divinity, all that happened eons ago. You know he expects an answer. You know precisely the one to give. It feels as if there is a vice grip around your throat as you choke out, “Not being enough.”

For several long moments, the Dream Lord is incredibly still. Then, in silence, he raises one hand ever so slightly. The black grains of sand at your feet start to sway and shift, pulling away from you as if answering a silent call. You watch with bated breath as they gather slowly, building upwards into two feet, two legs, a torso, two arms, a face. At first, it’s merely a mask of churning sand. But then, a flash of color – an eye. Your eye.

As you recoil backward, a flash of white teeth gleam through the dark grains before retreating back within them. Other features start to emerge from within the sand; a nose, a cheek, pink lips. Within moments, the being in front of you has transformed its face into a flawless imitation of yours. Something primal within you rears its head in response. The nightmare’s lips draw into a smile, but not a friendly one. There is an unnatural tightness in its lips. This smile is small and cruel.

Morpheus’s words echo in your mind. Their function is to serve as a dark mirror that reflects a dreamer’s greatest fears back at them. Nightmares afford dreamers the opportunity to face these fears in the safety of my Realm, so that they may overcome them.

As you confront your own reflection, you find you only want to run.

. . .

The black sand makes for a soft cushion as you plop down with a long sigh. The beach, teaming throughout the afternoon with dreams and nightmares of all designs and forms, is now empty save for you and the Dream Lord. The dream of freedom that Morpheus created – Fawn, he named her – was the last to depart several minutes ago. Her cirrus cloud wings cut through the night sky like shooting stars as she flew away, off to deliver feelings of giddy weightlessness to the Waking World.

As you peer up at the twinkling blanket of stars above, you can’t help but wish that you’d meet her in your own rest tonight. That you could ride on her playful coattails, soaring through an endless field of green without a care in the world. But dreams and nightmares were not for immortal beings. No, you know what awaits you in your dreamless unconscious tonight. It makes you reluctant to return home, yearning to stay out just a little longer.

Despite your lack of need for sleep, you can’t deny that you do need to rest. A distinct cloud of mental fatigue hangs over your brain after the long day. You turn to Morpheus, who stands still beside you, staring up at the stars. “I can’t imagine being responsible for the dreams and nightmares of all mortals. Not just giving them a place to rest or grow, but crafting ideas to inspire them and help them progress as a society. Spurring the world on through artists, engineers, inventors . . . all of it. It must be incredibly taxing, especially after so many eons.”

Morpheus’s gaze tracks the path of a shooting star streaking overhead. The inky sky is reflected in his eyes, two pools of black with a glimmering star in each. “My function goes beyond dreams and nightmares,” he murmurs. He speaks purposefully, thoughtfully, handling his words with the same care with which he crafts dreams and nightmares. “I contain the entire collective unconscious of the universe. Such a function requires laws, boundaries, structure. To have one being preside over something so incomprehensible without these would result in nothing but chaos. It is a responsibility of considerable weight. One I am well-accustomed to bearing.”

You study him in silence. You can appreciate his dedication to his rules, his structure. You had your own to follow, and you had seen what happened when the boundaries of duties were overstepped, when power was taken advantage of. Rules provided safety, security. In the midst of a turbulent, ever-changing universe, they were reliable.

As you reflect on the day, you’re surprised to find yourself feeling calm and content. You had expected to feel anxious in Morpheus’s presence, to feel inadequate as a mere deity in the presence of an Endless. You’d expected to feel nervous about your next steps. But as you sit here reflecting, feeling the soft grit of the sand beneath your palms, you find that you’re excited about what’s to come.

“Well, perhaps I can help remove a little of that weight. Just a little bit,” you say with a small smile. With a grunt, you rise to your feet and pat the loose sand off your jeans. “So, when would you like to start this new undertaking of ours? I’m ready anytime.”

Morpheus slowly pulls his eyes away from the stars to look at you. He appraises you in silence for a moment, something you’re becoming quite accustomed to. When he raises his chin ever so slightly, your instinct tells you to anticipate a challenge. “Why not tonight?” he asks.

You return the gesture, offering him a bright grin. Grateful for an excuse to not go home yet. To avoid rest for just a little longer. “Why not?” you say. You sweep an arm outward, gaze drifting over the beach, the mountains, the ocean beside you. “Where do you want to start?”

“No, here will not suffice.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words. “For an undertaking such as this, we shall require a concentrated source of power to work from. For this, we must travel to the location where the veil between the Waking World and the Dreaming is at its thinnest.”

You nod slowly in understanding. “Alright, Dream Lord. Lead the way.”

Morpheus’s boots whisper through the dark sands as he steps closer. For the second time today, he sweeps the long tail of his cloak over the two of you.

And in the blink of an eye, you’re gone.

. . . 

AN: Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for the kind words about parts i-iii. I am truly blown away by all your sweet, encouraging comments. I officially have the entire story mapped out, and we’re looking at a good fifteen to twenty chapters. I am so excited to have you all along on this ride with me and hope you come to love this story as much as I do!

I did want to let you all know that I am having some major issues with my Tumblr account. My posts aren’t showing up in tags, and I’m unable to message anyone or reply to any comments. Obviously, that’s causing a lot of problems, plus it means I can’t message those on the update list about new chapters. I sent a ticket to Tumblr several days ago, but haven’t heard back. I’m hopeful that this issue will get resolved soon, but if it doesn’t, I’m likely going to begin posting this story on my second Tumblr, @lilpunkrock. In the meantime, while I’m still trying to get things fixed, it would mean the world to me if you guys would consider reblogging part iv. Since my posts aren’t showing up in tags, reblogs are the only way to spread the mopey dream prince love right now.

Thanks so much for all you support! Love you all!

[arvandus]

Arv’s List of Bright Ideas (aka the Fic List that will likely never be entirely completed)

I’m having one of those nights where my brain wants to write All The Things at once.  So here’s my Fic List - some WIPs, some still trapped in my imagination.

1. Touch - of course! Back on my Dabi brainrot and living for it.  My go-to fic when I want to write after a long day.

2. (Sandman) Morpheus x Reader (likely epic multichapter) - I have a mysterious, catchy premise but no fucking plot; but guaranteed to be a slow burn with some sort of major overarching storyline.

3. Loki x Reader (epic multichapter) - idea from ages ago; still determined to write this even though the scope of it is huge and utterly daunting.

4. (Castlevania) Adrian Tepes x Reader (multichapter) - filled with angst and slow burn but plot is underdeveloped still (i actually had TWO ideas for him, similar vibes).

5. Aizawa x Reader (oneshot AND multichapter) - can’t decide between SOS or the fae fic, but I haven’t written him in a while and I MISS HIM.

6. Overhaul x Reader (2 parts/multichapter...?) - Yes, yes... this is the childhood friends to lovers with a part 2 that goes a bit dark (yandere) that I bragged about a year ago and still haven’t finished. 🥲

7. (Stranger Things) Eddie Munson x Reader - was originally two ideas that will likely get merged into one.  It’s my smut fic + fix-it fic.  Fuck yeah.

Bonus - on the back burner:

8. Ushijima x Reader college AU (multichapter) - surprise, bitches, I don’t think I’ve mentioned this one before... also very underdeveloped but my soul craves it.

9. Draken x Reader holiday theme (oneshot) - this tells how old THIS idea is...

10. Nanami X Reader (oneshot) - ummm pure self-indulgent smut... but I’ve never written for him before, so *scary.*

11. Keigo x Reader (oneshot) - hurt/comfort, healing, difficult choices, inspired by Hozier - also had this one saved in my brain for forever...

[thegeekerynj]

An Occasional Attempt to Read, Discuss and Review the Wonders of Comics By: John Rafferty, cranky old man, and Fan of All Things Comics

Adventureman #1

Script: Matt Fraction Pencils Terry Dodson Inks: Rachel Dodson

‘I’ve come to understand you’ve an interest in certain books of an old, slightly lurid, and a hard to find nature.

Oh, sure.,Pulps. Big little books, Early SF. POCKET Books, if they’re in good enough shape...

Well then. Maybe this will tickle your fancy...’ ——————————————————————

‘Who knows what malevolence exists in the worst of mankind? Adventureman Knows!

‘Image Comics presents Adventureman! A man of mystery, and his team of exotic heroes, men and women of derring do, who strike terror into the very hearts of evil-doers throughout the world!

‘Adventur-‘ Wait... What??? This isn’t a radio show? But - bu-bu-bu- I was on a roll, in the groove... I had someth—- oh, never mind, it’s gone now.

Matt Fraction. Terry and Rachel Dodson. Mention these names, and the comics The Defenders, Doctor Strange, X-Men, even Hawkeye might come to mind... with good reason. This team has a track record of taking good material, characters, ideas, and turning them into GOLD. Now, not the metal, but ‘the stuff dreams are made of’, to nick a line from Sam Spade. They bring out the best in each other and by default, the material they are working on.

Which brings us to Adentureman.

Issue 1 introduces us to the team, a Shadow / Clark ‘Doc’ Savage mash-up, with magicians, ghosts, warriors, pilots, gamblers, and of course, the team leader, a Super ‘Everyman’, a Renaissance Man of ACTION, Adventureman.

His job, to save that which needs saving, as melodramatically as possible, for he and his team are, in fact, pulp heroes. He, with Chagall, Sally Sweet, Lonnie Langlois, Phaedra Phantom, Jim Royale and Akaal, are called upon to save the city, and by default the WORLD (always heard as capitalized) from the evil that is Baron Bizarre and his team of nefarious ne’er do wells, Baroness Bizarre, the Automaterror, Slugger Dunphee, Hellcat Maggie, and Metamage.

The task is daunting, and in the end, Adventureman and his team fail to complete their mission... Yes the heroes LOSE!

CLIFFHANGER!

Present Day, Claire Connell reads the last words to her son, and he loses it! This is the Last Book In The Series... And it’s A CLIFFHANGER???

Claire shuffles her son off to bed, turns off her hearing aids, and joins her son in the Dance of Morpheus.

Fraction gives us characters we can enjoy, nay like. Claire Connell is a person. She has issues with her family, she doesn’t want to listen to them, so she relies on her disability to help her ‘pay attention’. She turns off the hearing aids, and relies on her less than adequate lip reading skill to make everyone think she is paying attention. But, she would rather be elsewhere...

His characters, all of them, are real. The reader could almost believe these heroes existed during the War Years, trying to keep the Home Fires lit, while America’s Army was fighting for Europe’s freedom.

The Connell Family could be the Reader’s family, some over achievers, some slackers, some judgmental, some condescending... hell.that’s my house at Thanksgiving. And she would rather be in her Mother’s Bookstore. Which is where this story really kicks off.

Here, we are introduced to a new Adventureman manuscript, one which Claire has never seen before. Hell, she’s never heard of it. The woman who brings it to her, wll, there’s something ‘otherly’ about her... as there is about the things trying to get her.

Like I said, Kickstart.

Claire and Tommy, examining the book, finding clues in the book, Claire’s near heart attack when Tommy writes in the book... all believable. Again, Matt Fraction has taken his craft to a new level.

All through this, I haven’t once mentioned the artwork if the Dodsons. There is something so intrinsically beautiful in the matching of a penciller and inker that actually complement / complete each other. The teams of Miller / Janson, Byrne /Austin, Colan / ... well, Gene didn’t need an inker. Anyway, when they complement, rather than add or detract, it is sublime.

These pages are glorious, Each one is a true work if art. I would be proud to frame and hang the simplest of these pages, this is how exquisite, how delicate and expressive the ARTWORK is. Reminiscent of AirBoy, and AZTEC ACE, every panel is phenomenal. And so very expressive.

The “Pulp’ pages extend the Art Deco / Gatsby stylings you would expect from a Super Rich Adventurer of the 1930’s. The detail work, the expressions on the faces, it’s all flood, organic. Exactly as you would expect an Action Scientist / Pilot / Mage / God to look, and be... with nary a dot out of place. Near perfection.

The shift to Modern Cityscape is transitionless. no stutter, no fumble... BANG BANG here we are... organic flow, like turning a page... as it should be, when you are reading a story.

After reading this issue 4 times ( 5 if you count the quote hunt, and flipping back and forth for the suitable one), I can say I can’t wait for Issue 2 to hit the racks. This promises to be one of the reads of the Summer, and I personally am glad the Powers that Be made this the Book of the Week Last Week!

If you haven’t yet, grab it... If you have, add it to your pull list! I can pretty much guarantee, you won’t be disappointed.

Out of 5 🌶 🌶 🌶 🌶 🌶 🌶

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Part 4

Part 3 | Part 5

TW: fluff, yall finally get to experience some full happiness which is totally not gonna get ripped away 💀, mutual pining, some slight angst

You looked at the blue stone, tentatively stroking a finger down the smooth shimmering edge. It had been a few years since he'd given it to you... Since Dream of the Endless had shown you a side of him you'd never seen before, had never known existed. You'd been to The Dreaming many times since that night, but you'd never ventured closer to the gate, still afraid that it would remain closed to you and that the whole thing had been nothing more than a long game. So you and Puck sat on the beach, watched the sunrise, and returned to The Forest. You'd done it so many times without a word from Dream that you were almost scared to face him now.

As the days passed you wandered closer and closer to the gate, slowly building up the courage to pass through it until you finally stood right in front of it, looking up. The Corinthian, who'd spent so much time on the beaches waiting for you to come closer had grown rather tired of being patient, groaned beside you, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, holding you in place as the gates began to open. He practically dragged you inside the second there was enough room for the two of you. "Been watching you walk around for years, time to commit Daunt!"

"Corinthian!" You growled as he howled with laughter.

The Gates of Horn and Ivory lay open before you, revealing the bright sun shining off the golden peaks of Dreams palace. Lush green forests and the life of every species natural and imagined filled the space between. It was beautiful. Open and free and bright, the air was clean and the sky was clear. For the first time in a long while you could see the blue of it, the soft puffy clouds that changed shapes above your head, and the birds that flew happily past. The Corinthian squeezed you into his side. "So, how does it feel to be in The Dreaming finally?"

"It's wonderful," you answered with a hidden smile. "Everything is so bright and clear."

He chuckled. "You'll get sick of it eventually."

You shook your head at him. "Never. I've spent far too long in The Forest to ever grow tired of a place like this."

"It's not as free as it looks," he merely said as you walked. "Lots of rules to abide by and never anything fun to do."

"Are you speaking for me or yourself?" You wondered looking up at him with a grin.

"A bit of both I'd like to think."

There was a tenseness in your friend's tone that made your eyebrow rise a bit. "You're just upset that Dream doesn't allow troublemakers to do whatever they please."

He smiled. "You're also a troublemaker, do you plan on following his stifling rules left and right?"

"He is the monarch of this realm," you stated. "And I am a guest. I must abide by his rules if I ever wish to return."

"And do you?"

"Of course." You looked at everything around you with a sigh. "I've been forbidden from entering for so long... It is nice to have somewhere else to go when things in The Forest grow too dark. Besides, if I'm welcome to return I get to see you more often."

The nightmare nodded slowly, his grin remaining but something felt wrong about it. "That is a rather strong argument. Just... Promise me you'll cause a bit of trouble now and then. Don't want you to get boring like everyone else."

Rolling your eyes you nodded. "I promise."

The Corinthian led you through the town, past the hushed whispers of Dreams subjects, and toward the bridge to the palace. Your nervousness returned as you looked up at the magnificent creatures guarding the gate. Puck moved ahead of you, yellow eyes warily watching everything you passed. "Dream will want to see you, likely to waste your time with a tour."

"That would hardly be a waste," you said quietly. "After all I've only seen glimpses of this place."

"Eh, you've probably seen enough to get the picture." He gave you a mocking bow and smirked. "Enjoy your audience with the great king, fair Daunt. If you can slip away, come  find me and I'll give you the fun tour."

You chuckled at the nightmare and pressed your hand to his cheek. "Try not to have too much fun without me, dear Corinthian."

He scoffed, laying a hand playfully on his chest. "I could never!"

The throne room looked different than the last time you saw it. The space that had once been full of life and dancing and laughter was now little more than a cold, space that mirrored the Dream you’d known for centuries. The Dream that had been nothing but cold and cruel to you since you could remember and not the one you’d seen that night. White marble glowed beneath the rainbow light from the vast ceiling of stars and galaxies above you as you walked deeper into the silent space. There at the top of the window ding stairs was his throne. It was odd… Not as grand or as large as you'd imagined it to be all these years.

Puck sniffed the ground and plopped down beside you. "I don't like it here. Everything smells different."

"Is it so different from the beach?"

"Yes." Your companion insisted. "Smells like him."

You hummed, giggling softly as you leaned down to scratch behind his ear. "Ahh yes, and we both know how much you detest the smell of the horrid Dream Lord."

"Horrid?" The voice smooth as the finest silks and deep as rolling thunder filled your ears, sending waves of conflicting emotions over you. The throne room felt smaller as you turned your head to gaze upon him. Dream stood between two large pillars, the black of his cloak standing out harshly against the cool stone, flames licking at his feet. Jessamy perched on his shoulder and his hands twisted behind his back as his glowing eyes regarded your companion with a look.

Puck growled lowly, baring his teeth to the dark figure, and curled around your feet slightly. "I would have used a far more insulting choice of words Nightmare King."

"Manners Puck," you chided softly. "We are guests after all."

Dreams eyes lifted to yours, bright and warm… An odd thing where the Endless was concerned. You'd never seen him like this, so calm in your presence and it was terrifying. He bowed his head slightly and gifted you a thin smile. "You look well, Lady Daunt."

Lady. Your mind echoed with the word. He'd called you the formal title before, all those years ago on the pier bathed in starlight. You'd forgotten how it sounded, the honey-sweetened sincerity, the low almost desperate timber of his voice… As if he were pleasing you to believe him, to forgive. Yet the memory of those hands curled around your throat remained. You returned his gesture, stiff, uncertain. "As do you, Dream of the Endless."

A look, swift and fleeting, passed over his face… hurt. He straightened and looked about his throne room. "What do you think of my realm so far?"

"I've seen little of it," you reply. The cosmos swirling above your head once again caught your eyes before you looked to his throne. It reminded you of your place, of how little your words mean to one such as he. "What I have seen is beautiful, as your creations always are."

He hummed, moving silently to stand closer to you, as close as Puck would allow. "High praise from one whose realms beauty rivals that of mine."

You almost laughed at him. The Forest was dark and clouded in mist. Its woods echoed with desperate cries of frustration and sorrow and it bent to none, not even you. "You need not attempt to flatter me."

"I am not." Dream said. "Your realm is beautiful in its own right, in a way I could never recreate… Much like you are."

Your head turned quickly, eyes wide as his words settled against your skin like pinpricks of knives. Was he mocking you? Trying to bait you into some kind of cruel game? Yet there was nothing, save the gentle gleam in his eyes and the thin smile on his lips, nothing that indicated the words were said with malice. So, you cast your eyes away. "Thank you."

Jessamy cawed from her master's shoulder. "What do you want to see first, Lady Daunt? There is much within The Dreaming to see!"

"I don't know."

"Well, surely you've thought about your visit a few times."

You looked to the floor. "I suppose I never thought I'd get to see any of it."

Jessamy made a quiet noise as Dreams dark figure appeared to grow taller. Jessamy shook her silky wings. "Why don't we start here then? The Library is just down the hall. Lucienne will certainly want to see you!"

"That sounds lovely." You lifted your head and looked at Dream, whose face had hardened. "If the Dream Lord permits it."

His brows furrowed and lips pursed. "You may go wherever you wish. I meant what I said, Daunt. My realm is open to you."

You watched him closely, still looking for any sign that his sincerity held any manner of falseness. With a tentative nod, you shifted your feet. "Such a thing is… Generous of you, Dream Lord."

Jessamy looked to her master. "So… The library then?"

Dream gestured down the hall and bowed his head slightly. "After you, Lady Daunt."

He could not stop looking at her. No matter how much he tried to go on normally, everything vibrated with just the knowledge that she was here. She'd taken so long to venture even a little close he thought this day would certainly never come. But, here she was, walking beside him to the library, quiet and timid but here.

You honestly didn't know what to expect on this tour, how willing was Dream to let you into his world? Would your presence be confined to the high walls of his palace as if to hide you from the other creatures he ruled over? Would he expect something in return for this kindness, for the supposed freedom to come when you liked? All thoughts faded as the library doors opened and the literal collection of all written creation lay before you.

The trusted Librarian of The Dreaming, Lucienne, was already waiting at the table. She offered you a bright smile and bowed her head to Dream. "Lord Morpheus, Lady Daunt

“Lucienne,” you said with a smile, “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well, my lady.” She returned the smile. “You look well.”

Jessamy perched on the desk, quietly pecking at a book she appeared to be reading. Dream gestured to the tall shelves. “Every book that was is or will be is here. You are welcome to look through my collection."

Your lips twitched into a tiny smile as you admitted, "I've tried before, one time, while you were away. But to me, they're nothing but blank pages."

"I could read one to you."

The pure genuine nature of his offer made you pause. Your wide eyes met his. "You don't have to do that, I'm certain you have better things to do, more important things..."

With a raised hand he stopped you and gestured to the shelves once again. "I would not have offered it if there were more important things that required my attention. Please, pick whichever one you like."

You hesitated but complied nonetheless. You'd tell yourself it was mere curiosity about the books of otherworldly beauty, but the truth of it was far more simple. You enjoyed this newfound calming presence that Dream was offering, as well as his silken voice. He sat down at the head of the long table and watched you as you searched the endless shelves. After a moment you stood on the tips of your toes and plucked one from the group.

Dream seemed to recognize the rich sapphire bindings immediately and smirked to himself. You narrowed your eyes at the sight of it but still set the book down just close enough that he could reach it. "I enjoy the color."

He regarded your words with a simple nod. "It's a beautiful book. Written by a friend of yours, Will Shakespeare I believe he's called now."

You smiled to yourself. "Will, of course. I suppose you had something to do with his sudden inspiration."

"Perhaps."

"What is it called?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream." Dream looked at Puck with amusement. "I think you'd companion will enjoy a character or two."

Pick settled on the floor with an unhappy growl. "Unlikely."

"It sounds sad," you mused, taking a seat one chair away from him near the middle of the table.

"I suppose it can be seen that way," he said, stroking his fingers along glittering letters you couldn't see. "Though many would consider it a comedy."

His eyes met yours as you settled into the chair, but he said nothing more, instead, Dream opened the book and began reading. Hours passed, but his voice remained steady, occasionally glancing up to look at you. The story was beautiful, but his voice was more so and after a while you laid your head down on the table, eyes watching Dream with a speck of wonder. Unbeknownst to you, he continued his reading unhindered but the sight of you remained in his mind.

Eventually, when he looked back up your eyes were closed. If he'd not known better he'd have thought you to be asleep. You looked peaceful, something he'd not seen… Something he'd actively prevented in the past. "Why did you stop?" Your eyes didn't open.

He smiled, just a little. "Apologies, I was lost in thought."

You hummed softly. "You don't have to continue if you don't want to."

"I don't mind, though you seem to have grown less interested."

Your eyes opened slightly as you smiled at him. A real smile, the first he'd ever recieved. "On the contrary, I am very invested. Your voice is beautiful, relaxing."

He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat as he lifted the book to shield his face from your view. "Very well, I'll continue."

You chuckled to yourself. "I'm still listening, I promise."

*

When you’d asked to visit the brothers and their beloved gargoyle, Dream had been glad to grant the request. He walked beside you the whole way and even remained as the two bickering brothers gave you tours of each of their houses. It was different, being so close to him without hearing a word of insult or complaint. It was… nice. You played with Gregory while Cain and Abel spoke to Dream about some Dreaming matter or another. Gregory was always one of your favorites of Dreams creations, though you could never understand how such a gentle and adorable creature had ever been a nightmare. 

You bid them farewell, promising to return for tea as soon as you were able to before falling into step beside Dream as he led the way back toward the village of his creations. "It's odd seeing you like this."

"Like what?" Dream questioned with a side glance your way.

You shook your head and tried your best not to feel the tingling his gaze brought to your skin. "So… Content."

Dreams eyes narrowed, "Content?"

"I don't know how to describe it," you laughed. "You're just… Different."

"I suppose it's not untrue. You've not known me to be very content in our past meetings." He sighed a quiet sound that you weren't entirely sure you'd heard. It appeared as if he wished to speak more, but his lips remained tightly shut as the two of you continued to walk down the wooded path.

When Dream had to step away to deal with something you sat on the bridge and looked out at the gorgeous orange and yellow hues of the setting sun. It was so beautiful here, so different from the mist and darkness you’d grown used to. It was almost too beautiful… like you were just dreaming and would soon have to wake up.

“There she is, the grand Lady Daunt,” a familiar voice teased as The Corinthian leisurely walked across the bridge to stand beside you. “Dream finally let you go free?”

“He’s taking care of some business,” you said, smiling. “I’ve been instructed to wait for him to finish.”

The Corinthian smirked and shook his head. “Still following the rules?”

You nodded, returning your gaze to the sun. “Of course I am. I told you, I want to be able to come back after this visit.”

He huffed. “I guess I won’t pretend to understand why you’re willing to be so buddy-buddy with him.”

“He’s the monarch of this realm, one I have to deal with quite often.” You sighed. “I’m tired, Corinthian. Tired of fighting with him at every turn.”

“Fighting with him is fun though,” your friend insisted, his head turning to look at a dreamer wandering over the bridge, standing just off to the side of you and Corinthian, looking around with his mouth hanging open at the glorious sight of The Dreaming.

You watched him closely as he forced his head to turn back to you. “Fighting with him is tedious, especially when I'm just trying to do my job.”

He shrugged. “But you’re like him, Daunt. Powerful.”

“I’m not an Endless, Corinthian,” you reminded him. “I’m not as powerful as him, nor as, well, endless.”

“You haven’t even tried to be,” he nearly hissed, frustration and anger suddenly filling his voice as his eyes drifted behind you to look at the dreamer again.

The Corinthian turned his head away from you and the dreamer, a scowl setting his lips into a frown. You tilted your head to look around him better, "Are you jealous?"

"Of Dream?" He scoffed. "Never."

"Not of Dream," you clarified glancing at the dazed dreamer. "Of them."

His face softened, a realization overtaking him as he watched the human. "I… I don't…" He turned his head back to face you. "They're accepted for who they are no matter how ugly or terrifying they can be. I… I want that. I want to feel, to experience what they do. To be accepted… Flaws and all."

You touched his cheek with a soft smile. "I accept you, Corinthian just as you are. Beautiful and terrifying and everything in between."

He leaned into your touch with a sigh. "I know you do, Daunt." There was still much restlessness in him, you could feel it, but before you could inquire more he straightened his stance and bowed tipped his hat to you with a tight grin. "Duty calls."

You watched him walk away for a moment, worry building up inside you at his odd behavior as of late, but the loud caw of Jessamy as she flew down to perch beside you shook you from your thoughts. She bowed her small head as Dream slowly made his way toward you, calm and unreadable as he always was. “Is it time I take my leave, Dream Lord?”

He shook his head. “You may stay as long as you wish to, Lady Daunt. Though I have one last location I wish to show you.”

“Very well,” you said, trying to mask your relief that he’d not come to kick you out.

The two of you walked in silence, trees, and hills of wildflowers passing by as you entered a wooded area. It reminded you of The Forest, but what you’d always longed for it to be. Animals darted through the site, butterflies flew from flower to flower and a warm comforting silence filled the space. Here there was no mist, no echoes of haunted dreamers' desperate pleas, nothing save the sound of rushing water as you near a small lake and waterfall. “It’s beautiful here.”

“This is Fiddlers Green,” Dream stated. “The jewel of my realm.”

“And a grand jewel it is, Dream Lord.”

His head tilted slightly as he looked at you, the now rising moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his pale skin. “Why do you not call me by my name?”

You’d long heard that Dream had enjoyed being called Morpheus, a name you did not know if he was gifted at the beginning of his life, or later by the humans. “I did not think I was allowed to.”

Dream nodded, his lips pursing. “You are. I… I would prefer you call me my name.”

“If that is your wish, Lord Morpheus.”

A soft smile and a light breath escaped him. “Would you dance with me?”

“Dance?” You asked, taken aback by his request. “There’s no music.”

“An easy thing to remedy.”

With little more than a gesture the meadow filled with soft echoes of music. It was almost surreal, the soft melody was familiar somehow. You blushed a little as you looked at your dirty and tattered gown. “I’m afraid I’m not dressed for a dance with a king.”

He chuckled softly. “Another thing easily remedied.”

The gown that settled against your skin at the King of Dreams will was familiar, the one he’d gifted you for the ball. Your hands slid against the soft fabric as you looked up at him with a tiny smile. “I did not think you would reuse a design. Have you run out of ideas?”

“Perhaps I simply wished to see you in this particular gown again.” He bowed his head a little and lifted his hand toward you. “And share a dance with you as I should have that night.”

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears as you took his hand, chills spreading up your arm and down your spine at the cold feel of his silken skin. “I suppose I should grant you such a simple request. You’ve given me a far greater one today.”

As the two of you swept off into a light and gentle dance he said, “I should have gifted it to you long ago.”

“I am simply glad to be here now.” You smiled at him, an action that caused his eyes to fix on your lips.

You didn’t know how long the two of you spent dancing in the beautiful fields of Fiddlers Green, but with each passing moment, the space between you grew smaller and smaller until you were right in front of him, looking up into the sparkling starlit eyes of the Dream Lord. It was so easy getting lost within them, lost within him, that you’d almost not heard the echoes of the dreamers. The two of you shared a breath as the urge to fill the space between your lips grew near unbearable. The echoes grew louder and louder until mist began to fill the fields and the trees began to shift closer together and grow darker. The Forest was calling you home.

“Forgive me,” you whispered. “My realm can be… temperamental at times.”

He looked around with a soft sigh. “So it seems. I’ve… enjoyed our time together, Lady Daunt.”

“As have I, Lord Morpheus.”

“Will you return?”

You smiled, the closeness neither of you had corrected growing almost comfortable. “Do you want me to return?”

“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate.

“Then I will,” you said softly. “Perhaps next time we can dance again?”

Dream’s smile was something that took you off guard. It was larger, far more noticeable than any of the others he’d given you that day. “I would cherish the chance to dance with you again.”

“Until then,” you pulled away from him, Puck’s glowing eyes waiting for you at the edge of the misty treeline. “Morpheus.”

“Until then, Daunt.”

You and Puck vanished in the trees, reentering your darkened realm with an erratic heartbeat and light flush to your skin. Puck had been inquisitive, asking you questions about what you’d gotten up to while he explored the odd-smelling realm on his own, which only made you blush harder at the memories of such intimate moments you’d shared with the Endless being. As the two of you found the path you nearly gasped at the sight of specks of white lining it. 

Flowers. The pathway was lined with small white flowers. You knelt to inspect them, careful not to be too rough with your featherlight touch. “Were these here before we left?”

“I do not believe they were.”

“How did they come to be?” You wondered as lights flickered above your head, shining softly down on the forest floor. You looked up and nearly sobbed at the sight of the tiny insects floating around you, weaving between the trees and lighting the misty forest.

Puck's nose twitched as he sniffed the small creatures cautiously. "What are they?"

"Fireflies," you breathed, lifting your hand to the air, now filled with brilliant twinkling lights.

Your companion chased the insects, eyes bright and darting from one to the next as they blinked in and out of visibility. You smiled fully as a warm laugh bubbled up from your chest and for the first time since the creation of the world The Forest was filled with laughter.

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 8: The Mist Waits

Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

I finished earlier than I thought I would, so enjoy the early chapter release y'all!

TW: Violence, confrontations, The Fates, Desire, blood, Dark Daunt, cliffhanger

Rose Walker was having an odd day. So much had happened in such a short time, and the girl wasn’t sure whether the appropriate response would be to cry in joy or to scream in frustration. She had family left, a Great Grandmother that seemed to want the same things that she did. Jed back home and safe, and them to all be a family once again. Now she had the resources to start truly looking for her brother and, hopefully, to bring him home once and for all.

“I’ll just get Lyta. Be right back,” Rose said in answer to one of the new people added to her odd little circle.

“Rose,” a voice called out to her, soft and young.

She stopped walking for a moment, quietly questioning whether the voice was in her head or actually coming from within the home. “Rosebud,” another voice said, maternal and warm.

“Rose Walker,” a third replied, cold and older.

She felt afraid and uncertain for a moment as her feet carried her forward to the closest door, the only logical place one could whisper to her from. Once she opened the door, she was greeted by three figures clothed in black.

“Hello, Rosie,” the youngest said. 

The second smiled. “Come in, my butterfly.”

“You are at a crossroads, Rose Walker.”

She tilted her head slightly. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Names, names, names,” the eldest among them said, waving her question away.

The youngest smiled sweetly. “Each name is but a single aspect of the whole.”

“Be satisfied by the trinity you have, love. You wouldn’t want to meet us as The Kindly Ones.”

“We can only caution you, sister.” The youngest looked darker. “We can’t protect you.”

A chill ran up Rose’s spine as she asked, “Protect me from…”

A maternal laugh echoed around her. “From life, my posy.”

“And the things that hover beyond life.”

“Thrashing themselves against it,” the eldest finished.

“Beware dreams,” the youngest whispered. “And houses. And trees.”

The cold voice sighed. “You ask the wrong question.”

“Had you asked the right one, we could have warned you against The Corinthian and the ghost of mist that haunts his steps.” The warm voice said.

“Told you about Jed,” the young voice continued.

“And about Morpheus.”

The light turned on, and the figures vanished before Rose’s eyes, almost as if they’d never been there… and maybe they hadn’t.

*

He stood in the center of the throne room, staring at the steps that Daunt had stood on. Dream had spent every free moment searching for The Forest, to no avail. The realm had either vanished entirely or closed itself off from him, as Daunt had after that day in Fiddler’s Green. Sadly, he was more inclined to believe the latter to be true. His head spun with the sheer number of concerns plaguing him, awaiting to be addressed. Dream of the Endless felt like he had back in the Burgess basement, only somehow worse. He felt he was being pulled in every direction, forced to split his focus between dire events, and feared no matter what he did, one or more would slip through the cracks and result in yet another loss for him to bear.

“My lord,” Lucienne’s soft voice called him from the dark corners of his mind as she approached with a book. “Forgive me for intruding, but I have the volume you requested.”

“Yes,” he sighed, taking the heavy leatherbound book from her hand and moving to sit on the bottom step of the stairs, hoping the vision of her bloodstained gown would fade from memory if he was not looking at them. “I assume it holds nothing of use as all the others.”

His librarian nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so.”

“Jed Walker is still in the realm of the living, but I cannot find him.”

“No. Nor I, my lord.” She answered.

“All humans are connected to The Dreaming.” He shook his head. “They spend a third of their life here. Breaking that connection would require knowledge. And power.”

“Then it may interest you to know that the last nightmare Jed Walker had before he disappeared was of Gault.”

“You think she severed him from The Dreaming?”

Lucienne nodded. “I do.”

“Why?” He questioned.

“Because he’s not just any child, is he?” She replied. “He’s Rose Walker’s brother. She is the Vortex.”

Quiet footsteps echoed in the empty throne room as a dark figure walked toward them. “Excuse me. I am Rose Walker. What do you know about my brother Jed?”

Lucienne turned to Dream with wide eyes and an open mouth. Daunt’s words echoed in his ears. Sight alone will not tell you her secrets. He stood and smiled. “You are welcome here, Rose Walker.”

She looked around for a moment before asking, “Who are you?”

“You have somehow dreamed your way into an audience with Lord Morpheus. The King of Dreams,” Lucienne answered sternly. “And now you must go.”

“Lucienne.”

His librarian sighed. “She shouldn’t be here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “No, but I should like her to stay.

Rose Walker was indeed the vortex. Dream could feel it swirling around her. Power and mystery and something else, something that felt familiar. Lucienne’s apprehensive demeanor did not shift while Rose stood in his realm. He could not blame her. After all, a Vortex was a volatile and uncertain thing. Matthew agreed to watch over her in the Waking World, and as Rose Walker returned to her bed, Lucienne gave Dream a look. “Are you certain this is wise, my lord?”

“Gault must be found one way or another,” he answered carefully. “Leave Rose Walker to me, Lucienne. In the meantime, continue your search of the library for anything that may lead us to The Forest.”

*

The Corinthian enjoyed tea. He enjoyed the smell of the soft floral notes and earthiness and found the taste to be almost comforting. Though he’d never allow himself to linger on why he enjoyed such things, a lingering nagging voice in the back of his mind told him repeatedly. It reminds you of her. This was, of course, a voice he smothered when he was able. Instead, he smiled beside Unity, listening to her so easily give up the information he needed. It was inconvenient that Rose Walker had returned to America, but The Corinthian didn’t mind much.

If she was the key to his permanent freedom, he’d go to the ends of the earth to find her. Daunt’s white form stood before him, bathed in the light from the window, but that light did not touch her. Instead, she dampened it with her presence alone. “What do you fear more, I wonder? Not finding your vortex in time or having her deny you as all others have.”

As he walked out of the old home, he clenched his jaw at her presence beside him. “Answer me, nightmare.” She insisted. “Answer me, betrayer.”

“I’m not scared of anything,” he spat at her. “Not some fuckin kid, not Dream, and certainly not you.”

Laughter echoed around him as the sky grew dark with storm clouds. He turned to face her, to find her gone once again, but before he could even breathe, he felt her cold hand wrap around his neck. Long nails bit into his skin as she leaned in closely and whispered. “You should fear me, dear Corinthian.”

He tore himself away from her, searching for the white maiden in the open streets. “Mine will be the last face you see.”

*

“My lord,” Lucienne called out as she approached with confident steps. “May I help?”

Hunched over the table, he glanced up at her. “Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?”

She nodded. “And Jes Walker. But I shouldn’t think there’s anything in those you don’t already know. Except perhaps-”

“Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room.” Dream sighed. “What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?”

“Did you read about Unity Kincaid?” She asked, turning away from him to fetch another book. “The day you were imprisoned, there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up. Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the “sleepy sickness.” The day you returned, she woke up.” She set the book down in front of him. “Rose Walker is her great-granddaughter.”

He hummed. “Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex.”

“Is that not a possibility?”

“Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena,” he stated with a smile. “No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen.”

Lucienne’s eyes narrowed as she thought about his words. “Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?”

Dream sighed. “My instinct says no, but tonight, when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?”

Lucienne held up a hand to stop him. “There is something else, my lord.”

“What is it?” He asked, reading the way her face tightened as she spoke.

“I know every book in this library,” she began, turning away from him and retrieving something from a nearby shelf. “I know this library and these books and… yet…” she returned, holding a pale book in her hands and offering it to him with a saddened face. “Somehow, this one has been hidden from me for eons. It should not be possible.”

“And yet it is,” he said, gently running his hands along the white bindings, glistening with jeweled leaves of green. On the first page, The Great Tree was illustrated in deep tones of brown and emerald, surrounded by the smaller trees covered in mist. It was almost as if he could feel the leaves beneath his fingertips and the cold mist caressing his skin. It was almost as if this book was alive.

Lucienne looked at the beautiful thing with fondness and apprehension warring in her eyes. “I’ve tried to read it, but it’s… Incoherent.”

“How so?”

“Most of the pages are blank. There appear to be remnants of words written on some, and other pages or paragraphs are perfectly legible. The words, however, make little sense given all that is missing.” She shook her head and sighed. “Only the illustrations remain intact.”

As Dream flipped through the pages, studying the little words scribed here, he stopped at another picture. Daunt, or rather a drawing of her, white amidst a sea of dark colors. His heart felt heavy in his chest the longer he looked. “This will not tell us where she is.”

Lucienne’s soft eyes met his as she spoke, “No, my lord, it won’t. But…"

“What is it, Lucienne?”

“One of the illustrations seems to depict what happened to her… What kept her from reaching you the day she left.” He handed the book to her instantly. If there was a way to learn what befell her on his behalf, he had to see it. He had to know.

The librarian quickly flipped through the pages before holding the book back to him with downcast eyes. There on the red-stained page were three words… Daunts last words. “My dear Corinthian.” The image showed her standing on a bridge, holding his nightmares cheek as The Corinthian pushed his blade into her chest.

Dream drew in a deep breath as The Dreaming rippled with the rage that filled his heart. “The Corinthian…”

Lucienne bowed her head lower. “It is my fault. I should not have given her his location nor asked her to seek him out.”

“No.” He breathed out, tears welling as his finger glided across the worn page. “The fault lies with me. She would not have been vulnerable had I failed my duty to retrieve the nightmare.”

“My lord…” she whispered. “If this image is corrected, then… is Daunt not… dead?”

“No.” Dream looked up at her, meeting her wet eyes with his own. “Death told me she’d not been called to The Forest for Daunt. Daunt herself told us she was lost.”

Lucienne shook her head. “My lord, that… vision… that apparition spoke in naught but riddles. If it was truly Daunt, then she is not in her right mind.”

“Perhaps she is not,” Dream replied solemnly. “But the fact still stands that she lives. She lives, and I will find her if it is the last thing I do in this existence.”

*

That night he accompanied Rose in her dreams to search for Jed Walker and Gault. That night he had the chance to examine the vortex up close. Dream had expected Rose Walker to be impressive, but the way she adapted to her newfound abilities as a Vortex was surprising, even to him. She found her way through the dreams of those closest to her, following his advice and asking questions, seemingly wanting to learn from him. Most impressive was her ability to stay focused through each dream, never losing sight of her purpose within them and never seeking to abuse the power she held. 

She led him to Gault with ease, and once his nightmare was back within his grasp, he ensured she would not be free to defy him again. He did not regret his harsh punishment of the shapeshifter, but he did feel an unpleasant knot form in his stomach after his less-than-kind treatment of Lucienne after the fact. Still, he moved forward. Too much demanded his attention to focus on keeping his realm safe. The notion of that seemed simple enough until a crack appeared in the stained glass window above his throne, and the entire palace shook violently around him. After that, all he could do was watch in horror as the cracks grew before his very eyes.

“Loosh? You in here?” The pumpkin head made a quiet noise of apprehension. “Sorry, boss, I was just looking for Lucienne. See ya.”

“Wait.” He ordered. “Why were you looking for Lucienne?”

“Oh, well, we just had some minor seismic activity and a little, you know, damage I wanted to report.”

“Then why not report it to me?” He asked.

“Uh, because you’re busy?” Mervyn offered. “While you were away, Lucienne started taking care of that stuff, so I figured why bother you when-”

A dark feeling curled around him, nearly squeezing all the air as he said, “Mervyn if The Dreaming has been damaged in any way, I will be the one to address it.”

The floor shook, and the cracks spread throughout the windows and up the stone walls. “Oh, for crying out loud. Do you want me to fix that for you? Or will it just keep happening?”

“It will not keep happening because I will find the cause of the disturbance, and I will eliminate it. Thank you, Mervyn.”

“Uh, you’re welcome,” the handyman replied before turning and hurrying in the opposite direction. 

Dream returned his eyes to the glass as it continued to crack. He would not watch his realm crumble again. The halls shook around him as he made his way to the library with hopes Lucienne would be able to provide him with some information on these tremors. “Lucienne?”

She stood off to the side, re-shelving books with a slightly pensive face. “My lord.”

“I have come to return these.” He handed her the books, their eyes meeting in an awkward stare. “And to assess the extent of the damage from the recent disturbances.” She said nothing, merely watching him as he bent down and picked up a stack of fallen books. “Have you any idea as to what caused them?”

“I assumed it was you, sir,” she said almost coldly.

“Me?”

“Making further improvements to the realm… now that you’re back.” She clarified as she brushed past him.

Dream sighed quietly. “Lucienne, when we last spoke, I did not mean to imply that your efforts beyond the library are without value.”

“Oh?” She questioned, clearly frustrated.

“I merely wish to relieve you of responsibilities with which, had I been here, you would never have been burdened.”

“I see.”

“And in that time, did you experience any… similar seismic disturbances?” he inquired offhandedly, looking at the book he still awkwardly held, only peeking up at her.

I did not.”

“Have you any… theory as to their origin?” He pressed cautiously.

At last, Lucienne set down the stack of books she held and turned to him. “Speaking strictly as a librarian? I do. But you won’t like it.”

“Go on.”

“I know you’re waiting to see if the vortex will lead you to The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green. The way she led you to Gualt.”

“She may yet still.”

She scoffed. “Yes, but while you’re waiting, she’s putting cracks in the foundation.”

“Rose Walker has visited this realm before and done no damage,” he pointed out. “This is something else, something new.”

“Perhaps, but if there is something new in The Dreaming and you did not create it, how did it get here?” She asked. “This is the vortex. I assure you.”

As soon as he could, Dream found Rose Walker’s dreams and watched her closely as the landscape marred with cracks and the house he’d not built appeared before him. Lyta Hall was indeed pregnant; by the look of it, she and her dead husband had somehow managed to find a way inside his realm in secret. He would be furious. How could he have been so blind? How could he have allowed a vortex to cause such chaos just to aid him in mending his own troubles?

Matthew cawed beside him. “So, what do you think?”

“Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors.” Dream ordered. “And that I am taking care of it.”

The raven took to the skies quickly as he moved forward, entering the house with ease and staring down the spirit that had found its way here. He knew, without Dream having to say a single word, the spirit knew that his time here was up.

Lyta and Rose entered, laughing with one another. “Hector, look who’s here.”

Both women slowed as they looked at him. Lytas face was drained of the happiness that had been there moments ago, while Rose looked confused. “Lyta, you remember I told you about Lord Morpheus, the King of Dreams?”

“What do you want?”

“He wants us to leave,” the spirit answered.

Rose looked at her dead friend and then back to him. “Why?”

“Because a ghost cannot escape his fate by hiding in The Dreaming. Nor can a living human being escape her grief here.” He shook his head. “Do you not see the damage your presence has done to this realm? I cannot allow you to stay.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“You belong with the dead,” Dream answered. “You must go to the place appointed for you. I’m sorry, but you must say your goodbyes now.”

Lyta exhaled a shaking breath and shook her head. “No. I’m not losing you again.”

The spirit approached her with a sad smile. “I love you so much.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” the woman insisted, pressing a kiss to her lover’s lips. “Get out of our house!”

“Lyta-”

A soft chill stilled the harsh words on his tongue as mist swept across the floor. Dream turned to look at her lithe figure standing in the room with them. Daunt did not acknowledge him or Rose or even Lyta, only the spirit once named Hector. She raised a pale hand, covered in frost and frozen vines, toward him as she whispered, “Come.”

“Hector!” Lyta cried out, taking hold of the spirit’s arm as he began to turn toward the specter.

“She’s here for me.”

“You can’t go with her. You can’t go!” Lyta cried. “I can’t… not again.”

“What is lost will always be found.” Her words were cold, carrying the chill of the mist and frost. Dreams’ heart stuttered at the sound of it. 

“Daunt,” he whispered her name like a desperate prayer, a plea to her. Hear me... Look at me.

Her head turned in his direction, and even from behind the veil that shrouded her face, he could feel her eyes. He almost dropped to his knees then and there in the crumbling dream Lyta Hall, and her dead husband had built, but she turned away from him and once again beckoned the spirit to her.

Hector spared Lyta a look before pressing a kiss to her lips and cradling her round belly in his hands. “Tell the baby I love them. Never let them forget just how much I love them.”

With a weak sob, she nodded. “I won’t, not ever.” She sobbed as she cupped his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the spirit whispered. “Goodbye.”

He turned and lifted his palm into Daunts. A wave of mist and distant wolf howls echoed all around them. Dream took a half step forward at the familiar sounds of The Forest’s call - of Daunt’s call. The spirit let the mist wash over him with a content sigh before he vanished from sight. Rose held her friend closely but never looked away from Daunt as she remained.

“Child born of death and dreams,” Daunt said, her voice echoing like ocean waves. “Evil will seek it out to steal its power.”

“No!” Lyta shouted, turning her head toward the white figure. She shook her head, holding her stomach tighter. “No.”

Rose rubbed her arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe.” She looked at Dream desperately. “Right, Dream?”

He was frozen for a moment, still looking at her, before he nodded stiffly and looked at Lyta. “So long as I live, no harm shall befall your child. Not in the Waking World and not in dreams.”

The woman didn’t look convinced, but after a moment, she nodded and eased into Rose’s arms. 

“We are running out of time,” Daunt said to him.

“Then help me,” he pleaded. “Open your realm and let me in.”

She tilted her head. “Only you hold the power to do so, Dream of The Endless.”

“What do you mean?”

“My realm was never closed to you,” she answered.

Dream sighed, stepping closer to her. “I do not understand.”

Daunt lifted a frozen hand to his face, her thin fingers traced over his eyes. “You do not need to understand. You only need to see.”

Mist slid through his fingers and smoother gently across his cheek. Gone again from him, the crumbling dream was all that remained. The two looked sad when he turned back to Lyta Hall and Rose Walker. Sad for him. Lytas’ eyes held an understanding beneath her deep anger and loss. Rose spoke, “Who was she?”

“An immortal being,” Dream answered simply. “One that is not your concern.”

“You care for her.”

A painful longing exploded within him as he turned away from them and said, “This dream is over.”

When he finished repairing the damage to his realm, he sought Lucienne out. Matthew would have already delivered his message, but Dream owed his librarian an apology. “Lucienne?”

“My lord. There’s something I must tell you,” she said as she hurried out from around the corner.

“And I will listen. But, first, you must let me tell you that… you were right.” He said softly, noticing immediately how her eyes looked up at him with light and hope renewed inside them. “The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was… wrong to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana.”

“You were not entirely wrong, sir. She’s found them both.”

“What? The Corinthian and Fiddler’s Green? Where? How do you know?”

“Fiddler’s Green told me.” She looked over to the shelves at the man… at Fiddler’s Green as he emerged from behind the racks.

He bowed. “Apologies, lord, for having left.”

“Why?” He asked, desperate to understand what he’d done wrong. “Why did you leave? I trusted you. You were the heart of The Dreaming.”

“No, sir. You were the heart of The Dreaming. And you were gone. I was curious. And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here.” He sounded so vibrant. “Which is why I’ve returned because… he’s murdering them.”

“The Corinthian?” It wasn’t shocking to learn of his nightmare’s recklessness.

Fiddler’s Green nodded, face twisting in disgust. “He appears to have built up a cult of worshipers who kill for pleasure, endangering the Waking World and the life of a friend called Rose Walker.”

“The Corinthian has found Rose Walker?”

“Yes.”

Lucienne shook her head. “Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose?”

“You must tell me where they are.”

*

The Corinthian stood at the podium, delivering a confident and proud speech inspiring the room of pathetic and deluded humans to imagine their atrocities. Dream stood in the aisle, watching his creation with ill-tempered rage swimming in his chest. The nightmare noticed him quickly but did not stop his speech until he’d finished. Always doing things on his own terms, Dream thought silently, for a brief moment admiring the determination he had forged. But was it not that determination that led him to plunge that knife into Daunt’s chest? To betray the one he called friend?

“You disappoint me, Corinthian,” Dream said through tight lips. “You and these humans you’ve inspired and created… disappoint me.”

His words visibly struck his creation as he bared his teeth. “I’ve done my best to be what you made me.”

“No,” he replied with a slight chuckle as he walked toward the stage. “You’ve done your worst, which was in so many ways what I had hoped. You were my masterpiece. A dark mirror made to reflect everything humanity will not confront.”

“That’s what I am,” The Nightmare nodded, straightening his back as he turned to face his creator. “That’s what I’ve done.”

“No. Look at you, walking this Earth for over a century infecting others with your joy of death, but what have you given them? What have you wrought?” His anger began to seep into his words. “Nothing. Just something else for people to be afraid of. That is all.”

The Corinthian scoffed, cocking his head ever so slightly. “So what now? You send me back into their dreams?” He pulled a knife from his jacket, a knife not unlike the one he’d used on Daunt, and shook his head. “Cause I won’t go willingly.”

“A knife against a dream?” His voice was dark wind and shadow as he stepped towards his creation slowly.

“You don’t think dreams can die? Let’s find out.” The Corinthian insisted.

Dream held his hand out, drawing upon his power. “Enough.” The sand moved at his feet as The Corinthian stabbed his knife into his outstretched hand. The pain startled him back and to his knees as he looked down at the wound. “How?”

“I’ve got Rose Walker getting stronger every second while you get weaker,” The nightmare said with a wide grin. “She’s taking your place at the center of The Dreaming. She’s bringing the walls down between the sleepers’ minds, and now they’re all dreaming the same dream. A dream that I inspired.”

“No.”

“It’s already happening. There’s nothing you can do. She’s asleep and dreaming.”

“Then she’s not beyond my reach.”

The Corinthian shrugged. “Oh, I think she is. Now that she knows you’re planning to kill her.”

Dream pushed himself into the horrific visions molding together just as she and her brother turned towards him. “You need to wake up!”

“Don’t listen to him, Rosebud. You’re the one with the power now, not him. This is your dream.”

“It’s his dream for your world,” Dream corrected.

The Corinthian smiled at Rose. “Then let’s make it yours. Whatever you want, Rose. A blank canvas!”

The dreams of her brother and the other humans vanished, and Rose’s eyes went wide with fear. “Where’s Jed?”

“Jed’s fine. He’s upstairs, asleep, he’s right next to you. This dream is yours now. The Dreaming is yours now!”

“The Dreaming is yours? Is that what he told you?” Dream demanded coldly.

Rose looked up at him, confusion evident in her eyes. “He told me you were gonna kill me.”

“Did he tell you why? When a vortex brings down the walls between dreams, she creates a single volatile dream that will collapse in upon itself, and take the waking world with it. Your world. Everything and everyone will die.”

The Corinthian bent down to Rose’s ear. “Don’t believe him, Rosie.”

“It’s happened before. I failed in my duty, an entire universe was lost.”

“He can’t kill you if you kill him first.”

“Killing me may save your life, but it won’t save the lives of those you love.”

“I’m tryin’ to keep you alive here!” The nightmare growled, the playful mask he bore slipping at last.

“I’m trying to keep your world alive,” Dream argued.

The Corinthian growled, “You have to choose one of us, Rose!”

“Enough!” She shouted above their noise, waves of power rolling off her and amplifying her voice. Rose Walker looked to The Corinthian. “If I’m as powerful as you say I am, then I will find my own way. In the meantime, the walls go back up.” She lifted her hand, willing the walls between the dreams to return.

A loud groaning sound echoed all around them as the mist began to overtake the room. Rose drifted back closer to Dream as everything around them changed. “What is this? What’s happening?”

Trees, gnarled and dripping with blood, surrounded them as dark figures moved in the woods, and all manner of noises surrounded them. The tree roots wound around The Corinthian’s limbs as The Nightmare tried to take a step back from the figure in white that now stood at the treeline. “Daunt.”

Dream wanted to reach out to her, to speak to her, anything, but Daunt was not herself. Her blood-covered form was no more than mist and bitter frost. Instead, Dream took hold of Rose’s arm and pulled her behind him. “At last,” Daunt said softly, but her voice sounded anything but. “You have come to see the damage caused by your hands.”

The roots of the trees began to squeeze the nightmare tightly. He groaned as his bones began to creak beneath the wood. “This is still your dream Rose.”

The figure in white turned her head, and ice crept along Dream’s form under her gaze. “No.”

Rose shivered from behind him and quickly uttered the words she’d heard him say, “This dream is over.”

“NO!” Daunt screamed, lunging forward as the dream vanished.

Standing back in the hotel, his nightmare breathed a relieved breath and stood once again as Dream looked down at his now-healed hand. His nightmare removed the dark shades that shielded the rows of teeth from view. That anger that filled him became unbearable as he looked over at the nightmare with watering eyes. “She trusted you, loved you, and you betrayed her.”

The Corinthian sneered. “You, of all people, have no right to judge me, Dream. After all, you drove her away in the first place! If you think I’m going back to The Dreaming with you-”

The floorboards beneath their feet began to tremble and crack. Mist filled the room as tall trees tore through the floors, and The Forest started to bleed into the Waking World. The Corinthian looked around him with stoic features as roots quickly began overtaking everything in the room. Standing in the crowd, Daunt breathed heavily, the veil gone, revealing her bleeding chest and wide eyes. “You do not get to leave me again, Corinthian.”

“Daunty,” the nightmare said softly. Roots twined around him as she walked up the stage and past Dream to stand in front of his rouge creation, the creation that had betrayed her.

“Have you any idea what it was like?” She demanded. “Knowing all this time that it was you that plunged the blade into my heart. That you… my friend… would doom me to this.”

For the first time, Dream could see the sorrow and pain in the nightmares eyes as he looked up at Daunt. “I’m sorry.”

A sob escaped her throat as everything in the room grew colder. “LIAR!”

The roots stabbed through The Corinthian in various places, digging deep into his body. He took it all with a sheer grit of his teeth, never looking away from Daunt as she stepped closer to him, a blade… the blade poised in her hands and pressed against The Corinthian’s chest. “Do it.” He told her. “I deserve it.”

Dream moved closer to her, ignoring the way it stung his skin. “Daunt…”

“No,” The Corinthian told him. “Do it, Daunty. Finish me.”

 “Was it worth it?” She demanded, her gaze shifting to the humans that sat in the crowded room. “Was all this worth it?”

“The only thing I regret is what I did to you,” The Corinthian said carefully.

“Regret?” She questioned, deathly quiet. “You do not know regret… not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

“Daunt,” Dream called out, hoping to pull her from the darkness that echoed in her words.

The blade flashed in the dim light as she drove it through The Corinthians ribs, twisting it as she knelt down, leaning her head closer to the nightmare and listening to his pained noises. “Look into my eyes, betrayer. Look and see what you wrought.”

He seemed to shake the longer he met Daunt’s gaze, the stoic features of his face twisting into pain and sorrow. The trees closest to her caught fire, and the sounds of fear and screaming. “Daunt…”

“You did this!” She screamed, tearing the blade from his ribs and stabbing him again.

The Corinthian bowed his head, pulling the blade from his flesh and holding it out to her. “Please.”

A sharp and pained scream echoed around Dream as Daunt fell back slightly, holding her chest as the wound began to bleed once more. She sobbed quietly, holding her hands to blood and crying as she looked to The Corinthian. “I trusted you…”

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t…”

Daunt wept, “I cannot kill you, dear Corinthian. No matter how much you deserve it. Our fates are sealed, yours and mine.”

The Corinthian’s lips quivered as he looked back up at Dream. “Finish it, Dream.”

His voice was low, nearly hoarse, as he spoke, “I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“I do it to taste what it’s like to be human.” The Corinthian admitted. “You don’t care about humanity, none of them. You can’t even bring yourself to care about her. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or you might actually feel something. I am not the problem, Dream.”

With a look to Daunt, whose form slowly began to be overtaken with frost, he replied, “You are right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

The sand swirled, glowing red as it ate away at his masterpiece. Daunt lifted her hand to his cheek, and he looked down at her as the last remnants of him faded. The Corinthian smiled at her, a soft smile, one he’d never known the nightmare to show before now. “Yours is the last face I will see.”

Daunt held the tiny skull of his nightmare in her bloodstained hand, standing slowly and turning to face him. More blood streamed down her cheeks as she cried tears of red. She placed the skull in his hand, and she whispered before he could even utter a word. “Find us, Dream. Please.”

And just as suddenly as she’d appeared, Daunt was gone again from his sight. His hand curled around the skull as he turned to the crowd of his creation’s flawed inspiration and shook his head. “And you… who call yourselves collectors, until now you have sustained fantasies in which you are the victims, comforting daydreams in which you are always right. But no more. The dream is over. I have taken it away. For this is my judgment upon you, that you shall know from this moment on exactly how craven and selfish and monstrous you are. That you shall feel the pain of those you have slaughtered. And the grief of those that mourn them still, and you shall carry that pain and grief and guilt with you until the end of time.”

They all rose from their seats and walked, dazed, out of the room. Dream looked around him at the lack of trees, mist, and all Daunt had brought with her. He closed his eyes and silently swore he would find her.

*

Rose Walker was not only the vortex but the child with the blood of an Endless. A child born of his sibling’s games. As soon as Dream had laid eyes on the dark heart she’d pulled from her chest and given to Unity Kincaid, he knew it. With a swiftness powered by his rage alone, Dream entered his gallery and grabbed the heart on the wall. “Desire. I stand in my gallery, and I hold your sigil. Talk to me.”

The faint image of his sibling’s wide red grin shinned from within the stone. “Why, sweet Dream. This is a surprise. Almost an event, I might say.”

“Good. I’m coming through,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“You are?” They questioned, a slight pitch of fear entering their voice before they chuckled. “But of course. You know you’re always welcome in my chambers.”

The glossy red of Desire’s realm was hideous. He’d forgotten how much he detested the vivid color and how pungent the sickeningly sweet smell of summer peaches was. Dream took slow, deliberate steps closer to his sibling, who lounged in a chair in their gallery. “Lovely to see you,” they purred. “Can I get you anything you desire?”

“I desire nothing from you save some answers,” he replied tensely.

“Ooh, is this a test?”

“Unity Kincaid should’ve been the vortex of this era. But someone took advantage of my imprisonment and fathered a child with her, knowing full well that it would become the vortex, and I would be forced to kill it.”

Desire’s smile widened. “Was I really that obvious?”

“No,” Dream answered, circling them. “You covered your tracks remarkably well.”

“Well, that’s high praise coming from you.”

“What did you truly intend? That I should spill family blood? With all that would entail?”

They laughed. “This time, it almost worked.”

It was no secret that he and Desire loathed one another, but Dream hadn’t thought they would stoop to such drastic whims to see him dead. With a scoff, he shook his head. “My sibling, we of the Endless are the servants of the living, not their masters. We exist only because they know deep in their hearts that we exist. We do not manipulate them. If anything, they manipulate us.” Standing behind them now, his voice lowered, threatening and dark. “And you and Despair, and even poor Deliruim would do well to remember that.” He pulled their head back by their light hair and looked deep into the golden eyes that now flared with anger and fear. “Mess with me or mine again, and I shall forget you are family. Do you believe yourself strong enough to stand against me? Against Death? Against Destiny?”

“No,” they said in a trembling tone.

“Remember that next time you’re inspired to interfere in my affairs,” he whispered to them as his eyes trailed away from their golden irises to the red bitemarks that marred their hand. His hands tightened in their hair. “Where did you get those marks?”

“Is it not obvious, big brother?” They sneered with a smile. “Our lovely Mistake sends her regards.”

“What have you done with her?”

Desire’s smile widened. “So predictable, big brother.”

Anger laced deep into his voice. “What did you do?”

“I merely gave her what she always wanted.” Their golden eyes flared. “An end to her pitiful excuse of an existence.”

“You would dare to raise a hand against her?”

Desire scoffed. “She is no Endless. She is a Mistake. One that refused to see reason.”

“Where is she?”

“Right where I left her,” they answered. “In that pathetic little forest of hers with that stupid mutt.”

“How did you find it?”

Desire’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, you still haven’t been to see her? How sad. From what I hear, she doesn’t have much time left.”

Dream released their hair, practically throwing them forward as he turned and strode back down the hall he’d arrived in. “If Daunt dies, I will be back for your head.”

“Give her my best,” they called after him. “She looked rather ill when I last saw her.”

Daunt was alive, he reminded himself. She was alive, and he would find her. He would not lose her again.

*

It had been weeks since he’d finished his business with the Vortex and Desire. Months and still, there had been nothing to help him find her. He scoured every book and dream, desperately searching every corner he could reach for her to no avail. The ember of hope he’d held all this time slowly began to dwindle as the days passed… as he grew closer and closer to facing the horrible reality that he’d failed her.

Matthew had followed him to Fiddler’s Green, as the bird was known to do now that he was no longer shadowing Rose Walker, making comments on his incredibly sullen behavior, but Dream didn’t care enough to answer him. Instead, as he stood among the green fields and the flowers and the memories of their moonlit dances and conversations, Dream cared about nothing else but her. He wanted to see her again, to hold her in his arms and to beg for her forgiveness… to tell her, the real her, that he loved her and that he had for quite some time.

He stared out at the peaceful meadow for a moment longer before turning to leave. There was nothing for him here. Or was there? He halted almost instantly at the sight of white standing in the trees in front of him. The white stag stood between two large trees, watching Dream. Matthew looked over to where his master was staring and quietly asked, “What’s that thing?”

“A creature I thought had long abandoned this realm,” Dream answered as the stag turned away and began walking into the forest. Something inside him forced his feet to move, to follow the creature into the dark woods.

“Oh! So we’re following the weird lookin thing?” Matthew cawed loudly, taking to the sky to fly after them.

The trees grew closer and closer together, and darkness began to make it difficult to follow the creature forward. Mist rolled over Dream’s boots, and a chill seared his skin, forcing him to halt. This was not Fiddlers Green. This was nothing of his realm. “The Forest.”

A few steps ahead of him, the stag looked back and huffed, its breath visible in the frozen air, before it continued forward, stepping over the gnarled roots. Dream moved, too, a newfound desperation in his steps as they emerged from the thick trees into a small glen of frozen moss. Death and blood hung in the air all around them. The hollow resembled that which he’d seen in the short dream Daunt had influenced.

The stag took a half-step forward, a small frozen twig snapping beneath one of its hoofs. The sound echoed far louder than it should have, filling the silence with it. A heartbeat passed before a black shadow lunged out of the trees and dug its claws into the stag’s back, clawing and biting until the poor creature collapsed and its blood coated the white ground. Dream stood perfectly still as the beast tore into the stag’s flesh and devoured the steaming meat.

“Holy shit,” Matthew breathed from a branch beside Dream. The beast’s head turned, revealing two grey eyes locking onto Dream. It turned, claws clutching the stag’s body tightly, and let out a loud screech. Blood and spit coated its sharp teeth as its foul breath wafted to Dream’s nose.

The beast gave little to no warning before it pounced, claws tearing out of the carcass and slicing through the air as it made its way toward him, ready and willing to take the killing blow. White shot out through the forest, slamming into the black creature and forcing it onto the other side of the clearing. Growls and barks echoed through the trees before suddenly all grew silent. Matthew flew down from his perch, hopping toward the stag cautiously. “Where the fuck are we?”

Before Dream could answer the birds’ quiet question, the white blur returned. It leaped from nowhere and pinned Matthew to the snowy ground by a wing. The bloodstained teeth of the white wolf, marred with scars both old and new, chomped as he raised his head to look up at Dream. One eye was blue, crystal, and starry, while the other was faded gray and scarred. “What manner of demon are you?”

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

Chapter 10: Be Still, My Bleeding Heart

TW: ANGST!!! This chapter is literally just fucking angst! So buckle up y'all! Dark imagery, mentions of blood and slight body horror, character death (kinda), mentions of SA, mentions of child death (Orpheus), The Fates (fuck them bitches), Calliope's whole story is sad as hell, depression and of course I gotta leave y'all with a cliffie (I'm SORRY! I didn't know where to end this chapter so it would smoothly merge into chapter 11 so ya get what ya get 🤷‍♀️)

Matthew flew through the bare branches of the trees, looking around at the sea of dead in front of them. From up here, he could see the shadows that moved in the woods, skirting around them like frightened animals, yet lingering… watching like something other. It put him even more on edge. Dream hadn’t spoken much about this woman… Daunt… that he’d been searching for. He hadn’t said anything except the usual cold dismissal of the bird's questions. But now that they were here, and Matthew saw the dark world and had been pinned beneath the wolf’s paw, he could understand the dire nature of things.

Whoever she was, Daunt was important to Dream and to the wolf, hell, maybe even to the world. And whatever happened here meant that his boss was probably about to walk headfirst into a broken heart. Matthew swooped down to rejoin the two silent companions that walked through the snow. “So… uh… it’s a nice place you’ve got here.”

The wolf turned to glare at him with his good eye. “It was a place of beauty once. Green trees and endless fields of moss and tall grass. The singing of the trees as our lady passed them by.” He made a noise. “It is nothing more than a dead cage now.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said, cawing softly. “I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose something like that.”

“Do not be sorry,” Sirius looked back at Dream. “Just fix it.”

The thick blanket of snow did little to conceal the scorched trees and mask the smell of lingering smoke and sulfur. What had happened here? Why was she not the one to greet him with her companion? Dream feared the answers more than anything, yet his feet carried him forward toward the faint hum of life. The white wolf spoke little but was used to Daunt’s companions disliking him. This was different. In the short vision he’d seen of the creature before he regained his power and restored his realm, the wolf was healthy and appeared kinder. The beast he followed closely behind now was cold and detached, hardly even looking back to make sure he was keeping up through the ever-thickening snow.

Dark shapes and sharp hisses darted across the treeline randomly as Dream felt the ever-growing sensation of eyes watching them. “What manner of creatures are these?”

“I do not know,” the wolf admitted. “My lady once called them lost spirits.” Then, turning his head, that blue eye pierced him. “Though some, she said, were nightmares.”

Nightmares? Why would his nightmares have been here? “I did not send them if that is your concern.”

The wolf scoffed. “My first memory of this life was catching my lady's tears. She bore a deep sorrow… one forced on her by you. Of course, she never confirmed my theory, but it was obvious when we went to your precious Dreaming to offer aid. Her pain was far more palpable there.”

Regret brought Dream to a slower pace as he sighed, closing his eyes. He should have known that Daunt sought the comfort of the stone after his unkind words. At least she had not been alone all this time, though as Dream looked at the wolf, he couldn’t help but feel sad as the price for such had clearly taken its toll.

When, at last, he could feel a warm breeze against his skin and the sight of a great wall of twisted trees and thorns, Dream could hardly breathe. Matthew hopped on the ground beside him. “Are you sure about this? We have no idea what’s waiting for us on the other side.”

“Daunt will not harm us,” he assured his raven. A flash of her darkened anger unleashed upon The Corinthian replayed in his mind. “She came for me, and I swore to do the same.”

The white wolf pressed his frozen snout to the scorched bark of the trees, and with a groan and what sounded like pained whispers in a language he did not understand, the trees parted just enough for them to pass through. The flooded meadow was one he recognized in an instant. Her home had stood here, at the base of The Great Tree… the tree that was now gone. It fell before its time… This is what she’d spoken of. Cut to the bone. Crying out and bleeding, left to burrow. Left to rot. He looked at the blackened leaves and the bark, peeling away and covered in cuts and scars, but the roots caught his eyes and made his heart stop. The roots dug too deep.

Daunt lay in a bed of knarled tree limbs and a settling frost. The roots of The Great Tree snaked all around her, shifting with the squelching sound of blood following after. They were burrowed deep into her chest, splitting it open so deeply he could practically see her faintly beating heart. Matthew stopped in his movements and quietly cursed beneath his breath as the wolf pressed his head into the pale, limp hand that hung over the side of the crude bed.

He whined briefly before the blue of his eyes shifted to Dream. Then, sitting beside his master, the wolf spoke again, “You will bow in the presence of the Lady of The Forest. For it is the beating of her heart that has kept your realm safe all these years.”

“Daunt,” Dream breathed, and the whole meadow shifted.

*

You were weak, so very weak. Every inch of you was thin, little more than skin hanging off the bone. Blood pooled all around you, and the stench of it made you want to retreat further within the tree's roots as the pain that your life had become filled your lungs. Wheezing breaths forced from your chest echoed around you, but it was a voice… his voice that had called you back.

“Dream?” You called out weakly as you lifted your eyes to the dark figure standing beside you, looking down with tears in his eyes. "You came," you whispered, relief filling you as you cried.

Dream knelt before you, bowing his head sincerely; he answered, "You called."

"Has it truly been so long?" Your eyes took in the sight of him, not aged in appearance but different, visibly so in the way he spoke and carried himself but more in the way he looked at you. "Oh, how I have waited to see those eyes..." Your fingers brushed against his high cheekbones. "These lips." They were soft beneath your fingertips as you shook your head. "This face." More tears blurred your vision as you sobbed. “It’s been so very long… so long…”

"Forgive me,” he said gently. “I should have found you sooner… should have been here long ago." Dream raised his hand to gently hold your wrist, keeping it in place so he could kiss your hand.

"You are here now," you whispered. "That will have to be enough."

Dream kept his cheek to your hand as he spoke a weak and desperate demand, "Tell me how to stop this."

"Oh, Dream,” you shook your head and stroked his cheek. “You cannot stop this. Neither of us can now.”

His face twisted into an angry… desperate expression that only made this more difficult. Pain, old and new, rippled through you as the roots curled, piercing deeper into your heart and bringing the frozen world around you a wave of tremors. Your eyes shut, mind threatening to be pulled back to drown again in the realms connected to the roots. No, you thought, desperately trying to cling to his voice calling out your name. No, please… You couldn’t fight it, so you submitted, forcing the current that pulled you to drift to The Forest, where Dream knelt beside you. 

Standing at his side, you looked down at him, holding your limp hand and whispering quiet pleas at you to stay… to tell him how to fix this. “We are running out of time.”

He looked up, taking slight relief in the projected image of yourself… the self that hadn’t been so thin and frail looking. “Why is this happening?”

“The Great Tree was cut down,” You answered, looking over his shoulder at the decaying trunk. “Without it, this realm cannot be.”

“But you are still here,” he said. “You are the monarch of this realm. Should it not be your life that it is tied to?”

You shook your head. “I am not a monarch, no ruler, no god… No Endless. It is not I this realm was forged by, nor I that controlled it. The Forest is and was by the will of The Great Tree. And now…”

“Now it is gone.” Dream looked back down at your body. “Then why did you bind yourself to the roots? Why endanger your life?”

“To keep The Dreaming safe until you came back,” You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “Hell would have used The Forest to break through to your realm… they would have taken all that you created and corrupted it.”

Dream’s chest rose quickly as anger filled his chest. “Hell?” He looked around at the scorched trees and thought about your companion's words. “Is that what happened here?”

Bowing your head, you sighed, “They marched shortly after The Corinthian cast me into the river. I was not fully healed… I could not fight them.”

“Daunt…” he took a step toward you. “I… I am sorry for all that I said to you that day…”

You closed the distance between you, gently pressing your hand to his lips to keep him from uttering more apologies. “I know.” You couldn’t help the way his eyes made you feel weightless, made you forget all about your own dying body beside you or the cold that bit your skin. “I was so angry for so long…” A cold breath curled in the space between you. “I’m not angry anymore.”

His lips pressed to your fingers. “I will spend forever trying to make amends for all the pain I’ve caused you. But, please… Just tell me how to save you.”

“You cannot.” Shaking your head, you lowered your hand. “This cannot be stopped. It should not be stopped.” Then, looking around you with a soft sigh, you smiled, “The Forest will fade into deep winter, the cold will spread through these roots, and everything known now will be gone. But then spring will be allowed to come… sunlight, rain, and life. All that was lost will be reborn, even me.”

He shook his head. “No… Even if you are, it will not be the same. It will not be you.”

“This is what I want, Morpheus…” His eyes softened at your use of his name. “It is what I spent so many long nights wishing for… to be different. To be born again as something better, something good. I do not want to live the rest of this long life as a mistake… as a burden.”

“You were never that,” he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please…”

You lifted your hand and wiped them away. “I wish to be as I was meant to be. I can feel something greater waiting… but first, I must surrender this form. This may not have been my choice then, but it is now.”

Hurt shined brightly in his eyes as he asked, “Why did you call me here if not to save you?”

You turned to look down at the white wolf that desperately curled his head into your limp hand. “You cannot save me, but you can save him. He has given enough these long years… lost enough of himself trying to defend a land already lost. Take him with you… Let him live in The Dreaming or the Waking World in peace until I return. Will you do this for me?”

Bowing his head, you knew that he understood. “Of course, I will.”

You nodded your head and whispered to Dream, “Thank you.” Then you turned to Sirius. "I fear our time is up, little one."

The wolf's breathing shifted as he tore his eyes away from your body and glanced between you and Dream. "But… You… You said he would help us."

"He is." You knelt before him, tears in your eyes as you smiled. "You have to go with him."

"No… No…" Sirius pressed his head into your hands, matted fur filling your palms with warmth. "I cannot leave you. I will not."

"You must," you whispered. "When I am gone, all that remains here will die. I do not wish that for you, not ever."

"Death is better than living on without you!" He insisted, whining as his bright blue eye filled with tears. "I do not want to go…. I do not want to leave you. Please, my lady… Please, Daunt… do not make me leave you."

Pressing your head to his, you cried softly. "This is not goodbye. Simply until we meet again." You pulled back and smoothed his fur down, holding his face. "You will have to be very brave, my star."

His whining echoed in the glen. "May I stay with you… until the end?"

"Oh, Sirius, you'll stay with me far longer than that." Pressing a kiss to his snout, you sighed. "When I return, I will protect you, I promise."

You could feel Dreams' pain roil around him as you stood, looking down at your frail physical form. "I do not wish to die like this. Suffering… In this empty, forgotten place. May I trouble you with one last dream to lay me to sleep?" You asked quietly, looking up into the dark sorrow filled eyes of the Dream Lord. "Would you grant me that?"

He pulled his pouch of sand out from his coat and nodded. “I would grant you everything.”

“Thank you,” you said as he let the sand fall over your body, and your mind stopped drowning. You let yourself be tugged into his power and the warmth of the dream he gifted you.

The two of you stood on the pier in The Dreaming, misty water shining beneath the moonlight. Smiling, you looked up at him. “I remember this place. It has been so long since I’ve felt this.”

He remained sad as he looked down at you. “If you could go anywhere, where would it be?” Tears gathered in his eyes. “Tell me, and I shall make it so.”

“I would walk among the stars one last time,” you answered with tears of your own blurring your vision.

Dream stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his dark chest. He kissed your head, and your eyes drifted shut, listening to the soft command that slipped past his lips, “Open your mind to me.”

When you opened them again, you let out a soft sob as the dream you’d shared so long ago surrounded you. Stars, endless shining stars, twinkled in the radiant cosmic clouds. The ground beneath your feet was a reflective mirror of ice, glowing dimly beneath the ethereal sky. It was just as beautiful as you remembered. Dream looked down at you, admiring the way your eyes lit up even as the weight of your fading life began to settle beneath your eyes. He committed you to memory… refusing to live even one moment without remembering how you laughed or the sound of you speaking his name.

Looking back at his mournful face, you touched his cheek, wiping away the tears. "This is not the end. It is a new beginning... Perhaps one for both of us. It is good."

"I will not see you again."

"Of course you will," you assured him. "You will see me, Dream of the Endless. You will see me in the mist over the water. You will see me in white clouds and in books with empty pages. You will see me in your precious dreamer's masterpieces." Then, stroking your hands down his star-filled coat, you closed your eyes, pressing your head into his cheek. "When I return, we will see one another again."

"It will not be the same you that stands before me now," he warned.

"Change is a part of life." You smiled, fingers running along his face. "You will also be different when we next meet."

"Daunt..." He shook his head. "All this time... All the years I was imprisoned, all I wanted was to see you again. And now that I have that..."

You pressed your fingers to his lips once again. “Hold onto those words, my Dream. Hold onto them and tell me when we meet again.”

He set his forehead against yours. “I will hold them forever if I must.”

You could feel your body growing weaker, and the slowing of your heartbeat as you leaned on Dream more urgently. “Kiss me, Morpheus. So I might remember the feel of your lips on mine and carry it with me to whatever life awaits me.”

The King of Dreams would not deny you anything. His lips pressed to yours, soft and tender and filled with the words you would not let either of you say. I love you. You held onto the feeling of him. The way he held you so carefully, as though you were more precious than any jewel. The way his kiss tasted of stars and happy dreams and love. You would not forget this feeling… not ever… not across a thousand lifetimes.

When you parted, the ice beneath your feet shifted to sparkling sand, and the heaviness of it pulled you deeper and deeper until even the stars were little more than falling sand. "This is not goodbye... Simply until we meet again."

*

Dream was pulled out of your mind the moment your heart stopped beating. Now he stood, staring down at your body, wishing that faint heartbeat was still echoing in the small meadow. Sirius lifted his head once he realized you were gone, and a pained howl tore through every tree in The Forest. For a moment, all he could do was stand there and look at you, but the frost and roots moved quickly. 

The roots pulled your body down, forcing Sirius from your lap, and burrowed deep into the earth as the water below turned to ice. He looked at the wolf, whining and desperately pacing, trying to find a way back to your side. “We must go now. Before the frost takes us.”

“She…” His voice was hoarse and full of pain. “I…”

Dream set a tentative hand on the wolf's head and sighed. “She will return. But until then, you must come with me where you will be safe.”

The blue, watery eye of the wolf looked up at him, and with a broken spirit, he nodded, following Dream and Matthew into the trees until they emerged back into Fiddler’s Green. He could practically feel how each step weighed down the creature's heart as they made their way to his palace, where Lucienne stood on the bridge, waiting with the white book in her hands.

“Sirius,” she whispered, full of joy, before looking up at her lord's tearful eyes and realizing what had happened. “She’s gone… truly?”

The wolf stopped walking, choking on heavy sobs as another howl, far more pained than before, ripped through the air of The Dreaming. Lucienne hurried forward, dropping the book at his feet and taking the creature into her arms, holding him tightly as she whispered soft, reassuring words. Daunt was gone… And now those who had known her, loved her, would have to go on.

Dream bent down to take the book, holding it in his hands to remind himself of the feel of her skin and the sound of her voice. Then, he continued walking toward the throne room, unable to linger in the pain the wolf radiated as his own was smothering enough. As he stroked the pages, one page loosened beneath his fingers, flittering out of its own accord and gliding to the marble floor at his feet. 

It was a picture of her. Painted in white against an emerald page, glittering with silver adornments and the words, her last words scrawled across the bottom. Until we meet again.

*

Calliope glared at the door. The pain, both physical and more, lingered in her… stained her being with anger and hatred, and desperation. She knelt on the floor and sighed, pressing her palms to the cool wood of her prison. “Gracious ladies, mother of the Camenae, hear my prayer…” Tears filled her eyes. “It is I, your daughter, Calliope, that calls you to deliver me from this place.” She exhaled a shaking breath and closed her eyes tightly. “Ladies of meditation, remembrance, and song, harken to me!”

The callous voice of The Crone filled the room. “All right.” What would have typically made Calliope feel patronized as the voices of The Fates mingled together now filled her with hope as the room around her hazed with visions of light… of home. “Enough, beautiful voice.”

Trees and an endless sky filled with white clouds brought tears to her eyes as the three figures stepped toward her. Their delicate white gowns flowed in the breeze that smelt of the sea and fig trees, and the echo of the mountains called her home… called her to where her heart longed to return more than anything. Calliope stumbled to her feet with a sharp breath of relief. The Mother spoke, voice strained with sorrow, “We feel your pain, daughter, but we cannot help you.”

Her hope and relief turned to bitter ash in her chest as The Maiden continued, “You were snared upon Helicon according to the Mysteries. You are lawfully bound.”

“But it is not just, my mothers.” She met each of their eyes, pleading with them through more than words. “Is there nothing you can do? No one who can intercede on my behalf?”

“There are few of the old powers who are willing or able to meddle in mortal affairs in these days, Calliope,” The Maiden answered, her darkened hair blowing in the breeze. 

The Mother shook her head. “Many gods have died, my daughter. Only The Endless never fade.”

“And even they have been having a difficult time of late.” The Crone laughed, moving around to gaze at herself in the mirror. “Still… every little bit helps as the old woman said when she pissed in the sea.”

The Mother sat on the bed where she’d been defiled and hummed. “The Endless. There’s a thought.” Her eyes drifted to The Crone. “After all, the Dream King and Calliope were close at one point.”

“Mmm, not for long.” The Maiden hummed. “And remember, sister self, they did not part on the best of terms.”

Calliope’s jaw clenched at the distant memories of Dream… of the hateful and vile words they’d left between them after… The Crone touched her lips with a long slender finger, holding her hand to the younger. “Still. She did bear his cub. That boy-child who went to Hades for his lady love and died in Thrace, torn apart for his sacrilege.” She closed her eyes, desperate to try and keep the tears from spilling at the mention of her son's death. “He had a beautiful voice too. Orpheus.�� 

No. No, there had to be someone else… “The Dream King will never help me. Not after what I did to him.” She shook her head. “He hates me for that, and I despise him. I would not accept his help.”

“Foolish child,” The Mother scolded, standing from the bed and looking at her with dark eyes.

The Crone folded her arms over the golden bedpost. “Oneiros is in no position to help you even if he wished it, which is unlikely.”

“Like you,” The Maiden began. “Your former husband has been ensnared by mortals. He’s immured beneath the ground. “

“Leaving this realm gripped by sleeping sickness,” The Mother shook her head.

The Crone cast her eyes down. “And a plague of Dreams and Nightmares wreaking havoc.”

“I am sorry, little one,” The Mother said, voice soft as the breeze that filled the room as she turned and walked back into the vision from whence she came.

“No,” Calliope begged.

The Crone sighed, moving to follow her other self. “Your prayers were wasted. There’s nothing we can do for you.”

“Please.”

“And nothing you can do but hope,” The Maiden finished sparing her a sorrowed glance.

Calliope moved forward, desperate to hold to the vision of home, the breeze, the trees, and the mountains. “Please don’t leave me here!” It was gone. The hideous red wallpaper and the darkness filled the room again as Calliope stared at the wall. “I beg of you,” she whispered to herself.

There was no hope then… nothing she could do but suffer in this hell. The Endless would not help her. Not even Dream could… if he’d ever even consider it. Wait… she clung to a small hope filled with mist and black fur. Daunt. She was as close to an Endless as one could be, and she was Calliope’s friend… or at least she’d tried to be. How to summon her, though? Her realm was fickle, and Calliope was far from forests, trees, or mist. 

Across the street, the shadowed shape of a dog sat, black with glowing eyes. Pressing her hand to the pane of glass, Calliope held its burning stare. “Please… Return to your master. Tell her that Calliope calls to her for aid. Please…” Her eyes burned with tears. “Please, Daunt. Hear me.”

The dog turned away from her, fading into a cloud of dark smoke and embers, and Calliope waited. Days passed, and with each passing one, the hope she’d held that Daunt would answer dwindled into a tiny sliver of a thing. If Daunt would not answer her call, then she indeed was doomed. 

In the dead of night, mist filled the floor of her room, whispering in a dead tongue as frost crept along the red walls. Calliope stood from the bed, eyes wide and heart pounding. “Daunt?” She whispered.

Standing in the darkness of the room, she appeared, a white veil shielding her from Calliope’s view. “A desperate plea you send on the backs of memory. A memory now answers you.”

She didn’t sound like herself, at least not the being she’d once known in fleeting moments of friendship. “Daunt… I would not have called if it had not been my only choice. I am trapped here. Bound by law to remain in this cage of broken promises and defilement.”

“He is caged as well. Locked deep beneath the ground in a cage of glass and magic.” Daunt looked around the room. “Yet it is your cage that feels smaller.”

“Will you help me?” Calliope pleaded, taking a step toward the figure in white. “Will you go to the man that holds me and… intimidate him into letting me go?”

Cold seeped into Calliope’s bones the closer she got to Daunt. “He is beyond my reach, as are you… as are you all.” 

Red began to bleed through her veil, and Calliope felt her heart drop. “Daunt…” She lifted the thin fabric as quickly as possible, gasping in horror at the sight of her friend. Blood pooled at her chest, around the gaping hole that tore her open and revealed her faintly beating heart within her rib cage. “What has happened to you?”

Frozen tears littered her cheeks as she gazed upon the muse with motionless eyes. “We are not as we are meant to be. Stuck… frozen in this shattered visage. He’s coming. Coming to make us whole again.” Her eyes cleared slightly, turning darker like the ones she’d known so long ago. “Wait for his return. He will help you too.”

The mist rose from the floor, engulfing Daunt in its icy chill. “Daunt, wait!” She collapsed to her knees. “Please don’t leave me alone…”

*

It had been almost two years since Daunt and The Forest had passed, yet the weight of her absence was just as heavy as it had been that night. Dream poured himself into his work while Lucienne tended to the white wolf, which grew more depressed by the day. He’d taken to her quickly, holding onto the small piece of Daunt that Lucienne radiated. The two remained in the library most days. The wolf stayed beside the white book laying on pages with his lady’s likeness painted on them and soaking in the chill that radiated off the book or the faint noises one could hear if they were quiet enough. 

Soon, however, he left the library in favor of Cain and Abel’s garden. He’d intended to seek out Gregory, only to find the gargoyle gone as well. There he clung to the stunted pale plant that Daunt had left behind and slept beside Gregory’s old house until Cain and Abel took it upon themselves to make him his own. Sirius lay and waited with the book tucked safely beneath his little roof. He did not wish to run through The Dreaming. Did not wish to make small talk with the Dream Lord subjects or even listen to Lucienne read. He wanted to go home… a place that no longer existed without her.

“I understand the pain of her loss,” Dream said as he stood outside the small dog house. He’d come to check on the creature every few days, intending to fulfill his promise to her whether the beast liked it or not. And he did not.

Sirius growled at him, the blue of his eye growing as cold as the winter of The Forest. “You know nothing of my pain, Dream Lord. The Forest was all I knew… all I had that was mine, ours, and now it is gone, and so is she. All because of you.”

He sighed, slowly rising to his feet and folding his hands behind his back. “She would not wish for you to suffer so.”

“She is dead. She does not wish for anything.”

“Daunt will return,” he assured the creature. “She promised she would.”

“And when will that be?” He spat. “Another year? Perhaps a hundred?” Sirius’ bitterness turned to sorrow as he set his head back to the pages depicting Daunt’s face. “Leave me to rot. At least then, she and I will be together again.”

He could do little but grant the wolf's wish. Abel watched him closely and sighed, holding onto Goldie a little tighter. “It was good of you to try, my lord.”

Cain scoffed. “Leave the beast be. Who are we to dictate what it chooses to do with its life?”

“Daunt charged me with his care,” Dream told the brothers. “I will not have him wither away in my realm. Do what you can for him. Hopefully, with time he will find some measure of peace here.”

The two bowed their heads. “Of course, Lord Morpheus.”

“We’ll do all we can, my lord.”

As he walked back toward his palace, a voice filled the air, one he’d not heard for centuries… one he’d never thought he’d hear again. “I call to you, Oneiros, that you may hear me and come to my aid when I say your name out loud.”

“Calliope?” he whispered. 

The room was dark when Dream answered her call. The moonlight cast the red walls in a soft glow that only seemed to amplify the anguish and hopelessness that had consumed the room and the Muse trapped within it. She was more beautiful than he remembered, her face bathed in the soft silver glow, bringing a shine to her long brown hair and pale silk gown.

“You came.” She uttered, turning her head with absolute disbelief written on her face. She was so graceful and kind-toned, even trapped in the cage this Richard Madoc had locked her in. It was a stark contrast to how he’d last seen her.

Dream took a half step forward, the memory of Daunt’s voice whispering the same thing to him echoed around him as he replied, “You called.”

“They told me you had been imprisoned, just like me,” she said, moving away from the window to step closer. Her eyes never left his face as though she believed he'd leave her here if she looked away now.

“Not like you,” Dream said, his voice strained with pain. “My suffering was nothing compared to yours.”

“Don’t say that. Comparing our suffering only compounds it.” She insisted. Her kindness made Dream want to smile… made him want to embrace her. “It pained me to hear of your misfortune. I’m glad that you are free.”

A look passed over her face, sorrow and something else, as she looked at the locked door. “I know you do not hold the power to free me, only he can do that, but perhaps you might… inspire him to let me go?”

“I will do all that… and more.” The echoes of his darkness radiated through the room.

Calliope sighed. “Dream-”

“He must be punished.”

“How? What punishment could be enough?” She demanded, voice quivering. “Even his death would not bring back what he has taken from me. He’s nothing. He’s just a man.”

Dream’s anger only grew, engulfing even the space in shadows. “I cannot allow him to go free.”

“Why?” Because I was once yours?”

“Because he hurt you.” He drew in a deep breath, his eyes filled with glistening, repressed tears. His anger ebbed, and the painful echoes of their past washed over him like a cloud of mist. “The last time I saw you, you said you would never speak to me again.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I… I did not know where else to turn.”

“You misunderstand me. When I heard you call to me, even after all this time… I was relieved… hopeful…” He cut himself off. “Let me help you. Please. I owe you that much.”

“What will you do to him?”

The darkness in Morpheus’ eyes was enough to answer Calliope’s question. Richard Madoc would pay for his crimes against her. Dream would ensure it. He didn’t wait. When Richard Madoc returned home that morning, Dream was sitting at his desk, back straight and hands in his lap, waiting in a dark and cold rage. The talentless, spineless mortal was truly nothing. Their eyes met as he pulled the bag from his shoulder and dropped it. “What the f… Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house.”

“Be quiet.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t scream or shout, only spoke softly, which was enough not only to send a wave of power through Richard Maddoc but to still his lying tongue entirely. “You’re keeping a woman here against her will. I’ve come to request that you set her free.”

He scoffed, his body moving into a forced casual position. “Are you out of your mind? There’s no woman here. I’m calling the police. Do you know who I am?”

Dream nearly chuckled at the gall the mortal had. “I know precisely who and what you are, Richard Madoc.”

“Are you going to call the police?” He took great pleasure in watching the man shift from forced relaxation to pure fear.

“No, I will not call any human agency. Just let her go.”

Shaking his head, fear nearly spilled from his eyes as he spoke again, rambling words that Dream had no use for, “You don’t understand. I need her. If I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t be able to write, I wouldn’t have ideas. Look, I-I have money!”

“Hold your tongue.” He stood from the chair, slowly, deliberately dragging the movement out to prolong the horror in Richard Madocs eyes. “She has been held captive for more than sixty years. Demeaned, abused, defiled. And you will not set her free because you need ideas? Well… If it’s ideas you want, then you shall have them in abundance.”

The madness didn’t take long to set in the mortal's simple mind. Dream watched with a smile from across the steps of the lecture room. Richard focused on him, ideas spewing from his mouth like an uncontrollable river. Random and never-ending. It wouldn’t be long now.

Dream and Calliope stood in Richard Madoc's living room and watched the girl he’d sent to unlock the door leave the house. The simple gown she’d worn had turned into a long flowy dress, and her hair was now pulled back into an elegant crown of curls as she watched the front door close. She looked like herself again, the soft and tender-hearted muse he’d fallen in love with so long ago.

“It is over.” She said, voice hoarse with suppressed tears as she turned to Dream. “Thank you.”

“I merely answered your call. What will you do now?”

“I think what I must do is to try to make sure that this never happens to anyone else ever again,” she said, moving around the space almost nervously.

“How?”

“I do not know. By inspiring humanity to want better for themselves and each other. By rewriting the laws by which I was held. Laws that were written long ago and which my sisters and I had no say in.”

Dream couldn’t help the swell of pride that made his chest tighten and her determination and spirit. “I shall do the same in my realm.”

“You have changed, Oneiros. In the old days, you would have left me here to rot without turning a hair.” She shook her head. “It is one of the reasons why I called upon Daunt before you…”

His breath stuttered. “You called Daunt?”

Calliope nodded, a sad look causing her face to crease. “Yes. She answered, but she was… different. Ill.” Turning, she looked up at him and sighed. “You already know this, though, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he answered. “I was there when she…”

“She is dead then?”

“No. Just gone.”

With a nod, she smiled. “She will return. Of this, I have no doubt.”

Dream could only cling to that hope as well as he nodded, “Yes, she will.”

“Do you still hate me… for leaving you? For blaming you for what happened?” She whispered -

“No.” The mournful nature of his voice made her look back up at him. “I’ve learned much in recent times, and… No matter. I do not hate you.”

“I think you should release the mortal now. He has set me free. And without forgiveness, wounds will never heal.”

“You would forgive him for what he’s done?” Dream asked, curious more than upset.

“I will not forgive what he has done, but I must forgive the man. Not for him. For me. Will you free him?”

He nodded. “If that is what you wish, it shall be done.”

As the two walked toward the door, she paused as he led Calliope to her freedom. “May I visit you in the Dream Realm sometime?” She asked, looking away from him. “So that we may finally talk about our son… and grieve him properly?”

Orpheus… Their son haunted him still. Perhaps his death would always haunt him. “One day, perhaps, but…”

“I understand.” She tilted her head with a kind smile. “Daunt told me to wait for you. I am glad she was right.”

Tears swelled in his eyes at the mention of her… at the newfound realization that even as she lay weak and dying, Daunt never stopped believing in him. “She was wise even at her lowest point.”

“You’ve fallen in love with her,” Calliope stated.

“I-”

She shook her head, “Do not deny it. I am gladdened that you have found someone to fill the void left behind by so many others. The two of you were cut from similar cloth… I often wondered what kind of pair you’d make.”

Dream only wished they could have found out. “It was unexpected…”

“The best loves are. Thank you, Oneiros. I hope she returns to you quickly. And I… I will not forget this.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, and with a soft sigh, she pressed her forehead to his cheek. “Fare you well. Fortune be with you.”

“Goodbye, Calliope,” he said as she pulled away. The love he’d felt for her all those centuries ago lingered. It always would beneath the hatred and vile sting of past words. He hoped they could find some middle ground, some way to move toward something he now realized he always craved a friend. Hob Gadling was his first; perhaps Calliope could be another.

*

Sirius lay in the tiny house the brothers had built him, head resting upon the pages of the white book that smelt of mist and pine and moss. The pages held small paintings of her within them. Home. He whined softly; the empty space within him only grew as the years passed so far from home. Nothing this dream world could offer him would ever fill that space. It was reserved for home, for his lady. And while his time here hadn't been unpleasant, it wasn't the same… It wasn't where he wanted to be. Nowhere in this plain or any of the others would rid him of this pain.

A howl filled the air, echoing off the walls of his little hut and bringing his ears up. Sirius listened closer this time as more howls drifted on a mist-filled breeze to him. His heart pounded as he stood and began following the mist deep into the sparse trees that hid Cain and Abel’s homes from view. The ground shifted beneath his paws, green filling the spaces of mulch and autumn leaves until it was all he could see. Rich brown trunks filled every direction, and emerald leaves rustled in the mist as they moved, curling around him and washing through his hair to guide him forward.

Home.

Sirius saw silver wisps spring to life in the woods around him as he ran through the moss and the trees. Faint howls filled the empty air as wolves of mist, and glowing eyes of all colors ran beside him. He felt a kinship spark in his chest as each fell into step beside him.

The first had green eyes that matched the trees and the moss. She howled softly before weaving between the trunks and leaping into him, mist falling from his shoulders as the wolf faded away. Others followed after that until a pair of purple eyes caught his attention. This wolf looked like she was smiling as she let out a chuckling howl and dipped behind him, mist curling around his backside and swirling around for a moment. A few more merged until yellow eyes met his. He howled loudly, the sound shaking the blades of grass between them as he jumped high, fading to mist over Sirius’ head and forcing him to stop to shake it out of his eyes.

Up ahead, the mist settled, curling and making shapes in the glen, and there, through the mist, in a bed of white feathers and sparkling silver leaves was her… his lady. The simple white dress swayed as the heavier mist began to roll in through the trees. Sirius' paws dug deeper into the ground as a low whine echoed through the trees as his voice carried to the meadow where she and The Great Tree stood. "My lady…"

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 2: No One Should Be Alone

Part 1 | Part 3

TW: Desire is an asshole, there's not a lot of Dream x Daunt interaction in this part, but it's full of story building so I hope y'all still enjoy it! 🥰

You walked the long path, hands tucked neatly into your sides to avoid brushing up against the the tall hedges on either side of you. Destiny and his garden of forking ways was perhaps your least favorite place to be. The paths led into every unknown location one could imagine and they were quite easy to get lost in, given that their maker rarely came to fetch you even when you'd been summoned. Still, you trusted your feet and followed the path until it led to the courtyard and tall statues of the Endless. You didn't look at them, didn't need to as they all sat around Destiny's long table with a variety of food spread before them. Fuck.

You stopped at the bottom of the stairs, fully intending to turn around and flee before they saw you, but Destiny of course, beat you to it. He stood from his seat, setting a hand on his book, the chain scraping against the table. His misted over eyes met yours as he spoke, "Daunt. Please, join us."

Everyone's heads turned to you, eyes watching, some with kindness and others with nothing. You only moved up the stairs and stopped again, folding your hands behind your back. "Why am I here, Destiny?"

He gestured to the table. "To sit. To eat."

Desire's cackle made your jaw clench together as they took a long drink of their cup. "Are we really going to invite the Mistake to sit?"

Death was the one to send Desire a glare. "Desire!"

They merely shrugged, putting their feet up on the table. "Everyone's thinking it. Not a goddess, not an Endless. Just a cosmic whoopsie."

Your hands tightened behind your back, but your eyes never left Destiny's. "Why am I really here?"

"Because it is so."

Turning on your heel you moved to leave, but the paths ahead were blocked by thick hedges. Heavy footsteps echoed to you and a rough hand extended to take one of yours. Red hair met your gaze as Destruction bent his head down to press a kiss to the back of your hand. His warm eyes met yours, followed by his bright smile. "Lady Daunt. It's good to see you again."

"Destruction," you said, turning toward him. "It's been a while."

"Come. Sit with us, please."

"I'm not an Endless." You reminded him, loud enough that Destiny could certainly hear you as he retook his seat.

Destruction shrugged. "We don't particularly care for the semantics."

A chair materialized next to Dream, who'd barely looked at you for longer than a second. Destruction retook his chair beside Delirium who pouted. "I wanted to sit next to Daunt! She smells like rain and woods."

You moved slowly, taking hold of the back of the chair and dragging it roughly across the stone. The grating noise made everyone wince as you moved it further down the table, forcing it to grow longer to accommodate you, far from everyone else. You took your seat and folded your hands in your lap, not bothering to look at anyone or say anything. If Destiny was going to force you to sit here you'd do just that and then you would leave, with plans to ignore all future calls from him.

The others went on as usual, Desire ruffled Dreams feathers and Death and Destruction tried their best to keep the peace. Destiny was silent, occasionally flipping through his book. Delirium and Despair were polar opposites. Delirium talked and laughed while Despair sat close to her twin and said very little. It was all rather textbook of the odd family, so when Desire moved to stand in front of you, leaning down across the table so you were certain to see their wide grin you were concerned.

Their golden eyes flared as they spoke, "I know a little secret."

"Good for you, we all know how much you enjoy those."

"It's about you, little Mistake," they purred. "I finally put my finger on that pesky desire of yours."

You froze, forcing your breaths to remain even as you stared them down. "It took you a while."

Desire's hair momentarily shifted to black, before returning to normal. "It was so simple too! Far more than I was expecting." They faked a frown. "It's almost... sad how pathetic it was in the end."

"That's enough." It was Dream that spoke, a shock to everyone, you included.

"All you ever desired was an end to your loneliness," Desire continued in spite of their brothers words. Shame and rage filled your lungs but you refused to look away. "It would seem that everyone else sees you just as we do. A Mistake. A whoopsie. A burden."

You ground your teeth together, mist curling around your legs as you slowly stood from your chair, looking at Destiny with a glare. "Is your book satisfied yet?"

He didn't look up from his book, nor did he sound like he particularly cared as he answered, "Yes."

You said nothing else as you turned and left through the first open path that you saw. You could hear the Endless siblings arguing in the distance but you didn't slow, not until you were once again surrounded by the dark emerald of your trees and the cold kiss of your mist, not until you were home again. You stopped walking, bracing yourself against a nearby tree and closing your eyes as tightly as you could to stop the tears from spilling over.

*

"Sorry to keep you waiting out here, I wasn't expecting you." Destruction led you inside his large estate within his realm.

"I didn't mind," you assured him, looking closely at the multitude of failed artwork. "These are new."

He laughed. "New, but just as bad as the others."

You shook your head. "I don't think they're that bad."

"You don't have to lie to him," the gruff voice of Destructions trusty companion, insisted as the shaggy dog trotted toward you. "He knows they're shit."

Barnabas stood on his hind legs and let his paws settle on your shoulders as he licked your cheek and wagged his tail. "I'm trying to be nice."

The dog snorted. "Think they call that pity in the human world."

Destruction shoved the dog off you and rolled his eyes. "Ignore him, he's in a bad mood today."

"Ugh, you smell like Dream. All sandy and bleh." Barnabas grumbled as he walked to his soft cushion bed and settled down, chewing on a bone. "You been spending more time in that Dreaming of his?"

"Some." You said, sitting in a chair at a small table with a chess board on top. Your eyes looked at the pieces, trying to refamiliarize yourself with the game the two of you had stopped. "Though I'm not allowed past his fancy gate."

"Ohhh, he giving you the cold shoulder now?"

"Has he ever given me the warm shoulder before?"

Destruction sat across from you and sighed. "Dream is stubborn and can be rather self important. I'm sure he doesn't mean it to seem cruel." You and Barnabas looked at Destruction and tilted your heads. "Okay, maybe it's meant to be a bit cruel. Dream is..."

"An ass," you offered.

"A twat," Barnabas added.

"Self obsessed."

"A complete know it all."

"A show off."

"Moody."

"Looks like a stick got shoved a bit too far up his ass."

You looked at Barnabas with a smile. "Ooohhh, good one."

The dog bowed his head. "Why thank you!"

Destruction rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Yes, he can be all of those things. But he cares. Far more than I think either of you give him credit for."

"I'll believe that when I see it," you mumbled.

"How are things in The Forest?" your friend tentatively asked.

Your playful demeanor shifted as you cleared your throat. "Fine."

"Daunt, you don't have to lie to me."

"It is how it always is, Destruction. Trees and mist and half dead flowers. There's nothing more to talk about."

He gestured around him. "I think I can understand that."

You shook your head, eyes focusing on the homey features that he'd added to his place, head turning to look down at Barnabas with a sad smile. "Here is different. You have things that are yours, things you've made... even if they are garbage... you have a companion to pass the time with."

"Daunt..."

Breathing out a hot breath you refocused on the board. "Enough chit chat. Where were we last time?"

For a moment it looked like Destruction wasn't going to let it go that easily, but when you looked up at him with a silent plead in your eyes he relaxed his shoulders and played along. "I believe I was kicking your ass at chess."

You smiled brightly. "Ahh yes, you've fallen into my trap then!"

Destruction hummed, placing his hands under his chin. "Just make your move, Daunty."

*

It wasn't often that Dream had his siblings visit his realm, but he always found himself anxious when they did. He made certain everything was in the best of shape and that all of his subjects were on their best behavior. With Lucienne at his side he welcomed Destruction with a tense nod. "Brother, it's a surprise to have you visit."

Destruction smiled and clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "How's the past few years been treating you?"

His dog sniffed around and openly gagged. "Yeah, how's all that sand doing?"

"All has been well," he replied simply, but in the quiet of his own mind he questioned why his brother was here at all.

Destruction looked at Lucienne and smiled brightly. "Lucienne, always a pleasure to see you!"

"You as well, my lord."

"What do you want?" Dream finally said.

Destruction chuckled. "Always straight to the point huh?" Dream's silence spoke the words he did not, and showcased his growing annoyance clear as day. "I need a favor."

"It has been long since you asked for a favor," Dream noted. "What do you need of me?"

"A rock."

"A... Rock?"

"A fancy one," Destruction clarified. "God, I forgot what you called them last time. One of the ones that makes those animals you showed me a while ago."

"A shifting stone?" Dream's eyes narrowed and his brows pinched together. "Why would you need such a thing?"

Destruction shrugged, a moment of rare silence. "I just do... for stuff... reasons... Can you give me one or not?"

Dream hummed quietly, looking discreetly to his librarian before nodding. "I can. Though you know the animals that come of these stones are not normal pets. They have thoughts and wants of their own, sentient beings to be treated with respect."

"I know," he said. "I have no intentions to harm them, if that's your concern."

With another, less stiff, nod Dream pulled his hand through the air, opening his palm to his brother to reveal a small shimmering green stone. "Take care of it."

Destruction took it gently, holding it with a smile and reverence that put Dreams mind at ease. "Thank you, brother."

And just as quickly as he came, Destruction was gone once again, leaving Dream in the peaceful quiet of his realm. For a while he wondered what his brother would do with another pet, but the thoughts faded quickly as he returned to his duties.

The silence of The Forest was all but consuming as you sat and tended to your wilting garden, even knowing it was in vain. Nothing would bloom here... not a flower or new plaid of grass... nothing would be wrought from your fingertips. And nothing would be your legacy. A vast endless plain of plants and trees uninspired to grow further. Stuck. Frozen. Forever daunted into being less than they could.

Barnabas surprised you with a wet lick to the cheek. You giggled and wiped it off with your sleeve. "Barnabas? What are you doing here?"

"The big fella brought me," he turned his head to the path as Destruction stepped over the trees roots with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, waving your hand to help clear his path. "I could have made the walk much easier for you."

Destruction waved off your concern and held his hand out. "I have something for you."

You looked at him with narrow eyes. "What's the occasion?"

"There isn't one. Just open your hand."

Following his instruction you flattened your palm to him, and he dropped a shimmering green stone into it. You could feel power and life swirling inside it, but couldn't place exactly what it was or who made it. "What's this?"

"A very fancy rock," he answered. "It'll take the shape of whatever animal you want it to."

"Why?"

Destruction gave Barnabas a pat on the head. "I understand what it feels like to be alone. The others... they don't really get that, not anymore at least. Death has the humans. Desire has themselves and Despair and vice versa. Delirium has, well everyone, anyone. And Dream has his realm, his people. You and I are the odd men out. The two loneliest of the Endless."

"I'm not an Endless."

"Not the point. I just... I want you to have a companion, you know, for when I can't be around."

You looked up at him with a smile. "Planning on going somewhere?"

Destruction's usually loose smile was stiff as he shook his head and looked away from your face. "No, but still. Go on, give it a try."

It felt a bit foolish, staring down at a rock and waiting for some kind of animal to burst out of it. But, you closed your eyes and thought of nothing in particular at first, clearing your mind to let the stone speak to you... yeah this was defiantly foolish. Warmth radiated from your palm and nearly burnt you as you pulled you hands back and let the stone drop to the ground. You worried it would break, but before it hit the ground a black wolf landed on its feet and curiously sniffed the air before looking up at you.

Emerald eyes glistened up as the wolf sat at your feet. A light but lethal feminine voice spoke, "Are you the one that has summoned me here?"

"Um," you stuttered. "Yes... I suppose I am."

The wolf bowed it's head. "Then I shall remain at your side."

You looked up at Destruction who merely shrugged. "You don't have to, if it's not what you want."

The eyes narrowed. "Want?"

"Yeah, want. If there's something else you'd rather do, or somewhere else you'd rather be you can always go." You looked around and chuckled nervously. "There's not exactly much to do here."

The wolf examined the surrounding woods and made a noise. "You are alone here?"

"Yes."

"Then I shall stay," she insisted. "None should be alone."

You smiled, sitting down onto the mossy ground. "What should I call you then?"

"I have no name, should you wish to gift me one."

"How about Fern?" You suggest, playing with the stunted ferns planted at your sides.

The wolf looked at the plant with wide, curious eyes. "Fern." she repeated. "I quite like the sound of it."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Fern. I'm Daunt."

*

1598

The old tavern was full of voices and noise that made it difficult to hear the one calling out to you. It was rare that humans required a meeting in their own world, but that usually meant their ideas were far too powerful for you to suppress once they'd met them in dreams. So, here you were, lost in the sea of bodies and odd smells, your eyes quietly scanning to find the one you sought out. They lingered on a man sitting at a long table, dressed in fine clothes with his hair done well and his eyes locked onto the door. Not him, you thought moving along. Why is this mortal so difficult to find?

Dream walked into the tavern dressed accordingly, which to him meant better than everyone else, Hob Gadling sat across the crowded tavern and stood once he saw him. "My friend! Sit down. Got in a couple of bottles of good wine for us. Already made a start on 'em."

"Hello Hob," he said as he slid into the open seat.

Hob made a face. "Hob... Faith, that takes me back some few years, It's Sir Robert Gadling now, old stranger."

Dream's brow arched as he watched the man bow dramatically. "You've had good fortune, I take it."

"The gods have smiled on me as they smile on all England where no man is slave or bondsman. Venison pasty?" Hob asked, gesturing to the large plate of pastries. Dream regarded him with nothing more than a pointed look. "No? They're good." He bit into one, groaning with a smile. "Let's see. Last we spoke, I was working with Billy Caxton. Made some gold from that. Put it to work in Henry Tudor's shipyards. I made a small pile. Then I went north for a year or so, came back as my son. Done that twice now."

He watched Hob Gadling hold a pitcher out without even regarding the woman he addressed, "Girl, more wine. When fat Henry had gone for the monasteries, I bought my estates, and a healthy gift of gold to the Crown saw to... a knighthood." He laughed, eyes wide with pride. "That's not all! Here. My fair Eleanor and little Robyn. My first born son in over 200 years on this Earth, that I know of."

Dreams lips twitched into a momentary smile as he looked down at the portrait. Finally, something of substance that might finally make this mortal wish for death. Hob looked at the picture fondly. "It's funny. This is what I always dreamed heaven would be like, way back. It's safe to walk the streets. Enough food. Good wine. Life is so rich."

"God's wounds!" Dream's head turned to the voice. "If only I could write like you!"

Your head snapped to the side, where a thin man with a glistening earring had stood up. "In... In Faustus, when you wrote, "To God? He loves thee not. The God thou servest is thine own appetite, wherein is fixed to the love of Beelzebub. To him, I'll build a alter in the church and offer up lukewarm blood of new-born babes.""

The tavern erupted into cheers as you smiled at the familiar face. Will. I should have known. You made your way through the crowd, towards his dimly lit table where he spoke with his friend of his deepest wishes to be as successful as he was. "Hello, Will."

He turned his head, bright eyes looking up at you with a fading smile. "Do I... know you?"

"In a sense," you said as he stood to get a better look at your face. "That was quite a performance."

He chuckled bashfully. "Oh, thank you... It was nothing."

"No, it was beautiful."

"One day I hope to be able to preform my own works before the mases."

You smiled, sadly and nodded. "I know. Your ideas are beautiful. I've not seen anything like them."

His eyes narrowed as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a glint of recognition. "I've seen you before... In my dreams. You... You stop them, the ideas why?"

"I don't know," you admitted.

"Will I ever be a great playwrite?"

You took hold of his hand. "Keep trying, Will. And maybe one day those brilliant ideas of yours will be what people preform in old taverns." With a sigh you pressed your lips to his cheek, letting the fog roll over his mind and erase your presence entirely. "For now, it's time to forget."

Dream had inquired about the little man with big dreams, but truly he'd stopped listening at the sight of white hair moving through the crowd. Daunt. She spoke with the man, this Will Shaxberd, gracing him with small smiles and light touches. When her lips pressed to the mans cheek Dream felt his hands clench together at the simple yet intimate gesture. He didn't understand how no one else seemed to take note of her, the way her light white dress flowed as she moved, the sight of her soft skin glowing beneath the firelight, the lightness in her voice... Everyone should have been looking at her. Yet, Dream was glad he was the only one that seemed to be. Daunt departed and he found himself rising, moving toward this Will. If she was here, giving him her attention in the Waking World and not dreams then his ideas must have some kind of merit.

It felt better to be back in dreams, here at least you could go mostly unnoticed without resorting to shielding yourself. You watched the poor dreamer look through the woods with wide and desperate eyes, in search of the path to their beloved ideas. This dream felt a bit too close to home, as you remembered when you'd first found yourself in The Forest. Lost and afraid, with none to call to for help. A black figure settled in beside you, Dream's power washing over you like a tidal wave and causing you to tense. "I've not seen you in a while."

You didn't look at him. "Last I remember, I was no longer worthy of an audience with the great King of Dreams."

"Last I remember, you were throwing me out of your realm." He mused.

"Perhaps you deserved it." You suggested.

"Perhaps." You turned your head to him at last, eyes wide and unbelieving as his words settled around you. Dream never admitted he was wrong, never even came close to it. Your eyes drifted down his tall figure, heat washing through you at the sight of his form fitting leather attire, the dream stone ruby glimmering in the light. You looked back up to his face, his hair was longer, slicked back and those eyes... his damn eyes watched you with light amusement. "Or perhaps you were acting brashly."

There it was. You rolled your eyes and turned your head away, shoving the odd feelings deep into your gut. "What do you want?"

"Must I want something?"

"Don't you always?" You question. "I believe your favorite demand is 'leave my dreamers alone' or something of the sort."

He nodded, folding his hands behind his back. "I do want that, but it seems unlikely you'll listen."

Listen? As if this were your choice. "I've little say in the matter."

"So you've said."

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"It would not be against your nature, would it?"

A low growl echoed from within the fog, drawing both of our eyes to the emerald eyes and the black wolf that they belonged to. "Do you wish his throat torn open, Lady Daunt?"

"No, Fern, unfortunately that will not be necessary." You turned, gesturing the creature to follow. "We were just leaving."

Dream's hand grabbed your wrist quickly. "Where did you get this beast?"

You pulled it free of his grasp. "She was a gift from your brother if you must know." The look in his eyes was different than usual, but you ignored it and shrugged your shoulder. "On to the next, I suppose."

The next dream was darker, not a dream at all but rather a nightmare. You only took a step or two forward before you fell into a strangers chest, the soft color of his suit faded beneath your touch. His hands steadied you as you looked up to find two extra rows of teeth staring down at you. He was one of Dreams Nightmares. "Forgive me, Nightmare, things like this tend to happen when I touch some of Dreams creations."

He merely smiled. "It's no problem. Besides, I kinda like the white, don't you?"

"It certainly brings out your eyes," you remark with a smile.

"Why thank you, kind lady. You're not like him, Dream that is, are you?"

"No," you replied quickly. "I'm quite literally the opposite."

His smile grew wider. "You got a name?"

"Daunt."

The nightmare tipped his hat to you, bowing with the gesture. "A pleasure."

"And do you have a name?"

"They call me The Corinthian."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Corinthian," you said holding your hand out to him.

He took it and gave it a firm shake. "Believe me, the pleasure is all mine."

[thepaintedlady00]

Complete Chapter Index:

Taglist

Ask

No One Should Be Alone

A Dream of Starlight

Dance of the Lady and the King

Desire and Loss

Cursed Touch

Visions In White

The Mist Waits

The Last Star

Be Still, My Bleeding Heart

Memory

The Endless and The Forest Queen

An Eye For An Eye

Hell Hath No Fury

Forget Me Not

Character Spotlights:

Daunt Collage

Chapter 3 - Daunts Gown

Burden Rewrite Content:

Rewrite Preview 1

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

Chapter 11: Memory

TW: Lots of emotions this chapter! Fluff, some angst, lots of descriptions and some mildly confusing text. Enjoy y'all, I love this chapter! 🥰

In the beginning, there was a tree. It was a sapling of thin branches and leafs so small that anyone that stumbled upon it would hardly know they were there. This tree, the first tree, dug its roots deep into the earth, so deep they spanned across realms, touching every one of them in some way. It grew taller and more beautiful to behold every passing day, and its roots were filled with Destiny, Death, Dreams, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delight.

The tree held the knowledge of all things within its being. It watched the world shape and twist with each phase of the moon and the new rising of each sun. The tree absorbed each word, every look of a mother to her babe or lovers sharing intimate moments beneath the privacy of its leaves. And then came the song, the first song it had ever heard. That was when everything changed.

Not long after the tree heard the melody, it was cut, but its roots had burrowed deep, welding itself to the world and the world to it. What should have been the end of its life and all the knowledge it held within instead became the beginning. One beginning, anyway. One of your beginnings.

The tree, soon known as The Great Tree, forged its own realm. A realm of mist and water and trees as far as the eye could see, all connected to its strong roots. It was different, though, lesser. Lesser because you were missing from it.

You would awaken in the dark and terrifying forest beneath a canopy of trees and a skyless realm. You would be alone, afraid, and uncertain about who and what you were. You would follow the only sounds you could hear; the dreamers burdened with great fears and daunting tasks that came with living.

The life you’d know was not the one you were meant for. It was a small, fleeting thing that always longed to return to a larger whole. You wouldn’t question it, though. None would, for what is more daunting to face than memory?

You awoke in a meadow of moss and tufts of grass. The sky above you was shrouded in thick mist and covered by a canopy of vivid green leaves. As you sat up, looking at your hands and the pale hair that ran through your fingers, you realized you should have felt afraid, but you didn’t. You knew this place… You were one with it.

Walking through the thicket of trees, whose roots moved and curled out of your path, you could hear them speak. Their voices were soft, full of joy and pain and life. Every tree was different, some with darker trunks and others with lighter leaves, but all had faces. Faces that you knew… Ones you’d seen before somewhere. You could feel every living thing, all connected to you, all a part of you - an extension of yourself. But… Who were you?

This body of soft flesh and silken hair felt foreign. You knew it, and it knew you, but the details were blurry. A sound, soft and strange, echoed around you. Hoo. Your eyes lifted to one of the branches of the trees you walked beneath, and there, perched upon it, sat a strange-looking beast. A bird. An owl. Its golden feathers swirled with burning embers and winds of mist as it beat its wings down at you. Hoo. Hoo. 

As you took another step forward, it swooped down, washing heat over you as it curved in the air and flew off into the distance. You felt a pull, a voice yours but not telling you to follow after it. How? You thought. It’s flown so far now I cannot see it. Looking up at the covered canopy of trees, you sighed. How you wished you’d had wings. Then you could soar above the treetops and mist and find your way. Mist curled around your legs, and before you could do much more than look down at it, you were transformed… no longer a soft body of skin and hair but a small thing of feathers and talons.

Hopping on your shorter, thinner legs, you peered down at your reflection in a small pool of nearby water. A long thin beak glimmered in the water as the pale eyes of a white raven stared back at you. For a moment, you just stood there, admiring the agile wings and thick feathers, when eventually, your eyes were drawn to a small black tuft hiding in the white above your heart. You looked familiar. More familiar than simple memories of birds, something personal and essential lingered within the small patch of black, but you couldn’t quite place it. 

The water rippled as the misty breeze grew stronger, lifting you by the wings and telling you to fly. And fly you did. Shooting through the leaves of the trees like a star, you soared high above the woods of mist, looking down at the endless plane of trees that stretched far beyond your eyes could see. Mountains and plentiful lakes and waterfalls split up the landscape and further revealed the beauty of this world before you. The wind beneath your feathers made you feel free as you continued forward, weightless.

Hoo! The noise came again as the owl dove from above, flying directly into your path and continuing forward, wanting you to follow. As you did, the pull you felt grew tighter and tighter until the figure of a tall white trunk came into view, and the sparkling silver leaves glistened in the misty sky like stars. The Great Tree… Images flashed before your eyes, memory filling your being as you dove down and slammed against the earth, you again. You stood, eyes gazing up at the intricately carved wood of the trunk, words, and symbols you knew but had never seen with these eyes before. The pale roots groaned as they shifted beneath the earth, lifting up to curl against your cheeks and through your hair. Welcome home, the tree seemed to say. 

“My lady…” A host of voices echoed through the trees behind you, each one familiar, filled with so much love and sorrow and you.

Turning, you were met with silver wisps of faces long gone from your side. Wolves with glowing eyes, purple, green, yellow, and every color in between, filled the empty spaces between the trees, running toward you. And there, solid among them, was one shining blue eye that held every memory, every moment you needed to know the creature rushing toward you. Tears build in your eyes as you smiled, “My star… My Sirius!”

He was quick as he ran through the trees, hopping over roots and stones until his soft body slammed into you. You could hear him speaking in a flurry of wet kisses and happy whimpers. “I missed you so much!” He said. “Never leave again, promise!”

You held onto him tighter, hugging the companion you’d been forced to leave behind while you were reborn. Flashes and fragments of the life you’d lived together washed over you like an endless wave that made everything clear. “I will not leave you again.” You told him, pulling back to hold onto his face and look into his eye, gently stroking a finger down the scar on his face. “Not ever.”

*

“He’s gone, sir,” Lucienne told him as she moved to his side. “Cain and Abel have searched the forest, but there’s no sign of him.”

Dream ran his fingers over the white book, closing his eyes to hold onto the fleeting visions of her. He could hear the faint beating of her heart, could see her smile and her hair glowing in the moonlight. For one moment, it felt like Daunt was alive still, here beneath his fingertips l, laughing and smiling and living alongside him.

Opening his eyes to the dull little house that now stood empty, Dream merely said, “It is unlikely he will return. We shall continue our search elsewhere, for if he remained in The Dreaming, I would sense it.”

“You think the wolf has gone to the Waking World?”

“Perhaps,” he answered, grip tightening on the book as he turned to his librarian and held it out to her. “I believe this belongs in the library.”

With watery eyes, she smiled. “You could keep it for a while… To feel closer to her… Until she returns.”

Dreams jaw clenched. “No. Even then, she will not be the Daunt either of us knew.”

“You fear she will not remember us?” Lucienne pondered sadly.

“I fear a great deal, Lucienne…” He admitted. “Take it. It belongs among the other books.”

She bowed her head as he passed, fading from the brothers’ garden to sit upon his throne with a single chilled piece of parchment in his hands. The parchment the book had spit at his feet. The parchment that held Daunt’s ethereal white hair and dark eyes and smile and everything he missed about her more than words could ever measure. It had been no time at all, to him of all beings, and yet it had felt like eons had passed without her, without even the comforting knowledge that she was alive and happy elsewhere, safe, even if not beside him. He could recall every detail about her, yet he could remember none. He could recall kissing her, but the feeling of that memory was now replaced with a sense of deep sorrow.

Daunt, his Daunt, was gone. He knew not when her spirit would return, nor did he know what to expect once it did. But, the reality remained the same. Whoever came to replace her would not be the being he knew. His greatest fear was that Dream of The Endless had wasted what little time he’d been given with the being known as Daunt, the being he loved, with vile words and cruelty to realize too late what should have always been clear. They were meant to be together. Dream and Daunt.

*

You and Sirius sat beneath the silver leaves of The Great Tree for a long while, making up for the time lost. When the two of you finally let the other go, you stood, examining the tree trunk and the markings carved there. The largest was a woman carved in gold with delicate features and a pair of antlers growing from her head. The carving swirled and faded into the second, a woman carved in white with stoic, almost sad features. Then, finally, it mixed again, gold and white weaving together to form the third carved woman of silver with leaves of emerald in her hair and a soft smile on her face.

Pressing your hand to the tree, your fingers running over the edges of woven gold and white, you looked up at the leaves and surrounding area. This was you. Your home and your realm, but it was Sirius’ too. With that thought, more carved figures appeared on either side of the tree; black wolves with bright eyes of every color appeared, swirling around until they all met with a white wolf with one blue eye. Sirius lifted his head to the carvings. “This is your history.”

“Our history,” you corrected. “This home is yours as much as it is mine. And now it is time to make that home one both of us are proud of.”

The tree sang beneath your palm, roots quivering as it twisted and took the shape you willed. Mist swirled all around, lifting and pulling and bending the realm. Finally, when all fell silent again, you stood at the tree’s base, its roots curled up into elegant archways, accentuating a fine path of stone, moss, and flowers. The earth behind you cracked and fell away, a crevice of glowing crystals separating The Great Tree from the rest of The Forest as the roots of the surrounding trees twined together to create a bridge behind you.

A tall entryway was carved into the now hollow tree, with the engraved women of gold, white, and silver resting above it. The gold owl dove through the doorway, gliding gracefully up the small set of stairs and onto the chandelier of golden-hued crystals and vines. Hoo. You and Sirius walked into the now large room, marveling at the tall windows that now helped illuminate the space. A large pool of water filled with red flowers and fish, large and small, separated the area. All around the pool were dark statues of wolves adorned with vined plants that bore different colored flowers, purple, yellow, and green, all humming with residual life. Standing tall across the water, a towering statue of a woman caught your eyes. Her head rested on the part of the tree while she sat, holding a vase of endless white and sparkling mist that poured out over a large dome of hedges and turned to water, running off the sides and into the pool. 

The hedges were wild and grew in lumpy shapes with twisted vines holding them tightly together, creating a canopy over a seat of curved wood, twisting high into antler-like patterns, and soft moss and flowers of every shape and color. As you took another step forward, a bridge of lily pads and white flowers formed beneath your feet, allowing you across the water to stand before the seat. Your hands traced the wood, admiring the softness of it beneath your palms. 

Sounds echoed around the tree as ghostly figures began to flow through the air and into the large room. Beside you, Sirius growled, baring his teeth at the odd brings that hovered, waiting. You could hear the sounds they made, voices without words, but the golden owl now spoke.” Sit the throne, Queen of The Emerald Wood.”

“What?” You whispered.

“Become that which you were always meant to be,” The owl replied.

Looking at Sirius for a moment, you moved, gently easing yourself into the chair. The figures bowed, mist swirling from you to them and pulsing with a faint light. The owl bowed, and then your mighty companion smiled, bowing as low as he could with his blue eye filled with pride. The ground trembled below you as branches and small roots curled down from the hedgehog canopy to twine around your head, blooming into small flowers of light blue and rich leaves. Vines wound crystals into the modest circle that now crowned your head.

You were the ruler of this realm now. You were, at last, all you were meant to be. The tree groaned around you as stairs formed above the statue, and rooms, archways, stairs, and balconies stretched up the length of the tree as far as your eyes could see. A palace for all the spirits that now stood before you. Their faces felt familiar, but one stood out among them. A man of tanned skin and curly black hair with caring eyes and a soft smile. He bowed his head to you as he approached. “It’s good to see you so… not terrifying.”

“Forgive me,” you replied, tilting your head. “Have we met?”

The man laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not entirely sure. All this… Supernatural stuff is kind of new to me.”

You laughed with him. “As it is to me.”

“Hector,” he said. “My name is Hector.”

The name brought back flashes of a cracking home, a woman crying out his name… Her eyes looking at you in fear. And a voice, deep and rich and endless, echoed in your mind speaking a name. “Daunt.” It sounded wrong… Loud and filled with a wave of seething anger you’d not ever know. More voices followed it, more words of cruelty, but that voice spoke loudest.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Hector.”

Looking around at the newly established palace, he smiled. “It’s quite a beautiful place you’ve got here. I hope I’ll be able to add to it.”

You smiled. “I’m certain everyone here has a purpose. We shall work together to discover it, but in the meantime, please make yourself - all of yourselves,” you addressed the group now, “at home. You may go where you wish and do what you wish.”

Hector bowed his head again. “Thank you, fair lady.”

The owl swooped down in place of the man and hooted loudly. “My lady. I am known as The Katyogel. I’ve come to offer you council should you find yourself in need of it.”

“Do you have a name?” You asked her.

“The Kayyogel is the only name I’ve known.”

“I shall call you Kat then if it pleases you.”

Her golden feathers shimmered brighter for a moment. “I shall bear it with pride, your grace.”

As the three of you walked the grounds of the newly established palace, helping guide spirits to locations they could build upon, you heard a strange noise. The sound echoed through the trees, cutting through the mist and urging your feet forward until you stood at the base of a young tree with soft bark and a young feminine face. It was crying, tears of thick amber sap. You stepped closer, and the tree’s roots curled away from the ground into an archway, revealing a set of earthy steps leading down below. Following the way down, you found yourself underground in a passageway lit by small glowing plants hanging from the tree’s roots, glowing different colors as you passed. A light lay ahead, filled with mist and blurred shapes. 

As you exited the path, climbing another set of stairs, you found a graveyard surrounding you. The sounds of birds echoed in the distance, but there, weeping over a torn bit of fabric, a young woman looked down at the gravestone in front of her. “I’m so sorry… I should have been more careful with it. You were always telling me to be careful with it.”

Kat swooped down from the mist and perched herself on the headstone as Sirius walked closely by your side. The closer you got, the more defined the haze of lights hovering over her head became. An array of laughter and tears and angry shouts. Memories. Her memories. Her head snapped up, and her tearful eyes found yours. “Who are you?”

You still didn’t have an answer to that question… so you continued forward as a name rolled off your tongue. “Kristina.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know it because I have watched you grow. You were always a small sapling, sick more often than the others, but you grew to be strong. Your roots run deep beneath the earth, connecting to so many of those around you.” Looking down at the headstone, at the name you knew to be her mothers, you smiled. “Hers especially.”

Kristina cried even harder, holding the torn and discolored fabric to you. “Can you fix it? It was hers… her favorite scarf, and I’ve ruined it.” She sobbed loudly. “She told me to be gentle with it, and I’ve… This is all I have left of her.”

You stood before her now, looking down at the sad fabric with a sorrowful gaze. “I cannot fix it, but you are wrong. This small, real thing is not the last of her. You hold all of her within you. Every piece that you need.”

Leaning over, you pressed a kiss to her head, fingers combing through the array of memories hovering around her, pulling her mother from them and bringing the moments she’d forgotten to light. Below your lips, Kristina laughed, and her tears turned to ones of joy. The memories of her and her mother, of the deep and unbreakable love they’d shared and would continue to share, shone over the loss she felt so profoundly. “She is always with you.”

The woman looked up, wrapping the scarf around her neck and holding onto it lovingly. “Thank you, Munin.”

A chord struck within you. Munin… Memory… that was who you were. Sirius looked up at you as Kristina walked away. “Munin?” He asked. “What does it mean?”

“Memory,” you answered. “It means memory.”

“Memory?” Sirius questioned quietly. “Does it hold any meaning to you, my lady?”

“It is my name.” You looked down at him and smiled. “I am Munin, the Keeper of Memory.”

*

As the months passed, your kingdom grew. Nearly every spirit you found within your realm had a home, a place of their own built from the memories they knew in their past lives. Your domain filled with creatures of all shapes, colors, and sizes. Plants grew everywhere you walked, and all within your realm adored you, the fair Lady Munin. It was all more than you expected and could have hoped for, yet something was missing. You could feel an absent space within you. Dark and deep and longing… 

The longer you tried to uncover the feeling, the stronger it seemed to grow until you found yourself unable to think of anything else. You walked beneath the arched roots, admiring the carvings when suddenly, an image took shape beneath one. The markings on the root glowed a rich greyish-brown color, and before your eyes stood tall, neatly trimmed hedges and the distant rattling of a chain. You stepped forward, gently pressing your hand to the thin barrier, and felt the smooth sensation of water rippling over your fingers. You knew this palace, this maze… no, this garden. Destiny. Stepping forward, you entered the realm without resistance and began walking along the path until you emerged in the garden’s center. 

The Garden of Forking Ways was a place you could never forget. It was beautiful in a simplistic way that made you take notice of the most minor details. Perhaps that was what Destiny had in mind when he’d created it, or perhaps the Endless being was simply simple. You turned, looking up at the tall statues that depicted the other Endless, his siblings. Most of whom you knew little of… passing, fleeting sounds and sensations but nothing solid enough for you to feel anything while you examined their faces. That was until you got to Desire. 

Even the simple sight of their smile made your body curl and your bones ache. You remembered that smile standing over you. You recognized their golden eyes burning with anger as they plunged a silver dagger through your heart and the sounds of your beloved Sirius’ pain as he fought them off. Desire of The Endless was a face you could never forget; no matter how long or how many lifetimes you’d pass through, theirs would always be the face of pain.

“Munin,” a deep voice echoed through the maze as Destiny appeared behind you. “I welcome you.”

“Destiny,” you replied, turning to look at him. His height was the most imposing thing about him. Tall and blank-faced, he looked at you from beneath his brown robes. Thin pages of memories fluttered between his head and the book he was tethered to, streaming together in an endless turning of pages. “It is an honor to be allowed an audience.”

The chain linking him to his book rattled as he gestured toward a seat at his table. “The honor is mine.”

You did not sit or move as you asked, “I take it you know why I am here.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Many that feel lost have come to my garden.”

“And how many have left feeling found?” You wondered aloud.

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “I am not a being of lost or found.”

“You are a being of riddles and questions,” you said with a smile. “I suppose it was foolish of me to expect you to answer mine.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

Turning away from him, you looked back at the statues, one in particular flooding you with cruel words and insults in that loud and consuming voice. “Which of your siblings is this?”

“Dream,” he answered, sitting at the table. “You know him well. Or rather, you did in your past life.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “I recall some of it, but much it would seem, has been lost.” Then, turning back to him, you narrowed your eyes. “His realm and mine are close, are they not?”

“Yes,” Destiny said, his tone never shifting. “Where there are dreams, memory will always follow.”

You caught onto the unspoken suggestion quickly. Looking up at the statue of the Endless being again, you were once again met with the tidal wave of cruel words and insults spewed at you, or rather at her… at that name, the being you felt but no longer knew. “You would have me approach a being I have only heard speak ill of me and mine?” Then, turning, you looked back at Destiny with a sharp look. “Surely you jest.”

Destiny was not known for such things. Even you knew this. With a simple shrug and the quiet rustling of pages turning, Destiny replied, “You are the one in search of something, not I.”

“Does this brother of yours even have what I’m looking for?”

“Perhaps.”

You shook your head, looking back at his statue with a sigh. “Why did you not tell me… her… that we were more than forgotten things and intimidating memories?”

Destiny’s misty eyes met your own. “She needed to experience this life as she did for you to be as you are. Munin. Memory. The first being of remembrance and knowledge. What is written is and will be. Not even I have the power to change that.”

“I still very much dislike speaking with you, Destiny,” you said, bowing your head to the old Endless. “But I thank you for this talk of ours.”

Fading away into the mist-filled hedges, you found the rippling portal and returned to The Forest. Sirius stood waiting, his eye brightening with relief as you walked down the cobbled path and back to his side. “Where were you?”

“Speaking to an old man in hopes he would answer my question.”

“Well, did this old man know what was missing?”

“Of course he did,” you answered. “Though he did not tell me, nor did he intend to. As always.”

Sirius growled lowly. “Perhaps I could have convinced him had you waited for me to accompany you.”

Chuckling, you shook your head at the wolf. “None can intimidate Destiny, not even a fearsome creature such as yourself, my star.”

“What now?”

You looked up at the growing kingdom across the woven bridge, at the glittering palace molded into The Great Tree, rays of moonlight illuminating the silver leaves and casting every living being in a soft glow. It was more than you’d ever hoped for… more than you could have possibly imagined. The spirits continued to build their homes, joyful and unafraid of this realm they now called home. Before you were you, this was all you’d ever wanted. A home filled with laughter and warmth and light and beauty. But now that you had it… now that it stood right before you, it was missing something. That cursed thing that your mind and soul simply could not name. Perhaps the only way you’d be able to discover the meaning of this feeling was to seek it out in the land of Dreams. 

“Now, we pay a visit to The Dream King.”

“Him?” Sirius groaned, looking up at you with a look of disdain. “Why would we need to visit him and his sand?”

You sighed, walking toward the roots linking your world with his. “I do not know, but perhaps he can… inspire me to reveal what is still missing from our world. Or better yet, he has a vast library of knowledge. The answer could yet be within one of his books.”

Sirius rolled his eye. “That’s not likely to be a quick affair. The Dream King is an awry sort.”

“I remember little of him,” you admitted, thinking of how his deep, silken voice sounded as it cursed you. “Only fleeting words spoken in anger and filled with something deeper…”

“It is no secret your past with Dream of the Endless is… complicated,” Sirius offered. “I saw only glimpses of it, but as you’ve said before, they are hidden even from you. Perhaps that is what is missing?���

“I do not know why those memories have been erased from me, but whatever the reason may be, we must trust in the will of The Forest.”

You walked among the carved roots for a moment, looking over the deep runes of red, gold, and brown until you came upon the rich blue that lined his name. Dream of the Endless. Your fingers ran along the smooth carvings as they glowed beneath your fingertips, running up the tree trunk and bringing the star-filled portal into The Dreaming before you. Then, looking over at the owl atop the root, you nodded. 

“Coming, Kat?” Her golden wings shimmered as she spread them, gracefully falling into the portal and appearing in the sky on the other side. You looked down at Sirius, who huffed loudly. “You can stay here if you wish.”

“And leave you to deal with the Nightmare King by yourself? Never, my lady.” He stepped into the portal, vanishing into a mist that swirled behind The Katyogel.

You leaned into the tingling of the portal, slowly easing your way through the water-like barrier and onto the other side in the form of the white raven. You, Kat, and Sirius soared through the night sky for a moment before you dove down toward the glittering gold roofs of the Dream Lords palace, nearly crashing into a blurred figure of black wings that shrieked as you passed. You cawed loudly before swooping down through the palace doors as they opened to you and shifted back, leaving a trail of white wings floating in your wake.

*

“Boss!” Matthew hollered, swooping over the shelves and crashing into the library table.

“Matthew!” Lucienne scolded.

“Sorry! Sorry! Boss, you didn’t happen to make a like huge bird, did you?”

Dream tilted his head in confusion, closing the book he held. “A huge bird? I’ve no idea what you mean.”

The raven cawed loudly. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“What is going on?” Lucienne asked.

“I was flying, you know, as I do… Bird and all…” His feathers ruffled. “But then outta nowhere, this huge fucking white bird swooped down. Nearly crashed into me! Unimportant, anyway, it was headed for the palace doors. Figured that was a bad sign, so I came to find you.”

It made little sense. This creature, wherever it came from, should have left a trace that alerted him of its presence. Dream set the book down on the table and turned toward the throne room with Matthew in tow. This could very well be some kind of trick… A misunderstanding or perhaps a message from another realm. As he walked, he saw glistening white feathers glide across the marble floor. His steps quickened with a deep-rooted tense feeling filling his chest, his mouth open and ready to let lose the frustrated words fueled by it when everything stopped. Dream froze between the pillars, looking up at his throne or rather the figure standing in front of it. 

The stained glass windows cast an ethereal light over her pale visage. Long white hair twisted down her back in intricate braids and curls that reminded him of the roots and gnarled branches of the trees her realm had once been full of. Her long gown was white with glittering adornments of silver that twinkled and glowed as she moved. On her shoulder, an owl of golden wings and wide eyes shining with embers was perched, watching him for a long moment before twisting its head to look at the face of its master. 

Dream took a step forward, drawn to her being more so now than ever. Her head turned, and wide bright eyes, sparkling with hues of swirling molten silver and gold, met his. Daunt… She looked different, lighter… Unburdened.

Sirius treaded the thin space between his lady and the straight drop off the platform, his blue eye watching Dream closely, oddly absent of his usual look of disdain. “You stand in the presence of Lady Munin. Ruler of The Forgotten Ones. Princess of The Silverleaf. Keeper of Memory. And Queen of The Emerald Wood.” Pride filled him at the many titles she’d held, all of which she deserved more than any other. “You will show her the proper respect, or I shall rid you of your eyes.”

The girl, Munin, tore her eyes away from him to look down at the beast. “Sirius, we are guests.”

He was so caught up in the beautiful melody of her voice that he’d almost missed the wolf’s huff. “He’s heard far worse, I’d imagine. And I doubt that his tongue is clean of ill-spoken words.”

“Forgive my companion,” she said, looking back at him with a delicate dip of her head, the wooden crown of crystals, emerald leaves, and soft blue flowers… forget me nots, catching his eyes. “You are The King of Dreams?”

Pain exploded through his soul, shattering every hope and the misguided notion he’d clung to these few, long years she was gone. She did not remember him.

*

He stood out against the light, airy nature of the room. Clad in a long dark cloak that looked to be lined with starlight and an array of cosmos within it, the Dream Lord was not what you’d expected… not what you’d remembered in the hazy and fleeting moments you’d seen in memories. The statue in Destiny’s garden made him look so regal… so proud and snobby, but as you gazed down at him from the high platform taking in the mess of black hair and the simple clothes and the way his eyes sparkled… the way that heavy gaze made your skin burn, he did not seem the same. Instead, his lips pursed into a thin line as his hands clenched at his sides, glittering stars of memory shining like a crown around his head, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

In a puff of mist, you teleported down to stand before him, eyes raised to the twinkling memories that only seemed to expand the longer you looked. Walking around him with a bright smile, you held your hand to them, brushing your fingers along the small things and watching each one. “Your memory is so beautiful,” you complimented, plucking one from its place in his crown and cradling it in your hands, willing the small ball of light to expand and reveal that which it held. 

The Dream Lord looked at your hands with wide eyes as the memory played for him. “How…”

Looking back up into his deep, endless eyes, you smiled. “Memory is always unique in the shapes and forms it takes, but I’ve never seen ones that look like this before. An endless crown of stars, all your memories displayed so proudly. It suits you, Dream of the Endless.”

“You can see my memories. How?” He said a bit more coldly.

“I can’t see all of them,” you admitted, lifting the star back into its place and looking deep within the host of being that lay before you. “As to how memories are my function. They are me, and I am them.”

“Memory,” he whispered voice light yet filled with depths you did not understand. 

The darker memories caught your eye, swirling around the temple of his crown in a black hole, holding inside it a seemingly endless pit of dark things. They were memories he’d wished to forget… wounds that never healed. You gently pulled one from the black and twisted it between your fingers, pulling to expand it, revealing a small glass cage, glowing the golden runes of dark magic… a thin and weak being trapped within it with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.

It felt different, heavy as you beheld it. Something lingered inside, a familiar sense of you… of the being, you’d once been. “For so long, you sat in silence… desperate, pleading… hoping for someone to come for you. So angry and hurt and full of sorrow that they knew and yet… no one came.” With a deep furrow of your brows, you stroked a thumb along the edges of the cage, feeling it rattle beneath the pad of your finger. “I know this pain.”

Pale hands shot out and gripped your wrist tightly, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips as you looked up. You saw a field filled with shadow and darkness and two glowing eyes baring into yours as you wept. “Was it not your touch that did this?” That voice, his voice, seethed at you. For a moment, you could feel the bones shift beneath your skin… gripped so tightly you thought they’d snap in two. “Everything you touch spoils… Everything you speak to is corrupted by your words. All of this is your doing. Another burden upon my shoulders for me to remedy.”

You pulled your wrists away from his touch as tears swelled in your eyes, and the misty vision faded, revealing the soft light of the throne room and the equally soft eyes of the Dream Lord as he watched you with a tearful gaze. “Apologies,” He said in a strangled voice. “That… that is a memory I’ve no wish to relive again.” Nodding, you cautiously lifted your fingers to it, lifting it back into place with the others. His eyes fell to your wrist. “Did I harm you?”

You touched the chilled skin with still slightly shaking fingers and shook your head. “No.”

Sirius moved to your side, perching himself up to sniff the wrist you held with a low growling and a sharp look toward the being before you. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you repeated softly, pulling yourself from the distant echoes to smooth your hands over his head, lovingly rubbing his ears. “Be still, my star. I am well.”

Pressing his head to your chest, the growls of your companion subsided. Dream bowed his head to you, reverent and almost mournful. “You are most welcome in my realm, Lady Munin.”

“Thank you, Dream of The Endless.” You bowed your head.

“Morpheus,” he replied, emotion filling his eyes in an instant. “You may call me Morpheus.”

With a curt nod, you tested the name on your tongue, “Lord Morpheus. It suits you well.”

“My lord!” A voice called from the long hallways behind the Dream Lord. “Have you found the creature? Or shall I- Sirius!” The woman with dark glowing skin and two wide eyes looking out from behind a set of round eyeglasses stopped in her tracks as her gaze fell upon Sirius, who’d moved to meet her. She smiled, stroking his fur, and shook her head. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you for ages. Where have you been?”

Your wolf nuzzled her cheek for a moment before turning to look up at you. “Home.”

The woman looked up, her eyes instantly filling with tears as she smiled. “Oh!” She stood, moving quickly to wrap her arms around you and pull you in close. 

A warm sensation filled your chest as the smell of old books and ink filled your nose. Your hands settled tentatively on her back as fond memories of you, and the librarian filled your mind and hers. You held her tighter and whispered her name, “Lucienne…”

“Lady Daunt,” she said softly. Then, pulling away, she looked at your face, slowly realizing you were different from who she had known. “It is so good to see you.” 

“Daunt…” You whispered, memories of a life yours and yet not. Voices whispering cruel things in your - her ears. Your hand lifted to your chest, to the thin scar, the mark of her left on you. “That was my name. Her name. I am her, and yet I am not.”

Lucienne tilted her head and squeezed your hand with a sad but equally hopeful look. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I hope you and I can be close… like we were before.”

You bowed your head to her with a smile. “You already are my friend, Lucienne. The memories I’ve seen have told me such.”

“I am honored.”

Looking around, you beheld the misty figures wrought into shape in your prolonged presence, moving to examine them with a curious mind. “There is so much memory here, swirling in the air wanting to take form.” You wove through the misty figures, waving your hand until they solidified and took their shape, moving as they had when the memory had taken place.

The throne room was filled with figures, dancing and moving throughout the ample space with whispers and faint laughter. Smiling, you danced beside them, twirling and twisting to match their movements until you turned to a familiar figure. Round glasses and a wide, Cheshire grin. Happiness and pain warred within you as you examined the face closely, lifting your hand to its cheek with a sad whisper, “I know your face.”

Kat swooped down with an angry howling noise and cut through the figure before you, flapping her wings angrily to remove it from existence entirely. You merely shook your head at her and turned back to Dream, whose eyes seemed to hold more each time you looked into them. You could see in his crown swirling things hidden behind darkness or purposefully locked beneath the fortification of his conscious mind. You retook a step toward him. “So many of them are locked away… Hidden even from you.” You tilted your head, brows furrowing. “Why?”

“Perhaps there are things I do not wish to remember.”

“You cannot run from them,” you told him. “Memories are a part of you, good and bad. I can help you if you’d like. It is part of my function to aid in confronting one’s darker memories.” You laughed again. “I suppose I’m not unlike your nightmares in that regard.”

With a soft expression, Dream shook his head. “You, Lady Munin, are no nightmare.”

“Thank you,” you replied.

“If I may inquire, what is it that brought you to my realm?” Dream asked, looking away from you and straitening his back.

“I’ve already found much here,” you answered. “But I came to inquire in your library for an answer to a question.”

Lucienne lit up as she stepped closer. “The library is full of information. Surely your answer will be within a book.”

You smiled. “This is my hope.”

“What is it you wish to know?” She asked, leading you down the hallway toward the library. 

“It seems my recollection of my past life… of Daunt is splintered. I recall some things vividly, and others I cannot find.” You shook your head at the feeling of Dream’s stare as he followed after you.

Lucienne hummed quietly. “It will take some time to find something within the vast expanse we’ve at our disposal.”

You nodded. “Yes, I was expecting a bit of searching.”

Lucienne’s eyes went to a white book that glittered atop her table. “While we wait, perhaps it would interest you to see this.”

“The book of mists,” you breathed, slowly moving closer to gaze at it. “So few have read it.”

“I’m afraid we’ve not read it,” she corrected, sparing a look at Dream. “It appears to be fragmented. There are only a few words, and they don’t make much sense.”

You shook your head fondly. “You do not read memories,” you whispered, opening the book to the first page of the tree with the simple words scrawled messily at the bottom. “You remember them.” Then, with a deep breath, you began to read, “In the beginning, there was a tree.”

Mist rose from the book, taking the shape of the words and bringing the memories they held to life. It twisted into a tree, small and frail looking, shifting as it began to grow, showing the progression of it throughout the pages until the first tree, the one your realm held a different version of, towered over you and stretched up toward the ceiling. 

“Memory,” you affirmed softly as the mist of the book, the mist that was part of you, began to take shape in the room. “That was our name long before. We were not this… We had no physical form, for memory is no tangible or mere object. It is everything and nothing all at once, unique to each being.”

Dream looked around at the misty images of the first tree and those that celebrated and lived beneath its leaves. “How did you come to be then?”

“The first tree saw all, across every realm and every plane… We saw memories. The humans, the gods… your memories,” you breathed, looking away from the book to him. “We saw so many things, but it was you… Your dreamers that created that song. The first song.” The tune began to play in the throne room. “It made us... Want... For the first time, we wanted memories of our own, something tangible to hold in our hands and feel and love.”

Flipping the page, you felt the splintering cracks of their tools against the wood. “They cut us… The tree and we were forced… split apart from The Great Tree... Split from Memory, and so I… She came out fractured. Wrong. Distress. Discourage.” Turning toward him again with tears in your eyes, you whispered, “Daunt.”

“Thank you,” he said. “For sharing this gift with us.”

Lucienne beheld the book with adoring eyes. “I’ve not seen a book like this before. It is marvelous!”

“A fine addition to your library,” you answered with a smile as you closed the book and held it out to her.

“It belongs with you,” she said with a modest look. “Back in The Forest.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “Memory has no need for books. I think the dreamers would find more use for it than I would.”

Lucienne’s hands curled around the sparkling leather, and she nodded. “I shall keep it safe and well cared for.”

“As you do with all the other books under your care,” I assured her. “It will bring me great joy knowing it is getting such attention.”

“I will search the shelves for an answer to your questions, my lady. How will we call to you once we find answers?”

“I will return in a few days,” you looked at Dream. “If that is alright with you, Lord Morpheus?”

He simply nodded with a small smile. “My realm is open for you to come and go as you please, Lady Munin.”

You could not shake the echoes of his voice, the faint memories you did know of the Dream Lord s cruelty. Was all this some ruse? What did he gain from being kind to you now? “Return to The Forest,” you instructed Sirius and Kat. “I’ll be joining you shortly.”

“We can remain with you, my lady,” Sirius insisted.

“It’s alright,” you assured him, turning to Dream. “I would like to see a location that’s been plaguing my mind. A pier, I believe.”

His face remained stoic, but his hands wound tighter around his back. “I will escort you there myself.”

“Thank you,” you said with a bow of your head. “I’ll be home soon, my star.”

Sirius and Kat listened to your command, the owl seemingly understanding your wish to speak with the King of Dreams alone. She flew out of the palace with Sirius trailing behind her in mist as you and Dream of The Endless walked side by side toward the pier. You’d been seeing visions of the blue waters and the misty sky for days alongside the sound of his voice. Indeed this place held something… some event that had made your past self cling to it.

The water lapped at the groaning wood as the two of you walked toward the very edge of the dock. Shapes and figures moved with ease beneath the sapphire waves, tiny figments of dreams playing within the depths of the water. It was familiar here, filled with the faint presence of the figure you’d seen in the throne room alongside yours and one of your past companions, Puck. Then came him, the sweeping feeling of power and mystic sense of dreaming. The two of you had stood on this dock before. You knew it.

“Though much seems to be lost within my knowledge, I still hear voices of the past. Voices mocking me… her.” Beside you, Dream grew stiff, taking a deep breath as you continued, “It is your voice I hear loudest among them. It says such cruel things, but the word that seems to repeat is burden. Why did you hate her so?”

“I did not hate her,” he answered softly. Regret filled the space between you, humming like a song that only the two of you could hear.

Looking up at him, you spoke again, “Yet you spoke words meant to harm her.”

His eyes met yours unflinchingly, the apology shining within them. “I made a great many mistakes when you… she… was concerned.”

“Yes,” you agreed with furrowing brows. “And yet… it is not anger, hatred, or pain I feel when I look at you through her eyes.”

“What do you see then?” It was more than a question; it was a desperate plea… an answer that meant more to him than your eyes could ever see.

You looked away from his gaze at the dark of his coat, at memories of how soft it felt against your skin when you’d accidentally brushed by him. You admired the silken structure of his face, handsome and ethereal and entirely other that seemed to be molded to consume you. “Hope,” you began. “And starlight and… longing…”

When you dared meet his gaze again, you found it glazed, almost tearful, as he nodded. “Longing for what?”

“I do not know,” you replied. “But, I suppose the simplest answer I can give you is this: I do not hate you, Dream of the Endless, and neither did she.”

“A new beginning,” he breathed out with a hint of a smile.

You nodded, unaware of why exactly it sounded so familiar. “One for us both, it would seem.”

“You are always welcome in my realm.”

“As you are in mine,” you replied, eyes turning to the water as it rippled and revealed the emerald trees of your forest and your companions waiting beyond for you.

“Until we meet again,” Dream said, closing his eyes with a bow. “Lady Munin.”

“Until then,” You replied, a wave of familiarity making the air around you feel thick. “Lord Morpheus.”

In a puff of mist, you transformed into the white raven, curving around Morpheus’ back and high into the misty sky, diving down toward the hazed vision in the water of The Forest.

*

Dream watched the white raven with a heavy heart as she flew into the sky, wrapping around him before shooting upward like a star returning home. She looked like Jessamy, larger obviously, but the way she moved as she flew reminded him so much of his fallen companion. Then, diving down, she slid into the water soundlessly, and in the reflection, Dream could see the image of the fair Lady Munin standing in her realm as white feathers floated up into the air and the water returned to its deep sapphire blue. 

Reaching out, he took hold of a feather, holding it in his hand and savoring its warmth. She was different in many ways, yet it seemed she clung to her past life in intimate gestures. Looking up at the mist rolling over the water, he remembered Daunt’s promise. He did see her again, just as she’d said… he saw her not just in the new form of Munin but in the mist over the water and in the pages of Lucienne’s unfinished books. 

For years he feared he’d wasted his one chance to be with her. Feared he’d doomed both of them to a life of loneliness and isolation because of his past actions, he now held a glimmer of hope in his hands in the form of a white feather. Dream held onto the words that burned in his chest… the words he’d felt the undeniable urge to speak aloud to her, in a scream that would echo across worlds and a whisper that would only know her skin, in a desperate and unbreakable vow of devotion. I love you still. He thought to himself, fingers curling gently around the feather. I love you in every body, every name, every lifetime… I love you.

“Hold onto those words, my Dream.”

“I will hold them forever if I must,” he said to none but the fading moon and the rising sun. 

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

Chapter 9: The Last Star

TW: angst, blood, violence, fire, character deaths, dark Daunt, badass Daunt, demons, mentions of Hell.

Soft fur filled your palms, warm and comforting as a snout pressed into your cheek. The creature the stone had brought to life was patient with you, waiting only until your sobs began to lessen to speak. “Why do you weep?”

You pulled away, marveling at the white fur and the twinkling of the creature’s blue eyes. “Because I am sad.”

“Why are you sad?”

“I thought I knew someone…” you answered. “But I didn’t.”

The white wolf let out a soft breath and set his head in your lap. “Is there anything I can do to make it hurt less?”

With a sad smile, you ran your fingers through his fur and breathed out the hate and anger that had consumed you. It would be cruel to cling to such things while your new companion held many questions. “Having you beside me lessens the pain immensely.”

He looked proud as he nuzzled into you. “What is your name?”

“Daunt,” you said, though even that name held the bitter, twisted anger of the Endless beings that gave it to you. “I am the lady of this realm.”

“What is my name?” He asked.

“What do you want it to be?”

The blue of the wolf’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at you. “I wish for my name to be something that will bring you joy.”

You scratched behind his ears. “That is generous of you, but your name should be yours. One you love.”

He sat up and watched you curiously. “If it brings you joy, it will be something I love.”

You thought for a long while as the wolf familiarized himself with the space, carefully using a blanket to cover the broken pieces of your furniture and trinkets you’d destroyed in your blind pain. As the creature moved, you couldn’t help but think his fur looked like light, brilliant, and white sparkling with every move he made. “What about Sirius?”

“Sirius,” he repeated with a soft noise. “What does it mean?”

“It’s the name of a star,” you answered. “The brightest star in the sky.”

The wolf hurried to one of the windows, looking out it and up, hoping to see the thing you spoke so fondly of. “I see nothing but trees and heavy fog.”

With a sigh, you moved to stand beside him. “Yes, sadly, the stars do not shine in our realm. Mist and thick tree branches block the sky from view.”

“How do you know of this star, then?”

“I have seen it in my travels to the human world,” you answered. “You will likely see it as well, should you wish to remain at my side.”

“Sirius,” he repeated. “I quite like it.”

You knelt down and lovingly stroked his fur. “Sirius it is, then. You will be the first star in The Forest.”

The months spent with Sirius at your side were bittersweet. Dream’s words still haunted you… the loss of whatever relationship you’d had with him stung like a stubborn wound, refusing to heal. What hurt more was the knowledge that The Dreaming was once again closed to you. All the friends you’d made over the years, all the things you’d once loved beyond the Gates of Horn and Ivory. You hadn’t returned, not even to the beaches, for fear that he would spit more vile words at you and bar you from even that small comfort in his realm. So you’d accomplished your function in The Waking World instead.

Sirius enjoyed the outings immensely. He found humans to be curious creatures and enjoyed studying them. His favorite nights were when you’d travel somewhere with tall buildings so he could gaze up at the night sky and find the star after which he’d been named. Both of you found great comfort in the simplicity of it. The dreamers seemed normal to you, though you never stuck around long enough to risk drawing Dream’s attention. Not even The Corinthian had come to find you… such only added to the sting of the wound.

You and your new companion grew close quickly. Sirius was innocent and curious, harboring a deep love of green things and the scaled serpents that found peace in your realm. The two of you would sit beside the lake, and he would chase the fish, sometimes diving into the water to retrieve a rock that had caught his eye from below. He healed the hole in your heart as much as a tiny creature could, and though you still felt a deep and lingering sorrow with the knowledge that you and he would be alone in this world, it was enough just to have him.

*

“Here in the Darkness.” 

The roots of The Great Tree hummed all around you as the voices of the dreamers faded. They grew quieter each passing day you lay beneath the tree of falling leaves and frail bark. Sirius never left your side, pressing small patches of moss that had not succumbed to the frost to the gaping wound in your chest, the wound left by The Corinthian’s blade. Your strength returned to you slowly, and even when you could finally stand on your feet again, you were weakened. The Forest, too, grew weak. While you appeared to be recovering, the wood around you remained shrouded in darkness and falling snow.

“Here in the Darkness.” The disembodied words floated through the trees, a lingering stain of dark magic left by whoever had captured Dream of the Endless. Dream. All thoughts of him were bitter and filled with regret and hate, and pain. You had failed him again. Failed him and proved to the world that they were all right. You were nothing but a mistake. A burden that could not even use the power you were cursed with to save the being that actually meant something.

As you stood, looking at The Great Tree’s peeling, scratched bark and broken branches, you could only hold to the slight glint of hope that shined in the blue of your companion’s remaining eye. Sirius rubbed his nose into the deep red water until mud covered it. He carefully pressed blotches of it to the tree’s wounds and sneezed as the rough bark tickled his nose. You helped him, carefully applying the thick mixture of dirt and blood to the tree. “Will this work?”

“I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. “There is little else we can do now but wait.”

Sirius sighed, his eye trailing off to the side where the barrier of mist held firm against the shadows and spirits and nightmares raging against it. “How long will this barrier hold?”

The question was one you dreaded finding out the answer to. If the barrier fell, then the monsters it held back would return to their assault on the tree, looking to siphon whatever power that it held inside. “Long enough.”

“My lady,” He began. “Why do we not leave? Surely the human world or even The Dreaming would hold more sanctuary for us.”

“I cannot leave.” You leaned against the tree, listening to the weakened hum of its song. Then, lifting a hand to your still-raw wound, you looked down at the sweet wolf. “I am too weak to travel between realms. Too weak to protect our home. Too weak to protect you.”

He crawled up into your lap, pressing his head against you. “You will recover, and until then, I shall be strong for the both of us.”

Tears wet his fur. “Oh, Sirius, what would I do without you?”

“Let us never find out, my lady.”

Day after day, you listened to the creatures scream, wail, and throw themselves at the barrier of mist. Day after day, you waited for the border to give in under the strain, and day after day, it held firm. You had no idea where these creatures came from nor why they wanted the tree’s power, but it was your final duty to protect it and your realm. You would not fail.

*

Your eyes filled with orange and red hues as the flame before you engulfed the trees. Smoke filled the forest, choking the life from your lungs as you push yourself toward the burning wood. Ash rained from the black skies, coating the ground in its thick grey must and leaving a clear path behind you. From your side, Sirius coughed, struggling to keep pace with you through the haze of fire and ash.

Waving your hand, you sent a wave of mist over the woods, dousing the fires with the light moisture until they died out, leaving nothing but smoldering embers behind. The trees were black now as you carefully pressed your hand to them, listening to the pained groans of the roots beneath your palm. “It’s alright,” you soothed, pulling back to look at the dark charcoal that now stained your skin. “How many trees are still burning?”

Sirius climbed one of the taller, still sturdy branches lifting his head to look around. “Too many.” He carefully jumped down and returned to your side, pressing his dirty furred head into your leg. “We should return to The Great Tree.”

Snakes slithered beneath the ashes, writhing in agony as they tried to shed their burnt scales. Kneeling, you lifted as many as you could into your arms, whispering soft words and granting them one last gentle touch so that they might remember that in place of their fiery ends in whatever life awaited them beyond this realm of decrepit wood and shadow. In the distance, you could hear them laughing. The demons mocked you with the boisterous sound of their violence and crimes upon your realm.

You gently placed the dead at your feet and rose. “No. These demons have tested my patience long enough. It’s time they return to their master.”

“I shall stand with you, my lady.” Sirius lifted his head, the blue of his eye shining bright as he hardened himself for battle. “To whatever end.”

“My brave star,” you said, petting him gently, perhaps for the last time. “Let us show them what happens when they challenge The Forest.”

Together you and Sirius followed the laughter and the sounds of your forest screaming. Then, together, the two of you attacked them with teeth, knarled roots, and mists of burning cold. You drove the demons into a small clearing, dousing their fires and casting them into darkness. For once, you and The Forest were one. It bent to your will and heeded your commands. Sirius blended into the mist, leaping into the clearing to latch onto one of the demons before dragging it back into the mist and vanishing.

Demon after demon fell, but no matter how much blood you spilled, more came to replace them. This wasn’t possible… there couldn’t have been this many demons free of Hell’s chains. Unless…

The sound of harsh wings flapping behind you echoed through the glen, and in an instant, the embers still lingering in the burnt trees roared to life, and the fire blazed brighter and hotter than you’d ever felt. A chill of fear ran up your spine as you watched the shadow of two great wings unfurl behind you. “Hello, Daunt.”

“Lucifer Morningstar,” you breathed, turning to face them.

Their delicate features and golden hair stood out against the darkness of your realm, but the ebony wings and black leather armor they wore blended into the shadow and smoke that swirled around you both. “It is a great honor to see your realm.” Lucifer chuckled, crumbling a burnt leaf between their fingers. “I’ve heard great tales about The Forest.”

“You were not invited,” you told them. “Leave.”

“My army and I shall go on one condition,” they replied. 

The tree roots curled around you, groaning as The Forest filled with your anger. “You are in no position to bargain with me.”

The devil only laughed. “You’re not as strong as I am, especially now. You know this. I do not wish to kill you, Daunt. I simply need to pass through your… lovely little woods to get where I’m going.”

“And where would that be?” You demanded. “We aren’t exactly neighbors to The Silver City.”

Their wings bristled at the mention of their former home. “The Dreaming. I have it on good authority that our beloved Dream has abandoned the realm. I simply wish to save it from further destruction.”

Baring your teeth, one of the roots shot out toward them. Lucifer stepped to the side, out of the way of the pointed blow. “Go back to Hell.”

“If you are so eager to die, then I suppose I’ll have to grant your wish.” Lucifer shrugged their shoulders, circling you for a moment with a smile. “How will we battle, dear Daunt? An honorable game of wits, perhaps?” They chuckled. “Or do you wish to test the metal of your little trees against that of hell?”

“No games,” you spat. “I’m just going to kill you.”

“Your magic verses mine then,” they breathed with a grin. “I agree to the terms of this challenge.”

Balls of blazing fire filled their hands as they threw them out toward you. The roots pulled up from the ground and blocked the fire from your skin, the heat you could still feel through the wood. Shrieks and pain vibrated from them as the charred roots fell to the ground and writhed as the embers of hellfire continued to burn. You breathed into your palm, filling it with the coldest mist you could muster before you breathed it across the field, dousing Lucifer’s flames and trapping them in a frosty hold that made their movements sluggish and slow.

You willed the living trees to bend, twining and twisting around their wings to pull them into the dark forest. With a shout, Lucifer flexed, and their leathery wings tore through the thin branches. They growled, looking back at the scars that now littered them. Blow after blow, you both dodged and blocked, but blow after blow, the weaker you grew. And Lucifer could feel it. Finally, they breathed out an icy breath and smiled at you. “Getting tired already? How amusing.”

“Leave.”

They threw a heated blast at you again, the trees catching fire instantly, and the shockwave of their fire meeting your roots sent you to the ground. Lucifer’s heavy boots crunched the bodies of snakes and ashen roots beneath them as they walked forward. “It was a valiant effort, Daunt. But you cannot beat me.”

Your hands pressed into the dirt beneath the ash and the ever-piling snow. A song hummed around you as The Forest’s life flashed before your eyes. Silver leaves falling from the tallest tree, voices of those that were and those that are, flashes of faces young and old, past and present. Help me, you asked it. Help me save you. The ground trembled as tiny seedlings sprouted beneath your hands, curling around your fingers and sending a surge of power through you. 

Cracking and twisting noises echoed behind you as the trees molded together, taking the shape of a great forest warrior. It stood taller than anything you’d ever seen, groaning beneath the weight of its own limbs as it focused on the devil standing in front of you. With a roar of every creature known, it swiped forward, throwing Luciver aside and into the trees. Every demon for miles came running toward it with steel and fire and claws, but the warrior refused to fall. With heavy feet, it crushed those below it, and with long limbs, it grabbed fists full of demons and launched them into the darkened sky. Their bodies fell like rain, cracking and snapping in half like twigs.

Soon The Forest was filled with their screams instead of your realms. You felt a spark of hope ignite in your chest. That spark quickly turned to a burning fire as the singing steal of the devil’s blade tore through your back and protruded from your chest. You choked on the blood filling your throat as you scrambled, gasping for air. The warrior shrieked as if the pain you felt was its own, clawing and writhing until it crashed to the forest floor with the screams of a thousand trees.

Lucifer pulled their blade from your body and walked around you, looking down. “I’ll be sure to tell Dream of your valiant efforts, should he ever return.”

They lifted their sword again, aiming for your neck, but before they could swing, Sirius leaped from the trees, covered in blood and caked with clumps of ash. He latched onto one of Lucifer’s wings, pulling them back with a startled cry. “Sirius!”

He fought the devil for as long as he could, but you weakly ordered the remaining tree roots to move when he faltered from a blow to his shoulder. They bound Luciver in a tight hold, pulling them deep into the soil and hopefully back to Hell. From where you knelt, you could only watch as the barrier of mist fell away and the monsters slammed against the trunk of The Great Tree. “NO!”

Pain tore through you as they cut and cut and cut until, at last, the tree groaned and shifted, falling to the ground with a shake that sent the world into shatters. Sirius dragged you through the ash toward the glen, and what snakes remained followed. The snow fell harder until you reached the flooded meadow.

The Great Tree had fallen, and all around it, decay began to spread. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked around you. Life began to fade as far as your eyes could see. Sirius whined, pacing in every direction as the sounds of Hell’s armies grew louder. “My lady, we must do something! What can we do?”

“The Great Tree must live,” you told him. “If it perishes, so too will our realm, and The Dreaming will be left unprotected.”

“What must we do?”

You kissed his head. “I must give my life to the tree.”

Sirius growled at the very thought. “There must be another way.”

“There is not.” The Forest was not yours, not truly. It lived and breathed only because of the magic of The Great Tree. If you did nothing, this was the end of not just your realm, your home, and all within it that you loved but The Dreaming. If all that stood between the armies of Hell was your realm, was the mist and the confusion that came with it, then you knew what needed to be done. “You will have to tread the wood alone,” you told him, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Be brave, Sirius.”

The white wolf whimpered, pressing his head further into your waiting palm. “I will not let the realm fall, my lady.”

“Wait for the Dream Lord,” You whispered as the roots began to bind you. “He will help us.”

When they began digging into your chest, burrowing deeper and deeper toward your heart, Sirius had to close his eye. He could not watch as they ripped your chest open, making way for the thicker roots. He could not bring himself to acknowledge the smell of your blood filling the water below. Your screams filled the surrounding woods, shaking the earth beneath his feet as what remained of The Great Tree bound itself to your still beating heart.

A wave of power washed over the meadow, pushing back the demons. Every tree close enough stretched and twined together, blocking the fallen tree and the living field from the threat of darkness and monsters and demons. The Forest and The Dreaming would survive so long as your heart kept beating. Sirius sat beside you, whining softly as the water turned red with your blood.

*

To Sirius, time passed slowly. Each day was cold.

Sirius was one with these dark woods. He’d been brought to life within them and had grown from a naïve newborn into what he was now. A killer. A protector. A companion. This was still his home even after the snow and ash, after the fires that decimated half the woods, the beasts and demons of gnarled shadow and bone. The Forest was his, but more than that, it was hers.

His paws tread atop the snow, barely leaving any prints beneath him as he hunched forward, camouflaged against the crisp white. In the glen ahead, he watched a small group of demons huddle around a fire. They joked about how the tree screamed when they cut it down and laughed at how pathetic his lady’s efforts at protecting it were.

Pathetic, he thought with a pointed-toothed sneer. These trespassers are pathetic indeed. He would make quick work of them. The deep growls echoed through the trees, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once as the demons looked at the clouded wood surrounding them. Sirius used his environment well, climbing the lower branches of the twisted trees to gain a better vantage point. He stared at them for a moment before letting loose a deep bark that signaled the snakes beneath the snow.

The white serpents were perfectly camouflaged as they slithered toward each demon, jumping out to latch onto their legs and pulling them down to the ground. The sulphuric tint in their corrupted blood made Sirius’ nose burn as he dove down into the center of the glen, kicking a mass of snow over their fire and casting them into total darkness. He could see them; even blind in his one eye, he could see them clear as day.

Sirius barked twice, and the snakes let go of the demons, slithering back beneath the ground and away from the danger. He would finish these foul creatures off with his own teeth. One by one, he circled the demons, listening to those once confident and humored voices fill now with terror. It was a fitting end, one he would cherish almost as much as he’d cherish the knowledge that they would carry this failure to their winged master.

In the darkness, all the demons could see was the glowing blue eyes of the white wolf just before his teeth pierced their throats. Their blood spoiled the ground beneath them, melting the snow with a wicked hiss and turning what dead lay beneath it to little more than black ash. Sirius mourned this. He mourned The Forest’s green for a moment before returning to his Lady’s side.

Once he’d enjoyed the quiet walk back to her, but now there was little to enjoy. The trees were bare of leaves and all color, and the cold ground beneath him stung the bottoms of his paws. The thin mist made it easier to see just how dead his home had become. He quietly approached the thick wall of woven roots and tree limbs, pressing his nose to the course bark and watching as they parted, just large enough for him to slide through.

This was the only place that held any heat, the only palace that wasn’t dead... yet. The space where The Great Tree once stood was now only filled with mist as the ground below was littered with the remains of the fallen tree. The leaves turned to mulch, not even crunching beneath his paws as he moved through the red water and approached the small bed of twisted roots and vines to where her pale hand hung over the side.

Sirius pressed his head into it with a soft whine. Her stiff fingers twitched as she tried to reciprocate the loving act. He could hear her wheezing breaths and her whisper of his name. “My star,” she said. “Stay with me a while.”

He obeyed, gently climbing into the bed and moving to curl beside her, minding where the roots connected to the gaping wound in her chest. He laid his head beneath her neck and closed his eyes, listening to the weakened heartbeat of his lady. “I shall stay for as long as you shall have me, my lady.”

The white wolf fulfilled his promise. Against shadows, nightmares, and demons, he stood tall, unwilling to yield even one frozen blade of grass to the monsters that threatened to take his home and his lady. While he defended The Forest, your mind… your consciousness floated adrift through the cosmos connected to The Great Tree. You were you… but not. Past, present, and future blurred together as you followed The Corinthian’s path of death, destruction, and fear. Haunting every step you could, reminding him of what he’d done to you… warning him of what would now come to pass.

When you let yourself drift further, you could see him, Dream. He was distorted, blurred, and hazed behind magic and glass. The hum of his power sounded like the song you once danced to as it rattled against the glass of his prison each time he looked into the eyes of those that held him. The anger and pain he felt matched your own the longer he sat in the silence of his capture. For so long, you were stuck there, a specter, a ghost watching The Prince of Stories wither away, much like your world had begun to wither. Then, when the man that spoke and never listened had grown old, you felt it, a shift somewhere in the universe, a shift that gave you a spec… a tiny moment of physical power. You approached the glass and pressed your hand to it, looking into Dream’s eyes for possibly the last time. “Find me.”

The wheelchair moved, and with it, you used that sliver of power to drag it down, breaking the seal that held back the power of nightmares. Dream looked up, and for a moment, you thought he could see you, but his eyes looked through you to one of the older men. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you whispered to him, urging him to forget his promises to his beloved, to forget the fear of what might happen should Dream go free. And so Paul forgot the fear that had kept him from helping years ago. He turned his back and wheeled Alex away to sleep and never awaken.

*

The throne room stung with power, his and hers, as you forced yourself into being. Solid for as long as you could hold it and then back to mist, whispers, and nothing. “Sight alone will not tell you her secrets.”

Lucienne sobbed at the sight of you as Dream finally beheld the remaining shell. “Lady Daunt…”

He moved slowly forward, steps unsure and breaths filled with choked-back words, but you heard them. You heard all the words he’d ever spoken and all those he’d yet to speak. Dream lifted the veil that kept the view of him hazed and fractured, and once it was gone, you saw the flashes of that day in Fiddlers Green before that, too, shifted, moving like sand in a storm. You saw him again, regal and looking at you with adoration, stars glowing in his eyes, all for you. He reached out, fingers grazing across your skin like blazing fire consuming the vision and fleeting feelings of warmth and love. “Daunt.”

Daunt, you thought. It sounded so familiar and yet not familiar at all. The haze was gone now, the visions too, as you looked at him. Dark hair and pale skin, older… different. New tears slid down your cheeks. Dream… It’s me… I’m here... “It fell before its time. Cut to the bone. Crying out and bleeding, left to burrow. Left to rot. The roots dug too deep, and the leaves wither... Darkness. It falls... Falling deeper and deeper. Drowning. Drowning. Drowning.”

No. Speak clearly. You pleaded to yourself. Tell him where we are… tell him to help us. He touched your cheek. “Daunt...”

“It wasn’t real.” Your words were fueled by lingering anger and hate. The echoes of Daunt, the burden, the mistake. Echoes of a being you weren’t sure you were anymore. “King of Nightmares… King of lies.” No. No. Dream, please!

“It was real, Daunt,” he whispered, voice soft as silk and morning dew on blades of grass. Your soul hummed with the song, filling your being with longing as he continued to speak. “Every moment. “I…” He sighed, the breath curling in the air around you, taking the shape of silver ravens as ice spread through the throne room. “I love you.”

You love me… You wanted to ask him to say it again. To say it for eternity. I love you too… Your lips quivered as your body began to tremble, the weight of holding yourself to this plain finally catching up with you. “You cannot love a dead thing.”

“You are not dead.” Not yet. “Where are you? Tell me, and I shall come.”

“The Forest,” you whispered. Go to Fiddler’s Green. Go to the woods and find the mist. “The trees know... The roots protect. We will be gone soon... Consumed and swallowed by the earth once more. Drowning... Drowning...”

“Daunt-”

You dug your hands into his arms, desperately clinging to him, trying to keep yourself from fading away as you sobbed. “Find us.”

*

You could hear the sorrowful sobs of the woman, but you felt nothing. No sympathy or remorse, only a steady hum of power directing you toward the spirit. You raised your hand, covered in frost and frozen vines, “Come.”

“Hector!”

“She’s here for me.”

“You can’t go with her. You can’t go!” the woman cried. “I can’t… not again.”

“What is lost will always be found.” 

“Daunt,” he whispered her name like a desperate prayer, a caress of a lover’s words. Dream, your whole being unfurled at the sound of his voice, filling you with a moment of reprieve before the harsh memory of his past words clouded over all else.

The spirit, Hector, spared the woman he loved a look before pressing a kiss to her lips and cradling her round belly in his hands. “Tell the baby I love them. Never let them forget just how much I love them.”

With a weak sob, she nodded. “I won’t, not ever.” She sobbed as she cupped his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” the spirit whispered. “Goodbye.”

He turned and lifted his hand to yours, vanishing in a wave of mist, and distant wolf howls echoed around them. Dream took a half step forward at the familiar sounds of The Forest’s call.

“Child born of death and dreams,” you said, a warning… a simple thing that was all you had to offer her. “Evil will seek it out to steal its power.”

“No!” She shook her head, holding her stomach tighter. “No.”

The Vortex, the girl named Rose, rubbed her arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep them safe.” She looked at Dream, eyes gleaming with tears. “Right, Dream?”

He was frozen for a moment, still looking at you, before he answered. “So long as I live, no harm shall befall your child. Not in the Waking World and not in dreams.”

“We are running out of time,” you said to him. Please. Please come, Dream.

“Then help me,” he pleaded. “Open your realm and let me in.”

It is open. It always was. Even when you were your most cruel to me, I never closed it to you. You tilted your head, “Only you hold the power to do so, Dream of The Endless.”

“What do you mean?”

“My realm was never closed to you.”

“I do not understand.”

You lifted a frozen hand to his face, tracing over his eyes. “You do not need to understand. You only need to see.”

*

You could see the end before your eyes as the familiar presence of the Endless being and his most powerful nightmare filled The Forest. Rose Walker drifted closer to Dream’s blackened figure as everything shifted, solidifying into the dying realm. “What is this? What’s happening?”

The tree roots wound around The Corinthian’s limbs as The Nightmare tried to flee from you as you emerged from the darkness. “Daunt.”

“At last,” you said softly, letting that stream of endless memories of the bridge and the blade fill your being. “You have come to see the damage caused by your hands.”

Tighter, you urged the trees, and they listened, squeezing the nightmare so tightly his bones began to creak. “This is still your dream Rose.”

“No.” You said, cold and angry. Don’t you dare steal this from me. You do not know what he’s done. What he’s allowed to happen.

Rose shivered as she hid behind Dream’s back, “This dream is over.”

“NO!” you screamed, moving as quickly as possible to try to grab the nightmare.

They were gone. Dream and the Vortex Rose. The Corinthian. Your teeth ground together as you clenched your fists at your side. “No.” The ground shook beneath you as frost slithered up your arms, biting your skin. “No.” You could still see the horrors The Corinthian had committed with his own hands and those he allowed to happen because of his betrayal. “NO!”

As you screamed, The Forest answered. The trees grew taller, shooting through the mist and darkness and breaking into the human world. You followed them through, mist filling the room as The Forest started to bleed into the Waking World. The Corinthian looked at you as you emerged from the mist, breathing heavily with wide eyes and anger filling your lungs. “You do not get to leave me again, Corinthian.”

“Daunty,” the nightmare said softly, bringing all the other times he’d called you the nickname to replay before you. Corinthian… Roots twined around him as you walked past Dream to stand in front of his rouge creation, the creation that you loved.

“Have you any idea what it was like?” You asked though you knew no answer would be enough. “Knowing all this time that it was you that plunged the blade into my heart. That you… my friend… would doom me to this.”

“I’m sorry.” Why did you do it? You wanted to ask.

A sob echoed around you. “LIAR!”

The roots stabbed through The Corinthian in various places, digging deep into his body. He took it all with a sheer grit of his teeth, never looking away from your face as you stepped closer to him, willing his blade… the blade that had been used to start the century of pain. You pressed it against The Corinthian’s chest. “Do it. I deserve it.”

“Daunt…” Dream tried to step between you.

“No,” The Corinthian told him, his rows of teeth eyes clenching. “Do it, Daunty. Finish me.”

 “Was it worth it?” You demanded, looking out at all the humans he urged to follow in his footsteps. “Was all this worth it?”

“The only thing I regret is what I did to you,” he said.

“Regret? You do not know regret… not nearly enough to satisfy me.”

“Daunt,” Dream called out, but you could hardly hear him over the sound of power and pain rushing through your projected being.

You stabbed The Corinthian’s ribs, twisting it as you knelt. Look at me. “Look into my eyes, betrayer. Look and see what you wrought.”

You then showed him the events that had transpired because of his carelessness and cruelty. You showed him your home vanishing, the trees withering, the creatures attacking you, and everything around you. The trees closest to you caught fire as you showed him those that had died when Hell’s legions came to your woods. You forced him to listen to the sounds of fear and screaming. “Daunt…”

“You did this!” You screamed, tearing the blade from his ribs and stabbing him again.

The Corinthian bowed his head for a moment before he pulled the blade from his flesh and held it out to you, “Please.”

The sharp pain of your power draining as The Great Trees roots wound tighter around your heart forced you back slightly. You quietly cried, holding your hands to your now bleeding chest. “I trusted you…”

“I didn’t mean for this,” he whispered. “I didn’t…”

You cried harder as the unspoken words filled your ears. “I cannot kill you, dear Corinthian. No matter how much you deserve it. Our fates are sealed, yours and mine.”

He looked back up at Dream. “Finish it, Dream.”

“I brought you into this world to serve humanity. Not to feed upon it.”

“I do it to taste what it’s like to be human.” The Corinthian admitted. “You don’t care about humanity, none of them. You can’t even bring yourself to care about her. You only care about yourself and your realm and your rules.”

“I contain the entire collective unconscious. Without my rules, it would consume me. Humanity would be consumed.”

“Or you might actually feel something. I am not the problem, Dream.”

“You are right. This was my fault, not yours. I had so much hope for you, but I created you poorly then. So I must uncreate you now.”

You could feel the power of dreams and starlit nights at your back as the face you’d once called friend. The sand swirled, glowing red as The Corinthian smiled at you. “Yours is the last face I will see.” Goodbye, my friend.

The sand fell through your fingers until all that remained was the nightmares skull. You stood, offering the tiny thing to Dream and looking up at him through a red-stained gaze as blood filled your vision. “Find us, Dream. Please.”

We’re running out of time.

*

He was so tired, so cold. Sirius trudged through the shoulder-deep snow, panting as the fatigue and the pain from his still-open wounds began to take hold of him. Year after year, he hunted and fought to protect The Forest from the creatures lurking in its dying woods. The snowfall never ceased, making the journey across the forest’s buried paths even more treacherous. It had been days since he’d left Daunt’s side to track down a particularly persistent creature. He’d found it quickly, but the fight had been more challenging than anticipated. Perhaps it was the creature’s speed or ferocity, or perhaps it was simply the fact that he had grown older over the hundred years of fighting.

Sirius found the closest ice bed and pressed his wounded back to it, groaning as the cold’s sting helped seal the wound shut. He licked the frozen water, hoping the small amount of melted liquid would sustain him a while longer. Then, with his one good eye, he looked down at his reflection, a bitter sorrow filling his thinning body. He was no longer the joyful and curious companion that his lady had brought to life in that small, humble hut. He was a killer now. A warrior forged in frozen blood and lingering scars. 

For a moment, he wished he could go back to when things were good. To when it was just him and the fair lady Daunt walking the green forests and chasing the fish and gathering rocks. He wished they could be together again. A snap in the distance made his ears twitch. He let out a huff of air and turned away from the frozen lake. The past was gone, and now he could only remain true to his promise. He could only protect what remained of his home and his lady. 

What creature would be foolish enough to lead a predator to it? Sirius followed the echoes of flesh tearing apart. Whatever it was that had been caught allowed him to find the beast he had been hunting. A white stag lay in the glen, half dead and trapped beneath a shadowed beast’s talons and teeth. The poor thing reminded him of his lady. Of how pale she’d grown and how fearful she seemed to be whenever she was coherent enough. Then a rustle of darkness caught his eye, drawing him to the tall, pale figure that stood at the treeline.

“Holy shit,” a little bird said from a low branch beside the demon. Fools. He trod the snow quickly as the beast reared its head and let out a loud screech. The beast pounced, claws tearing free of the stag and slicing through the air, excitement buzzing from it as it moved to make the killing blow. Sirius shot out through the trees, throwing the black creature onto the other side of the clearing, back into the safety of the mist. He growled as its claws dug into his side, trying to throw him off and free itself. “No fleeing this time, foul beast.”

He struggled, digging his paws deep into the uncomfortable blackness of its thin flesh as he found an opening and quickly latched his teeth around its throat, biting down until its head snapped off and rolled into the snow. The ground shook beneath his paws, and his head shot up. “I’m coming, my lady.” He said to the trees, hoping she would hear him. His head turned to the little bird, now standing in the snow. “I just have two more demons to rid our realm of.”

“Where the fuck are we?”

Before the little bird’s demon master could answer the pitiful question, Sirius leaped from the mist and pinned its black wing to the snowy ground. He bit the cold air to make the creature stop struggling and growled, bearing his bloodstained teeth. Finally, the bird stilled, and he raised his head to look up at its master. “What manner of demon are you?”

“I am no demon,” the tall thing said, voice deep and rich with a power lurking within his voice alone. “I am Dream of the Endless.”

“Dream?”

With a nod, the being stepped forward. “King of All Night’s Dreaming. The Prince of Stories. Lord of the Dreamworld.”

The bird twitched beneath his paw. “I don’t think reciting all your titles is helping, and I know Lucienne won’t be happy if I come back with one wing.”

Sirius’ ears twitched, and he lessened his pressure on the bird’s wing. “Lucienne? You know Lucienne?”

The bird cawed quietly. “Uhh, yeesss?”

“Lucienne is my librarian.” The dream man said. “She resides in The Dreaming, my realm. How do you know of her?”

He lifted his paw off the bird and turned toward the man. “You are the Dream Lord?”

“I am.”

“My lady and I came to your realm long ago, offering aid.” A glimmer of recognition lit up the man’s eyes. “I can only hope you’ve come to offer the same.”

Dream took a step forward. “You are Daunt’s companion.”

The bird stretched its wings before flying back to the branch beside its master. “You know this crazy dog?”

“Only in passing memory.”

Sirius bowed his head slightly. “Forgive my boldness. I mistook you for a threat.”

He waved the apology away. “Where is your master?”

“Not far, but the path is dangerous.” Sirius turned to the stag, who wheezed with eyes darting wilding. He pressed his snout into it, sighing. “Forgive my slowness, fair beast. Follow Death’s warmth and pass into the realms beyond this frozen waste.” He bit down around its neck, waiting until its breathing ceased to pull away.

“What happened here?”

Looking up at the Dream Lord Sirius filled with pain. “A great many horrors.” He turned and started down the hidden path. “Follow closely, or you shall meet an end like the stags.”

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Part 7

Part 6 | Part 8

TW: ANGST, mentions of dead bodies (not graphic), The Fates swallow that snake and are just general bitches

Laughter echoed in his ears as he lay in the sun-kissed fields of Fiddler's Green. There were few moments that Dream of the Endless could recall feeling so at peace, but this was certainly one of them. He could see the bright hues of the orange light bleeding into the rich purples of impending night. The light clouds shifted in the gentle breeze, making way for the starlight. More beautiful than that sight was the sound of her laughter.

Dream turned his head just enough to find her glowing ethereal figure. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder as she bent over to dip her hands into the crystal pool of water at her feet. The dress he'd made her had dirt and leaves stuck to the bottom, but she didn't seem to notice or maybe she simply didn't care. She laughed again as the taller blades of grass shifted, tickling the side of her neck, a game Fiddler's Green had taken up to bring the usually reserved immortal to laughter.

The fading sunlight cast the perfect glow over her, a halo of light curled around her head as she looked up and met his gaze. Daunt smiled, the sight of it alone sending Dream adrift on waves of longing and joy - such things he'd not allowed himself to feel for a very long time. He could not help the way he instantly smiled back, nor the way his heart raced as she came to join him in the grass.

Flowers sprouted up beneath her thicket of hair as she settled beside him and turned her head. "What are you thinking about?"

You. He'd almost said - wanted to say. "I was simply admiring the peacefulness."

Daunt hummed softly, reciting the tune she always did when she hummed. It was the same tune they'd first danced to that night so long ago here in Fiddler's Green. He did not recognize the melody from the humans but had not dared ask her its significance for fear of causing her to retreat. After a moment she sighed, looking up at the sky as the darker shades began to overtake it. "No matter how many times I see it, I'll never grow tired of this view."

His eyes never left her face, memorizing every detail of her. The way her skin glowed and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she stopped talking, the way the light caught her dark eyes and made their color of them more vibrant. "Neither will I."

"We should go," she said, sadness causing her brows to crease. "It will be night soon enough."

"There is still time," he assured her.

"Do you intend to keep the dreamers waiting?" She questioned with an amused look.

Dream chuckled, reaching out and brushing his fingers across the back of her hand. "Were it within my power I would stop the turn of the Earth to prolong this moment of rare tranquility."

"Your father would love that I'm sure." Her hand opened to his and their fingers wove together.

They had held hands many times and danced even more, but it was never enough. Dream wanted to feel her touch for eternity. He wanted to see her beautiful smile every moment of every day. Most of all he wished to hear her laughter, it was such a rare occurrence which was truly criminal considering how melodic it was. "Are you happy?"

"Happy?" She repeated the word with caution as if the mere thought of the word would bring about some world-ending event. "I… Think so. I've never been happy for long, so it's hard to tell sometimes. But," she smiled again, meeting his eyes. "I am happy when I am with you."

"As I am happy when you are near me." He admitted gently.

"You haven't grown tired of me yet?"

Dream twisted slightly, moving to stroke her cheek. "I could never grow tired of you, Daunt."

Worry, doubt, and hopefulness all shined back at him through her eyes. "Do you promise?"

"I swear it."

With a relieved sigh, she stood, turning to offer her hand to him. "Come with me Morpheus."

"Here in the darkness."

The sunlight faded as he reached for her hand. "Morpheus, please."

"Here in the darkness."

Daunts face twisted into the pained, tear-stained expression he'd last seen before she left. "Morpheus."

"Here in the darkness."

Dream opened his eyes to the achingly bright light that reflected within his glass prison. All feelings of comfort… safety… home were gone as the dark world of Roderick Burgess' basement brought him back to reality. He was a captive here. Summoned and bound by some amateur magician and his cult of mindless sheep. For the first time in his existence Dream of the Endless was powerless.

In the quiet, he thought of many things. His escape, the vengeance in store for his captors, The Dreaming, and most of all Daunt. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her, joyful and smiling at him before those memories of her touch were replaced by the ones of her hands grinding beneath his as her tearful eyes looked up at him in fear. Looking at his blurred reflection in the glass he hardly recognized himself. Would she recognize me? He wondered. Did she even know what had befallen him? Did she even care?

"Fear not, Dream Lord, I'll not make such mistakes again."

No. Wherever she was, Dream was certain thoughts of him had not crossed her mind at all.

As the years passed by him, the cage seemed to grow smaller and smaller and any thought he had that his siblings or Daunt would come to find him seemed to shrink with it. The one smoldering ember of hope he’d kept in his chest was Jessamy. She roamed the estate, searching each day for some way to free him from this prison. He could feel her determination and sense a fraction of her thoughts and sometimes if he’d concentrated hard enough he could see the blurred shapes of the outside world that moved on without him. It wasn’t enough, not even close to it, but for now, it was all he could hold onto for as long as he could.

As he stared down at the blood that still dripped down the side of the glass Dream could feel that last hope snuff out. The booming echo of the young Burgess’ shotgun still rang in his ears as he watched the servants of his captors scrub Jessamy’s blood from the glass and the stone beneath it. There was no hope any longer, nothing and no one for him to hold to while he wasted away here in the darkness.

Here in the darkness. The words that had been used to summon him taunted him at every quiet moment. Was this what life had been like for her? Dark and full of endless longing and loneliness? Perhaps this was his punishment for the eons he’d forced her to suffer this fate and for the way he’d dangled freedom and companionship in front of her just to tear it away when she at last reached for it. I deserve this, he thought to himself, staring out into the black. Every moment of this torture is penance for my crimes against her. 

If he closed his eyes he could still play back the fond memories of her laughter and her smile, but he did not deserve to. He did not deserve to think of her, to wish with every weak fiber of his being that she would come for him. Dream of the Endless did not deserve anything that the immortal Daunt had offered him. Even knowing this simple truth, he thought of her. 

He imagined in his mind exactly what he would say to her if he ever got the chance. He imagined what a life with her beside him would look like. These things were meant to help tether him to a hope long lost, but they only served now as a bitter reminder that what he imagined would never come to pass. Even the death of Roderick Burgess did not bring him any closer to freedom. 

The younger, Alex, had promised to release him if he would simply promise not to bring them harm. To most it would sound like a fair trade, but not to him. His eyes trailed down the glass, away from the pleading boy, to the spot where Jessamys blood had been so long ago. Blood that had been spilled by Alex Burgess. No, he could not promise such a thing… not when vengeance scalded him, body and soul like a roaring fire. Vengeance was all that remained and so, Dream would cling to it.

"I could have asked you for wealth or power like my father did. But all I ever wanted was to be free of you.” Alex had grown old and withered in the eighty years of silence that had passed by. "Surely you want that too."

"Alex…" Paul sighed, placing a loving hand on Alex’s shoulder and offering him the wheelchair again. "Darling please."

The old man relented, as he always did, sitting down and sparing one last look at the caged being. "Take me upstairs Paul. I won't be coming down here again."

The threat of another century trapped in silence still made his stomach drop and his chest tighten. He watched as Paul rolled Alex away, and solemnly prepared for however many more years of this torturous silence awaited him. A flash of white caught his eyes, but when he blinked there was nothing save Paul, paused and looking down at the ground. A thrum of his power pulsed within him, rattling in his bones as he looked down at the clear smudge left by one of the chair wheels that broke the circle that had summoned and contained him. Dream looked up at Paul, who now watched him with a hesitant expression.

He was so certain that the man would say something, alert the guards and replace the marking that had been ruined. He was certain this day would not be the one that his freedom was finally granted to him, so the disbelief that settled in his chest as Paul nodded his head and wordlessly took Alex from the room nearly made him freeze. Tonight he would be free of this place - the place he’d been held prisoner for over a century - once and for all. Tonight he would have his vengeance.

The power that now filled him felt almost foreign as he honed in on the weaker guard's mind, wrapping around the man's mind like a viper and twisting his fantasies of warm summer sun and sand and beautiful women into emptiness and fear. In his dream, he reveled in the panic that set in the large man's eyes, even more so he reveled in the guard firing upon the glass. When the wretched glass finally gave way, cracking and filling the dome with the sweet taste of the dank air of the basement, he smirked. Finally, his power came back in waves washing over him as the fire that had kept him going all these years exploded into sand and ethereal light all around him.

The guards stood, shaking before him as he climbed out of the little that remained of his cage. As his feet hit the stone floor he felt weak, the century had taken a toll on this physical form. The second guard, the woman, aimed her weapon at him, blinking through the strong sandy winds that swirled around her. “Oi! Open your hands, now!”

He granted her request, blowing the sand he held toward them and watching with satisfaction as their bodies grew heavy and they dropped to the ground. He turned to the swirling void the destruction of his cage and the spell that held him had created and let it pull him into the warm light that wracked his body with sensations of home. Alex Burgess would pay this night, not only for his father's sins but for the blood of his raven that still stained and tainted the ground of this horrid place. 

The old man walked the dark halls of the manner, looking around him with sorrow. That sorrow led him to the mirror holding his younger self, the self that had held the shotgun and had carried Jessamy’s mangled body away from him. Dream took the shape of a simple black cat, watching him with glowing eyes as he walked down the long hallway. “Well, hello. Where did you come from?”

He made no sound, no answer to the boy's question as he turned and led him up the winding staircase. He settled the lithe body of the feline on the seat revealing his true self as Alex looked at him in fear. "Hello."

"It's… It's you. You… You're free…" He stuttered, taking a futile step back as if the measly amount of distance between them would save him.

"I am." Slowly he stood from his seat, glowing eyes fixed on the boy as thunder and lightning filled the ceilingless sky above them. "Do you have any idea what it was like? Confined to a cage for over a century. Do you understand the damage you have done to your world?"

He pressed into the door with quiet fearful sobs. "I'm sorry… I… I didn't know. Please."

Everything around them shook at the sound of his voice. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift. I give you this… The gift of eternal sleep." With one breath the sand wove around him and he watched as Alex Burgess’ eyes drifted shut, never to open again.

*

The night sky blazed with lightning as the dark clouds spat echoes of monstrous thunder. Rain pattered against the glass, coating the reflection of the nightmare in white with beads of moisture. The Corinthian knew what the sudden and violent downpour meant. He could feel the shift in the air, the toxic tinge of his creator's power that had always left a foul taste in his mouth. “He’s free. He’s out of his cage.”

Behind him, he could see the white figure, mocking him with her silence. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth The Corinthian wiped away the blood on his face and turned. Lightning illuminated her form, standing in front of his latest victim. “Looks like you got what you wanted.” 

Her veiled head tilted slightly as the mist began to seep from beneath it, fanning out across the floor and biting at his feet. He ground his teeth together. “You won! You can leave me the hell alone now!”

The apparition did not move when he lunged forward, throwing the chair across the room. “LEAVE ME!”

The Corinthian’s chest heaved as he stared at her, the ghost of Daunt that had been haunting his steps since the day he’d buried the blade into her chest. Nightmares didn’t feel things like everyone else did. Love, remorse, anger… it was different, dulled, but the pain he’d felt once the high of his hunts faded was deeper and more painful than anything he’d ever known. “Leave me,” he whispered.

A rush of cold wind blew her veil up, revealing the crimson wound he’d left her with and the tear-stained face with the lifeless eyes of the friend he’d betrayed. Her hand reached out, touching his cheek just as she did before she fell. “How could I leave you, dear Corinthian?” Her voice was wrong… it always was when she’d actually spoken to him. “I’m not even really here.”

“Daunt…” he whispered, looking away from her.

The hand on his cheek turned rough, gripping his jaw and forcing him to meet her misty gaze. “I shall stay beside you until the end. Mine is the last face you will see, just as yours was the last I saw.”

The mist rose, washing over him in a wave of pressure that left him kneeling on the floor trying to catch his breath. Daunt was no longer standing before him. The apartment he’d taken root in was empty save for the lifeless body slumped in the chair. The Corinthian rose to his feet, slicking his hair back with a grimace. He looked deep into the empty eyesockets of his victim and sighed. “I’m afraid I’m gonna have to run.” He lifted his hand to their cold and lifeless cheek. My dear Corinthian… 

He moved away from the body, and from the frozen echoes of her final words to look at himself in the mirror. His nimble fingers rebuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. “And I’m not gonna stop until I’ve reshaped this world to look just like me.”

As the dark shades covered his eyes and lightning flashed once again he saw Daunt standing behind him, the dreaded lady in white fulfilling her promise to him.

*

"Sir! Sir! Oh my goodness!" She sighed, pulling him gently to his back. "Sir, it's me… It's Lucienne."

The familiar face of his librarian eased him back to reality as she took his hand in hers and he squeezed it. He smiled at the gentle touch… The first touch he'd felt in over a century as he whispered her name, "Lucienne."

"Your home." She reaffirmed softly. "My lord."

"I am." He replied, as his voice began to sound more familiar once again. She helped him to his feet as the sound of the waves in the distance filled his ears. 

He was home. The black sands of The Dreaming swirled at his feet as he breathed in the salty air and looked out at the ocean waves that washed along the shoreline. For the briefest moment, he thought he saw the ethereal white of Daunt’s gown catching in the breeze, but as his eyes continued to adjust the image faded. When he turned to stare up at the gates he’d carved when he’d built this world he felt the slightest sensations of peace wash over him. He was home.

"Forgive me, sir, but…" He turned to her, the peace dissolving at the sight of her fallen face. "The realm… The palace. They are not as you left them.

The gates opened and he was forced to look out upon the vast dead realm… his realm in lifeless ruin. It was gone, all of it, every blade of grass and leaf. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"My lord," she said from behind him. "You are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you… Gone… As long as you were the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents? The palace staff?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid most have… Gone."

"Gone?" Pain shattered across his chest as her words began to take root within him.

"Some went looking for you," she said, in an attempt to soothe him.

"And the others?"

"They thought that perhaps you'd grown weary of your duties and…"

"And what? Abandon them?" He pressed, thoughts of his brother and the pain he’d felt when he had vanished resurfaced, making this moment… this bleak existence he was now prey to all the more painful. "Had they so little faith in me? Do my subjects not know me?"

"If I may, sir, it would not be the first time one of the Endless had just-"

"Enough. I will not have dreams and nightmares preying on the waking world. I will bring them all back. I made this world once Lucienne, I will make it again." One way or another, he would restore The Dreaming and bring his creations back.

Course dirt ground beneath his boots as he and Lucienne silently made their way toward the palace. The grand statues that had once lined his grand entrance now lay in crumbling heaps at his feet as he forced himself up the staircase and into the ruined hall of his dead kingdom. It was little more than broken shards of glass and rubble now, the great throne room of Dream of the Endless. Tears streamed down his cheeks the longer he looked and found that the silence he’d been isolated to during the century he was away had somehow managed to poison his home as well.

“I kept a journal for a while,” Lucienne said, forcing that silence to flee. “A chronicle of everything that happened in your absence. But slowly, the words began to fade. Sometime after you left, all the books in the library became bound volumes of blank paper. The next day, the whole library was gone.” Her voice shook and tears filled her eyes. “I never found it again.”

The library had been more than Lucienne’s function, it had been her home. Dream could not remember a day when she did not take pride and joy in aiding those that entered the vast collection of knowledge. How many years had she spent tirelessly searching the shelves for Daunt’s sake? The image of her white hair, spilled across the library table like melted wax as she closed her eyes and listened to him read to her had forced a sharp breath from his lungs. “I’m still listening, I promise.”

“And yet you remained while others fled, the royal librarian of an abandoned kingdom.”

She shook her head, “I never felt abandoned. I knew you would return.”

He stood before her, weak and mournful, and yet Lucienne’s faith in him did not falter. He could not fail her now, not after the long years she had endured faithfully awaiting his return. Lifting his hands slowly and focusing his mind on every pitiful ounce of power that remained in him Dream tried to fix the crumbling ruins of his palace. Everything shook and vibrated around him as the debris rose into the air trying to find the place it had all once belonged. It was too much. Too much that he did not have. Dream felt the weight of the blow before it was dealt as the tight pressure of his power snapped and slammed back into him, forcing him to the ground as everything fell around him.

Lucienne stepped forward. “You need rest, my Lord. And food and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you’ll be back at full strength.”

“No,” he breathed out, slowly rising to his feet once more. “Not without my tools.”

“Your tools?”

“My sand, my helm, my ruby.”

She shifted on her feet, anxiously looking up at him. “Why? What happened to them?”

“They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where.” His breaths became ragged as reality dawned on him. He was powerless without his tools. He was not king, not Endless… he was nothing. “Nor what I am without them.”

*

Finding Ethel Cripps wasn’t as easy as he would have liked, but The Corinthian had found her nonetheless. He stirred the drink slowly, watching her shocked expression and drinking in the waves of anxious fear that radiated off of her as she took note of him. “Who are you?” To anyone else, a human, Ethel would have sounded confident and unafraid, but the nightmare knew better. “How did you get in?”

“Getting in was the easy part. The hard part was finding you.” He pulled the took from the glass and pointed at her with it. “You’ve done a very good job of convincing people Ethel Cripps doesn’t exist.”

“Apparently not good enough,” she replied cautiously.”

“Well, I’m not exactly “people”.” He turned to her large shelves of drinks and tools.

Her slow, steady footsteps echoed in his ears, but all he could hear was the hushed whispers of fear she pushed down. “What are you then?”

Holding a glass up to the light he spoke again, “Do you remember the being Roderick Burgess kept caged in his basement?” He hummed, turning to look at her. “King of Dreams?”

“You’re one of his?”

Behind her the white figure stood, ruining the blissful anticipation he felt in his gut and bringing back that stupid fucking ache. “I’m my own man now.” He’d said it more to Daunt than he did to Ethel, pausing for a moment to regain his composure and remind himself of his purpose. “With your help, I intend to stay that way.”

The woman met his gaze unflinchingly, though he knew it was only due to his glasses that she felt so confident in doing so. “Why do you need my help?”

“Because he’s out of his cage and he’s coming for us. You and me.”

“Why me?” She tilted her head slightly, leaning against a beam of her dusty apartment. “I never did anything to him.”

“Oh, you did though, Ethel. You stole from him.” He lifted the glass toward her with a smile as the weight of his words settled in her eyes and the oh-so-bold act of uncaring was stripped away.

Daunt shifted in the now misty background. “A thief of objects and a thief of life.” His smile almost fell at the soft whisper of her words. “Truly a pitiful pair you make, one that will change nothing.”

She appeared directly beside Ethel, who did not see or sense anything out of the ordinary even though her skin broke out in tiny goosebumps at the cold that radiated off of Daunt. Her hand reached out and settled against his arm, frost coated the sleeve instantly and pushed the memory of her blood staining his hands, of her face as she looked at him, at the sound of Jessamy crying out to her, to the front of his mind. “Our fates are sealed, my dear Corinthian. Yours and mine.”

*

“There is only one sure way for me to find my tools.” His voice echoed through the empty room from where he sat on the lowest step of the stairs. “I must summon the Three-In-One.”

Lucienne sighed. “Surely it hasn’t come to that.”

Dream felt numb. He’d lost his kingdom, and his subjects, and had a century of his life stolen from him… he had nothing left, no one left save his librarian. “The Fates see past, present, and future, and they know all.”

“Yes, but they speak in riddles. They never tell you what you want to know, only things you should never know.” She took a step toward him as her tone turned desperate. “Perhaps, just this once, you could ask one of your siblings for help. Destiny would certainly know where your tools are, or Desire...”

Pain filled his torn-apart soul at the very suggestion. “My siblings have their own realms to attend to, I have mine. We do not interfere in one another’s affairs.”

“You may not, but they’ve certainly been known to. Given the circumstance…” She stopped, almost pleading with him now. “Perhaps just this once you could tell them what happened to you…”

Tears filled his eyes as he, at last, voiced the reality that he’d tried so desperately to ignore. "I am quite sure they know what happened to me. And not one of them came to my aid."

"Daunt did," Lucienne said softly.

Dream felt a weight lift off of his shoulders for a moment. She had come for him? Even after everything… she'd not believed he abandoned his people, his duty. Then another weight replaced it. If she had come then why had he not seen her? Why had he not been freed years ago? "What happened? Where is she?"

Lucienne lowered her eyes. "She came shortly after your disappearance, everything was… I gave her the last known location of you and The Corinthian. She and her wolf searched for weeks, traveling between the realms to keep The Dreaming and The Forest from collapsing, and then... She..." His librarian sniffled and shook her head. "I’ve not seen either since. But, for weeks after she stopped returning I could hear howling long into the night, all of The Dreaming could. That too eventually ceased."

Daunt had come for him… but at what cost? “When you last saw her, what did she say?”

“She told me of all the locations she’d searched for you. Some of the others expressed some… negative thoughts to her.” Lucienne shook her head and forced herself to stand straighter. “She told them she would not abandon you.”

“And now she too has been lost.”

Silence curled around them as the glass beneath his feet began to echo with soft voices, whispers of the past. He turned to look into one, eyes growing wide at the sight of Daunt standing beside Lucienne crossing locations off on a map. She looked tired… but more than that she looked sick. Dark bags hung below her eyes and her long hair was tangled in loose, knotting braids. “You should rest, my Lady,” Lucienne suggested tentatively.

“I cannot,” Daunt said. “Without him here it seems I’ve been barred from such simple things as sleep.”

A wolf stood at her feet, white with sparkling blue eyes that seemed to hold starlight within them. The creature did not speak, merely set its head against its master. “Ask it, Lucienne,” Daunt finally demanded. “I can feel the words hanging on your tongue.”

His librarian shook her head modestly, “Why are you doing this? So many others have gone, ones loyal to Lord Morpheus. I know you and him… I simply wish to understand, my Lady, why you are so willing to help when others are not.”

“It may not have been real,” Daunt whispered. “Those short moments of… of fondness, but this world relies on him. And as much as I hate it… hate him… It seems I too rely on him.”

Lucienne made a soft sound, reaching out to touch Daunt’s arm. “My Lady…”

“I will not abandon him,” she said.

“The Fates aren’t cheap, you know,” Lucienne's voice broke the illusion… the vision in the glass. “They cost a bloody fortune.”

Dream forced himself to respond, “And at present, I cannot muster power enough to summon them, let alone pay that cost. Unless…” He turned and looked at her, a desperate and frail sliver of hope digging into his chest. “Is there anything of mine that remains in The Dreaming? Something that I created?”

“You created all of this.”

“No, something that remains intact. That might retain some fragment of my power within it. Something I can absorb.”

“There is one thing.”

Of course, it was no small thing that remained. Of course, it had to be the gentle creature that he’d given to Cain and Abel eons ago. Dream was grateful that the brothers had stayed, but at the moment he was more grateful that Lucienne had come with him. His steps echoed as he walked across the bridge, past the graves and dead things toward their houses. The weight of his duty clawed at his chest, begging him to find another way, something else to take… but he knew there was nothing and as king of this realm, he had no time to let such sentiment slow him. No time to mourn what he’d already lost or what he’d yet lose. He simply had to keep going, even if he wanted nothing more than to stop.

“Cain! Abel,” he called out just as they rushed to meet him and Lucienne.

“Lord Morpheus!” Cain said, removing his glasses.

Abel smiled, his eyes sparkling with hope. A hope he’d come to kill. “You’ve come back!”

“At last!”

“I told you he’d return,” Abel mumbled to his brother.

“Oh I never doubted it,” Cain replied. “Come in my lord, and you, Lucienne! To the house of mystery.”

“Or the house of secrets,” Abel added. “I have tea!”

Cain glared at his brother. “I have tea! And biscuits!”

Lucienne stepped forward. “Gentleman, I’m afraid this is not a social call.”

“What’s happened?” Cain saw through the expression on his librarian's face in an instant.

“Is something wrong?” Abel asked.

“What is it?” Cain continued.

With a heavy heart, he spoke, “For the sake of The Dreaming, I must take back a gift I gave you long ago.”

Dream watched Gregory toss the ball in the air and gently kick it between his feet and though he tried not to, he couldn’t help but remember how Daunt had played with him. He remembered the way she’d dance in the leaves with him, the way she’d spend hours kicking the ball back and forth with him and let the creature win every time just to hear him purr. Daunt loved him. She had loved all of them, every dream and nightmare and what had he given her in return for such a gift?

He picked up the small ball and walked toward the creature, holding back the memories that threatened to consume him. Gregory stood to meet him, his ears pulling back as he purred softly. “I need your help.”

With a noble bow of his head, the king had his answer, one that was not what Cain agreed with. “Gregory, stop. No.”

He stood in between them, facing Morpheus with a determined and almost angry gaze as Abel joined him. “Take me instead. Or Abel.”

“Yeah, take me, Lord Morpheus, please.”

“I cannot.” He said. “I can only reabsorb that which I have created, and Gregory began as a nightmare.”

“Ye… Yes, but one of us now.” Cain’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s not fair.”

“No… It’s not.” None of it is.

The brothers turned to Gregory, and he gave them a moment of space. A moment to say goodbye.

He watched Abel say goodbye with a long kiss to the Gargoyle's beak. Gregory approached Cain with a gentle nudge to his shoulder, coaxing the gentle touch out of him before his anger returned and he crossed Morpheus’ path with a hurt and angry declaration. “It isn’t fair.”

And once he was ready Gregory turned to Morpheus without fear. He knelt before the mighty gargoyle. “You have served this kingdom with great honor. You will be missed.”

Holding out his hand he let the essence of Gregory shift back into sand and return to him. He felt the last fleeting feelings of his creation and the bittersweet surge of power that revitalized him. Gregory closed his eyes, sharing with his king one last memory.

“It wasn’t real,” Daunt sobbed as she knelt beside the pale plant, now surrounded by dead ones. “None of it was real.”

Gregory buried his face into her chest, making soft noises trying to soothe her as she continued to cry. The white wolf appeared beside her, setting its head in her lap, offering what little comfort they could to the immortal being Dream had wounded so mortally.

Once the last of the sand was gone he watched the memory fade away along with the loyal companion. Red plants blossom beneath his feet, a memory of what would be lost from this realm forever now, as he stood and beckoned Lucienne to follow.

The misty star-covered waters only held more painful memories of her. On the edge of the pier, listening to the soft water and the creaking of the wood beneath him Lucienne asked, worriedly, “Do you think you’re quite ready for this, Your Majesty? It has been quite some time since you last navigated these waters.”

His arms crossed in front of him he looked out at the vast mist as if she would step out onto the water like she had so many nights before. “Do you think I have forgotten how?”

“No. But…”

He turned to look at her. “I cannot ask The Fates for help without giving them something in return. There is nothing left to give from The Dreaming. I have to gather my offerings from the dreams of others.

“I understand,” she said clasping her hands together. “It’s just that, in your absence, these waters have become darker, treacherous, unsafe.”

“These waters are as much a part of me as I am them. Gregory’s sacrifice will not be in vain.”

The reflection below him began as his own as he let the sand fall into its depths. Reaching towards it the reflection remained him, a darker vision, the king of the nightmare realms. The figure in the water pulled him in without warning and angry waves swirled around him. The Dreams and nightmares had forgotten their master. He would have to remind them of whom they served. He commanded the current and the tides, moving with it until he found what he sought.

He lifted the crossroads out of the farmer's dream and moved quickly to the next. The hanged man represented surrender and sacrifice. The Fates would likely appreciate such symbolism, especially coming from him. He let the executioner wrap the rope around his neck, looking out at the sea of people in the dark wood that had gathered for the dream. And there from the gallows, he saw her, a figure clothed in white and shrouded in the mist. Her face was covered by a veil and thick tree roots wound around her, tethering her to the lost wood far beyond the dream. 

"Daunt," he exhaled, just as the executioner pulled the floor latch from beneath his feet and the noose tightened around his neck and he fell into the dark abyss, diving down deeper and deeper until he landed in the old building, staring down a white serpent that coiled around a shimmering egg.

The scales glistened like frost in the light as the snake lunged toward him, giving him only seconds to sweep it up into his star-filled coat. He lifted the egg into his hands, setting his mind to exactly where it belonged before he placed it carefully within his coat and returned to The Dreaming where he would summon those that held the answers he sought.

“I, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless summon the Fates.” Thunder and lightning filled the sky as a figure appeared in the mist. For a moment his heart soared. Daunt? “The three-who-are-one. The one-who-is-three. The Hecate.”

There they stood in front of him, watching silently for a moment as the mist faded and Daunt was nowhere to be seen. The Maiden that spoke first. “Morpheus, it’s been a while.”

The Mother, “You look thin, love. Have you been eating? Are you hungry?”

The Crone, “He is but not for food! Look at him! He wants something.”

He smirked, “You’ve found me out. I do want something. I need your help.”

“Help?” The Crone asked with a scoff. “Oh, listen to him. Like you helped us against Circe?”

“Circe is old business sister self,” the Mother reminded.

“And he did bring nice stuff,” the Maiden added.

The Crone held out her hand, and the snake within his coat leaped for her arm. The Mother admired the serpent. “You may ask us three questions.” Her mouth opened and the serpent slithered inside. As its tail curled around their jaw and disappeared behind the mouth of the Maiden she continued, “And get one answer from each of us.”

“Ask wisely,” The Crone warned.

“Thank you, ladies.” He said earnestly. “My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?”

Before him, a vision unfurled. He stood in the rain among a crowd of people, umbrellas knocking into one another. “It was sold in London. Last purchased by a magic user called Johanna Constantine.”

The umbrella in front of him lifted, revealing the familiar face of the woman who shared much of her ancestors’ face. “Constantine…" He said. “I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. You said “last purchased”. Does she still have the sand?”

The Maiden laughed at him, “Dream, you know better than that. You get one question, one answer.”

“My apologies. My second question.”

The Mother appeared. “Go on, dear.”

“My helm, what happened to it?”

The second vision showed him a room, a demon circle with his helm in the center. “It was traded away to a demon for The Amulet of Protection."

“To which demon was it traded?”

"One question, one answer, love.”

The Crone now stood before him with an expecting glare. “Last question. My ruby, who holds it now?”

The final vision filled his eyes, simple and clear. A mother knelt beside her child, twirling the ruby above him. “Your gem was passed from a mother to a son.”

That was hardly helpful. “Where are they now?”

The Crone smiled, her teeth razor sharp as their faces merged into one, and thunder and lightning filled the sky again. “You have asked your questions!”

Their laughter echoed in the darkness and just as they came they and their gifts were gone. Lucienne picked the egg up from the dirt. “My Lord, you didn’t give it to The Fates.”

“Because it was not meant for them,” he answered softly. He would ensure it found its home before he made his way to the docks where he stood silently as Lucienne looked after him, nervousness palpable in the air.

“May I ask where you’re off to, sire?”

“London,” he answered.

“Did you not just spend the last hundred years there?” He gave her a look. “Sorry. Why London?”

“The sand was sold there. Once I have it back I will seek out my helm. In hell.”

“Oh dear,” she sighed. “Then will you grant me one favor before you go? Take a raven with you.”

Flashes of Jessamy, broken and bloody filled his mind. “No. No more ravens.”

“If not for you, then for me. A raven can go back and forth between realms. Keep me informed–”

“I do not need a minder.” He reminded her tensely. “I am Dream of the Endless.”

She tilted her head at him. “Yes, and Dream of the Endless always has a raven.”

“Jessamy was the last.” He turned from her, twisting his hands and ordering the waters to part. “If this Constantine is anything like her ancestor she will serve me well enough. She is only human.”

“As was Roderick Burgess.”

He ignored the sting of her words and continued forward into the dark. I will not fail.

*

Retrieving his lost tools had been more difficult than he anticipated at the start, but now that he stood in his newly repaired throne room the toil he’d spent the past few days in melted away. Lucienne tended to the newly found library, ecstatic to once again hold the books in her hands and read the words written on the pages as well as gather the names of those that had already returned to The Dreaming. Mervyn made small repairs to the place, bringing it back to its former glory. And Matthew stood beside him as he looked up at the cosmic sky. He should have felt better, and yet he did not. Something was still missing… something he could not find.

Death always knew when he needed her. He did not know how, but she did. As he walked beside her, listening to her words and stories, trying to discover what it is he was lacking after so long locked away one question refused to leave him. “Sister,” he said quietly. “I must ask you something.”

“Ask then,” she replied with a smile. “You know I’ll always answer.”

“Did you…” Dream feared what her answer would be now. She’d not lie, not about this, but if what would be left for him should her answer be the one he did not wish to hear? “Daunt is gone.”

Death's smile faded as she nodded. “I know.”

Dream’s heart hammered in his chest, echoing in his ears and nearly drowning out everything else. “Is she… Did she pass?”

“No.” A rush of air filled his lungs at her answer. “I looked for her whenever I got a free moment, but it was as if she’d just vanished. No one’s seen her since you were captured.”

“Has Destiny said anything of it?”

“No,” she shook her head with a sigh. “I’m not sure if he knows and cannot say or if even he doesn’t know. I don’t which is worse.”

Dream knew which he considered worse, but he swallowed the angry and bitter words. “Now that I am back I shall start looking for her as well. Between the two of us, it should not be difficult.”

Death smiled at him. “You care for her. Don’t try to deny it, I’m your sister I can see it.”

*

More time passed by and still, there was no sign of Daunt nor The Forest. It was infuriating. He’d been able to find it with ease before and now it was as if the realm of emerald trees and mist had never existed. To keep himself from tearing apart the very fabric of the world to uncover what had been lost Dream poured himself into work, as he always did in such situations. Lucienne had, at last, finished her census on The Dreaming's new and returned entities. The two stood in his throne room, discussing the matter and more pressing ones.

“I have accounted for 11,062 of them.” Lucienne opened her book and handed it to him. 

Matthew, who stood between them spoke, “Wow, Someone’s been busy.”

“Yes. Well… There are a handful of new entities.”

“That is to be expected,” Dream replied, flipping slowly through the pages.

Lucienne nodded and cleared her throat softly. “But… three of the Major Arcana are gone.”

A swell of anger and betrayal swirled inside his chest. “Name them.”

“The first is Gault,” the stained glass window above his throne shifted to deep blues and purples forming the shape of the nightmare. “A Nightmare who, I must say, I never trusted.”

“She is a shape-changer. It is not in her nature to be trustworthy. Who else?”

Lucienne nearly winced as she spoke, “The Corinthian.”

The glass shifted again, taking the shape of his greatest creation just as it had a century ago when his nightmare first ran from his duties. As Dream looked up at the stained glass face of his nightmare all he could think of was Daunt. She had loved The Corinthian. How would she feel knowing of the horrible deeds he’d done in the time they’d been parted? “I assumed as much. Still feeding on the dreamers he was meant to serve. “The last?”

“The last is Fiddler’s Green.”

“Fiddler’s Green?” In the glass, he saw the sunlit meadow and the hills of wildflowers that she had so carefully walked through at his side. “That is passing strange. He is, after all, vavasor of his own domain and always so reliable.”

“I know,” Lucienne said thoughtfully.

“This is my fault. Had I been here fulfilling my function-”

“It was not your fault, my Lord.”

“No? Then whose?”

Lucienne looked away, unable or unwilling to answer the question. “I’m afraid there is yet more news. Gossip really, but…”

“Go on,” he urged her, once again looking at the pages of the book she’d given him.

Sighing she continued, “There are rumors among the dream folk… of a vortex. Perhaps you might wish to investigate.”

Dream closed the book and smiled. “The rumors are quite true. There is a vortex. A true annulet. The first of this era.”

“Then you must hunt for it, sir. It must be controlled.”

Looking up at the cosmic sky he watched the clouds and stars take the shape of the girl's face. “The vortex is a she, Lucienne. Not an “it”. And the Endless are forbidden from taking action against any mortal who is not an active threat.”

“Yes, but should the threat become active?”

“Then perhaps one of our problems may prove a solution to the other three. She is a vortex, after all. Sooner or later, she will draw the stray dreams to her.”

Lucienne scoffed. “Is that not risky, Lord? She could destroy The Dreaming and the Waking World in the process.”

“I’m watching her,” he assured her.

“Yes, but only when she sleeps. Perhaps one of us should surveil her in the Waking World.”

“I think it best I not leave The Dreaming unattended for now,” Dream said cautiously.

Matthew’s talons tapped on the floor as he shifted. “I could go.”

Sparing a look to Lucienne, who tilted her head with pleading eyes. “Very well. Lucienne will tell you what to look for, Matthew. And what you see, I too will see.”

As the figure vanished from the ceiling a cold wind swept through the throne room and mist filled every space of empty air. Dream felt a chill run up his spine as a voice echoed around them. “Sight alone will not tell you her secrets.”

Dream turned away from the ceiling as Lucienne nearly sobbed beside him, her eyes glued to the figure in white, "Lady Daunt…"

His eyes watered as he beheld the frozen glory of her... Or rather the fractured part of her that stood atop the steps before him. He moved slowly forward, unsure of what Daunt would do in this state. She did not seem like herself. His hands caught part of her veil and pulled it up as he stepped closer to her. He had to look at her… had to see the damage he caused with his own eyes. 

The bottom of her dress was nearly stained black with dirt and the more he revealed the deeper the aching pit in his stomach grew. Her bloodshot misty eyes stared lifelessly ahead, frozen tears clung to her cheeks and her face, stained with dirt and blood bore no expression. No sorrow or anger or pain. Nothing.

Dreams' eyes moved down, fixing on the gnarled wound that marred the pale skin of her chest. Blood. It covered every inch of her, the gown, spots of her veil, her skin. How had he missed it before? Dream felt dread consume him as he hesitantly reached out and touched her. She was cold as ice and felt as frail as freshly fallen snow beneath his fingertips. "Daunt."

Her unfocused eyes suddenly snapped up to his and cleared, revealing the rich dark eyes he'd grown to love. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks, melting the frost. "It fell before its time. Cut to the bone. Crying out and bleeding, left to burrow. Left to rot. The roots dug too deep and the leaves wither... Darkness. It falls... Falling deeper and deeper. Drowning. Drowning. Drowning."

He touched her cheek. "Daunt..."

"It wasn't real." Her words cut him like a freshly sharpened blade. "King of Nightmares..." Anger and hurt filled her face. "King of lies."

"It was real, Daunt," he whispered, soft and reverent. "Every moment." The words he'd held with him in the glass cage bubbled to the surface. "I…" He sighed the breath curling in the air around them as ice spread through the throne room. "I love you."

The cold burned his skin as the frost began to overtake her features once more her lips quivered and her body began to tremble. "You cannot love a dead thing."

"You are not dead." Death had told him you were not. He knew it. She was lost, but just as he found his tools he would find her. "Where are you? Tell me and I shall come."

"The Forest," she whispered, her voice growing weak. "The trees know... The roots protect. We will be gone soon... Consumed and swallowed by the earth once more. Drowning... Drowning..."

"Daunt-"

Her hands suddenly grabbed hold of his arms, nails biting into his skin even through his cloak. Daunts terrified sobs echoed around them as the mist swirled over her. "Find us."

His arms were empty. Daunt was gone.

"Lord Morpheus,” Lucienne quietly called out 

Forcing air back into his lungs, Dream turned to the librarian whose eyes were filled with tears. "I will find her, Lucienne."

“What can I do to help?”

“I do not know,” he admitted. “We need to locate her realm."

"All traces of it have vanished, my lord. Just as the library did while you were away." Lucienne shook her head with a defeated sigh. "And now with the vortex… is it not unwise, my lord? To spread yourself so thin?"

It was difficult to ignore the rush of memories that played in his mind, especially when he wanted nothing more than to reach out and take hold of one just to feel her warmth again. “She…” What could he say that could hold a candle to the depth of Daunt's importance to him? Every word and phrase his mind could conjure felt lacking. “She did not abandon me, Lucienne… I will not abandon her.”

Find us.

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Part 5

Part 4 | Part 6

TW: fluff, a bit of mutual pining some slightly scary descriptions (nothing too major), Dream's kind of a simp in this part and I'm here for it, a bit of heart-wrenching angsty character death to prepare you all for Part 6 😅

“You can’t be serious,” the smooth voice purred dripping with condescension and judgment.

You huffed and pushed past them. “You are not welcome here.”

Desire laughed, a sound you hated more than any other. They turned to you, the exaggerated smile on their lips the only thing that made their current appearance flawed. The dark hair and pale skin were unsettling, but the way they mimicked his eyes truly made you uncomfortable. “I knew all those years ago that I felt something shift in your pitiful little pool of desire, but this…” they clicked their tongue as they pulled at the dark fabric that adorned them. “Is simply pathetic.”

“Get. Out.” The low growl of Puck echoed from behind you and the trees groaned as their roots began to shift. 

They rolled their eyes, in a blink returning to the blonde hair and gaudy outfit that suited them best. Desire checked their nails, confident and unbothered by your display. “Come now, Mistake. I came to extend an olive branch after all.”

“There is nothing you could offer me that would make me believe anything that came from your mouth.”

“Ouch,” they whined, pretending to wipe a tear from their eyes. “Trust me or don’t, that’s on you. But I feel compelled to warn you that your little… crush on my big brother will be the end of you.”

You shook your head at them. “I’ve entertained you long enough.”

The roots of the trees bound them tightly, but Desire only chuckled. “One way or another he will cast you aside and remind you that all you are is a Mistake. A Burden. It may not be today or tomorrow, but the time will come.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. “Enough.”

This time Desire appeared to be upset at your darker tone. “Suit yourself, but do remember I tried to reason with you.”

The Forest settled almost immediately after the pestering Endless’ presence was gone. You stood on the path, breathing heavily for a moment… shaken by their unannounced presence and even more so by the sting of their words. You’d heard it all before, of course, but Desire was always adept at twisting words and situations to shape how they pleased. Slow pants echoed the path behind you as Puck tiredly made his way to your side. He sat down instantly, looking up at you with sad eyes. “Forgive me, I should have been quicker to apprehend our intruder.”

Your dear companion had grown older quickly. Much like Gaia and the others had. He’d lasted just as long as she did, but you feared his time was nearing its end. You sat beside him, stroking his slightly damp greying fur and letting the rest fade away. Desire’s insults meant nothing, were nothing. It was all just another game, another attempt to rile you into doing something drastic. You’d not let them bait you now. “There is nothing to forgive Puck. Desire wished to speak with me, and they would not have left until they got what they wanted even if you had gotten here first. I am simply glad you’re by my side.”

His snout pressed to your cheek. “I shall be at your side for as long as I am allowed, my lady Daunt.”

*

The earth felt odd beneath your fingertips, damp and soft yet stiff. Abel knelt beside you, guiding your hands with gentle instructions and encouraging words. As time passed with your constant visits to The Dreaming you found yourself drawn to the brothers and their gargoyle companion. They bickered about everything, Cain often killed Abel over minor inconveniences and poorly timed words, but you could still feel the deep bond the two shared. Perhaps they were not close like most brothers would be, but their oddities made you feel more comfortable within the perfection of Dream’s world. 

As you gently placed the plant in the small hole Abel had dug for you a smile crept onto your face. “There you go!” Abel praised, helping you bury it the rest of the way with a laugh. “I told you it would work!”

“As much as I love your enthusiasm the plant has not yet grown,” you pointed out looking down at the little pale-leafed thing. “It’s not likely to, but I suppose it has more of a chance than the others.” You turned, looking over at the white withered plants that had not survived your touch.

Your friend waved dismissively at the words. “This one is going to be the most beautiful flower in our garden, I just know it.”

Cain looked down from over your shoulder and made a low noise of agreement. “If it blooms it will indeed be quite the sight.”

Dusting off your hands you sighed and looked over at The Corinthian who stood against one of the trees a ways from where you all stood. Poor Gregory sniffed at him, tentatively trying to pass him the ball that he adored so much. The Corinthian, of course, ignored the creature's attempts and instead looked over at you, dark shades reflecting Cain and Abel's garden… or more accurately the darkened and dead version of it. “What do you think Corinthian?”

“I think we’ve been here for hours and the tea party has gotten boring.”

“Boring, boring, boring,” you huffed. “Is that all you’re concerned about?”

That sparkling wicked grin of his flash. “Oh, I got plenty more to fuss over.”

You smiled back. “Fuss as you see fit, Dear Corinthian, but do try to let us boring people have some fun as well.”

The nightmare seemed to bristle at your words, as he did much in the months that passed. The Corinthian was hostile by nature, it was his function to be the dark and twisted nightmare that humans feared, but there was something deeper in his darkened shades and his tight smile. Something that you’d seen before in Destruction. Discontentment… A plan begins to shape inside the pearly whites of your friend's eyes. It frightened you, the thought of losing yet another being you called friend. What frightened you more was how poorly Dream would take this departure. You could nearly still feel the cold of his hands around your throat, could nearly still see the cold callous rage that his eyes held. 

As if summoned by thought alone a dark figure walked across the bridge and entered Cain and Abel's beautiful garden of color. The star blue eyes of the Dream King met yours and you offered him a humble smile before turning to look back at your friend, only to find him gone. Cain and Abel rushed to Morpheus’s side, blabbering on and on about the honor and offering him everything they had on hand to please him as he visited. With a calm and smooth face, Dream merely waved the two off. “I’m afraid I’ve only come to retrieve the Lady Daunt.”

“Am I in trouble, Dream Lord?” you teased, slowly making your way toward him.

“Hardly,” he replied, lips perking up into a fraction of a smile. “Lucienne simply wished to show you some books before the sun sets in the Waking World.”

You hummed and curtsied to Cain and Abel. “Thank you both for your time. I always enjoy my visits to your beautiful homes.” Gregory rubbed his head against your arm until you pulled him in for a hug and scratched his chin. “Goodnight Gregory.”

Abel smiled, bright with eyes full of mirth. “It is always a great honor to host you, Lady Daunt.”

“You are always welcome in the House of Mysteries.” Cain bowed lowly.

“And the House of Secrets of course!” Abel bowed even lower.

Walking beside Dream felt lighter now than it had when you first truly entered his realm. There was space between both of you, his hands were always woven together behind his back and yours were always brought together at your front, but the small space that separated your two bodies grew smaller and smaller with each passing day. Sometimes, when you weren’t feeling stubborn, you’d admit to yourself how much you longed to feel him as you had the night in Fiddlers Green. You’d danced once or twice since that night, but those dances never required you to touch. 

It was embarrassing, the feelings that had begun to swell within your chest. This was hardly the first time you’d had them, but those were far more fleeting and small while the new ones… You spared a glance at Morpheus, taking in the way his dark hair grew even messier in the light breeze and the way his pale skin stood out amongst his darkened clothes, the way the ruby shimmered with each movement he made. These feelings were far more complicated… far more laced with danger and pains of the past. It was unlikely either of you would be able to move forward in such a way, and yet it was all you seemed to wish for in recent days. Foolish, You scolded yourself, looking straight ahead again. I refuse to have a measly crush on Dream of the Endless of all beings. Absolutely not.

He couldn’t help but watch you, as you sat beside Lucienne at the library table and politely looked at the books she held before you. Though much time had passed since you first ventured into his realm you’d been cautious of what you touched, though Dream couldn’t exactly blame you for such things. He recalled all the stupid and hurtful comments he’d made to you about the fickleness of your touch. So many times he’d berated you for having the nerve to change what was his, to touch what he’d made with your hands. It was something he thought of often in the quiet moments when he watched you, something he longed to take back. He hoped that with enough time you’d grow more comfortable here and would begin to feel safe enough to reach out and hold the books on your own, to shake his people's hands, and to interact with The Dreaming as he did.

It was not often he could gaze upon you without being blatantly discovered by either you or his librarian, who’d give him a knowing look before silently returning to her work. It was Jessamy that could never keep her beak shut about his long looks. She’d perch on his shoulder for hours after your departure and scold him for not making a move. She didn’t understand, none of them did… none except The Corinthian.

His nightmare was many things, but Dream had never expected him to care about your feelings and certainly hadn’t expected the nightmare to approach him with thinly veiled threats. Dream may have been his creator, his king, but The Corinthian respected you… loved you in a way Dream had never thought possible. It was concerning, but the endless allowed it because The Corinthian made you feel safer here, welcome, and Dream selfishly wanted to see you as often as you would allow.

*

“Something occurred to me the other night,” Dream said thoughtfully as the two of you walked along the pier.

The gentle lapping of water that surrounded you made you feel at ease. This place was one of the few that you knew from before and the familiarity of it made you relax. “Oh?”

“I’ve not ever seen your work.”

“No, I don’t suppose you have,” you mumbled in reply.

Dream made a soft noise, a hum of curiosity. “I would like to.”

“You wish to accompany me?” You asked, turning to look up at him.

He tilted his head and smiled down at you. “I do.”

Anxiousness bubbled up in your throat at the thought of what his sudden request meant. Desire’s poisonous words echoed in your mind as you looked into his deep eyes, searching for any fragment of the hate and the anger and the disgust that he’d held for you not too long ago. For a moment you thought about refusing him, of telling him he could follow another night… but the longer you looked into those eyes of his the more you wanted him to come with you. It was often lonely, traversing the minds of creators and hiding away their beloved thoughts of inspiration and creativity. Dream could perhaps help ease that feeling, or of course, he could make it worse.

“You would have to abide by my function,” you reminded him. “I did not think you would be so willing to cause your beloved human's such distress.”

He offered only a light chuckle in response before turning away from you. “I suppose I shall leave you to it then.”

“No!” You hurried and grabbed him by the sleeve, huffing out a breathy laugh as he turned back to you with a smug expression. Damn him. “You can join me if you wish to.”

You stepped off the pier and stood on the water, looking back up at him with a smile as you held your hand out for him to either take or reject. There was a pause as the air around you filled with mist and echoed cries of dissonant voices and for a moment you could have sworn Dream looked uncertain. The usual plainness of his features had downcast into a thoughtful and hesitant look. Still, he took a step forward and took hold of your hand letting you guide him out onto the water. The mist curled around the two of you as you stood, the voices growing louder as he looked around. “Now what?”

It was your turn to smirk at him as your hand tightened around his and you replied, “Now you hold on.”

The water below your feet sucked the two of you into the depths of unconscious thoughts. The darker beings that dwelt within forged a path away from you, further than they normally did because of their creator's presence at your side. The rush of it all never lasted long, the water rushed by you pulling and desperate as it always was, but this time there was a gentle nature to it, a caress of something that felt oddly like Dream’s magic. His hand tightened around yours as one voice began to cry out louder than the rest and you soon found yourself standing in an ornate dance studio.

You discreetly checked to make sure Dream was still beside you before you walked deeper into the space, weaving around the statues of dancing figures. This dreamer was one you’d been expecting to see again. He stood looking over papers scribbled with the foot placements he had slaved over for years. The dreamer's face was pursed tightly, scrutinizing the work in front of him, a look you’d seen far too many times. Lifting your palm you gently blew a haze of mist toward him, watching as the papers caught in its pull and swirled around the room, hanging high in the air as the dreamer jumped and whined trying to grab them.

He turned to you, eyes filling with tears as he shook his head in anger. “Why? Why must you torment me, witch?”

For a moment you felt Dream’s power pulse to life beside you, but it silenced when you set a gentle hand on his arm and walked toward the dreamer. “You do not need them.”

“I do,” he insisted as tears began to spill from his eyes. “I cannot dance without the steps.”

You lifted your hand to his face, gently wiping away the sparkling liquid. “You already know the steps. Now you must only trust in your feet.”

The dreamer looked up at his work and shook his head. “No, I need them.”

Stepping out into the large space you slowly began to move through the steps of his dance, moves you’d grown familiar with during each of your visits. The dreamer watched you for a moment before he hesitantly fell into step beside you and began moving with you through the various dancing movements. You smiled at him and stopped, gesturing for him to continue. “Trust your feet.”

You and Dream stood beside one another and watched as the papers above slowly began falling to the ground as the dreamer danced through them with ease, laughter, and joy filling the dancing studio with golden hues of light and misty figures of dancing people. Another voice echoed in the space, drawing you away from the dancing and toward the mist with the Dream Lord at your side. The walk through the mist was almost always a long affair, shapes of trees and figures occasionally caused you to drift to one side or the other. Usually, it would be walked in silence, but as you moved Dream spoke, “You helped him.”

Looking over at him you nodded. “That is part of my function.”

“I…” he paused, shaking his head. “I suppose I always thought it would be far more malicious than that.”

Thoughts of what Desire had told you as well as that familiar dull ache of old pain roiled within you. “Do you think me a cruel being, Lord Morpheus?”

His starry eyes lit in the dark mist. “Perhaps I did long ago. Perhaps I was too keen on making you the villain that I could not see the truth of your nature, though it was bare before me.”

“I don’t fault you,” you said softly. “For many years I was unknown to you, a stranger with access to parts of your home without your knowledge or consent. I can only imagine what it must have been like for you.”

“That first hundred years was quite… stressful. However, there was no need for me to continue such unpleasant behavior. You did not deserve such treatment.”

You smiled at him as the mist began to thin. “I hope we can put the ugliness of the past behind us now.”

The dark sleeve of his coat gently rubbed against your arm as the two of you gravitated closer together. “That is my hope as well.”

When the mist finally cleared the two of you stood in a crowded theatre filled with mumblings and low whispers. On the stage, a woman dressed in a beautiful gown and fine jewels stood, wide-eyed and fearfully looking out at the crowd. You walked toward the stage as the conductor hissed heated words at the poor girl and gently you took her hand, drawing her eyes to you. She almost sobbed. “I cannot sing… I cannot remember the words.”

“We’ll sing it together then,” you offered as you began humming the beginning note.

The two of you slowly worked past the awkward and soft start and steadily the fear began to dwindle from the singer's eyes as she found herself remembering the words and the notes. It was only when she began to look away from you, to engage with the crowd that you’d let go of her hand and silently slipped back into the crowd beside Dream.

He didn’t understand how he could have ever thought you were cruel. The more he thought about it the more obvious it was that he’d never truly witnessed an occasion in which you’d enjoyed the darker aspects of your duty. Your function was not unlike his, he after all was responsible for the nightmares that also plagued humanity. As he watched you hold the singer's hand and sing gently beside her, voice soft and melodic, Dream found himself lost within your voice. Even when you spoke he felt pulled to you, but now, it was undeniable that Dream of the Endless found you beautiful… more than beautiful.

When you rejoined him in the crowd he had to actively stop himself from reaching out to touch you, and the whole walk to the next location he had to remind himself to keep his feet moving forward so as not to drift closer to you. When the familiar tall trees and darkened misty woods opened up around you two, Dream noticed you stiffen. The Forest may have been your realm, but it seemed that when the dreams of others were involved you did not feel comfortable within its woods, and as the two of you walked further into the depths of The Forest he understood why.

There in front of you looking around lost and afraid was a small child, ten at the oldest. Children were a sore spot for Dream, something only his closest confidants knew. You approached the child with gentleness and patience, kneeling to look into her eyes as she turned to you. “I’ve lost it. It was the best and most beautiful thing and I’ve lost it.”

“The Forest tends to draw in many beautiful things,” you explained softly. “If you follow the path you will find what was lost.”

The child looked ahead at the path down an even darker portion with mist and gnarled trees. “I am afraid.”

You smiled at her. “I shall be beside you, but it is you that must lead the way.”

With a timid nod, the child took your hand and you turned, quietly telling Dream to follow behind at a distance. The two of you walked hand in hand down the narrow pathway as Dream watched with a tender and remorseful feeling in his chest. For this one quiet moment, he allowed himself to think of his son, to remember what it had been like to be a father to such a small and fragile being. Dream remembered when you’d found out about his son and had congratulated him, even though he’d been nothing but cruel to you during that visit. As he watched you now, kind and patient and gentle, he regretted not introducing you to his son… regretted every time he made you flee Calliope’s side when the two of you just so happened to cross paths. How many times had he driven simple and innocent companionship from your grasp? How many times had he denied you the only thing you ever longed for?

The child's eager cheers echoed back to him as he stepped beside you. A cat, covered in glitter and changing colors leaped down from a tree branch and into the girl's arms. Before she could even turn to thank you she was gone, swallowed by a wave of mist. “Does this happen often?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “The Forest call is a powerful thing. Some creators, no matter how young, get drawn here… pulled into the realm.”

He hummed softly, watching you wave your hand to clear a path through the trees. For a moment neither of you spoke, the question was poisoned on his tongue, wanting and waiting to be spoken. "I've not seen much of your realm."

Looking at him you tilted your head curiously. "No, you're not. I did not think you would find it interesting."

"Would I not?"

"You are used to grand palaces, gold, and marble, subjects to greet you. There is none of that here."

"And yet I still find myself marveling at its beauty." He replied. "I shall bid you goodnight if it is your will, Lady Daunt, but I do find your realm interesting. I would cherish being shown more of it, if and when you would allow such."

You hummed softly at his gentle voice and beautiful eyes. Years ago such a request, especially from him, would have made you feel apprehensive and tense, but now you felt… Seen. This was not the great King of Nightmares or the Dream Lord asking you, it was Morpheus, the endless being behind his vast titles. With a curt nod, you spoke, "There have been some changes that may be to your liking."

He smiled. "Do you intend to keep me in suspense?"

"Perhaps I should," you teased. "I've heard such tales of your patience, great Lord Morpheus."

The sound of his low and joyful laugh sent shivers up your spine, but unlike the times before they were ones of wants and a desire to hear him laugh again. "I am certain you've heard much about me."

An old howl echoed around you and the quiet pants of Pucks breathing fell into step beside you and Dream. He regarded your dark companion with narrowed eyes and then bowed to you. "I trust your duties have been fulfilled for the night, Lady Daunt?"

"Of course darling Puck."

"Do you require assistance banishing the Dream Lord from our realm?"

"Not this time," you assured him, looking at Dream with a smile. "He's asked to receive the tour."

Puck grumbled at your side as you crossed the bridge and walked toward the hut. “I shall accompany you then. Make certain our… guest… remains on his best behavior.”

You knelt and smoothed your hand over his fur. “I am quite certain he’ll behave. You should remain here and rest.”

He growled lowly. “I am to protect you. To remain beside you always. Yet I cannot…”

“You have done that and more.” Pressing your head to your loyal companions you sighed. “I wish for you to rest now, my friend. If only for a few moments.”

“Will you call for me, should you need me?”

“Of course, I will.”

Puck said nothing more but followed you to the door to your home. Dream hesitated to follow, but did so once you beckoned him forward. The hut was small, truly only enough room to fit you and Puck inside it, but it was warm and held everything you’d collected from dreamers over the years and things from the Waking World that caught your eye whenever you visited. Puck pulled himself onto your bed and curled up in the center of it, his face illuminated by the fire as you knelt and pressed a kiss to his head. “We won’t be long.”

His bright eyes looked past you toward Dream. “I will not hesitate to hunt you down should any harm befall my lady.”

The Endless nodded. “I mean her no harm.”

When the two of you left Puck to his rest, Dream walked straight toward the wilting garden just down the path. He examined each plant with a gentle touch. “Abel thinks I can get them to grow eventually. He says I frighten them.”

“Frighten the plants?” He replied with a chuckle. “You are rather terrifying.”

“Only when I need be,” you insisted, gently stroking down a dark leaf. “I hope to see them bloom one day. They would be so beautiful.”

“They will be,” Dream agreed. “Now, you said there had been changes to your realm. I must admit I am curious.”

You nearly blushed under his soft gaze. “They aren’t anything extravagant.”

“No gold?”

“No gold, I’m afraid you remain the King of such finary.”

It wasn’t often you walked through The Forest without Puck, but with his health declining you’d not ventured far in a while. It felt nice to do so with someone beside you, someone that appeared to be enjoying the gnarled trees and misty ground. Whether it was an act or genuine you didn’t know, nor did you care. He was here… He was curious and that was all that mattered. The two of you walked for a while longer before you came to the mossy willows whose white leaves and fuzzy patches had sunlight filtering through them. You’d noticed it a week ago, noticed how this small part of the path was brighter than the rest with hardly any mist and bright golden rays of the sun.

"Sunlight!" You breathed smiling up at him. "There's sunlight here, Morpheus!"

He smiled, eyes shimmering in the golden glow. "Indeed there is."

"It's so beautiful," you insisted looking up at it, feeling the heat of it on your face.

"Yes, it is," he replied, though it was not the sun he looked at but rather your glowing face... Your happiness. That was the true beauty in the Dream Lords' eyes.

You felt vulnerable, felt like you would shrink under his intense gaze, and yet you enjoyed it. Blushing you shook your head and began leading him toward the mountains. “Pardon my enthusiasm. I’ve never seen the sun here.”

Morpheus bent over, catching your gaze. “I enjoy your enthusiasm, Daunt. It is so rare that I am present to see it.”

You never thought you’d hear the words enjoy and you in the same sentence. Smiling even brighter you came to the cave's mouth and entered the darkness without hesitation or fear. Behind you Morpheus paused. You turned, offering up your hand once again. “Come now, Dream Lord, if I’d wanted to smite you I’d not do it in the dark.”

The damp darkness of the caves didn’t frighten you anymore, in fact, you found the constant dripping and slight smell of moss to be comforting now. The deeper you got the stronger the smell grew until you reached the larger area where the ceiling glowed a vibrant blueish green and crystals of every size and color shimmered around you. Morpheus’ face changed from slight doubt to awe. “It is beautiful here.”

“It is,” you agreed. “However what I wanted to show you is up ahead.”

“You have something grander than this?”

With a simple shrug, you pressed forward. “Perhaps not grander, but it’s my favorite spot here.”

As you exited the darkness The Forest opened up around you with tall trees of emerald surrounding a wide open lake of sapphire blue. From where you stood on the rocks you could see the white fish swimming below, could feel the gentle breeze that blew a small tuff of mist over the top of the water. It was peaceful here, quiet… home.

Morpheus stood beside you, eyes roaming over every inch of the space you shared with him, bright and full of wonder. He breathed in a deep breath and smiled. “The air feels lighter here.”

Stepping off the rocks you stood on the water and gestured for him to follow. “Would you dance with me, Morpheus?”

“Dancing with you is something I could never tire of.” He took your hand and the two of you glided across the surface of the water, dancing until the skies above you cleared to a clear view of starlight.

You tilted your head back, looking up at the stars with tears in your eyes. “Thank you for asking to come with me.”

“It was enlightening,” he admitted, his eyes glued to you. “Thank you for showing me your home.”

You looked back down at him and sighed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I am simply glad you wished to see it.”

“Goodnight, Daunt.”

“Goodnight, Morpheus.”

*

The day was one you dreaded for a long while. You sat on the bridge with Puck in your lap, quiet and sad as his breaths grew more labored every moment. It wouldn't be long now. He'd kept his final days simple, walks with you through dreams and The Forest, nights watching the fireflies and afternoons beside the lake. You had fulfilled every wish, all but one.

"I do not want to leave you."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you pressed your face into his fur. "I do not want you to go."

"When Death comes, I do not want you to remain."

"I will not abandon you."

Puck whined softly. "I do not wish for my last look upon you to be etched with sorrow. I cannot pass on to the next life knowing I left you in such pain."

After a long moment of silent thought, you nodded. "Very well, my darling Puck."

"Thank you, my Lady Daunt."

It wouldn't be long now.

Death was rarely the one who sought out Dream, but she clearly believed that this time his presence would be helpful. She walked with him beside her, quiet and thoughtful as he always was before that curiosity finally overtook him. “Where are we going?”

She smiled at him, sad and reverent. “I’ll tell you if you promise to be nice this time.”

His head tilted at her phrasing. This time? “I promise.”

“The Forest.” She told him, realization immediately pulling his lips into a tight frown. “Daunt’s companion will be passing into my lands today. I thought you might… perhaps… be able to offer her comfort.”

“What makes you think she’ll be glad to see me?” He inquired. “Last time I was present for such an intimate exchange I was nearly smothered by roots.”

Death shook her head at him. “You’re not fooling anyone, little brother. You and Daunt have been far too civil as of late.”

He huffed, the breath curling in the air as they shifted through the border and into Daunt's realm. “I was not aware you were watching us.”

“I wasn’t,” Death insisted, only to be met with his smirk and sideways glare. “Okay, maybe I popped in once or twice to check up on things between you two, but I was not watching!” She nudged his arm and offered him a sincere smile. “I’m glad you two are spending time together. She’s sweet and you could use a bit of that.”

The pair grew silent as they crossed the bridge to find Daunt lying beside her greying wolf. She spoke softly to him, her smooth skin gliding across the dull coat of the wolf as it labored in every breath beside her. Dream could see the tears in her eyes, could feel the hurt and fear in the air that surrounded them. He remained behind as Death walked forward and knelt beside the pair. This time it was Daunt that spoke first. “He’s asked me not to stay.”

Death paused, pulling her hand back with a nod. “He won’t be alone.”

“I know,” she whispered, pulling her face into the beast's fur, mumbling a soft farewell to her beloved friend before she stood and placed a hand on Death’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Daunt walked to his side and stared ahead into the thick trees and mist. Dream said nothing as he watched his sister. He said nothing as he tentatively took hold of Daunt’s hand and held it. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the gentle flap of Death’s wings as she lifted the wolf Puck to the Sunless Lands. The moment that followed was quiet, and then the trees began to groan and shriek as Daunt wept. His firebrand coat wrapped around her and the sounds of the forest grew quiet as he held her in his arms.

[thepaintedlady00]

Here's the sneak peek at Burden Part 7 as well as a few songs that I think fit the vibe Part 7 is giving. 😂

And here is the sneak peek! Enjoy! 🔮

Laughter echoed in his ears as he lay in the sun kissed fields of Fiddler's Green. There were few moments that Dream of the Endless could recall feeling so at peace, but this was certainly one of them. He could see the bright hues of the orange light bleeding into the rich purples of impending night. The light clouds shifted in the gentle breeze, making way for the starlight. More beautiful than that sight was the sound of her laughter.

Dream turned his head just enough to find her glowing ethereal figure. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder as she bent over to dip her hands into the crystal pool of water at her feet. The dress he'd made her had dirt and leaves stuck to the bottom, but she didn't seem to notice or maybe she simply didn't care. She laughed again as the taller blades of grass shifted, tickling the side of her neck, a game Fiddler's Green had taken up to bring the usually reserved immortal to laughter.

The fading sunlight cast the perfect glow over her, a halo of light curled around her head as she looked up and met his gaze. Daunt smiled, the sight of it alone sending Dream adrift on waves of longing and joy - such things he'd not allowed himself to feel for a very long time. He could not help the way he instantly smiled back, nor the way his heart raced as she came to join him in the grass.

Flowers sprouted up beneath her thicker of hair as she settled beside him and turned her head. "What are you thinking about?"

You. He'd almost said - wanted to say. "I was simply admiring the peacefulness."

Daunt hummed softly, reciting the tune she always did when she hummed. It was the same tune they'd first danced to that night so long ago here in Fiddler's Green. He did not recognize the melody from the humans, but had not dared ask her its significance for fear of causing her to retreat. After a moment she sighed, looking up at the sky as the darker shades began to overtake it. "No matter how many times I see it, I'll never grow tired of this view."

His eyes never left her face, memorizing every detail of her. The way her skin glowed and how her lips pursed ever so slightly when she stopped talking, the way the light caught her dark eyes and made the color of them more vibrant. "Neither will I."

"We should go," she said, a sadness causing her brows to crease. "It will be night soon enough."

"There is still time," he assured her.

"Do you intend to keep the dreamers waiting?" She questioned with an amused look.

Dream chuckled, reaching out and brushing his fingers across the back of her hand. "Were it within my power I would stop the turn of the Earth to prolong this moment of rare tranquility."

"I'm sure your father would love that." Her hand opened to his and their fingers wove together.

They had held hands many times, danced even more, but it was never enough. Dream wanted to feel her touch for eternity. He wanted to see her beautiful smile every moment if every day. Most of all he wished to hear her laughter, it was such a rare occurrence which was truly criminal considering how melodic it was. "Are you happy?"

"Happy?" She repeated the word with caution, as if even the mere thought of the word would bring about some world ending event. "I… Think so. I've never been happy for long, so it's hard to tell sometimes. But," she smiled again, meeting his eyes. "I am happy when I am with you."

"As I am happy when you are near me." He admitted gently.

"You haven't grown tired of me yet?"

Dream twisted slightly, moving to stroke her cheek. "I could never grow tired of you, Daunt."

Worry, doubt and a hopefulness all shined back at him through her eyes. "Do you promise?"

"I swear it."

With a relieved sigh she stood, turning to offer her hand to him. "Come with me Morpheus."

"Here in the darkness."

The sunlight faded as he reached for her hand. "Morpheus, please."

"Here in the darkness."

Daunts face twisted into the pained, tear stained expression he'd last seen before she left. "Morpheus."

"Here in the darkness."

Dream opened his eyes to the achingly bright light that reflected within his glass prison. All feelings of comfort… safety… home was gone as the dark world of Roderick Burgess' basement brought him back to reality. He was a captive here. Summoned and bound by some ameture magician and his cult of mindless sheep. For the first time in his existence Dream of the Endless was powerless.

In the quiet he thought of many things. His escape, the vengeance in store for his captors, The Dreaming and most of all Daunt. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her, joyful and smiling at him before those memories of her touch were replaced by the ones of her hands grinding beneath his as her tearful eyes looked up at him in fear. Looking at his own blurred reflection in the glass he hardly recognized himself. Would she recognize me? He wondered. Did she even know what had befallen him? Did she even care?

"Fear not, Dream Lord, I'll not make such mistakes again."

No. Wherever she was, Dream was certain thoughts of him had not crossed her mind at all.