But We'll Say Hello Again Someday Bring Your Face Closer To Yours, Holding It Gently In Your Hands I

“But we'll say hello again someday” bring your face closer to yours, holding it gently in your hands “I swear”

Omg.. Is mutliverse happening?

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰...

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 (you are there) - Epilogue.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Every great show must have a great ending and with that a great plot twist that accompanies it, but yours is more than an end, the most difficult farewell that any mother can dare to say.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬): Bruce Wayne x ScarletWitch!Reader; Jason Todd x Batmom!Reader; Dick Grayson x Batmom!Reader; Tim Drake x Batmom!Reader.

English is not my first language, please be patient.

The 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 for this history is OPEN

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Well, here is the last chapter, I hope you enjoy it. We still have to see each other in the Epilogue but the truth is this story has been an incredible journey for me and I have more plans for this world so we will see each other again.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @igotmessymind @andieperrie18 @randomboostsofmotivation @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne

Tim heard the magic before he felt it. It was a small sound that only a trained ear could hear, Bruce had taught him to detect it, but they hadn't prepared him for what would come after that sound. 

Of course he had seen how you used it, since sometimes you used magic in the house to move from one place to another, Wayne Manor was excessively large and it was easier than walking twenty minutes to get to the kitchen, or shamelessly getting lost in the corridors. He had never been prepared to react defensively to that sound, though there wasn't much he could really do though. The magic wrapped around him tightly but harmlessly, it was actually a warm soft force around him but firm, leaving him with his arms glued to his sides and his feet dangling under him as he was lifted into the air.

“Mom” Jason's voice broke the air, but he was the only one surprised or scared by what had happened.

“Mrs Wayne, I just want to help” Tim managed to say as he watched you leave the house at a steady pace with your hands manipulating your magic to lift it into the air.

“Don’t say that. I don't want to hear about it” you said furiously while pushing the boy further away from the house thus getting away from Jason “The drones, the missiles. All these people. Bruce”You pointed accusingly, leading him further from the house, until you were in the open field between the building and the woods. Tim could see how behind you, Bruce, Diana and Clark were the only ones who stepped forward in the situation to catch them both, while Dick held Jason and forced him into the house. Dick knew that if he let the boy get in the middle of the fight, your need to protect him would only escalate the situation, so it was better for him to stay where he was safe. Tim told himself that he should thank him for that, because he was starting to feel the heat of your fury emanating from the magic around him and he was starting to sweat, he didn't need everything to get worse. Neither did you.

“He had nothing to do with all that” Clark spoke, trying to divert your attention from the boy so you'll face him. It didn't fully work, the magic remained around Tim, but you did turn to look at it, giving Tim a few valuable seconds to think clearly.

“All you do is LIE!” you told him, gritting your teeth and squeezing your hand unconsciously. You didn't want to hurt Tim. But by squeezing your hand you caused the magic to respond to your fury and squeeze Tim, the air gone from his lungs, causing him to gasp and Clark could hear the boy's bones crack at the force you had put into the magic. So he acted. But, as he reacted, Jason successfully dodged his older brother while he was busy looking worriedly at the scene and ran out of the house, brushing against the shoulder of Roy, who was casually leaning against the door frame, looking at the yard with resignation.

Clark used his heat vision in the direction of your hand to try to get you to reduce the force you were putting on the boy or just let him go. But he didn't see Jason approaching, and when he heard him it was too late, your face turned from anger to sheer terror at the thought that your son caught in the crossfire, you dropped Tim, who hit the ground with a thud, the backpack helping to break his fall. You reached out to Clark, who had to stop his Heat Vision because you'd blown a bubble around his head, which he knew for sure that no matter how much heat he applied it wouldn't let go, but you didn't end there. You picked Clark up by the neck and tossed him away as you watched Diana try to stop Jason. With your magic you grabbed her by her feet and dragged her away from your son.

Barry tried to run towards Jason to get him out of there, that would lessen the situation but you already listened to reason, and when you felt his intentions you made sure he ran into a wall of your magic at the moment he ran out of his place, leaving a stain of blood on the wall of magic. Bruce yelled your name approaching the two, causing you to look at him with red eyes of magic and clenched teeth in fury. Jason had frozen in place looking at the now bloody face of who he thought was the gardener.

“Stop, please” he begged you, but your look made more than clear that fury had blinded you. You looked at him, eyes red and ready to continue fighting. They wanted to harm your children, they wanted to take them away.

“NO” you snapped, Tim moaning in pain behind you, still lying on the floor with at least a couple of splintered ribs. Your anger was emanating from you in waves, it was as if it could practically push Bruce back every time you speak. The world around him flickered. Black and white returned, as did the 1960s setting and clothing, but the situation remained the same. “You wanna take him out there” you spit out the syllables like poison and the magic keeps pulsing out of you around him. Everything changed again, now it was the sixties, all black and white, but this time your magic was dying, losing the illusion you had managed up to now, and contrasting with the television style of that period. “Y'all want that” you looked around you. Again everything flickered as Clark tried to stand in place, quickly being held to the ground by your magic and Barry wiping the blood from his nose with the sleeve of his colorful seventies suit, the color glistening against the yellow of his shirt. Diana hadn't gotten up yet, she was dizzy “Why would you want to do this, Bruce?” you spoke directly to him, fury turning to anguish, genuinely misunderstood in his actions “Why do you want them away? They're our children, they're safe here.”the betrayal hurt but the fury was still stronger. As Bruce felt this was the most honest conversation the two of them had had in a long time, which made him more sad than happy for the breakthrough, because he had let it get to this point. “Why don't you stay?”

Jason looked between his parents, as if it were a tennis match, he felt trapped in the middle of that discussion and the worst thing is that he didn't know why. There was no way or reason for his dad to want to take them outside. Where was she supposed to go if this was his home? There they were safe where you cared for them. Why did all these people want to put them in danger?. His anguish was reflected in you, you felt it in your bones as your own and Bruce realized that, directing his attention to him for a moment.

“Jason” he called out, causing the scared boy to stare at him with wide-eyed terror “It's all good, all right, just breathe” he asked, taking a step towards the boy. A mistake that was made clear when he was thrown backwards into the air. The world began to flicker anew, in a counting and confusing way, objects changing individually between decades in a chaotic and meaningless way. Bruce fell against one of the glass doors of the house that led to the patio, breaking the structure and cutting himself. The world stopped flickering, freezing everything to whatever decade it had been before that moment.

“Don't speak to him!!”you yelled at him as you walked towards him. Arthur Victor, seeing that neither Diana, nor Clark, nor Barry was able to react fast enough, stepped forward to face you. Hal checked Bruce who slowly got up from the glass mattress where he had fallen, while Oliver took Roy and Dick and put him further into the house where Alfred received them as upset by the situation as everything. Constantine and Zatanna were nowhere to be seen, no one really knew where you had sent them when you detected their magic when you went out into the yard to attack Tim. Jason ran to stand between you and Arthur and Victor, he didn't want any of them to get close to you, he didn't trust them anymore and before you could understand what was happening, you reacted.

“STOP!!” you cry out.

Tim didn't have enough time to process what happened next, too busy processing the pain in his ribs like Bruce had taught him, he heard your scream and then when he got up your magic had spread all over the yard, like a rope that stretched around you. For a second Tim didn't understand the gravity of the situation. It was a beautiful second, because for that second Tim held out hope that he wouldn't have to do what Bruce told him he would have to do at the end. When that moment ended, he realized that there would be no happy ending, maybe that option never existed.After all, you wouldn't have your son back and they were the ones you'd have to lose him to twice. So it was time to do what had to be done. He glanced at Jason, standing a few feet from him, and Jason looked back at him.

Dick watched the scene standing directly opposite Tim's. It was like he was awake for the first time all week, he knew things were getting out of hand. He, along with Tim, Bruce, Alfred and Jason were the ones the magic didn't touch when you screamed in utter stress and overwhelmed by the amount of things going on, the magic had spread like an aggressive current, wrapping himself around the necks of everyone present once before continuing on his way to the next person.It was while you covered your ears and squeezed your eyes shut without much thought, wanting to isolate yourself from the situation you were in. You were tired, you just wanted everything to stop for a moment, for everyone to shut up.

It was when the silence came that you realized your mistake.You looked up slowly, tears formed in your eyes, you saw how your magic surrounded the necks of those who were your friends. They had done bad things. They want to take your Jason away from you, but it wasn't because they were bad. They were your friends and they thought they were doing you good. They just didn't understand, but they were good, you still knew that and were sure of it. And you were hurting them.

“Mom” Dick's voice called you. you looked at him. The magic disappeared from everyone's necks, and then they disappeared from sight without even making a sound, as if they had never been there. In a sleeping limbo they were now, until you needed them or until it was all over.

“Dick” you said, tears falling freely, reaching your hands slowly towards him. Your son. Your little Dikie was there with you. You could barely move before he jumped into your arms. Neither of you was sure what would happen, you were scared, but you hugged him holding onto him, and he felt safe as you held him, because no matter the strange circumstances, you were there. His mom was there.

You saw how Bruce and Alfred were standing in the distance, next to the house, looking at the scene. The door he had landed against had been fixed, as if nothing had happened, neither were the marks on the floor from Clark's heat vision, or Diana's drag marks. Look at your husband, suddenly without a trace of glass on him and without any wound on his back. Everyone believed that he was a stoic man, that he could undergo the most horrible of tortures without blowing a whistle, not death or tragedy upset him. But as he stood there watching the scene, his eyes filled with tears as they had not in all the months since his son's death, as he came back suddenly to the moment he found his body, in the rubble, folded into a shape that was unnatural, with his eyes closed and his skin covered in bruises that would never heal.

During all these months without your youngest son, you and Bruce had drifted apart, not because you didn't love each other, but because you each got caught up in your own fantasy. You expected every morning that your son would return. All day, every day, you imagined how he would walk through the door and he would smile at you as only Jason knew how, he would ask you why you are crying and he would hug you. He would comfort you by saying that whoever it was that cruel person who had made his mother cry would deal with him, and he would say it with a tone so serious that it would make you laugh. He'll laugh with you. While Bruce clung to the idea that if he did his job well enough, if he took care of Tim, if he made sure to help Gotham p and at the same time make young Timothy live a full life, his son would finally visit him in dreams. It wouldn't be a nightmare, where he told her how much he hated him and that it was his fault he was dead. He would visit him to tell her that he had done well, that he had finished the job that both of them had started and that is why he was now at peace. But neither would ever happen.

Above the whisper of the wind, just for you to understand, Bruce had a thought, so pure and genuine that there was no way he wouldn't feel it too. I'm sorry, he whispered in his own mind, knowing that you would hear him. Me too, you replied with a sad smile over your eldest son's shoulder. War is over, Alfred thought, and felt he might as well cry. He would cry for the loss of his grandson, for the suffering of his son, he would cry for how no matter how much tea or sandwiches he had made you there they would all have ended up the same, in a fantasy where nothing bad had happened, accepting that it was time to return to home, even when the fantasy felt more like home now than the real world. It was time.

Tim led Jason back to the tree where they'd first met, the place where the burial was. When they got there she realized that Jason's appearance was again at odds with reality: he was fifteen years old, bright baby blue eyes, dimples in his cheeks, a red hoodie, and ripped jeans that hadn't been like that when you bought them, but they were his favorites.

“I have to go now” Tim told him, looking at him, and for a second he allowed himself to feel sad “But I need you to give something to your mom” he said pulling the backpack off his back and opening it, he looked Jason in the eye one last time before doing so. His eyes filled with tears and he allowed himself to think about what a life would be like with you as his mother, with Bruce as his father, with both showering him with love and attention the way Jason had enjoyed in life. He imagined what it would have been like if the boy before him was alive and was his older brother. He smiled sadly as he pulled the battered, torn, and still bloody Robin suit from his backpack, to offer it to Jason. Jason didn't look at him again, and Tim watched you approach in the distance, with the nerve of someone headed for his own death. Your eyes met his, and where Tim expected anger, disappointment, or sadness, he was met with a genuine tenderness that had never been directed at him. You made a silent gesture of thanks, stopping a few feet behind Jason. Tim felt relieved, you didn't hate him despite everything, he hoped that when it was all over it would continue like this. 

He had admired you from the first time he had seen you on television when he was five years old, fighting alongside the rest of the Justice League and had cried when it was announced that the Scarlet Witch had died to save the world. He felt happy for the first time in a long time and looked at Jason one last time before, wondering if the boy ever knew how lucky he was to have you in life and death as his mother (Jason knew). He allowed himself the hope that in some time line, he would have that honor too, he could also be your son and have your love in life and death (Tim already had your love, but he didn't know it yet). 

With that Tim Drake said goodbye to The Wayne´s Show for now and got lost in the woods, never to be seen by viewers anymore.

The suit in his hands was smooth, but there were burnt edges, which were rough against his soft hands that had never granted pain or labor. Jason moved slowly, staring at the garment, almost mesmerized, as if there were a piece of the puzzle in it, something intangible he couldn't quite figure out.

“Jay, baby” you called him, with a sweet but sad voice. Your son, your Jason, looked up from that cursed garment and looked at you “We need to talk-” Jay cut you off before you could say more and you almost thanked him for it, you wouldn't have known how to continue the conversation anyway.

“Mom” he said, dropping the garment in his hand to the floor, as if it meant nothing and then walking towards you, stepping on it as he passed without looking where it had fallen. That gesture made all the aversion you had towards that suit vanish, it didn't matter anymore “Mom-” his mouth opened a few times, it felt like the words were attacking his throat. Jason wanted to know, but he wasn't sure he wanted whatever it was he was going to do to get that answer. Noticing and giving him a reassuring smile, Jason released a heavy sigh that he didn't know had been saved and finally asked “Mom, what am I?”.

You walked toward him at a slow pace, admiring his features, the way his hair refused to be completely straight or curled, the way he stood almost level with you despite only being fifteen. You put your hands on his cheeks, feeling the softness of his skin under your hands once more, and looked into his eyes before answering.

“Jason Peter Todd. You, my dearest boy, are the piece of the Darkhold that lives in me. A body that believes based on what we live together, and what we don't too. You are my sadness and my hope. But most importantly, you're my love and you will always be” you explained. The information entered Jason's mind like a gentle ocean wave washing away tracks in the sand, but this time the wave filled empty space with information, and filled in all the illogicalities in his memory and also the memories that weren't there, the ones that he hadn't really lived. But the circumstances of his own existence hit him, out of the corner of his eye he could give up as if the world closed around him, but he wasn't scared.

“Do we have to say goodbye?” He asked you in the same way that he always asked if it was time to go to sleep, to then ask for five more minutes of light to read another chapter of his favorite book.

“Yes, son, we have to” you told him with regret, feel your tears fall down your cheeks again “But we'll say hello again someday” bring your face closer to yours, holding it gently in your hands “I swear” you promised him before looking at him for the last time, then you closed your eyes to kiss his forehead and so the inevitable arrived.

Unlike the other time, Jason didn't feel afraid or terrified at the idea of “dying”, because his mom had made him a promise and she always kept them. So he enjoyed the sensation of your smell flooding his nose, of your hands when his face with such care and delicacy, of your lips kissing your forehead, before his existence dissolved. His last thought was that, although he did not quite understand what his first life had been like, or understood the memories he had of it, he hoped that if he lived more lives you would continue to be his mother in each and every one of them.

Bruce found you, once the fog in his mind lifted and he realized there was no anomaly anymore, standing where Tim had left you. With your back to him, you held Jason's old Robin suit in your hands, you looked at it with a mixture of affection and sadness.Everything was over, but at the same time it was just beginning, just now you and your husband could properly process the joint loss of your son, as if right at that moment you both hit bottom in the deepest point of the ocean, meeting for the first time with the true cold and desolation of the situation. The fantasies of the miraculous return, of the dreams where they promise peace, of the sitcoms where at the end of the episode all the problems were solved no matter how serious they were, had ended. That would not happen. But now that reality no longer sinks you like quicksand, and as you and Bruce hold each other in front of Jason's grave that day was the first time you both felt so genuinely alive in a long time.

You were alive. Your family was alive. And that was something as beautiful as it was tragic, the purest magic in the world from your point of view.

Although the idea that life itself is magic is one that your husband has always discussed with you since the day you met. But that could be a story for another time.

Please, don't make her fall inlove with Aemond.. I mean, the guy did sexually assaulted her, killed her brother then kidnapped her..

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Since 'labour - Paris Paloma' was finally released, all I can do when I listen to it is think of the reader. I think I have spent the entire day with that song on repeat.

Chapter 35: Solitudes Visitors

You found yourself restless after your interaction with Alicent Hightower. Images of the lifeless body of your aunt's son, played in a loop in your mind. A sick imagination toying with your sanity in the space. Men could go mad from isolation, their minds making up scenarios.

And all you could do in the space was think.

And that is all you wished to not do. 

On your seventh sleep, you dreamt.

You dreamt of falling. Of Lucerys’ death. Of the brown haired boy's lifeless body, mangled before you. You dreamt of Jaehaerys being slain, Helaena's frantic screams echoing in your mind.

Every time you watched the murder of the child, it was your hands doing it.

It was you that she begged for mercy.

It was you who was covered in blood. 

You woke up in a sweat. Heart racing, as you slowly recognised your surroundings.

The Maester had not come to your cell that day.

You shivered at the sudden chill of the room, the perspiration on your skin making your blood cool. Tucking your legs up under your chin, you breathed deeply.

In for three, out for three.

Repeating until you felt yourself calm slightly. Though you tried in vain, you could not fall back to sleep.

So instead, you paced the cell once more.

Counting aloud to fill the silence, anything better than Lucerys and Helaena’s screams that echoed in your mind. You had completed your seventh lap of the cell before you heard hurried footsteps.

You turned to face the bars of the cell, looking out into the dark corridor. The footsteps came closer, as you heard small breaths being puffed out into the air. 

The movement of the guard alerted the presence of the person coming to your cell. You watched as the guard moved towards the hooded figure, hand warily on the hilt of his sword.

As the figure got closer, the torch light illuminated their face.

“My Queen,” The guard bowed, “You shouldn’t be down here.”

She walked shakily towards you, steps uneven and frantic. 

“Let me see her.” Helaena demanded, voice raw and uncertain.

“I am sorry, My Queen, I have-“

“I order you to let me see her.” She interrupted the guard, voice stronger, though still laced with self-doubt. 

The guard shifted on his feet, looking back at you as you pressed yourself up against the bar cells watching her. The man gave an uneasy bow before muttering, “Yes, My Queen.”

He turned on his heel and came before your cell, pulling the key from beside his thigh. 

The large skeleton key scraped against the keyhole of the cell before a loud click was heard as he turned it, unlocking the metal that kept you imprisoned.

Helaena stood beside the guard as he pushed the door open to her. 

The silver haired woman looked nervous, before she turned to look at the guard, back hunched.

“Leave us.” 

“Your Highness,-” The guard began to argue.

“Leave, lest you be hung for your disobedience.” She hissed, frantic energy rising in her.

“Yes, My Queen.” The guard uttered, eyeing you carefully before turning on his foot to leave the dungeon, footsteps disappearing up the stairs. 

You stared at each other in uneasy silence.

Helaena looked broken.

The hood over her head covered the knotted silver hair beneath, neither brushed nor braided as it spilled wildly over her shoulders and chest. Her eyes were sunken and hollow, the light they once held, seemingly snuffed out.

She looked as though she was wasting away.

Had she come to free you?

The both of you stood quietly before she swiftly came forward into the cell, snatching your un-bandaged hand. You squeezed hers as you felt tears begin to spring to your eyes.

Your sweet aunt. What horrors had she witnessed?

“There is a beast beneath the boards.” She frantically spoke at you, pulling you close, eyes crazed as she shook.

“Helaena, are you alright?” 

“There is a beast beneath the boards.” She hissed impatiently, eyes darting around the space, as she looked around in search of danger. 

“Helaena, I am so sorry.” You began to cry, watching your aunt fall to pieces before you.

“What was lost is replaced, a spider's web is spun.” Queen Helaena yanked you towards her, holding your hand in both of her hands as she desperately searched your face.

A broken sob fell from her lips. Her eyes widening.

“His head. They took his head. They took his head. They took his head. They took it from his body. They took it from me. He has no head. How will my boy see? How will he sing to me?” She rambled.

Your hands shot up and held onto her face as she cried, watching you desperately try to console her, try to calm her, give her any sort of comfort. She gripped your wrists.

“A dragons death for a dragon breath. I told you. I warned you. I warned you that this would happen. I tried. I tried. I-“ You pulled her roughly against you, holding her in a tight hug. Her hands were pressed awkwardly between the two of you as you held her tight.

The young woman continued to ramble as you held her. Breathing in her scent. She smelt as she always did, of fresh flowers from the garden, sweet and soft in your nose, though sandalwood lingered the more you concentrated.

You stiffened and pulled back holding her still as she began to wriggle and twist away from you, swaying back and forth on her feet. 

“Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black. Spool of green. Spool of green. Spool of green.” She repeated.

You felt helpless, utterly at a loss as to what to do, how to comfort your aunt, the broken woman before you as she uttered the same things over and over.

“Helaena, breathe.” You tried to hold her so that she would stop pacing around the cell. 

“No!” She yelled at you as you touched her, her body flinching away. “Please do not make me choose, please mercy. Mercy, I beg you.”

“Helaena it’s just me.” You began to panic.

The woman laughed brokenly, which turned to loud sobs. Tears fell from your eyes as you tried to catch the Queen in your hands.

“Please do not make me choose. He is just a boy. Just a boy. So small. Such a small body. It was wrong. It was so wrong. But I had to. I had to." Her fingers jabbed sharply at her chest, "It was so wrong to hold him when I could not look at his face. I wish I could hold his face once more. But it is gone. He is faceless. No more. No more."

Helaena was broken.

She rambled so quickly it made your head spin. You did not know what to do. How could you stop her? How could you calm a woman gone mad?

Your aunt.

"No more small little face to smile at me. How could I choose? What could I do? Where is his face? Where has it gone? It is gone. Gone. Gone. Gone.”

You grabbed her shoulders standing in front of her, lowering yourself so that you could reach her eyesight. She looked at you dazed, suddenly realising where she was.

She looked around the cell, “Y/n?”

“Yes, yes Helaena it's me.” You gave her a small sad smile, “I’m here. I’m here with you.”

The Queen blinked slowly at you, brows furrowing.

“He is gone, y/n. My Jaehaerys.” A tear slid down her cheek as she stared at you, face broken.

“I am so sorry, I am so, so sorry.” You sobbed, holding her.

Helaenas eyes glazed over as she looked at you, face suddenly empty, mouth parted.

“Gone.” She muttered. “Lucerys.”

You sniffed, heart aching, “Yes, gone with Lucerys.”

“Gone.” She repeated, voice empty. 

Noise snatched your attention from above, the sound of guards rapidly making their way down the steps to the dungeon and cell, where you were with Helaena.

She heard the commotion and suddenly looked back at you in fear.

“Dragon's of flesh, weaving dragon's of thread.” She grabbed your arms sharply, fingers digging painfully into your skin. 

The guards were closer now, far down the corridor behind Helaena.

“Get away from her!” One yelled at you, as you held onto your aunt in desperation. You looked into her eyes as the guards ran towards you. Their armour loudly moving throughout the dungeon. 

“If the dragons dance, none will survive.” She whispered desperately at you.

The guards burst into the cell, roughly flinging you back away from Helaena. Large calloused hands pulled you back towards the wall of the cell. She stared at you in shock as you tried to break free from the men who pulled you further into the cell away from her, as two held her gently pulling her away with soft words of encouragement. 

“Helaena!” You called to her, as she watched you.

You cried out as one of the guard's roughly grabbed your injured side, fingers digging into the tender flesh. Pain ripped through your body as he used the grip to pull you further into the cell, as you watched Queen Helaena standing outside. 

“You’re hurting her.” She whispered, the young woman blinked before her face crumpled rapidly.

“Spool of black, spool of black, a dragons breath. A dragons breath. To black, to black, to black.” She rambled as they walked her away.

“Helaena!” You called out again, desperately fighting through the pain to try and wiggle away from the guards and go to your aunt.

“Stop resisting.” One of the guards grunted, before he twisted his fingers into your side painfully. Tears fell from your eyes as you wailed in pain, shifting in their grip, trying to get his hand off of your wound.

The guard huffed a satisfied laugh.

New steps descended into the dungeon, their footfalls even and not at all rushed. Your heart raced as you listened to the steps, watching the guards all wait for whomever they had alerted to Helaena's presence in your cell.

A long leg stepped out from the staircase and another followed. The lazy steps moving the silver haired man into the space. Aegon walked slowly towards his wife, head tilting to the side. 

“Wife, you should not be out of our chambers in your condition.” He cooed, hand coming to brush the hair away from her face.

“Spool of green. Spool of green. Beware the beast beneath the boards. Beware. Beware. Gone. Gone. Gone.” She rambled, completely lost to grief and madness as he looked at her sadly. 

“Please take the Queen back to our chambers, and ensure that some milk of the poppy is brought to help calm her.” King Aegon commanded, watching as Helaena was gently moved up toward the steps, as she continued to look back at you muttering, eyes filled with grief. 

Aegon watched Helaena be led up the stairs before his attention turned fully to you. His purple eyes roamed over your body as he watched you struggle in his guards grip.

His lips turned downward in a smug smirk.

You felt your heart beat rapidly inside of your chest. You had not seen Aegon since before Lucerys.

Since before he was crowned King.

Aegon sauntered to the cell as you stiffened, watching him smile at you viciously. The Usurper King swayed on his feet, only a white dress shirt and dark breeches donned his form.

He must have been in his cup, drinking. 

“Thank the Seven that this guard informed me of Helaena’s visit to your cell.” He drawled, “Who knew what you would have done to her once alone.”

You sneered at him, “Fuck you. Usurper cunt.”

You swirled your tongue in your mouth, and spat onto the floor in front of his feet. The guards yanked you roughly backwards. Aegon looked to the floor where your spit lay, almost having reached him.

Your eldest uncle laughed an amused laugh, the guards holding you still as he watched you, eyes raking over your disheveled and dirty form. 

“You look filthy.” He smirked. “Worse than the whores down in Flea Bottom. The Silk Lanes have looked cleaner than you do.” 

You yanked against the guard's grip, trying to move towards your uncle as he got closer to you, finally standing before you.

“I’ll kill you.” You hissed at him.

The usurper laughed again, before looking at the guards beside you, nodding his head. A man holding onto you suddenly let go, before a blooming pain seeped into your side.

The guard had veered a fist back, striking you in your wound with it. You slumped forward, ears ringing before the other guards let go of you, letting you fall to the floor roughly.

Your ears rang and your vision went black. You could not feel anything, but the hot white pain in your side. Nausea rose within you.

You desperately tried to suck in air, but your body would not allow it. You heaved against the stone, your stomach emptying, only bile falling out of the side of your mouth, pooling onto the stone below you. The acidic taste coating your tongue.

Your body curled in on yourself as you tried to breathe.

Eyes were shut tightly as a groan fell from your lips. Never had you felt pain like this before. You thought your heart would stop. Your hands clutched against your sides as you curled further in on yourself.

Moments passed as you tried desperately to breathe and to not heave as the pain and nausea rolled through you in waves. Behind your eyes throbbed as you struggled with yourself.

The ringing slowly began to fade, as you heard the guards shuffle out of the cell, one by one until you were alone. 

With Aegon.

The soft crunch of dirt beside you alerted you to his presence.

You slowly opened your eyes, sucking in a painful breath of air, willing yourself to not pass out, as your vision swam. Large black dots formed in your sight as you looked at the man kneeling in front of you.

Aegon was crouched beside you, looking down in mock pity, lips pulled into a false pout which curled at the edges where he fought to not smile at you. You breathed in another shaky breath as you watched him, head spinning.

“You always did have such fire inside of you.” He cooed, as he looked over your tense form, still curled in a ball on your side as you gasped in agony.

“It was always to be your downfall, of course. You just never know when to give in.” The King tutted.

You forced yourself to keep your eyes open, though your lids had become heavy as your breaths evened out, and pain throbbed inside of you. 

“Bend the knee. Acknowledge me as King and I will let you live. You may even see Helaena.” He added at the end in a higher note, as though it was a gift for a child.

A small bribe to make them do as you wished. 

You stared at him in disgust and breathed out.

You would not concede. 

“A shame.” His hand came to touch the hair that had fallen on your face.

You flinched away, pain spiking in your side again.

“Such a waste. I could have even taken you as my second wife.”

He smiled down at you in thought. Eyes lighting up in excitement as his imagination began to run wild.

“Now wouldn’t that be fun? To see you swell with my babe, and have your family know that it was me who put it inside you.” He crooned.

A tear fell from your eye, rolling down your cheek as you felt horror blanket you. He watched your expression with glee.

“Though, who is to say we should wait? When I could put a bastard inside you now.” Aegon purred, looking at the thin rag of a chemise against your shivering form. 

“A bastard for a bastard.” He purred.

Ice cold dread spilt over you.

Please Gods. Not him.

You wriggled away from him, breathing sharply through your nose at the throbbing pain in your side, as you attempted to pull yourself up and away.

King Aegon stood to his full height, towering over you as he looked down in delight. 

Is this how they all saw him?

His large hands came to the front of his breeches as he began to slowly untie them, smirking as he watched you scramble backwards towards the far wall of the cell away from him.

Your uncle slowly sauntered toward you, the laces at the front beginning to sag. His smile grew wider as he watched you, enjoying your fear.

“Stop.” You begged quietly, new tears falling from your eyes, “Please.”

His head tilted, “Please? Well since you asked me so nicely.”

Suddenly he lunged for you as you screamed, arms coming out to push him away from you.

“I can be gentle.” He teased you, laughing in your face as he pulled you against the rough stones towards him.

Your back scraped against the floor, skin becoming raw underneath as the chemise pulled up, and bunched away from you, above your hips.

You frantically kicked your legs out at him as he laughed above you. Aegon grabbed your legs painfully before parting them, eyes darting down to your bare centre. His grip on your thighs made you cry out as you screamed at him to stop, and to let you go, begging him softly as you cried.

"Aegon please. Stop."

Your uncle's grip faltered on one of your legs, and your foot shot out, clipping him on the side of his face. He stalled, head still turned away, as you moved to race towards the open door of your cell.

You scrambled on your hands and knees, trying to dizzily catch purchase on the floor and haul yourself up to run.

A hand gripped the back of your hair and swung you painfully down onto the ground, as you landed heavily on your back, air leaving your lungs in a silent cry.

Aegon jumped on top of you, the side of his cheek a soft pink from where your foot had struck him. His face no longer bore the sinister joy from before, but was now hardened with anger and irritation, as your hands came up to try and scratch him. 

Anything to get him off of you.

You watched as his hand came down sharply against your side.

You fell still.

You could not breathe, as that same agonising pain rippled up your side, causing your to cry. You saw nothing but white, as the pain bloomed up into your chest, and you felt his weight begin to settle on top of you.

The Targaryen fumbled with the last of his breeches, as you stared at the wall of the cell. 

The stone had a layer of green slime on it, the damp causing some sort of moss, or mould to grow along its surface. You had never noticed that before.

How beautiful it must be to grow and thrive in such a dark place.

A large hand pulled at your chemise roughly as you laid flat, trying to catch your breath. You moved weakly beneath him, attempting to push him off of you, as your head swum from the pain radiating in your side.

'Fight back' the little voice in your head screamed.

Your hand came up to smack Aegon’s face, though your blow did not have much impact, only seeming to amuse the man further. His eyes were half lidded, his pupils blown out so that you could barely see the soft lavender of his eyes.

Fight back.

A tear fell down your face. Then another.

The pain was paralysing.

All you could do was watch as his free hand slapped your arm away, before moving down to pull himself from his loosened breeches, which hung lowly on his hips.

It was thick and engorged, its tip a deep blush, weeping arousal onto his hand as he stroked it roughly, smiling down at you. You felt nausea roll through you in new waves as you tried to move away from him, but every time you moved, agony pulled your body closer to the abyss as your vision tunnelled. 

“I was going to be gentle, but now I think it will be more fun to break you.” He moaned as he brought his cock between your legs which were wedged open by his hips. 

“Please don’t.” You sobbed weakly, trying again to push him off of you with your hands. 

“It's too late to beg now.” Your uncle cooed in your ear, as the tip of his cock touched your inner thigh.

Your ears rang.

And you felt a part of you die.

This was it.

This was how you would lose your maidenhead. To your usurper uncle in a cell, alone and in agony.

How you wished you had died when you fell, after all. 

The thick head of his cock rubbed roughly against your dry slit as the man above you hummed, trying to find your entrance. The sensation made you gag as you tried to wriggle away from him.

You couldn't breathe.

His tip pushed roughly on your entrance as he tried to force his way inside you. You cried loudly underneath him, as you drowned in fear, his weight pushing you down into the stones below you painfully. 

“Ah.” Aegon sighed as the tip of his cock caught against your entrance. You stiffened in his hold as he looked down in you lustfully. A sinister smile gracing his lips. 

Then as suddenly as his weight was on you, it was gone.

You blinked up at the ceiling in shock, unable to move. You felt tears fall down your cheeks as you sobbed on the floor, as sounds came from beside you.

You steeled yourself, scrambling backwards, digging your fingers into the stone floor messily, trying to get to the damp green wall of the cell. Your head shifted and the room spun. You blinked at the scene before you. Unsure of what you were witnessing.

A long silver haired figure, swung wildly at the other below.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh made you flinch, as Aemond’s fists came down onto Aegon’s face brutally. You found yourself grow silent as you watched, hiccupping.

Aegon groaned in pain below the younger brother, as he punched back upwards at his attacker. 

The One-Eyed Prince's hand snatched the throat of the King, lifting the older brother's head up, before slamming it back down onto the stone below. The younger uncle breathed heavily, looking down at Aegon whose own hands were gripping Aemond’s wrists tightly in anticipation of the next blow. 

The King laughed below his brother, nose bleeding and lip split as he gazed up, teeth stained with blood. Aegon’s head reared up, spitting in Aemond’s face, a spray of bloody saliva coating the Kinslayer’s cheek. 

Aemond growled, pulling Aegon up to stand before roughly shoving him towards the exit of the cell.

The Usurper King paused and stared at you in amusement, eyes roaming your form as you flattened yourself further against the wall behind you, pulling your tattered chemise against you tightly.

The eldest son of Viserys hand came to brush his hair back, knuckles raw as he spat once more unto the floor before turning away from you, slinking down the corridor calmly as he began to ascend the steps. 

You heaved a gag as you turned beside you, your stomach pulling up nothing, mouth dry and side aching with every movement. A broken sob fell from your lips, as you shook against the cold stone, eyes unseeing staring into the darkness. 

Someone shifted around you and you flinched, looking up into the cell.

Aemond stood looking down at you, hair neat despite his assault. You looked at his face as his gaze softened for a moment, concern in his lone eye, as he took an unsteady step towards you.

You flinched and scrambled back again, moving sideways along the wall into the corner away from him, the bucket behind you falling as you moved.

Whatever softness was in his gaze fell away, as the mask was put back in place. 

Aemond hummed.

With a sharp turn on his heel, Aemond swiftly left your cell, leaving you alone as he stalked up the corridor, and loudly up the stairs back into the Red Keep. You stared at his back as he disappeared.

You sucked in a shaky breath as you watched the stairs where he had exited, anticipating his return. Or Aegon's.

Or both.

Pain strummed in your side as you blinked.

What had just happened?

You felt a new wave of tears begin to well in your eyes, when suddenly you stiffened.

Your eyes darted to the side of your cell. 

The cell door was wide open. 

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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I have seen much speculation on the high quality of Dream of the Endless as a romantic partner, and I have seen many refute such speculations, mainly citing Nada as proof that Dream is a terrible, capricious lover doomed to failure.

Personally, I think it would fall somewhere in the middle. Dream is, by most accounts, a passionate and considerate lover.

Consider Calliope’s words from the comics: “He was the most gallant of lovers… He delighted in sharing his knowledge. He had a castle filled with treasures, and took such pleasure in showing them, giving them to me. He was so gentle, and his skin felt like white silk against my skin… when we made love, it was like a flame: I felt utterly engulfed, utterly loved. Treasured.”

Or words from another former lover: “…we began a conversation, which stretched over many weeks. And, at the end, he invited me to remain in the Dreaming, as a guest… He began, rather nervously, to court me. And I began, also rather nervously, to be courted. And we were both, initially, extremely happy. He loved me. I do not doubt that.”

In summary, as a lover, Dream is, in essence, a dream :)

And like a dream, it fades.

His first and foremost priority is, and always has been, his duty. Once he’s settled into a relationship, once the shine has worn off, he goes back to work, and his lover is left for when he feels like stopping by.

Both mentioned relationships end this way. A slow drifting away…

And once the drift begins, well. Nada was an extreme example, but reject him, insult him, even if it’s just a loss of temper, and a lover will find themselves shown the door and banned from returning. His anger, his hurt, is cold and sharp and cutting, like the nightmares he rules, and he holds grudges for millennia.

Dating Dream would be a dream, but the breakup is a nightmare.

Enjoy!

PLS IM BEGGING FOR THE LEON KENNEDY RATS TO COME OUT AND WRITE FICS LIKE PLS THERES NOT ENOUGH AND I KNOW THAT SO MANY OF YOU HAVE BRILLANT MINDS I SWEAR I WILL EAT UP EVERY FIC YOU PUT OUT PLSSSSSSS

Hope/Dawn is so cute.. omg..

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter Two

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: Confused Pining.

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.5k

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Your bare feet flew across the flaggen stone of your courtyard as you rushed around, trying to find the papers you needed. It had been hectic in The Gardens as of late, there had been a boom in the population in The Waking World and hopes were pouring into your realm at a pace you and your handmaids could barely keep up with. But you were not looking for parchment for The Gardens, but for The Dreaming. The lines between dreams and hopes often overlapped which led you to work with Dream off and on over the last hundred years or so. You had been keeping things strictly business with him, not wanting any sort of relationship with the older Endless to impede your purpose… but Dream had offered to show you his realm after you both finished your business for the day. If only you could find that blasted parchment!  

Of all the times to lose important parchment work it had to now. 

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled around the bench you normally sat at, your hands moving leaves, vines, and flowers. Sometimes, your plants liked to be naughty. You couldn’t blame them, they were still quite young, just like you. 

“Where did you go!? I’m going to be late!” You exclaimed, your flower-woven hair flying about. You caught a fold of parchment buried within the vines of the bougainvillea wrapping around the north archway of the courtyard. Eyes narrowing, you walked up to the unassuming vine and placed your hands on your hips. “And what are you doing with that, beautiful one?” The bougainvillea shivered and ruffled its leaves like a scolded child, then it started pouting. Your stern face softened. “Oh come now, I’ll be coming back… it’s not like I’ll be moving away from The Gardens.” 

Ever so slowly, the vines started moving and the piece of parchment you had spent the better part of half an hour looking for, appeared. The bougainvillea offered it to you in a wilted demeanor. You took the parchment and brushed your fingers along a few leaves and flowers. 

“Don’t cry, little one, I’ll be back soon enough.” A vine curled around your finger, giving it a gentle squeeze. You smiled softly and gave the plant one last caress before pulling away. You were already late as it were. Parchment in hand, you strode out of your private courtyard, calling for your familiar. Your dove swooped through the hallways to land on your shoulder as you entered your gallery. In front of you, sheltered by seven alcoves, were the sigils of the other Endless. You walked up to the dark miniature helm that represented Dream and carefully cradled it within your palms. 

“Dream,” Your voice softly spoke, echoing through the sigil to be heard by Dream. “I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, may I visit you and your realm?” You felt a ripple in response before Dream called back to you. 

I have already invited you to my realm, dear sister. You need not request permission so formally a second time, even if our rules demand so. 

Your lips twitched at his words, at him calling you his sister. That label had always felt strange and foreign to you. You had never felt that you were a sibling to the older Endless, you— you were something else. You had a purpose in your creation and it wasn’t to be their sibling. At least, that is what you understood about your existence. 

“Forgive me for being so rigid with decorum,” You sweetly replied. “It is my understanding that I must strictly adhere to the rules of my being, I shall arrive momentarily.” Placing Dream’s sigil back where it rested, you closed your eyes and held your hands in front of your chest, concentrating on transporting yourself to The Dreaming. It would be the first time you left The Garden since your first arrival. Flower petals and stardust swirled around you and your dove, and the serene calming aura of your realm disappeared to be replaced with one of wonder and fascination. 

You gasped at the cold stone beneath your feet and flickered your eyes open. Stretched out in front of you was a quaint village with stone cottages and smoking chimneys, the winding path you stood on continued through the village and past its boundaries to a bridge held up by hands. Beyond was a glimmering castle. This was The Dreaming. 

From behind you came the sound of shifting stone and twisting in place, you looked upwards to see a great dragon perched on Ivory gates that loomed upwards formidably. Stern eyes passed over your form shortly before the giant marble dragon swopped into the air and started flying towards the palace. Returning your attention to your surroundings, you followed the path and were instantly fascinated by the people and your surroundings. You saw clothing designs you had never seen, food you had never tasted, and creations you could never dream of. Finding yourself lingering on the fringes of the town, attention drawn to more unique statues and architecture, you just barely heard the call of a raven. Then one dove through the air and fluttered to its feet on a stack of crates nearby. You smiled. 

“Hello, Lucienne,” You softly greeted politely, your eyes flickering upwards to the palace that lay beyond the winding bridge. “I suppose I got distracted,” you moved your hands to grip your skirts sheepishly. “Please forgive me, this is my first time visiting and The Dreaming is so intriguing.” Lucienne hummed at you before tilting her head. 

“Lord Morpheus understands your curiosity and sent me to see that you are guided to wherever you so choose should you design,” Lucienne explained, shuffling her wings. Your eyebrow arched and you glanced at the palace. 

“Well, that won’t do,” You murmured, your mind remembering that you had come for a reason. You had business with Dream. “Apologies I have gotten entirely sidetracked by the realm, I have official business with Dream… do you mind escorting me to him?” Lucienne bobbed her head and took to the skies once more. Traveling across the winding bridge connecting the village to the palace, you took the opportunity to admire the beauty and structural architecture of Dream’s home. Upon entering the palace, you were led through some halls and ended up in the throne room. Dream sat upon the stairs to his throne, book hand and a studious look upon his face. You approached and paused a meter or two from the base of the stairs. Your dove cooed on your shoulder, and Dream raised his starlit eyes to yours. 

“Greetings, sister,” His deep and therapeutic voice echoed through the large room and slipped across your skin like silk. You bowed your head slightly in return. 

“My deepest apologies, Dream, for being late, it seemed that my realm was reluctant to see that I leave.” A dark elbow quirked and the corner of Dream’s mouth twitched. 

“Reluctant?” He repeated with a touch of amusement in his voice. Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, warming them, as you tried to beat back the embarrassment rapidly filling your body. Your dove cooed in agreement and you materialized the scrolls you needed. 

“The bougainvillea was reluctant to see me leave and thought to hide the parchments from me in a pout.” You explained with hot cheeks, your fingers rotating the parchment scroll in clear embarrassment. “I spent the better part of half an hour looking for the parchments only to discover that they had been hidden from me, intentionally.” How had a plant momentarily gotten the best of an Endless? Dream chuckled at your words, knowing how vibrant and full of life The Gardens were. It was no surprise that the realm itself did not wish for its Lady to leave. 

“It is of no concern that your realm kept you momentarily at bay, Dawn, you are all it knows,” Morpheus spoke to you gently, observing your small frame. You had always been a picture of gentle, carefree beauty. Flowing dresses, vines, and flowers woven into your hair tumbling down your back. You were the picture of nature, your timeless beauty shifting and changing with the eras. You had already shifted forms a few times, but your beauty had always remained constant. Yet at the same time, your carefree appearance was misleading. You were, perhaps, the most hardworking of the Endless. From the moment of your creation to this moment now, your sole focus and concern was on your duty and realm. Compared to Delirium, Despair, and Desire, you were far more mature. Unusually so. Mother Night and Father Time made you meticulous, hardworking, and serious. 

“Dream?” Your sweet and melodic voice drew Dream from his inner thoughts, and he shifted his eyes back to your inquisitive ones. “I can come back to do the co-filing if now is a bad time…” Dream shook his head and rose to his feet, stepping down the stairs to approach you. 

“I was merely in thought, come, the library is this way,” Dream said, looking down at you. Your eyes brightened at the mention of the library and Dream smiled at your childlike excitement, a great change from your usual serious facial expression. “I also believe I promised to show you my realm?” With a smile that could rival the brightness of a sun and unadulterated curiosity glowing in your eyes, Dream led you to his library. With your help, Dream was able to complete several dreams and get a head start on the construction of dozens more. It was a large ease in Dream’s workload and the older Endless was becoming more and more entranced with your presence. With the work completed, Dream moved onto activities that would surely bring further wonder to your eyes.

He started by showing you his palace which you had been enamored with its design and landscaping. Of course, you had fallen in love with the gardens that Mervyn maintained. If there was one thing Dream had learned about you, you absolutely adored plant life… your realm wasn't called The Gardens just because you liked plants. Then Dream showed you more of the village, letting you dart around and stare in amazement at the common places of the town. This was the most emotion he had ever seen from you, and Dream quickly found that he liked seeing you so happy. An unusual feeling for him. You were wandering towards the rocky path that lead to Fiddler’s Green when Dream stopped your midstep, arms wrapping around your fluttering body and ceasing your movement. You wobbled in surprise, your arms flailing slightly. Then your feet left the slightly cold ground and you found your body effortlessly lifted into the arms of Dream. 

“Dream?” You asked in confusion, your head tilting in confusion. His eyes met yours. 

“You might find that the pathway is… sharp, underfoot Dawn.” Dream pointed out, his silver-blue eyes glancing at your bare and unprotected feet. You still looked confused at why it was a problem but didn’t argue further. 

“If you are feeling so inclined,” You answered softly, your eyes dropping to his coat and catching sight of the stars hidden within. You reached out and traced your finger along the inner lining. He held a galaxy of stars within the inner lining of his coat? It was incredibly beautiful. Dream carried you along the rocky path until it ended and Fiddler’s Green began. As you returned to your feet and relished the feeling of soft grass beneath your toes, your head swiveled around in curiosity. Fiddler’s Green was a grand arcana that stretched over a large portion of The Dreaming. It was going to take you a long time before you fully explored the space to your heart's content. With your fingers lingering on Dream’s jacket, you looked up into his face. “Do you have a favorite place?”

Dream blinked, not expecting your question. He had to think about your question. 

“I’m afraid that I do not believe I have a favorite place with Fiddler’s Green. I spend so much time attending to my duties, I fear that I do not enjoy my realm as much as I should.” He answered you. Then he recalled a place within The Dreaming that dreamers who loved nature enjoyed walking through. Dream took one of your hands and began leading you in the direction of the field of flowers. You were happy to be led, giving you a chance to be absentminded about where your eyes wandered. The light breeze against your skin felt nice and the ground underfoot was almost softer than that of your garden. When Dream led you to a field that had an explosion of flowers of all types, you stopped short in vivid wonder. Dream watched as a multitude of emotions flickered across your face in rapid succession. It was like you were seeing the beauty of plants and flowers for the first time, and yet, did you not live in a garden of Eden?

The sight of you standing within Fiddler’s Green with such a look of wonder and enjoyment tugged at something within Dream. Perhaps his heart? No, he didn’t have a heart to be tugged… but he did know that he was drawn to your light and happiness. You looked back at Dream, your eyes sparkling but clouded with question. 

“Dream, may I ask you something?” You questioned him. Dream bowed his head to you, eager to answer any questions you had and learn everything there was to know about you. It wasn’t often that something held his fascination and attention, but you were all he could think of as of late. You picked a flower from the field and wound it through your fingers, a far-off look within your eyes. “Do you ever get lonely?” That question struck Morpheus like a blade through a heart. Painful and unexpected. He looked at your face, worry swelling within him. Were you feeling lonely so early on in your existence? Had he and his siblings failed you? You met his gaze. “Given your task of overseeing the dreams and nightmares, surely you are burdened with the emotions of the endless dreamers… I can’t even imagine what you might feel. Surely dreams are endless, how do you do it?” 

Dream stared at you in wonder. You clearly understood the gravity of your purpose and experienced it all the same… but were concerned for him, rather than yourself? Most of the Endless held egocentric, self-centered views, only thing thinking about their own domain and wishes. But not you. He was inexplicably drawn to that and felt an immense need to placate your worries. 

“That is true, I do feel immensely through the dreams and nightmares of mortals,” He admitted to you, staring into your eyes and loving the way your eyes constantly flickered with inextinguishable candlelight. Hope. “But it is their hope that is the base of their dreams and that sustains me, for what are dreams without hope?”

Your eyelids fluttered for a moment shortly before a smile blossomed on your lips of the likes Dream had never seen before. It was radiatingly gorgeous and lit up your face as he had never seen before, and it was directed at him. Dream was startled, taken aback by how beautiful your happiness was shown. But just as quickly as it had appeared, your smile was redirected as your eye caught something. You darted off with an excited giggle leaving behind a bewildered Dream in a state of confused pining. Why would Mother Night and Father Time make a sibling that he felt so drawn to, so connected with? Why did they make a sibling that Dream was falling for?

Date Published: 1/20/23

Last Edit: 1/20/23

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