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avengerthoughts · 5 months

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When The Sky Falls - Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Authors Note: Hello! I honestly had a lot of fun writing this, and it's been in my drafts FOREVER, so I hope you like it ! At first I intended to write this into just a single shot, but then I got carried away with actually writing it, so it'll have to be a multi-part series. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Non-Graphic mentions of past torture, general sad backstories that comes along with villain origins. Tony's kind of an ass in this, I'm soRRY !!!! kind of star-crossed lovers ????

Pairing: Pietro x Reader

Prompt: Like the twins, you were a HYDRA experiment; your powers focus mainly on healing and wound transferring. Your past is a dark secret for Tony, and what happens if he finds out when it's too late?

Words: 4,783

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War.

That's what united the three of you. Having not only Ultron in common, but also HYDRA as well. You had arrived at Hydra first, but the memory of how you wound up there, or anything predating, was nothing but a dark abyss. The only memories that managed survival were early memories of experimentation. Injections, tests, so many that there isn't even a number anymore.

The twins arrived at the same facility years after you had, and since they were kept in the cells next to you, friendship was inevitable. You never got to see them while you were kept captive by HYDRA scientists, but you had little things. Small cracks in the walls, holes that were barely big enough to fit a finger through and sometimes even smaller than that. It may not have been much, but it was enough, and the happiness it provided was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You'd never really had a friend before, then.

Naturally, those within HYDRA weren't too fond of the yapping you three did, and you had found out the hard way the first time they overheard a conversation between you and Wanda. As a consequence for disobedience, they had punished you harshly as a result, despite the pleas and the apologies that left your mouth as they dragged you off.

They had done such a number that you couldn't see properly for a week straight after, and could barely move enough to retrieve your daily food rations. After that, you three learned to only talk when night fell. While no one kept prisoner within HYDRA's walls were ever privy to the beautiful night sky, it was easy to tell when night had fallen. The staff would thin out, and what staff remained would be more focused on their 'important work' than three measly prisoners in the corner.

Still, on their first days you managed to give them a quick run down on things before they had caught you that day. When the best time to sleep was, what to look out for in their meals in case they tamper with it, and how if they ever got hurt too badly all they had to do was sit beside one of the finger-sized holes in the wall and you'd be able to heal them by just touching them. Your first punishment though is what prompted them to ask why you couldn't just heal yourself.

Truthfully? It was the one question you could never answer, and neither could HYDRA. Whatever powers ran through your veins went completely null whenever you used it on yourself, except for the psychic shields. That was the only thing, so it sort of balances out, in a way, but after that they felt a bit more protective of you. The three of you have been inseparable ever since. Along with your healing abilities came an ability to, of course, use psychic shields (or force fields as they're more commonly known by), but also light forms of telekinesis, and an ability to transfer a persons injuries to your own body.

HYDRA was currently training you in the ability to provide a cloak of invisibility to another person within your psychic shield, something that was proving a little more challenging to learn. Transferring wounds, however, is something you often did with the twins when your healing magic wasn't working right that day or you couldn't muster the energy for it, and they only figured it out when Wanda noticed a slight difference. When you actually healed them with magic, your hands would glow white, like an angel, and when Wanda had caught notice of it she was sure to ask you.

After that, she only let you heal her if you could with magic. In part because she couldn't stand the thought of you taking on her injuries, but also because she knew her brother was worse off, and that there was no way in hell that she'd be able to talk you out of transferring his wounds, not in a million years. However, it wasn't a one-sided friendship either, the three of you were there for one another in a way that nobody else could. Not even Bucky; even with his own experience in HYDRA, it still wouldn't be the same.

Wanda, Pietro, and yourself all lived it together, and that set the foundation for an unbreakable bond. It was no surprise when they broke you out of the facility after being released themselves, and it was even less of a surprise when you had followed them and joined forces with Ultron. Their own trauma was separate from yours, and while you may not know what it's like to sit three feet from a bomb for two days straight, but you knew rage.

You knew anger.

And you were angry for them.

When they finally broke you out of the facility, it was the first time you had actually were able to see their faces, and them your own. It was also then that Wanda had granted you with memories of the past, and the memory shards she had when she uncovered a bit about your past on her own (lots of face-punching got her those memories). Pietro was gentle with you then, giving you the biggest of hugs. While Pietro already had a special spot in your heart, your time together with him solidified it.

You knew you were in this together with them, no matter what. You fell for him, and you fell hard, but you always focused on giving your friends the revenge they deserved.

What you didn't know, is that Pietro knew.

Well...

Kinda.

He's not exactly the smartest guy around when it comes to dating.

He thought your crush was more superficial, like you didn't REALLY like him, like you just thought he was hot and that you were just looking for fun.

Did that make any sense? Did you even show any signs that you were even interested in that kinda stuff?

Absolutely not, he's an idiot, but, ya'know, he's your idiot.

He makes up for being an idiot by being a fucking gremlin (read: he makes it a personal hobby to tease you a TON, and to see just how much he can make you blush like an idiot in a day. Shared idiocy, if you will, just a town over. Idiotcity, and idiotvile.)

Wanda has tried many (many, please just pay her for her matchmaking services at this point) to explain things to the both of you; explain to her brother that you like him for more than just his stupid biceps, and explaining to you that her brother is an idiot (but a sweet idiot. Most of the time-).

The thing is he likes you too, more than he lets you see, more than he's even told his sister, and every single day he fights the urge to just sit you down and spill everything to you even though he thinks you won't return his feelings to the same degree. And everyday you do the same.

A weird love limbo (that sounds weird, maybe not a limbo, maybe like....love purgatory??).

It got worse when you had fallen into a style you liked; practical in nature, for all the fighting you'd be taking part in, except for all the white. White leather pants so you could move without worrying about anything showing that shouldn't be, but you kept your top small and skin-tight, because running raises body temperature, and you're more of an agile, keep-dodging-swings-like-a-roach-you-can-never-kill person than someone who drenches themselves in combat.

And boots that actually were practical boots and not New York Fashion Week boots. Your sleeves were detached from your actual top; starting at your elbow in a silver cuff, translucent fabric hugging your forearm comfortably to a tie around your finger, while the other part of the sleeve billowed down to your side, sort of medieval royalty style, and boy did you look like fucking royalty to him.

Even now, he still can't help but stare at you, captured by how beautiful you look. In all white like an angel, but decorated in silvers and blues like an elf.

Elf angel?

Heavenly elf?

He doesn't know, all he knows is that you're drop dead gorgeous, and he loves the way you look so divine, and the way your top hugs your--damn it. Don't look there Pietro, are you a fucking idiot? (yes.)

That being said, he flirts with you.

A lot.

Sometimes just because he can, but mostly because he really really (REALLY) likes you, and can't help it. Naturally, you actually flirt back.

That's how your damnation into the love limbo purgatory was birthed, really. It put the both of you in this odd place of no PDA has actually been exchanged, but you flirt often enough that Wanda has to make fake throwing up sounds to get you two to stop half the time.

The thought of you actually being in love with him never actually crosses his mind with any substance, not even when Wanda tries to explain it, he's always thought it was more of a superficial crush because....well, frankly, he doesn't think he's good enough for you.

It sounds crazy, he knows, The Amazing Pietro (cue muscle flash here) insecure?? Feeling something more than just thinking you're cute, more than just....liking you as a friend. It's a strange feeling, strange enough that it's not like anything he's felt in the past. It's real, this love he feels for you, and maybe....just maybe....he's scared of losing you if he says anything.

It shows prominently when The Avengers meet the four of you in the Salvage Yard. Since you didn't have that excellent of offensive powers, you had hidden in the shadows, kept a psychic field on Wanda to make sure nothing hurt her, and just when Ultron was giving a speech from a place of deep seeded hatred, Tony had showed up just in time. Cracking witty jokes, as if everything was just peachy.

"This is funny? It's what, comfortable?" Pietro had questioned as he stepped forward, and you kept a precautionary field around him, "Like old times?"

"This was never my life." Stark had defended, and you narrowed your eyes as you stepped forward in turn, but stayed behind Pietro.

"No?" You questioned, "But you supplied it, you funded it; took black-tie pictures next to the military officials that were peddling the devastating weapons you created; caring more about the girls around your arm than the families you were killing." You tilted your head, knowing you were getting into his.

It didn't take like for all hell to break loose, and in the chaos Captain America had sent his shield flying at you when you had made a move to use your psychic shield around Ultron. While Wanda was quick to use her own powers to take him down, it wasn't in time to prevent the shield from crashing into your abdomen and breaking a rib or two, and the subsequent piece of metal you crashed into as a result of the shield's velocity.

A broken rib and a gash in your side might be enough to take a normal person down, but HYDRA has done worse to you. Still, Wanda helped you up and made a mental note to check back in on you when all this mess was said and done. Thanks to your time with HYDRA you'd grown used to tuning out the pain for small waves of time, and combined with the adrenaline rushing through your veins, you had no problems putting a psychic bubble around Pietro as he fell to the floor below, just to be sure he wouldn't get hurt.

When Wanda left to do her mind tricks on the Avengers, you jumped down to a slightly dazed Pietro, and Cap giving him blow and telling him to stay down. A strong emotion of protectiveness overcame you and the next thing you know, you're encasing him in a psychic shield and flinging him across the room.

"Pietro!" You exclaimed, rushing to his side, "Pietro, are you okay?"

"Ah," Pietro sighed, shaking his head a little to try and center himself again, "Yeah, yeah I'm good." It wasn't until he had actually moved his head to look at you that he saw the blood staining the white of your attire, and his eyes widened in both worry and fear.

"Princessa," He uttered out, moving closer to you, hands already at your side to inspect the gash "What happened? How bad are you hurt? Which of them did this?"

"I'm fine, silly boy," You shook your head, placing your hands on top his, "When the shield hit me, I fell onto something sharp, that's all. I'll be fine. A rib is definitely broken, but Hydra has done far worse to me, it's nothing I can't handle. I am a tank, very strong." You jokingly flashed your arm muscles to lighten the mood.

Pietro had looked at you skeptically, not fully believing that you were as okay as you were making it seem. There was a good amount of blood still staining your otherwise white top and he couldn't help but question whether or not you were telling him the truth, and the little jump of fear in his heart got the better of him. He held eye contact with you as his grip got just a bit more firm.

"Promise me you'll watch out more, okay?" Pietro practically begged with puppydog eyes that tugged on the strings of your heart just right, "You cannot heal yourself, but you can still use your shields. Care for yourself as I care about you, I've lost a lot, I can't lose you too, okay? Just...promise me?"

"Hey," You spoke softly when you noticed his eyes pooling a little, even as he tried to blink them away, and you moved one of your hands to cup his cheek, "I promise, okay? I'll be more careful."

In all the time you'd shared together, he'd never actually saw you injured before, not even in Hydra. Sure, he could hear it, hear your screams from down the hall, hear your groans of pain when they threw you back into your cell, but he never actually saw anything, and seeing that large cut in your side and all that blood staining your top? It struck a chord in him, and he realized he couldn't live without you.

He also realized he couldn't live without getting to punch Captain America in the face for that whenever he got a chance to.

Which he did, after you two had both gotten up to help Wanda make sure she could spin her webs of fear.

It's a good thing that HYDRA managed to successfully train you in that invisibility thing before you were broken out, because it came in handy when cloaking Wanda from Thor after she had finished putting her spell on him, and Natasha so she wouldn't hear her coming, but you weren't there in time to protect her from Clint. Pietro got there first, literally flinging him across the room after seeing him hurt Wanda (and winning a Best Brother Of The Year Award), and quickly took Wanda to safety to recover.

What Pietro didn't know was that you had lingered behind to bend down to Clint and let him know that it was very mean to electrocute unarmed foes.

"That wasn't very nice of you," You scolded with furrowed brows, "Were you just going to electrocute her to death? I believe that's illegal in what, at least 20 states."

"No offense, but I'm not taking lessons on morality from back alley Shee-Ra." Clint groaned, "Maybe next time if you got the cape on."

"Shee-Ra?!" You nearly screeched with excitement, "You really think so?! I love Shee-Ra--wait, old stuff or new stuff?"

"What?"

"The old Shee-Ra or the new Shee-Ra?" You asked before sighing, "Whatever, it doesn't matter, old man. I'm the original Shee-ra and you, my not-friend, are healed."

What are you-" Clint questions as you put your hands on him, healing the rib he was recovering from. "What?"

"There. That wouldn't have healed on it's own, not properly," You explained calmly, standing back up, "I don't want people dead, I just want my friends to have justice. Please do not do that brain thing again, we are not prisoners on Death Row."

You moved to leave the office you both were in, ready to leave a very confused Clint questioning your motives and true nature, when darkness hit you. Ultron had decided to take you out himself when he saw that you had healed the enemy. From there you were taken onto the jet with the rest of the team; in part to question you, but also to do you the same courtesy you did Clint. If you'd been left there, you would've been killed by Ultron himself.

Clint had explained the whole....encounter to the team, and while they were all wondering why you were really with Ultron then if you'd been so willing to heal Clint, they still kept you in handcuffs. But they put the seatbelt on you too. When you woke up, it was the next day and while everyone had already emptied into the 'Safe House', you were kept in the jet. Naturally, being the enemy is reason enough, and there was no hope for release until one of them came in and started the interrogation.

Wiggling out of the restraints was pointless too, and it hurt. Now you were reminded of your wounds, and as a result their pain now that you didn't have the adrenaline to help. They even parked the jet so they could leave the door open without you actually seeing the house. Nothing but sticks, grass, and branches as far as the eye can see. In the silence, you wondered if your friends made it out okay, if they completed their plan, if they were missing you, what Ultron would tell them both.

Would they forgive you?

Would they kill you if they saw you?

Would Ultron lie?

Was what you did truly so awful?

If you don't get out of here soon you'll never know, you'll die from an infection first. And you were hungry, starved (quite literally). Would they even feed you? Probably not, right? I mean what's the reason to? You're the enemy, allied with people actively trying to destroy them, if anything they should kill you after interrogating you. That's not the style of The Avengers, though. They'll just let you rot either in prison or in a SHIELD cell, where you'll probably be experimented on like you were at HYDRA.

Thor was gone, Natasha was pretty much out of commission, and Tony had been sent to fix a perfectly working tractor, it was left to Steve to question you. Thankfully, Steve came with lunch though, so it made it less anxiety inducing to see him walking up to jet's ramp to set the plate in the seat beside you.

"I know you must be hungry," Steve speaks, releasing you from your handcuffs so you could eat, "When we're done talking, there's a medkit inside, whether you go inside to get it or it's brought to you, depends on you."

You eyed him suspiciously, quietly, wary of his kindness when you should be held prisoner right now. What angle was he working? Was this something that was going to be held over your head later? That's what HYDRA would do. Then they would kill you. Or they would kill your family in front of you, maybe pluck out an eye, and then kill you. The polite smile he offered didn't help either, and you couldn't help but slowly put the plate into your lap, eyeing it for any suspicious activity before returning your gaze to him.

"Why?" You question, not taking a single bite of food until you know for sure it isn't poisoned, "You're being kind. Nice. Why?"

"You don't want to hurt people. I mean sure, you're with the bad guy," Steve shrugs casually, eyeing you, "but...you don't do what the bad guy does. The only time you engaged in combat was when I had hit that guy, and Clint hit Wanda, you were only on defense because you care about them. You weren't hitting to kill."

"You could've thrown me into a sharp pole, or killed Clint when he was down, but you healed him, helped him. Why?" Steve continues his questioning and you look down, pushing the broccoli around.

"You may not have hurt me, mister Rogers, but my friends are angry with you....so I am angry with you," You had begun, "We shared time together, in Hydra."

"Hydra?" Steve questions, and sympathy is written on his features.

You nod.

"Yes. Wanda and Pietro joined of their own accord, but....I didn't." Your brows knitted together, setting the plate back on the seat it was previously on, "They put....things, in me ran tests on me, experiments, I was their Guinea Pig. A rat in their maze. Then Pietro and Wanda joined, and we just...bonded. We went through everything together."

"So you feel obligated to help them?" Steve questions, but you shake your head.

"No." You begin, lifting your head to gaze at the trees, "I mean yes and no; we're friends, so of course I do, but it isn't my only reason. Do you know how horrifying it must be for two kids to sit mere feet from a bomb? Children. Children never deserve to experience that kind of horror, and Stark funded the military's selling of weaponry on the black market for so long, whether he knew it or not is a different story."

"Then what's the other reason?" Steve asks, and you're silent for a moment.

"It's....complicated." You tried to reason when faced with the idea of unpacking everything.

"I was alive during the second World War, and I don't look a day over 30," He spoke, trying to lighten the mood a little before looking at you a bit more sincerely, "I promise, no matter how complicated it is, I've got you."

"Well...Truth be told, for the longest time I didn't have memories before being in Hydra," You confessed, turning your gaze back to the trees, "I couldn't remember who I was, where I came from...who I came from, nothing. All I could remember was Hydra, and all the pain they've caused. I still don't know how long I was kept there, you could tell me I was in there for a thousand years and I'd believe you." You offer a soft chuckle, looking back down at your hands.

"I'm sorry," Steve says sincerely, voice stern, brows knitted together, "You didn't deserve that, I'm sure your family will be happy to know you're okay."

"That's the thing, mister Rogers," You paused for a moment, tears stinging your eyes as a sudden wave of emotions flooded you at the memories you'd been trying hard to forget again this whole time.

It's a bit ironic; you'd been wishing for years for even just a small fragment of a memory from your past, anything before your time in HYDRA. Anything, even just something as simple as a playground in summer, a sandwich made from your mom, anything. You would've killed for it. And now? Now you'd do anything forget them. When you wished for your memories back, you didn't think they'd come with so much pain, so much sorrow.

You were thinking you'd get happy memories; ones of getting an ice cream with your mother on a hot day, or a high school graduation, your mom taking you dress shopping for prom, attending a holiday dinner with family...Instead, what you got were memories of why you were taken in the first place; your mother spending most of your childhood trying to keep you in hiding, and the memory of hearing her screams as you were dragged off into a van before a gunshot was heard.

"Wanda--the witch, when her and Pietro had managed to secure my escape, she..." You took in a deep, shaky breath, "She has many powers, and she's not evil, she's not bad, she's so sweet," You nodded, mostly to yourself, as you looked back up at him, "She helped me remember, gave me my memories back with a single touch, and then shared with me the memories she had when trying to dig up information on my past for me."

"That was...awful nice of her, I'm glad you could get them back." Steve said quietly, hanging onto your every word.

"It was, it is," You nodded again, blinking back tears, "Can you imagine how much it hurts, to wait so long to remember your family, wait with the hope that if you ever escape you can see them again, just to find out they're dead?"

Steve was silent, but his gaze flickered down to his lap for a moment, taking in a breath, before looking back up at you, "I'm sorry, really, I wish it were different for you."

"Me too," Your tears fell freely now, "My mother spend my entire childhood trying to hide me from the men of Hydra, worked herself to death to move us so often, to keep me fed and clothed, and you know who my father was? The person who could've stopped it all?"

Steve was silent for a moment, trying to do the math himself, "Who?"

"None other than billionaire, playboy, philanthropist himself, Tony Stark." You finally confessed.

"You mean-"

"Yes. I mean." You took in another breath, "She tried to talk to him in person, and you know what he did? He had his security throw her out. She tried calling, sending letters, even emails, and guess what the genius of our time tells her?"

Silence fills the air as Steve simmers in shock, trying to take in everything, trying to reason his way through things like he always did to come to his own conclusion. He didn't think you were lying, he's too kind-hearted for that, and your tears of pure agony told him you were truthful. What he was trying to do was figure out if Tony really would do all that, or if maybe it was just a series of misunderstandings.

Steve has a habit of trying to see the best in people who aren't actively trying to destroy the world, and Tony was no different, even despite their differences. He knew HYDRA was serious business, and by extension he knew how difficult it must've been for your mother to keep you hidden from them for so long, and how incredibly strong and intelligent she must've been for doing so.

His brows furrow together as he thinks. No matter what the case is, misunderstandings or not, that's a horrible thing for a kid to live through and an equally horrible thing to be told. He couldn't imagine how it must've felt to be a single mother, trying desperately to keep her child safe from those maniacs, just to be thrown out by the same man who helped bring that child into the world in the first place.

"What does he tell her?" Steve asks, and he almost doesn't want to hear the answer.

"He comes to the apartment we were staying in and tells her that she's crazy and needs serious help. He tells her to stop contacting him, hits her with a restraining order, and then he takes one look at me and then look my mother dead in the eyes and tells her that there's no way a kid like me could've come from him. Says 'that thing isn't my problem', and that if she calls contacts him again he'll have her thrown in prison."

Steve is silent.

"My mother died trying to protect me, to save me from the horrors of that place. She never contacted him again. Stark never bothered to take a DNA test either. So my family is dead, and yes, I have my own motivations for wanting to see the his fall."

"That...That wasn't right, I'm sorry, for everything." Steve says, and steals a glance outside before returning his gaze to you, "Look, you're free to leave the jet, okay? Med-Kit is on the dining table, and Tony's out working on a tractor or something right now so you should be able to dodge him for now. I'll make sure the team knows you're good, okay?"

"Thank you." You speak quietly, returning the smile he gives you before leaving the jet himself.

Leaving you questioning many things, but most of all, what will you do now?

#the avengers #tony stark #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #steve rogers #tony stark daughter #tony stark's daughter #pietro x reader #pietro maximov #x reader #imagine #avengers imagine #anti villain #healing powers #superpowered reader #hydra #ultron #age of ultron #avengers age of ultron

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avengerthoughts · 2 years

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5 posts!

im so fancy i have this little badge omg

#5 posts #tumblr milestone

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avengerthoughts · 2 years

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apologies to the people commenting under posts, im unable to reply through this account :,]

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avengerthoughts · 2 years

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I just read part two of An Unlikely Ally and hope that Alex and his men suffer greatly for what they have done at both the hands of Morpheus and the Reader.

Thank you for reading ! and trust me, they will ♡

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avengerthoughts · 2 years

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An Unlikely Ally (Dream x Neutral!Reader) Pt.2

= Part 1 =

Authors Note: I honestly don't know how many parts there'll be to this? I suppose I'll just keep writing until it comes to a natural close :] hope you enjoy !

Warnings: Violence, mentions of torture, things of that nature

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader (still haven't decided the nature of the pairing ! (,: )

Tags: @katiemrty @freedomsofdream

Words: 3,230

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The following days began to blend together for you; days turning into weeks, weeks turning into months, and months turning into years. Age dare not touch you, one of the many benefits of being something close to an immortal. Unfortunately, due to your inability to simply perish from old age, it gave one Roderick Burgess a perfect opportunity to experiment on you as much as he possibly could. One could say that the first few weeks were the worst, but what a lie that would be.

In fact, the longer time stretched, the more adventurous he got with his experimentation. At times, your screams were so deafening that it reached even the Dream Lord. You tried to keep yourself contained, keep them from hearing the satisfaction of your agony, but even you had limits to how much you could handle. Perhaps it was the lack of being actually submerged in water for any truly meaningful length of time, or being confined to such a dark, soul-crushing space, but even your heart ached for the call of home.

Of course you knew what you were getting yourself into before you had even started your journey, and you didn't regret a single one of the decisions you made along the way, but it didn't stop the homesick feeling from filling the empty pits of your stomach. Truly, you weren't even sure if you'd ever see home again at this point, it seemed like such a far away dream nowadays. Not very often were you ever left alone, even rarer alone long enough to simply be with your thoughts, but when you were, you found the songs of home resurfacing.

This time, the song that prodded itself into your memory, was a little lullaby your mother would sing to you when you were still so small.

'A paragon of beauty to behold, born of seafoam cold, in your eyes hold a deep mystery disguised, but dare not underestimate the wrath of a riptide.'

You'd thought it a silly little rhyme growing up, though as you got older, as you witness more of the world above the sea, only then did you truly understand the real meaning behind words and hold them dear to your beating heart. You were a child of the depths of the ocean, and the sea holds a grudge. It remembers so very vividly, and bears wrath unforeseen. It doesn't question it's worth, nor does it lose it's hope or confidence, it simply is what it is and allows those around it to understand it's nature or risk being buried in the dark trenches below.

The same would be said for you, as the nature of the tides is ingrained in your very soul. A child of the ocean, a protector of the sea, and you wouldn't falter. As strong and as unforgiving as the very waves, and you wouldn't let some power-hungry mortals strip you of who you were. Though, with that being said, there were times that you couldn't help but scream out in agony. Human weapons were developing quickly, and it certainly served you no good. When Roderick finally died at the hands of his own son, you had made the mistake of thinking freedom was finally yours to taste.

It was not.

His son was a coward, and continued his fathers work, that included keeping you captive and even advancing some of the methods that were used on you. Arguably crueler methods.

Fingernails were plucked from their beds, to both witness how you'd react, and test them to see if they'd be any use. Cuts were made, various amounts of blood drawn in the same efforts as the fingernails. As if the entire purpose of your existence, was to serve in their barbaric rituals. As if you didn't have a consciousness, thoughts, feelings, the same as anyone else. Small sections of skin was taken from your arm, hair cut at random points, random bones broken just to see how long it would take you to heal, and that was just the things without the use of what humans call science and magic. Alchemy was, quite honestly, a generous term to bestow upon them.

When the chemicals came? That's when things got unprecedentedly worse. Random vats of chemicals were produced, just to have you thrown in to see what would happen, if you'd still be able to breathe, and if any other liquid could trigger a 'tail' or anything else that wasn't nessicarily human in quality. Then, if a tail, for example, were to be produced, scales would be plucked from it to be tested in the same fashion as everything else. Obviously, they must have discovered a few things along the way, because their methods began to get repetitive. Doing the same experiments in order to gain scales from you, blood, or whatever else was on their agenda.

You couldn't help but wonder what exactly they were using these tokens of you for, what twisted rituals they were preforming with the unwilling aid of you. Even more unfortunately, also somewhere along the way, they discovered just how much the water would bend to your will, so when you weren't being tested on, you were kept securely in a sphere of your own, half-filled with sand, to keep you dried out until their next experiment. The sphere was, indeed, inescapable, and without water near you, it took quite a while for you to heal. It kept you weak, unable to truly fight back in any meaningful extent, and they knew it.

Morpheus would have to be a truly apathetic individual to ignore the screams that would flood through the manor whenever it got too much for you. To say that the prospect of what they may be doing to you disgusted him, was a grave understatement. While your screams would fill the air, the two guards standing watch before his own prison, would simply stand there, unbothered, as if it weren't the most shrilling sound to echo the very Earth. Sailors and immortals alike, whisper tales of the enchantment of the songs of the sea, but they never whisper of the haunting screams that would so rarely curse the tides.

Admittedly, other than the disgust, the anger, there was also a heavy weight of guilt that rested on his shoulders. So much so that it plagued every thought, no matter how long he was trapped there, able to do nothing but think. You had come here, because of him, and now you were trapped here all the same, because of him. How painful a twist of irony, for not a single one of his family to at even attempt to help him, yet someone he'd never met before risked pain untold to simply try to help. Though he truly wished he'd be able to do something, anything, he was just as helpless as he was when he was first trapped in here.

That didn't stop Alex from clinging to any threads he could, to try and get the King of Dreams to say something to him--anything. So, when he'd exhausted everything else, he defaulted to you. Despite Dream never giving an inclination of attachment to you, all in an effort to spare you from any further torture, and despite Paul's protests, it seemed he was just as much of a crazed mule as his father. Dream may be an expert at hiding his feelings behind a steel gaze, but even he was tested when your bloody, haggard frame was thrown into his view.

Your hair that once fell elegantly on your shoulders, lay in messy, uneven chops. Bruises, cuts, scabs that were unable to ever heal, fresh burns on your legs from yet another half-dip into a mystery chemical earlier that day, skin flaking at random areas from the lack of water. You were barely able to keep yourself upright, most of your weight being held at your hip from how much your legs hurt. Despite it, the dampness of the tiles clung to your skin, helped heal you the smallest bit, but what a relief it was.

"Would you still dare to not utter a word, even if they'd receive punishment?" Alex questions, "I won't hurt them, if you just say something to me, tell me you won't come for me if I free you." It was almost begging, at this point.

Morpheus remains as silent as ever, and he knows that even if he doesn't deserve it, you understand.

"Are you that apathetic, that you'd let them die for your silence?" Alex questions, "Or are you just truly that selfish?"

"Idiocy runs in the family, it seems," Your somehow still elegant voice breaks the tension, "First your father, now you," You look up, blood having stained your lips, "If you wanted me dead, I'd have met my fate long ago, do you think him stupid? Or I?"

"Bold, you are, to be speaking so when I could kill you right now." Alex threatens, though you know it's not a threat of substance.

"So then do it, relieve your pistol of it's cage, and shoot a bullet through my skull, I implore you," You dare, "My body is weak, my mind is not. I am not a feeble maiden, I harbor venom on my tongue, for the likes of you."

Alex can't do much but simply stare, anger slowly drawing on his face from being embarrassed by someone he was holding captive.

"He may not speak to you, but I so willingly offer my words at your plate, since you are so hungry for conversation," You spit, rage boiling in your gut, "What's wrong? Haven't you been begging at his feet for conversation? I offer it to you now, and you stare back at me with your mouth gaping like a salmon out of water."

"You shut your filthy mouth, you rotten creature. You speak when spoken to." He threatens and a dry laugh leaves you.

"Or what, My Lord?" You sarcastically ask, "You'll hurt me? Cut my hair? Rip my fingernails off?" You hold up a hand that wasn't keeping you upright, and wiggle your fingers with a weak grin, "Your threats are meaningless, as I have lived all you offer already, and your offering is pathetic in nature, as it matches you perfectly. You're an idiot, Alex Burgess, and so was your father."

He turns his body to face you now, and Morpheus can hardly believe you had a heart of steel, even after all you went through. You still remained as bold as when he first saw you captured.

"What connection have you assumed us to have, Alex? Does seaweed replace your brain? Have the fumes of your alchemy eaten away at your brain already? Before the day your father captured me, The King and I had met not." You glare at Alex, "To what reason would he feel for breaking his silence, just because little Alex Burgess got his big, strong men to hurt little old me, hm?"

"You are a foul creature of the devil himself, speak another word and I promise you will regret it." Alex threatens, a rageful look in his eyes.

"At least the devil doesn't live in dishonor and cowardice-" You began, but were interrupted by a very harsh slap from Alex.

Your cheek stung, and your neck ached from how fast your head had turned, but even so, it didn't break your resolve like he had intended it to do. At first, your complete silence had satisfied him, yet angered Dream, and he had walked back to where he once stood in front of the sphere with full intention of once again trying to get Dream to speak. The eerie laugh that left your lips made his hair stand, gooseflesh running down his arms. It terrified him right to his psyche, and the look on his face was enough to bring a wave of satisfaction to Dream.

You couldn't explain why you were laughing, why it bubbled out of your throat, but perhaps the idea of the supposedly oh so strong Alex had been boiled down to slapping an otherworldly creature such as yourself, yet tried to act so bold in front of Morpheus. Or perhaps you had finally, truly lost it. Perhaps the torture had finally broke you, in a way that wasn't expected. Sure, while Roderick was sinister and sadistic, at least he had some semblance of an IQ about him. Alex Burgess, is his father, without the confidence, without the sadistic edge that he tries so hard to fake.

He wasn't even the one doing your torture, it was always one of the men under his employment. Alex had not the courage to look you in the eye and complete his own whims, and while you hoped Roderick was rotting in Hell, at least he could give you the dignity of looking you in the eye.

"You are nothing but a little marble trying to be a pearl, a dolphin trying to be a great white," Your laugh dissipates slowly, tone darkening, "You will die in your efforts, Alex. I only hope I am there, to watch you in your final moments of struggle, and know you died unable to do the one thing your aging body has been trying to accomplish since you murdered your father," You look over your shoulder, hair falling in your face, striking eyes wild with a darkness you hadn't felt before.

"Why must you make things so difficult?!" Alex questions, though his voice falters.

"I may not have much strength left in me, but I have enough to make you a promise of the sea. The oceans will anger upon catching a glimpse of your face at their waters, your bathwater will feel like weights pulling you down, no umbrella will keep you from getting drenched during rainfall," You promise quietly, feeling quite nearly the last bit of your power leaving you, "You won't find happiness on beach sunsets, on spring showers, loving baths with your husband, and I promise the creatures of the deep will swallow you whole if you dare enter their waters. Music will pound at your skull, making it unbearable to listen to. Every creature, from creatures of the sea, to amphibians, will find solace in devouring your flesh."

"I...I've had enough out of you!" Alex stutters, calling out for his men to hold you still.

Once again, Dream finds himself thinking that three men holding you in your place, with your neck bared, is an excessive use of force when you were so clearly unable to even stand on your own from your injuries. He wonders if somehow Alex enjoyed it, knowing he had so many men so loyally at his beck and call, able to do whatever he told them to do since he was too cowardly to do it himself. Perhaps so, and even though the scene makes his very stomach churn, he can't bring himself to look away.

You had known it would've boiled down to this anyway, with Alex using something against you, in order to entice Morpheus into speaking. It seems that even if it didn't outwardly appear so, you were always two steps ahead of Alex, and the poor fool was too much of an idiot enveloped in his own anger to even realize he was feeding right into your trap. Why had you sped up the end result, though? Was it so you'd have the dignity of knowing it was on your own terms?

To spare him the humiliation of knowing he couldn't speak to save you from whatever Alex had planned? To spare him the guilt of knowing? Your mind was a mystery, but he found himself marveling at your intelligence, and worrying if you'd really make it through everything. Anyone could tell you were already barely making it, just by looking at you. How your skin now had a sickly undertone, how your skin peeled and flaked from the lack of water...

No matter what, he was going to get out of here somehow, and grant you freedom as well, he was just awaiting the right time. Alex retrieved a syringe from seemingly out of nowhere, filled with a mysterious thick, black liquid.

"Do you know what this is?" Alex questions, "Because I don't, not really, but that book my father left behind? Well...It told me of a little way to really make you shut that vile mouth of yours," He begins, "Make you an obedient little puppy."

"Little Alex Burgess, can't even silence me on his own," You laugh, "Has to use a little magic in his aid."

"Foul-mouthed mer-creature, I will enjoy this greatly."

And before you knew it, his hand was coming down, syringe painfully piercing your neck. A noise of pain left your lips as the liquid was slowly pumped into your bloodstream. It hurt, it felt like the liquid was too big for your very veins, sticking and clinging to the walls of your arteries like tar. It was enough to have you feeling sickly, and you were certain that if you had anything to throw up, that it would be on the stone floor by now. Onyx tinted your blood vessels, making a visible stain as it quickly travelled through your veins.

Alex moved away, stuffing the syringe into his pocket, smiling in satisfaction of the silence that fell over you. Vaguely, you could hear him, though your vision ran blurry. Darkness spotted your sight, like quilled ink dropping onto your very corneas; and you couldn't tell if it was from the substance that was just pumped into you, or your body finally giving out. A migraine plagued you next, so great that your head fell into your hands, fingers gripping your hair from the pain, and yet you couldn't make a sound.

Despite how much your own head hurt you, it felt like your mind was swimming in the worst way. It was like the thick ink was dragging your very muscles down, leaving you even weaker than you were before. It wasn't shocking that you didn't notice them moving a sphere into the room, placing it beside Dream's, you were too busy silently coughing and gagging on the liquid as it slowly stuck your throat. The guards hauling your weak frame up, and almost tossing you into the sand-filled sphere escaped you, had it not been for the humiliating removal of your clothes.

For once, you actually welcomed the warm, dry sand graining against your already dry flesh. It was truly the only thing grounding you, reminding you of where and who you were. For once, genuine fear crept into your heart; fear of losing who you were, of losing memory of where you'd been, reduced to nothing but a floundering fish out of water. Such a fate, was far worse than death, and yet it seems like there's nothing you could do to help yourself. At least when you were thrown in, you'd landed on your side, knees close to your chest.

The bright light did little to aid your vision, though you currently could barely think clearly enough to note such a fact, let alone ponder it's correlation to the substance running through you. Unwillingly, you finally let the dark spots clouding your vision take over, leaving you somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness.

#morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader #the sandman #sandman x y/n #sandman x reader #sandman x you #imagine #the sandman imagine #dream x you #dream x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus dream #the sandman dream #dream #dream imagine #headcannon

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avengerthoughts · 2 years

Text

An Unlikely Ally (Dream x Neutral!Reader) Pt. 1

Authors Note: warnings for light violence ? nothing too crazy ! This is my first time actually posting something like this in a very long time, so please be nice with any criticism you may have on it ;w; constructive criticism is always welcome ! but either way, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did ! I wrote the reader neutral in gender, so that everyone may have a chance to enjoy ! <3 (tho if i made any mistakes, don’t hesitate to point it out ! )

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader, non-romantic (something may develop later? haven’t decided !)

Words: 3,925

~title may change later~

PART 2

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The capture of the King of Dreams spread far within the realms of immortals, and it wasn’t long before quite nearly everyone heard of the unfortunate circumstances. Stories varied slightly, depending on whom was telling the story, but the most prominent was that a mortal, dabbling in magick he did not understand, summoned and captured the Dreamlord by complete accident. Yet, even so, he kept the lord captive despite not getting whom he truly wanted. Foolish humans; and they wonder why no fae reveals themselves to such a wretched race.

While there were many who wanted to help, there was unfortunately not much to do without risking their own races exposure to the humans. The fairies, while small and far more capable with magic, wouldn’t dare risk exposure of themselves for fear of the human that had captured Dream. There were few who didn’t share that same sentiment; fearing what the human would do if he had managed to get his hand on more magical creatures, or fearing the hunt that very well may follow. It was quite understandable, and perhaps if you had been smart, you’d feel the same as they did.

Though, you did not. In fact, you felt the opposite, compelled to do something despite having only heard of Dream, never actually meeting. You did have advantages though; you weren’t quite a mermaid, not quite a nymph, just a child of the element of water. You could shapeshift yourself as you pleased, manipulate the water around you, the best of both worlds, in a sense. Of course, with every gift, comes a burden, and yours was that you couldn’t spend too much time out of the water, or your skin would dry and slowly flake off until your inevitable death.

It’s not like you had partaken in personal experiments to prove this, but it was common knowledge between your race of people. It hadn’t been done to you, but you had seen the aftermath enough times to know it was real. That, and the near-unbearable sickness you got from being out of the water for longer than a few hours. Fortunately, you wouldn’t need very long; in the water, you were quite fast. Your plan was to enter the residence through the pipes, and locate the King of Dreams after. Wasn’t a very detailed plan, but it was a plan nevertheless. Besides, while you weren’t a siren, your song worked just as beautifully as theirs.

So; enter through the pipes, drown those guarding him, and then free the Dreamlord. Easy enough, right? That’s what you told yourself, at least, and you were nothing if not entirely confident in your abilities against mortals, of all people. Your siren sisters also offered their help, how they knew how. Enchanting men with their beauty before, of course, drowning them so they could feast on them. They hated mortals as much as the next sea-creature, and felt completely disgusted at the act of keeping an entity such as dream locked away.

In fact, they were the few that felt so very frustrated that they couldn’t do anything, given their confinement to the sea. Your sisters worked quickly, finding out the information you needed in less than a days time, and by the next day, you were ready for your journey. Before your departure, your sisters had given you some kelp and clams to eat, and a pearl-handled dagger to use, just in case. With a promise of return, you set off.

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It took nearly a week for you to arrive at the residence of one Roderick Burgess, the grand mansion making you turn your nose in a wave of disgust. Honestly, there’s no possible way he utilizes the entirety of that house. What a waste, a waterfall would’ve looked quite lovely here. Unfortunately, there’s no time for landscaping, and you certainly couldn’t stay in your human form, not right now at least. Droplets of water beaded off your long hair, slowly coming together to swirl around you as you quickly took the form of a newt that would match the color of the nature around the mansion.

For a good while, you observed the house as you scoped out the surroundings of the mansion. It seems people rarely go in and out, except to return to their home, from what you could overhear. You couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing, not yet, but it was a start if nothing else. Luckily for you, in your travelling around the Burgess residence, you managed to find an outdoor water pump, presumably for the gardens surrounding the mansion. Crawling your way to it, you entered into the pipe, and only turned to your liquidated form once you hit the water.

Your first entrance into the house led you to a bathroom, one of many you presumed. Unfortunately, this bathroom was on the second floor, and you were sure that your wet footsteps would give you away before you even got a chance to make it downstairs. So again you tried, this time leading you to an even further bathroom on the second floor. Truly, how many bathrooms are needed in this house? Needlessly huge, you muttered to yourself before trying again. Third times the charm, right?

You sure hoped so, because if you encountered another second-floor bathroom, you were sure you were going to just drowning everyone instead. Luckily, third time truly was the charm, for you, at least. You exited the pipes, into a somewhat larger body of water. Though barely wide enough to hold your frame, it was rather deep, with an odd lump of stone in the middle. A moat??? In the middle of a mansion???

You took your human form, hair slicked back from your speed in going through the pipes. Nothing more than your eyes peaked above the dark waters, and you carefully took in your surroundings. It was quite dark down here, though the dark depths of the ocean aided you well with your sight. No windows, nor doors, save for the one behind two guards. Aha! This must be the basement, where they were keeping the Dreamlord. He’s not in any of the cells, though? A brow raised from you as you lifted yourself a bit higher, showing your full head now.

It was then that you noticed the sphere being held above the ground, with the contents being the only thing that was well lit in the entire place. Is that....Dream? Your brows furrowed now as you moved a tad closer, noting how they had him. A cosmic entity looking like a caged animal in a circus, you could only imagine how angry he must feel right now. Many of your sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, had heard the unfortunate tales of mermaids being captured by sailors, to be used as some sideshow act.

Though they usually died within a week, of pure sadness and heartbreak. If the sadness didn’t take them, the tight confinement would. Observing Dream, you saw how he had laid himself. If he had felt your presence, he certainly didn’t make it known, though perhaps that would be for the best.

Lowering yourself back into the water, you swam closer to the front edge, seemingly unnoticed by the guards. Curiously, Dream had noticed you once you had actually approached the stone edge, fingers trained along the edge as a stream of water ran up the ledge and right towards one of the guards seemingly of it’s own free will.

With a mischievous grin, you willed the water to travel up the guards leg, staining his pants to make it look like he soiled himself. A silent giggle shook your shoulders as you intently observed the other guard clear his throat.

“Uh, do you need a break, there?” The guard asked the other, nodding to the others pants.

“What? Oh!” The guard exclaimed with furrowed brows, “I-Perhaps, yes. I...Will you uh, be alright?”

“Yes, just...go change your clothes before The Magus sees.”

“Right, good idea.”

And just like that, the other guard was quickly gone, face red with embarrassment. Looking up at the captured, you had put your hands over your ears, while locking eyes with him. A quiet sign that, if he would be afflicted by your song, that now’s a good time to cover his ears. You didn’t wait to see his reaction though, save for a slight raise in brow, as your attention went back onto the remaining male. Quietly swimming to the other edge, you lifted yourself so that you could rest your arms against the stone edge.

Your long hair now fell wetly against your shoulders, contrasting with your beautiful skin and piercing eyes. Wet, white cloth stuck to your skin, letting all around it see through to what lie beneath it. A beauty to behold, a beauty that would enchant any mortal, such is the gift of the sea. You locked eyes with the man before you, plump lips opening in hauntingly beautiful song.

“There's dirt on your hands, and there's sweat on your skin,“ Your eyes locked with his brown ones, slowly enchanting him forward, “The water's so cool, don't you want to dive in?”

“Madam?” The man questioned, stepping closer, “What’s your name?”

“Come close to the edge, yes, come close to the brink,” You motioned him closer, and he obeyed, “You'll wash yourself clean, and you'll float 'til you sink.”

“Miss, how’d you get down there? Are you alright?” He asked absentmindedly, almost within your grasp.

“Come in, come in,“ Your voice took on a darker tone, as he was too enchanted to back out now, voice echoing through the empty basement, “Come join us below, plunge into the sea as it moves to and fro.“ You kept your features innocent as he stepped to the edge, lowering himself into a crouch as he stared at you with wonder.

“It's wide and deep and cradles you close, come in, come in,” You sang, wet hands moving to cradle his face as you slowly lowered yourself into the water with him obediently following, “We'll pull you down slow.”

Once you were fully submerged in the water once more, never once breaking his gaze, you silently pulled him into the water with you with nothing more than a soft splash to leave behind. Unlike your siren sisters, you needn't feast on flesh to survive, and so you didn’t eat him (you were sure he’d taste like rotten barnacles, anyway). Instead, quietly drowning him with more strength than a mere human could manage. It wasn’t until he was moments from death, that panic finally plagued him, but by then it was too late.

The water had already taken him before he knew what was happening, and since not a single kiss left your lips to his, drowning was his unfortunate fate. After holding his body down with a few rocks, you quickly swam back up to the edge. Breaking the water, you immediately lifted yourself onto the stone to meet Dream’s stoic gaze. He wasn’t sure of you, save for the fact that you clearly weren’t human, yet not siren, with how you can leave the water so freely. Slowly, his gaze shifted ever so slightly to confusion as your damp frame had approached the sphere.

“Hello, King of Dreams,” You greeted, hand on the glass, “My siren sisters wish they could be here to help. We haven’t met, but I am here to release you, though I am unsure how. What keeps you?”

He spoke not a word, but his gaze reverted down to the ground, and it’s then you notice the yellow sigil containing him. A scoff leaves you.

“This isn’t even a well drawn circle,” You insult, “How ugly they become, once they have a hand on that which they do not understand.” You sigh, though the words leave you almost like a song.

Just as you were about to scuff the chalk, you had felt a quite violent pecking at your head at first. A creature of the deep you may be, but your skin was fragile out of the water, and as such your dripping frame bled quite easily, and it wasn’t until you had backed a bit away from the sphere that the violence on you stopped. Cradling your bleeding frame, Dreams attention was now on the Raven that was trying to free him. A Raven...a somewhat faded memory of such a thing came back into your mind.

Dream always keeps a raven with him, or that’s what’s said at least. Rumors of the sea are rarely wrong, and it seems that this is no exception. With your plan at falter, you could hear the ruckus going on above, and you could only assume it had to do with the Raven that was now down here. You didn’t have time to explain to a bloody bird that you were on it’s side, not the side of mortals, so instead you offered your assistance however you could.

With exceptional speed, you ran between the door and the moat, holding your arms out to will some of the water out of it, to block the door with the moving liquid. You had protected the many kingdoms of the sea in your time in the ocean to have a handle on what to do should things come down to it. Looking back at the Raven, you saw the bird desperately trying to crack the glass, yet not get anywhere. So, with your free hand, you willed the water up the pillar and to the chain, down fully across all the metal the surrounded it.

Sure, you certainly can’t crack the glass, but you could rust the metal in hopes of it breaking beneath it’s own weight. Unfortunately, with the wounds on your head bleeding out still, since you hadn’t been able to make it back to the water to heal yourself, it was weakening you greatly. A droplet of blood left your nose, a silent threat of what’s to come if you continued. Even still, you didn’t let it break your determination, even as bullets could be heard trying to pierce through your water shield.

Rust began to plague the metal of the spherical cage, and you could see a light of hope in Dream when he realized this, though worry held to him once he caught sight of you; bleeding from not only his raven, but from the effort of trying to release him. Unfortunately, the water dripping down wasn’t enough to break the chalk sigil, but he was well aware that you couldn’t move yourself to break it in your current state. If you let your focus break for even a second, the shield would fail, and everything would be in vain.

“King of Dreams, I regret to inform you that I am exceeding my current capacity in this state,” You informed the king, tears in your eyes from your potential failure, “I am going to focus on the shield and try to make my way to the circle to cut it.”

He said nothing, but you expected as much; you had simply wanted to let him know before it seemed like you were completely ditching efforts. Besides, those outside the shield couldn’t hear you, so it’s not like you were risking anything by having some manners. Willing the water to move back down the pillar, you moved it to the shield to thicken it, another droplet of blood leaving your nose. Almost distantly, you could hear the voices behind the shield conspiring with one another on the methodology to undertake.

A shot was fired, only known to you by the sound it made, though the water swallowed the bullet before it could dare to break the other side of the water. Within seconds, the little bullet rested quickly, then disintegrated in the water, leaving not a trace. With both hands in front of you, aiding your weakened body in focusing on the shield, you slowly took your first steps backward. The shield remained unbroken, even as another shot rang through your ears, so a few more steps you took.

Though, it seemed the further you were from the shield, the more effort it took to maintain it--though, it could very well also be due to your weakening state. A migraine began to creep into your mind, from the imbalance of your health versus how much power you were using. Still, ever determined to free the dreamlord, you powered through with a soft, quick sigh. Just when you had reached close enough to be able to cut through the circle, you could see it--and so could he. The way the shield of water trembled, shaking, as if it were frightened.

You couldn’t be sure that it would stop another bullet, if it rang through again, so you did the sensible thing and stepped in front of the bird to keep it safe. Another droplet of blood left your nose, leaving a scarlet trail down your lips and staining the stone beneath your feet. More slowly followed, and a soft whimper left your crimson lips.

“My feathered friend, I fear I cannot keep it up for much longer,” You spoke to the raven, “My sincerest apologies to the both of you, I am much more frail outside my waters, I did not expect that to have been an issue,” You took in a breath and tried to keep the dark from clouding your vision, “I think if I broke complete focus, the shield would fall, but I think I could break the circle in time. Would you be prepared, dream?”

Just as the question left your lips, two more shots rang out, and while the shield stopped the first one, it did little to stop the second. Unfortunately, it pierced right through your gut with ease, blood quickly staining your once white cloth. The first few seconds left you in a state of shock, your gaze unbreaking from the shield. Human weapons have never tasted your blood before, and while you were a fierce warrior in the comfort of your waters, this was above land, and you were already weak.

It was difficult to take in breaths, and even more difficult to do it without feeling a crushing pain in the process. Even though you did your best to remain strong, and put on a brave face so that weakness need not show, one would have to be a fool to not see your pain, and Dream was no fool. It worried him, though he did not show it, and he feared he’d bare witness to your demise. You, however, were currently in the midst of a dilemma; stay like this, with the shield, and die, or release it in order to try and break the circle, but run the risk of dying before you could manage it.

As you debated the weight of your two options, it seems as if your body had the answer for you as the water shield slowly broke down and returned to the moat it once came from. A weighted sigh left your lips as your body slumped forward a little from the exhaustion of it all, and you found yourself barely able to keep your eyes open let alone see straight. Your legs gave out beneath you, and struggled breaths entered your lungs as another shot rang out. With fear-filled eyes, you looked behind you to see where it hit, only to see blood splattered on the glass and the raven without a breath to give.

“Dream-king, I’m so sorry...” You trailed off quietly, “I’ll make this right, I swear it.” Another shot rang out, slicing through your shoulder, “...Oh-....”

“Don’t kill it, you moron! It’s a mermaid, I need it alive.” A male spoke, “And you could’ve broken the glass!”

“Right, sorry, Magus.”

It didn’t take a genius to guess what was to happen next, and given everything you’ve done to protect your fellow fae from the discovery of Humankind, and their history of inadvertently killing your sisters and brothers, it was almost like your life flashed before your eyes. In your weakened state, you tried to crawl back into the water, but the humans had gotten you quicker than you’d anticipated. The worst part about it is that you were too weak to fight them off, or defend yourself with your abilities, and the King of Dreams knew this as his silent, yet piercing gaze was locked on you and your future captors.

Two men were holding you up, though he found it to be a bit excessive, considering you weren’t even able to keep your eyes open for any meaningful length of time, let alone put up a fight. You weren’t a mermaid, he knew this well, though you made no move to correct them. It seems you already had a plan of your own, of sorts, but that fact alone didn’t stop the rage he felt at seeing them manhandle your fragile body. Rodrick mumbled something to the two men, something he couldn’t quite make out, despite how intently he gazed at them, before approaching the sphere once again.

The old man’s gaze was different now, a sadistic streak shining through more than it did before, and....something else. Like a child with a shiny new toy. It only gave but a silent warning of the plans this pathetic excuse of a man had in store for you. Morpheus knew the taunts that were already in store for him, and while he felt so very empathetic for you and felt a swell of many different emotions at seeing you treated so roughly, he couldn’t let that show in anything but a voiceless, hard gaze.

“You’ll never leave here, if you keep this silent act up,” Rodrick begins his warning, “But perhaps I’ll grow bored of you, and have some fun with them instead, hm?” A sadistic smile spreads across his face.

Morpheus remains as silent as ever.

“Then again, you can always just speak to me, and I’ll let her go. Simple as that.” Rodrick offers, eyebrow raised, and yet the silence of the King of Dreams surprises him naught, “Still nothing, hm? Not even to save the creature that risked it’s life to save you?”

“Your incessant babbling irritates us all,” You breathe out, “He won’t talk, because he’s not a word to speak to you. If he had a word to say, it would’ve already been said, so much is evident considering how long he’s been here, yet you call your servants the idiots. If you will be monologuing so much, might I suggest the theatre?”

“What a sharp tongue a creature like you has,” His focus turns to you, which is precisely what you had been aiming for, “I think I will have quite a bit of fun with you.”

With that, he has you taken away, to somewhere that remains out of sight of Morpheus, and considering his raven is no longer with him, he’s no way to see if you’re truly alright. Only the cold, familiar silence, and his own thoughts, to aid in the flurry of emotions he’d not felt for a very long time. Anger, insult, hopelessness, are all things he felt well in his time confined to this sphere. Yet...there was a certain protectiveness he had felt for you, and something else, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Though, he’s all the time in the world to figure it out, it seems.

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