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The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 10: Fates Tethered Threads

20,430 words (53 pages). This chapter has been an absolute terror to write, I hope y'all enjoy it! TW: Desires rude AF, general distress, depictions of drowning, smut (if y'all liked Soft Dream buckle up), minor angst, confrontations, blood, violence, cliffhanger (I'm warning y'all now 👀)

When Dream entered the library he felt lighter than he had in decades. He felt whole, as did his realm, everything was as it should be for the first time since his capture. Lucienne greeted him politely, pulling out the books she'd picked out and fixing her glasses on her face nervously.

"What have you found?" He asked looking down at the slightly dusty pile.

"I'm not sure," she admitted with a sigh. "When you gave me the name of our lady I looked high and low attempting to locate anything about her here in The Dreaming. As you predicted, nothing."

He nodded. "She does not dream, so it is unlikely we'll find her here."

Lucienne glanced at the book in her hands and held it out to him. "Last night, shortly after the two of you… returned to the palace I found this on my desk."

The book was bound in multicolored threads, glistening in the light as it moved. Penelope Barlow carved into the front. His finger traced over the letters. "How is this possible?"

"I don't know, my lord," his librarian admitted. He moved to open it when she cleared her throat. "Sir, if I may…"

"What is it, Lucienne?"

"I read what was in the book, sir, to be certain it was our lady. What you find will no doubt distress you. And I only wish to remind you that The Dreaming is still weak and in need of you now more than ever."

"Lucienne," he interrupted.

She sighed. "It appears… It seems one of your siblings was involved in our lady being severed from The Dreaming."

His chest burned and he moved to open the book again, but just as his fingers curled around the edge he felt a blinding pain pierce his head. Dreams vision swam, the pain so great he had to steady himself against the table. Lucienne gripped his arm, her startled voice incoherent in his ears. When it vanished along with the heartbeat he'd been feeling beside his own since he’d brought her back to The Dreaming he dropped the book. "Penelope!"

Teleporting to his room the fear turned into all out panic at the sight of the bed in disarray and her bag of trinkets on the ground, the small objects scattered across the floor. He couldn't breathe. The room filled with shadows as his fear gave way to anger. Luciennes warning swirled in his mind. One of his siblings was behind this, and once he found out which one nothing short of his lady's return and their cries for mercy would satisfy him.

***

This was getting ridiculous. They stared down at me with their wide grin unfaltering. "As lovely as you look down there, Petal, I think you should get up."

"You," I said, seething. "You were at the bar that night."

Their hand pressed to their chest as they looked away faking a bashful reaction. "Oh, how very flattering this is! The Lady of The Dreaming recognizes little old me."

"Who are you?" I chose to ask instead of attempting to retaliate against their obvious teasing.

"I am all that you Desire."

Desire. "You're one of Morpheus' siblings."

They shrugged. "But of course."

"Why are all of you so obsessed with dragging me places?" I demanded lifting myself up off the floor.

Desire looked confused, the first genuine emotion I'd seen from them. "I didn't bring you here, Petal."

"What?"

They rolled their eyes. "You don't catch on very quick, do you?"

I'd forgotten how easily they got bored and how rude they were. "What do you mean you didn't bring me here?"

"I did nothing." They said, "Here I was, walking the halls of my realm and then poof a little flower tumbles into my path. You brought yourself here. It's what you do after all."

"What I do?"

"Yes, Weavers are notorious party crashers." They smiled. "Though none before did so as frequently or as elegantly as you."

"Weaver?" It wasn't the first time someone had called me that, but all the times before I'd written it off as some odd term among these beings.

Desire groaned. "What have you been doing all these years? It should be quite obvious what Weavers are by now." I stared at them, waiting. "Good god woman. Fine, I suppose if any of us were to let the cat out of the bag it'd be me."

Did that mean? "Have I met more of you?"

"You've met all of us," they cooed, stroking a long finger down my cheek and squeezing my hand. "Even The Prodigal before he vanished. Though I’ve heard many a rumor that says you were far more intimately acquainted with him than any of the others, even dearest Dream."

“I’m not intimately acquainted with any of you,” I growled. “Do all of you know what I am?”

"Yes," they said, grinning at the victory of their insult striking me. "All except our darling Dream. It would seem he's far too busy with his desire for you to put the pieces together by himself."

Dream. I wanted to cry. He must’ve been so worried, so angry at another sudden disappearance. The ring. I looked down to my finger, a hopefulness unfurling in my chest only to find it gone. Desire tutted in front of me, twirling the ring between their fingers. "Now, now, why would I let you go so soon? After all, we have so much to talk about."

"Give it back," I demanded, a cold possessiveness filling me at the sight of my ring, his gift to me in their hands.

They laughed. "Petal, that might work in my brother's realm, but here…" They spread their arms wide. "I'm the one in charge."

I sighed. "Please."

"Oh, you do sound so pretty when you beg!" Their golden eyes glowed. "Tell me, is that how it sounded last night when my brother finally laid his claim to you?"

It wasn't embarrassment that made the blood rush to my face, it was anger. "How would you know anything about that?"

They scoffed, turning to walk down the long twisting hallway. "I can feel the echoes of it just swirling all around you. It's sickening. Though I am impressed." I followed beside them, putting a distance between us as they looked over at me with a sly grin. "All my previous attempts to bring my brother to his knees with lovers had failed. All my attempts to twist that smug self importance were wasted. But you… You managed to do all of that and more. You make him weak."

I glared at them. "He's more powerful now than ever. And once he finds me, which he will, he's going to be pissed."

"I'm counting on it," they purred back. "Now, please sit."

A table filled the space in the middle of the room, the same glossy red material that surrounded us. It was adorned with gold and black flowers, candles and every decedent food I could imagine. Lobster, crab, oysters, lamb, caviar. I stopped walking and watched as they sat, throwing their feet up on the table to lounge. "What do you want?"

They rolled their eyes. "Sit, Weaver. I've been nothing but welcoming to you, and while I love the rebellious attitude I'm growing bored of it."

Though their words held the same flippant and disinterested attitude, the flare in their golden eyes prompted me to listen to the threat that the words veiled. I sat across from them and squeezed my hands together in my lap. They gave my ring a final look before setting it beside them. Maybe if I was quick eno- "No games, Petal. I just want to have a chat with my future sister, there's no need for this to be so… Hostile."

"Why am I here?" I asked outright.

Desire laughed and filled their plate with food. "You came to me and yet you think I somehow know why?"

I sighed. "I didn't try to come here. I was just.. I was relaxed and then everything was bright and loud and I was here."

They hummed. "Sounds to me like your little bedroom fun awakened something in you. Kinks aside, you are different you know. Special."

I hated the way they said it. "How so?"

"Not only are you a Weaver, but you're also soul bound to my brother and thus to his precious Dreaming." They indulge themselves in an oyster before continuing. "Who knows what else you…" A smirk. "Milked dry last night."

Clenching my jaw I glared at them. Now wasn't the time to pick a fight but god did they make it hard to keep this civil. "What is a Weaver?"

Desire checked their nails and quirked a brow at me. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because knowing is what I most desire. And that's your job, isn't it?"

"I like you," They said smiling. "And because I like you I'll share my knowledge. For a small price."

"What do you want?"

"Dinner," they said happily. "Just the two of us. We can go wherever you wish, but when I call upon you you'll answer."

I thought it through for a moment. Surely they'd given me enough information that I wouldn't need to resort to a deal. The gleam in their golden eyes told me they knew something more though, something I wouldn't be able to find in The Dreaming library or on my own. "Just dinner? No tricks or games? Just food and conversation?"

"Yes."

"Sorry if I'm having a hard time believing that's all you'd want."

They shrugged. "Let's just say that me sharing my information doesn't just benefit you. So, do we have a deal, dear Weaver?”

With a tense nod I settled back in my chair. “Fine, I’ll have dinner with you when you call. Just dinner, nothing else.”

They clapped their hands together and smiled widely. “Fantastic!”

Silence filled the space and they stared at me, waiting for me to ask my questions? “What is a Weaver and why do you keep saying I am one?”

“I keep saying you are one because you are.” They said simply, “As for what a Weaver is, that’s a bit more complicated and quite long winded.”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to simplify it,” I replied with a barely concealed venom that made their eyes sparkle.

They looked far too pleased at my thinning temper. “Humans, the universe, this whole mess is made up of and bound by threads. I don’t bore myself with all that nonsense, it's all Destiny’s problem anyway. All I know is one day he went into a tisy because his precious book had changed, and with that change the first Weaver was born. The book calls them Fate Weavers, ones that can not only see the threads of this universe and all within it but manipulate them, change them, even make new ones. The divides between realms are thinner for them, which is why you poof away from one place and plop into another. Destiny says that Weavers go where they’re needed, blah blah boring.”

“You said Weavers, as in more than one? What happened to the others?” I asked quietly.

“What happens to all humans, Petal. Weavers are still human. After the first, others followed and it became another natural law of the universe.” They cleared their throat and in a mock voice that sounded like they were trying to imitate Destiny they said, “There must always be a Weaver, only one, or the threads of this world will snap and everything will be plunged into an early grave. Or, that’s what Destiny and his little book claim at least.”

I met their golden gaze. “You don’t believe him?”

They smiled. “Dear, I won’t pretend to care what he does with that book of his. He’s by far the most boring of them all. Your Dream, however, has my full attention.”

Dream always seemed uncomfortable about speaking of his siblings. Death he seemed fond of, but he’d never willingly spoken of the others. When I’d told him I visited Destiny’s garden he was upset, concerned, when there seemed to be no reason for it. Was Desire the reason he was so hesitant to speak of his family? Or was he, perhaps, the reason behind the spiteful gleam in their eyes. “What did he do to make you so angry?”

“Nothing,” they replied, though I couldn’t tell if it was the truth or not. “He’s just so… self important and uptight. Messing with him is quite fun.”

I hummed. “I think there's more to it than that.”

“Do you now?”

“I think he hurt your feelings,” I stated. “I think he made you feel lesser, and I think you’re looking for a way to make him feel the same.”

They scoffed. “You know very little, Weaver. Now, hush up so I can finish telling you about your history, since it’s apparently my job to educate Dream's new pet.”

I let the insult roll over me and nodded. “Fine.”

“Since the beginning there have been plenty of your kind, but the last one got a bit greedy with the power given to her. I don’t know what happened or why, but whatever it was gave way to you, Destiny’s favorite.” Favorite? I wondered to myself. Nothing he’d said or done had particularly stood out to me as favoritism. They continued, “You are soul bound to Dream and you are a Weaver. Those two things alone make you quite special, but the thing that takes the cake is your pretty little starkissed blessing.”

“Starkissed blessing?”

They gestured toward my head. “Your glow. The reason you’re still alive, petal. It seems our mother dearest fished you out of Death's path and gifted you with immortality, well, for the most part.”

“Mother?” Fuck me, I’d worked my way through his siblings and now I’d apparently met his mother. Dream was going to lose his mind.

“Night, the mother of the Endless.” Desire said in a tone that sounded calm, but held an edge I couldn’t fully understand. “Though her and daddy have never really cared much for this world, nor my siblings and I, they created us. Our father, Time, only ever speaks to Destiny nowadays and even that’s rare and Mother always favored Dream above the rest. She’s… detached to say the least, though she seemed to like you well enough to save you.” Desire nearly scoffed. “Perhaps it was solely because of your connection to Dream, or some other selfishly motivated idea of hers. I don’t care much, all I know is her little blessing keeps you from aging and your substantial Weaver magic heals up those pretty wounds of yours and your connection to my brother and his realm gives you far more power than you should have.”

“So, I’m part human, part Endless and blessed?” I asked with furrowed brows. “That’s too much.”

“Indeed it is, Petal.” They agreed. “It makes you interesting at least.”

Desire was rude and spiteful and grew bored easily. They were unlikable in nearly every way, yet, I found myself feeling far more comfortable than I had been around most the others. They lied and were deceitful by omission, yet something in me told me they weren’t playing a game now. “Why tell me all this?”

“Because Dream obviously isn’t going to. He’ll do what he always does, keep you in the dark, safely leashed somewhere he can have constant control.” Desire’s smile fell, for the first time during our conversation. “You’re special, one of a kind, but above that you have a good heart. The things you desire are…” They paused, looking down at the ring they’d taken. “They’re good. It’s infuriating, yet refreshing after dealing with centuries of boring people and boring desires.”

“So, you like me?” I asked with a smug grin.

They rolled their eyes, whatever moment of honest tenderness they’d been willing to show me long gone and the gleam back in their golden eyes. “I find you interesting. The others would let you fail right from the start, but I see no fun in that. I’d much rather watch you try first, then fail. Besides, it will make Dream absolutely livid when he finds out it came from me.”

“And asking for dinner in return for all this?” I pressed. “Why would you want that?”

“To gossip of course!” They laughed. “I have so very much I’d like to tell you about my brother.”

“Why not tell me now?” I questioned.

Their Cheshire smile widened. “As I said earlier, we don’t have all day. Your dear Dream is no doubt throwing a fit trying to find you, and once he gets here he won’t want to stick around.”

Guilt filled my lungs at the thought of Dream. I hadn’t meant to teleport, to leave, and I was certain he would understand that, but it still did little to ease the uncomfortable sensation in my gut. “Will you give me my ring back now?”

“No, petal,” they chuckled. “I want to draw out your visit for as long as I can. The angrier I can make Dream, the better.”

“So what am I to do, while we wait?” I asked, more annoyed with their refusal to return my stolen possession. “Twiddle my thumbs and listen to you bitch?”

With a shrug they pulled their feet from the table, circling it to stand beside me. "What has my big brother shared with you about himself?"

“I haven't asked.” I replied. “He's respected my past and I intend to respect his.”

Desire made an amused face, kneeling down to meet my height. “You'll grow to rethink that stance.”

“No I won't.” I insisted with a cold glare. “When he's ready to open up about whatever it is that’s got you all giddy I’ll be there willing to listen. We’ll work through it together.”

“So confident, yet so naive.” They clicked their tongue, stroking my cheek. “You’re sweet, Petal. So when my big brother fucks you over, which he will, know that my door is always open to you.”

I grit my teeth. “Thanks for the generous offer, but I won't need it.”

“My big brother's past lovers all ended in tragedy.” They said, with a hint of warning. “This will be no different.”

“Do I look like a tragedy to you?” I asked with a lethal calm. I’d survived far worse than a break up. Dream and I were bound together, no gossiping sibling was going to sway that.

The gold of their eyes sparked at the challenge. “No, I don't suppose you do.”

I stood, their eyes following me. “I'm leaving.”

Desire laughed and gestured to the air. "I'll not keep you prisoner. You came to me, I'm certain you can find your own way out." My eyes flashed to the table, but the ring was gone, back in Desire's hands. "I'll be keeping this though, wouldn't want you to cheat now would we."

"It belongs to me." My head began throbbing, a vivid thread woven of red, gold and black appeared wrapped around Desire's neck, disappearing and reappearing at random as I blinked.

They turned and started walking away. "If you're still here in an hour do come find me for drinks."

The thread trailed behind them, leading back to me. As I looked down at myself, threads of all colors and thickness and brightness covered me and everything around me. Some were solid, others were fraying and tense as if they were pulled too tightly and then there were the ones that moved like they were liquid. They began to glow brighter and brighter the more I looked.

When I looked back up, the glossy red of Desires realm was replaced by a vast expanse of darkness, shimmering with far away stars. I could still see the outline of the walls and table, but it was dull and devoid of color. On the right was a thick golden thread that glowed and hummed with warmth. It was fluid, moving like a river of molten gold. On the left was a thin silver thread, ridged and unmoving with waves of freezing cold rolling off of it.

My head began throbbing as the lights grew brighter and brighter until I could see nothing else. A ringing in my ears echoed as I curled into myself, shutting my eyes to try and save them from the burning brightness. For a minute all I could do was force myself to breathe, and then slowly the ringing faded and the light went out.

Opening my eyes slowly darkness surrounded me in a dull room, lit by a handful of mostly melted candles. Not again. I stood, carefully, my eyes straining in the darkness. The sound of heavy rain and thunder and waves echoed all around, but there was no window or door in sight. I picked one of the candles up, doing my best to ignore the burn of melted wax and began to move through the darkness.

All around the floor was covered in squeaking rats, they moved when I came close and minded their business, but I could feel their beady eyes watching me. "You shouldn't be here."

I jumped, twisting to look around me for the voice. "Hello?"

"You shouldn't be here, Weaver." It said again, familiar and sad. "No one comes here. No one wants to."

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I don't know where I am… Or how I got here."

"It feels different from last time." The voice mused, sounding even closer but as I looked no one was there. "You want things now, you've grown and put much behind you, but it's still there. You buried it."

My heart began beating faster. "Who are you?"

The voice chuckled a little, but the sound was strangled, forced, wrong. "Your sister in law."

Sister in law? Desire said something similar. "You're one of Dream's siblings?"

The rats grew restless at the sound of his name. "Yes, he's not fond of us though. Not like he is with others, with you."

"I'm sure he cares for you in his own way," I replied cautiously. "Can you help me?"

"Help?" The voice echoed. "Help you. Oh yes, yes I will help you."

A door appeared in front of me, the rats lining the path forward. A chill ran up my spine. "Where does it lead?"

The voice was in my ear now. "To help."

My feet didn't move, but the door grew closer and closer until it passed over me, opening and closing tightly once I was through it. The dark hallway was lined with mirrors of all shapes, sizes and adornments. I looked into them as I passed, watching my reflection twist and change shape right before my eyes. This place was officially the worst and I wanted out. Now. How did I do it last time? I kept moving, the rats on the floor breaking away to carve a path for me as the small candle in my hand lit the area.

Light, a tiny sliver of it, peeked from a half open doorway at the end of the long hall. Maybe someone was here, someone who could help send me back to The Dreaming. I opened the door slowly, and the more I did the less light shined. A mirror, tall and long, lined in a frame of fish hooks stood in the center of the room. I walked closer.

The reflection was blurred, but as I got closer it cleared until I stood looking into Olethros' eyes. I swallowed a broken sob just as the door behind me slammed shut. When I turned to the noise another mirror blocked my path, the family that had died in the fire staring back at me. I turned again to another mirror, an old lover. Another mirror, another dead friend. All around me were mirrors and every last one of them held the shape and faces of those that had died because of me.

My lungs burned as I tried to keep breathing, tears filling my eyes and spilling with no resistance. Olethros spoke. "Fighting almost always leads to death and destruction. Are you prepared for that?"

"No," I breathed.

"Auntie Pen! Auntie Pen!" The voices of the children chanted.

"We're safe, right Penelope?" Their parents asked.

I covered my ears. "Not this."

"Do you love me, Penelope?" My old lover asked.

"Please!"

"Come on Pen, you gotta live a little!" My friend insisted.

"Stop."

"Penelope," they all began to cry out to me, repeating conversations we shared, calling out to me.

I looked up at Olethros. "I'm gone because of you."

"Stop."

His warm eyes went gray. "They killed me because I tried to save you."

I was on my knees now, weeping. "Stop!"

"All of us are dead and it's your fault!"

"Your fault!"

"Because of you!"

"STOP!" I screamed as loud as I could, my hands slamming down onto the floor, rats scattered away from me as below my hands the ground began to crack. A line of golden light illuminated my right hand, winding around my wrist like a band or… Or a chain and a line of silver on the left, mirroring the gold perfectly. My right hand burned and my left felt frozen. Chest heaving I slammed them down again and again and again until the floor finally gave way.

I was falling, falling for what felt like hours until I hit the cold water that raged below. The waves were too strong, pulling and pushing me under with a force I couldn't fight against. I fought and raged, desperate to break the surface, but I couldn't. Fear seized me, my lungs burning as I tried to scream. The more I fought and raged against the waves the further down they swallowed me. It felt like an eternity had passed before I shut my eyes. I was going to die, for real this time. I was going to die. Dream would blame himself… He would be heartbroken, he’d lost me once already. No. No. NO!

Air stung my skin and the ground beneath me burned. A hand rubbed and patted my back, urging my body to purge the water I'd swallowed. Gasping and clawing at the pebbles beneath my fingers I sobbed. "Breathe, Weaver. You are safe."

"Destiny?" I choked out as the garden around us became clear.

"Yes."

I looked up at him, my body finally finding a way to breathe again as I threw my arms around him. He didn’t return the embrace, but steadied me with a hand on my back. "Will you please answer my questions?"

"Some, yes."

His scent soothed me, filling my body with a sense of familiarity and safety. "Do you have tea?"

He offered me his hand. "Yes. Your favorite."

"Thank you." I whispered.

***

"Dream," his sibling purred as he approached. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Where is she?" He asked roughly.

Desire smirked. "She was here some time ago, though she was in quite a hurry to leave."

"No games," he said, the hold he had on his temper losing its grip by the second. "Where is she?"

"Gone." They said, pursing their lips and twirling something on their finger. "She did leave this for you though."

Dreams heart lurched into his throat. Her ring. Why would Desire have her ring? "How did you get this?"

"She gave it to me," they said, eyes glowing, smile widening. "Said if you came looking to return it to you."

No. She wouldn't do that. Fear and nauseousness filled him. Unless… "What did you tell her?"

They gasped, a hand flying to their throat. "Me? Gossip?! Dream I would simply never!"

His hands slammed into the table, the force of the blow cracking the glossy red material. "Enough. What did you say to her?"

Their smile didn't falter. "I may have mentioned your string of tragedy with all those other lovers. Or perhaps it was an implication of keeping secrets? Oh dear, it's so difficult to remember."

Dream stood, slowly circling the table to stand above them. If Desire knew anything about what he’d learned and twisted the truth to make him out to be some villain in Penelope’s eyes… No. He refused to think of the damage they could have done. "Last chance, sibling."

Golden eyes sparkled up at him. "Are you that desperate, big brother? If I’d known she’d finally be the push I needed to get you this worked up, I’d have sought her out years ago." They held the ring up to him.

He took it from their fingers, resisting the urge to break them completely, clenching it in his palm. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I offered her some information on her unusual circumstances and she left."

Wordlessly he grabbed a handful of their hair and pressed their head into the table. "Where is she, Desire?"

"I don't know." they replied. "Perhaps our brother would?"

Their brother? Dream loosened his grip. If they knew what he did... Had they told her? "What do you know?"

A wide grin. "I've heard a rumor... One that our darling Weaver was not too pleased to hear."

"She wouldn't believe anything you said." Though directed at Desire, the words were entirely for himself. A poor attempt to soothe his fear.

Beneath his grip they shrugged. "I only offer what I've heard, Dream. But, as for the location of your darling Weaver I truly have no clue as to where she'd ended up. I do hope it isn't anywhere dangerous."

His gut twisted even more at the thought. She could be anywhere and without the ring he had no way of finding her quickly. Damn him. He should have noticed it sooner! He should have known what she was the second he saw her! If he hadn't been so distracted he could have kept her safe. And now. He released Desire. Now he might very well lose her again, for certain this time.

"If you attempt to disrupt my personal affairs with my lady with your gossip again I shall free your lying tongue from your mouth." He growled.

Desire's laugh echoed around him as he walked away. "I do hope you find your lady, Dream! She was quite keen on not staying put for long. I do hope she’s not avoiding being found, but you're strong now so even if that is the case it shouldn't be too much of a challenge!"

Had she left? He thought as he felt The Dreaming curl around him. Was his sibling simply trying to goad him on, or was there some manner of truth to their words? Dream sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. If Penelope learned of Nada… If she'd learned of what he'd done to her, would that be enough for her to leave him? He looked down at the ring in his palm. Why would she have given it away? He needed to find her… Now, before it was too late.

***

Destiny had summoned food to go with our tea and for a while we just sat at his table silently drinking. I was starving, thirsty beyond imagining even though I’d no doubt swallowed half a damn ocean. So for a while the safe silence allowed me a chance to eat and recover from nearly drowning. But with each passing minute my head throbbed more and more. “Is it true… Am I a Weaver?”

“Yes.”

“Desire told me they were of your domain.” I said. “If that’s true why am I bound to Dream and not you?”

Destiny took a drink of his tea. “Your bond to Dream is not something that can be changed or influenced by either of your functions. It is because it is.”

My fingers traced over the mark. “So there's no logic behind it? No rhyme or reason?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Don’t you know everything though?”

He was silent. Though that told me what I needed to know. Our bond was something no one would have answers to, not in this life and maybe not in any other. That didn’t bug me, I didn’t care where it came from or why, I was just glad that it kept me linked to him even after all the years we’d been apart.

"Well, I don't suppose you'd be able to tell me exactly what I'm supposed to be doing as Weaver?"

"Your duty is to keep the balance of this world in check." He looked over at me. "How you do that is entirely up to you."

I curled myself deeper into the warm shawl he'd given me. "But if Weavers are of your realm then why don't you just tell me what needs done."

Destiny sighed, setting his teacup back into its plate. "Desire wrongly assumes you are made of my realm and thus I have dominion over you. Weavers are not of any realm, but the whole universe. You are not bound by the laws my siblings and I are, nor are you strictly bound by the laws of mortals."

"So I'm some kind of cosmic wild card?"

"If that is how you wish to see it." He answered with a smile.

"Why are you answering my questions now and not when I first showed up?"

"Perhaps you are simply asking the right questions this time. Or perhaps it is my duty to ensure you do not knowingly break the laws of the universe nor do you seek out knowledge beyond that which you are capable of understanding.”

"What if I did?" I asked, remembering Desires words about the previous Weaver. "Break the laws I mean?"

Destiny seemed to sit up straighter. "I would be forced to tear your heart out."

Oh. Okay. "Why that specifically?"

"You're resilient creatures, but the heart is where the threads, your individual ones specifically, are most concentrated. It is crude, but on occasion necessary."

"Is that what happened to the previous Weaver?"

"No."

I tilted my head. "What happened then?"

Again Destiny was silent. I couldn't tell if this was one that meant he'd spoken all he could on the subject or if he'd simply not wished to speak more of it. Either way it was obvious that there was a more ominous question hanging in the air, one I had apparently gotten close to. “Does my bond to Dream make me dangerous?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Yes.”

Fear shot through me. “Could it be used to hurt him?” Destiny seemed to understand my true question… Could I hurt him?

“Weavers are perhaps as close to my brother as mortals can get. Reality bends to your will as it does his. In theory any Weaver could use such power to harm him or any of the Endless. Your bond to Dream makes you a particularly unique threat, as his realm will also heed your commands. But, I do not think that will be your fate.” He said calmly. It was the most solid answer I’d gotten from him, and some part of me told me it was his way of easing my worry.

With a sigh of relief I looked around the garden. “So, how do I do this whole… Weaver thing?”

“However you choose to.”

“Destiny…” I grumbled.

“There is no one path, Penelope. How you find access to the threads is your own path, not mine nor any others before you.” He explained softly.

I rubbed my arms and sighed at him, my head throbbed even more and before my eyes, curled around Destiny’s book and up the chains was a glowing gray thread with small veins of brown. “What do they mean? The threads?”

“They represent the world around us.”

“Desires was red with smaller thinner strings of black and gold. Yours is gray with brown. Are all the threads different?”

“Yes.” He said simply. “Everything is bound with the threads, but no one thread is like another.”

“What do the colors mean then?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That is something I’ll leave to you to determine.”

"Can you see them?"

"You alone can see them, but in theory it would be possible to show them to others."

I sighed. “I’m going to have to talk to you a lot more aren’t I?”

I could have sworn he smirked as he lifted his teacup back to his lips. “If that is the path you choose.”

“Damn you and your cryptic answers,” I said with a laugh. “So, now what?”

“Now you choose a path.”

We stared at one another for a while, before I asked, “What if I pick the wrong one?”

Last time he’d given me a cryptic reply, one about there not being right or wrong. This time he only smiled and said, “I have faith in you, Weaver.”

I stood and gave his shoulder a pat as I moved past him towards the shrubbery covered in butterflies. “Guess I’ll see you around, boss.”

This path was far shorter than the one I’d walked down last time. The butterflies dispersed halfway through the walk, and before I could call out to them or say anything my head swam again. It was less painful than the other times, the brightness far more bearable as I looked at the threads, every one of them leading back the way I'd come from, all but one. I poked the green thread, watching in awe as the smaller specks of brown, gray seemed to shine beneath the touch. Tiny sparks of red and black lifted off of it, disappearing into the air.

The green thread led further down the path, deeper into the maze. The smarter choice would be to turn around, follow the other threads and the butterflies, but the thread now between my fingers hummed and sang, the small vibrating tune one that felt familiar, urging me to follow it. With it pressed between my fingers I walked down the path, following every twist and turn for what felt like far too long before the maze opened to another smaller courtyard. In the center a tall half destroyed marble statue stood. It was impossible to pick out any prominent features, but it still held a beauty to it. The thread was wrapped tightly around the sword the statue held at its side, torn threads of red and black peeking out from beneath the green.

I let my fingers glide up the thread, brushing softly against the cold marble that began to shake beneath my touch. As soon as I pulled away the marble shattered, the force of it sending me back so hard my head hit the ground, which was now a cracked and broken foundation. "Ow," I mumbled to myself, pressing my hand to my head.

When I managed to shake off the blow I forced myself to my feet, looking out at the endless sky of debris and metal that floated all around me. As I turned, a tall building came into view, ornate and old, a museum? The tall statues on either side of the steps were cracked away to nearly nothing, the pieces floating in the air around them. Two doors hung loosely off the hinges, creaking softly as the building trembled. Inside looked just like a museum, but it was all wrong.

Marble statues were shoved into a corner, each of them misshapen and cracked. The paintings that lined the walls were terrible, even for abstract works, some were even torn or burned. Every sculpture or wood carving, all of it was wrong. Torn up bits of ink stained paper floated in the large cold room. The further I moved the less art I found, weapons instead lined the walls, hung and polished with broken glass floating around them. Echoes of clashing steel, pained screams and shouting echoed from each one sending chills up my spine.

In the very back was a small oak door, one that opened before I even touched it. The room was small, everything packed and cluttered together. A large bed sat shoved into the far corner, the pillows torn to shreds, feathers still hanging around them, the blanket thrown over something in the center of the room. At the foot of the bed was a small dog house, the roof of it caved in and the name scratched off. The fireplace on the right whistled softly, ash built up at the bottom of it. Paint splotches covered the sleek cracked floors and a broken easel was laying on the ground with paint brushes and ink pens thrown around.

The humming returned as the world of threads filled my vision, the green thread pulled taut leading to whatever the blanket covered up. With every step I took sliced slivers of red and black threads flew up from the ground filling the air. I carefully pulled the blanket away, revealing a small glass case with an old and tattered paper butterfly in it.

My breath caught. This way my butterfly, the one De had given me and that I'd given to him. My fingers brushed against the glass. "Olethros."

The name shook the building, the glass shattered under my fingers and the butterfly floated up into the air. I had just enough time to catch it before the floor gave way beneath my feet and sent me plummeting down into the debris and shattered void. There was nothing to find purchase on, nothing that did not crumble immediately beneath my touch. All I could do was fall until there was no silhouette of the building, nothing but the tiny butterfly I clung to.

The longer I fell, the less I could feel or see or hear. Even when the debris and glass cut me or hit me no pain stuck. It felt like the world around me had been stripped away as the dark world of threads filled my vision. The green thread clung to the butterfly in my hands, but now a blue thread glowed, silver and lavender veins glistening in it like stars, wound around my finger where Dreams ring had been. I somehow managed to grab hold of it, the mark burning as I held it tighter. I want to go home. Please take me home.

I felt a pull, strong and steady catch me and I fell faster, the debris that surrounded me falling with me. When the ribble beneath me hit the ground black sand scattered all around, I curled up, landing on top of it roughly as the debris followed. With wobbling legs I stood and wept happily at the sight of the ocean. The soft salty breeze wrapped around me lovingly, The Dreaming welcoming me home. I stood on a mountain of rubble, as a voice began shouting, growing closer to me I turned to find Lucienne running through the sand.

"My Lady!" Lucienne cried as she approached the bottom of the rubble pile. She reached up toward me, offering two helping hands.

"Lucienne!" I sobbed jumping down into her arms. The smell of books and berries filled my nose and I breathed out a relieved sigh. I was home. "God I've had the craziest day."

She pulled back at that, looking me up and down before she shook her head. "My lady, you've been missing for nearly three weeks."

"Three…" I laughed a little. "No. That's… I was…" Oh god, Morpheus. "Lucienne, where is he?"

"Lord Morpheus paid a visit to Desire not long after you disappeared. They told him you'd left and didn't want to be found."

"Why would he believe that?" I asked softly.

"They had your ring, my lady. They claimed you gave it to them to return to Lord Morpheus if he came looking for you."

Fuck. "That fucking…" I shook my head, now wasn't the time. "Where is he?"

Luciennes eyes grew sad. "He's locked himself in the throne room. No one has been able to get in for a week."

"Take me there, please?" I begged, clutching her arm.

She led me through the gates and into the the realm now covered in dark storm clouds. When we finally reached the large doors leading to the throne room they were shut by gnarled back roots. Oh, Dream… He spent all this time thinking I'd abandon him, thinking that I'd run from him. God that fucking asshole was going to get their ass kicked if they ever called in on that dinner. I stepped forward, Lucienne catching my arm quickly. "My lady! I do not know if it's wise for you to approach. I fear it may be dangerous."

I gave her a reassuring smile. "He would never hurt me."

She let go of my arm and held her hands together. "Be careful, my lady, please."

The black roots snapped and curled away from the door as I moved closer, pushing it open just barely enough for me to fit through before closing again. Dreams throne room was pitch black, not even the night sky above could be seen. The marks on my wrists glowed in the darkness, illuminating the swirling shapes that filled it. Nightmares.

The mark was cold, almost as cold as the silver that lined my wrist. The nightmares moved away from me as I continued forward, searching for his familiar face and pale skin. "Dream?"

The nightmares echoed my voice, but it was twisted and wrong, whispering things into the dark that I hadn't said, that I'd never say. Had he been torturing himself this whole time? I called out louder. "Dream?"

The steps to the throne nearly tripped me as I stumbled into them. I climbed carefully moving until I reached the top and found the messy hair and slim frame I'd been looking for. He was slumped over on his throne, his head hanging low as he stared down at the ring that lay in his palm. "Oh, Dream."

He didn't react to my voice. I reached out to touch him, but he flinched harshly away. "Leave. I've not ordered you to mock her with your imitations."

He told them to do this? I dropped to my knees in front of him, cradling his hands in mine. "Morpheus."

When he finally lifted his head, face set and rage in his eyes, preparing to take it all out on the nightmare he mistook me for, a broken breath left him instead. "Penelope?"

I nodded, smiling through the tears. "It's me."

The pure pain that filled his eyes struck me to the core. "You left."

"No." I cupped his face in my hands. "No, I didn't leave. I mean I did but…" I sighed. "I got lost. Really lost as it turns out, but the whole time I was trying to get back to you."

His hands closed around the ring. "You gave them your ring…"

"Absolutely not!" I insisted. "They took it off my finger while I was adjusting to, well, crash landing into their realm."

"They took it from you?" His brows furrowed and his grip on the ring tightened and his face turned in anger. "I should have known that they-"

I pulled myself into his lap, forcing him back into the seat and clung to him. For a moment he was dazed, sitting still against me, but as my heart hammered against his chest and the mark sparked to life between us his arms moved, wrapping around me and pulling me in even more. "I'm so sorry."

Dream sighed into my neck, his hands squeezing me tighter. "I thought you'd left."

Pulling back I pressed my forehead to his. "I would never leave you, my Dream."

His cold breath fanned across my neck as he held my face. "If you wanted you could go home-"

"You are my home." I whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. "You always have been."

Dream slid the ring back onto my finger and pressed a desperate kiss to my knuckles. "Never take it off again, please."

I kissed him everywhere I could. "Never. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause all this trouble."

The nightmares were gone, the starry sky lighting the throne room from above. "It wasn't your fault. I should have recognized what you were."

"You know then?" I asked softly, my lips stilling against his jaw.

"Yes." He sighed. "Forgive me for not seeing it before."

"No," I stopped him. "I'm the one that needs to be forgiven. Even if it was out of my control, I still hurt you." I pressed my lips to his neck. "Let me make it up to you?"

He groaned as I nipped gently at his throat. "I can deny you nothing, my love."

My body slid down until my knees hit the cold floor. Dreams hand curled onto the back of my head as I pulled him free from his pants. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," I said, looking up at him. "It's my turn to worship you, my lord."

I could feel the hot ball of lust curl in him, burning hotter when I took him into my hand pumping him slowly. He clenched his teeth, his eyes smoldering down into mine as I pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his cock before pressing my tongue flat against him. His head fell back against his throne with a shuddering breath and a phantom tingle of pleasure that coursed through to me as well.

Hollowing out my cheeks I took him into my mouth, dragging and swallowing around him as his hands gathered up my hair and gripped it tightly. "Penelope," he moaned breathlessly. His voice rippled another wave of arousal through me as I continued my movements, looking up at him through my lashes and gripping his thighs tightly. God he was gorgeous like this. A true king receiving the worship he deserved.

When his hands tugged at my hair, pulling my mouth from him I groaned, ready to complain when he dragged me back into his lap and pressed his mouth to mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. He coaxed my mouth open and tangled our tongues together while his hands ripped the pair of shorts off me and pressed me into him.

The tip of his dick brushed against my clit, ripping a moan from my throat. "Morpheus."

He pulled me up, positioning himself at my aching hole. "Promise you'll never leave me," he breathed against my neck. "Swear it."

My hands fisted in his coat. "I swear, I'll never leave you. I'll always come home."

The word caused his hands to tighten around my hips and force me down onto him, sheathing himself all the way to the hilt. My breaths were ragged as my cunt squeezed him. "Home," he said. "You're home."

With a gentle hand on his cheek I looked down at him, tenderness soothing over the hurt. "I'm home."

With one hand on my hip and the other on the back of my neck he lifted me off him with ease, nearly pulling out entirely before sliding me back down. As he slowly began quickening the pace his hand slid down my spine, over my breasts until his fingers settled between my legs. We gasped and moaned and bit at one another, marking each other with teeth and hands. The pleasure building between us both made my head spin, the world melting away and the familiar blue thread enveloping me and Morpheus.

It was him. His thread that tethered us that had brought me home. My heart burned as I gently pressed a finger to it. Beneath me he gasped, moving his hips faster, pleasure etching into the stoney coolness of his face. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know," I answered, fingers running up the thread before stilling completely. "Does it hurt?"

"Fuck, no," he chuckled a little, star filled eyes meeting mine. "Don't stop."

I pressed my lips to his, resuming my movements and basking in the glorious sounds he made beneath my trembling thighs. "Come with me, Dream." I demanded as the coiling pleasure built up tighter and tighter. "Please," I breathed before the coil snapped. My hand closed around his thread tightly as I came and with that motion his release followed.

We held one another close as we both caught our breaths, but eventually he kissed my shoulder and pulled back. "Are you hurt?"

"No," I said softly. "Just a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing I can't handle."

He examined my skin, gently taking note of each mark. "What happened? Where were you?"

I leaned into him with a sigh. "After you left I was relaxing when this god awful headache made me fall out of your bed. When the pain was gone I was in Desire's realm."

His grip tightened. "What did they say to you?"

"Breathe," I reminded him softly running my fingers through his hair. "They told me I was a Weaver, explained it a little, refused to give me my ring back and left."

"Why were you not there when I arrived?"

"I saw the threads," I said, gesturing around us. Something in his eyes and voice made me feel like there was something he hadn't said. That thought gave way to an all too familiar pinch of hurt that I quickly reburied. "And then I was somewhere else. Darker, creepy with a shit ton of rats and freaky mirror tricks."

"Despair." He shook his head. "You certainly have been busy."

With a laugh I nodded. "I'm sorry I worried you."

Dream smiled, pressing his lips to mine. "You're home now, that's all that matters."

"I love you, Dream of the Endless."

"I love you, Penelope the Weaver."

A light knock echoed from the throne room doors. "My lord? My lady?"

"Oh shit, Lucienne!" I missed hopping off his lap and looking down at my bare legs. "Did you have to rip them?"

Dream grinned. "No, but it was far more enjoyable."

"Can I get some new pants then, mighty lord?"

His eyes ran down my legs. "No, I quite like the sight of you."

"Dream!" He waved his hand, a knee length skirt draping over me, no underwear. "Really?"

Standing, his own clothes now clean, he pressed me into his body. "It's been nearly three weeks, I'm nowhere close to done with you, little Weaver."

I'd been hearing people call me by the title for weeks, but the way he said it was my favorite. With a playful shove I followed him down the steps where Lucienne entered the room with a sigh of relief. "My Lord, I was so worried!"

"I apologize, Lucienne, for my dark behavior," he said stiffly, as if we hadn't just fucked on his throne. "But, My Lady is home now."

She shook her head. "Where have you been?"

"A lot of places," I told her. "Which reminds me, do you have any books on Weavers in that library of yours?"

"A Weaver," she smiled. "Of course. I'll gather every volume I can, my lady."

Once she'd gone, Dream set his head on my shoulder. "Let's attend to your cuts."

I closed my eyes, taking in the softness of his hands as he wrapped them around me. "They're tiny little scrapes, Dream. They won't even need band aids."

When I opened my eyes we were already back in his room with the tub standing in front of me. "Tiny or not, I'll see to it they're taken care of."

"This is just an elaborate plan to get me naked, isn't it?"

He nipped at my neck. "I hardly need to resort to such things."

I hummed. "Very true, with that voice you can get anything you want."

"Anything I want?" He asked. "That's quite a powerful thing."

"Says the Endless," I teased. "Are you getting in with me or are you gonna just stand there?"

We were both naked in the blink of an eye. Dream settled into the hot water first before practically pulling me in between his thighs and massaging my tense shoulders with his hands. I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I woke we were wrapped up in the silky bed, his arms wrapped around me, one of his hands was running his fingers through my hair and the other held a book.

I lifted my head, pressing my chin to his chest. "Good morning, my love."

Squinting I looked out the window at the now rising sun. "How long was I asleep for?"

"A day," he said with a chuckle. "You must've been exhausted after all your traveling."

Groaning, I let my head drop back onto his chest. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

The book bounced on the side of the bed beside me as he ran his hands soothingly up and down my back. "Rest then," his lips pressed to my head.

"But you have things to do," I murmured against him.

"I can do them later."

"No," I sighed, pushing myself to sit up. "I've got things to do too. No more lounging around." The soft caress of his hand up my spine brought me right back down against him. "Okay, five more minutes."

Five minutes turned into ten. Ten minutes turned into an hour and an hour turned into three. When I'd finally managed to shake off the stiff tiredness in my body and pull the needy Dream Lord off me I sat up and stretched, all too aware of his eyes on my naked back. "Don't even think of it."

He chuckled. "You're far too beautiful for me to resist, my love."

As he moved from the bed to his wardrobe I bit my lip at the sight of his prominent muscles and cute, tight ass. He chuckled at my thoughts as he picked out an outfit, though from here they all looked the same. "I could say the same to you, my lord. And why are you physically picking out an outfit? You have magic, you know."

"Some things I like doing with my hands," he said, looking over his shoulder at me with a grin. "As you're well aware."

Blushing, I wrapped myself in his sheets and moved behind him, kissing his shoulder. "Do I get a fancy wardrobe too?"

"Would you like one?"

"Maybe," I admitted. "If it's not too much of an intrusion on your space."

With a wave of his finger a second wardrobe appeared beside his own. "Your heart beats in my chest, Penelope, a wardrobe is hardly an intrusion."

I practically vibrated all the way to it, opening it up to find the clothes I'd brought with me as well as extras. Turning to him I smiled. "Did you make me more clothes?"

"Perhaps," he admitted.

"How thoughtful of you, Dream." I kissed him. "Which one is your favorite?"

He said nothing, but his eyes betrayed him with a quick glance to a beautiful gown in the middle. I turned, running my hands along the fabrics before plucking it out of the wardrobe. It was ethereal looking and felt like touching a cloud. I shooed him away and changed into it, feeling his eyes on me as I admired the look of it in the mirror.

The top was sleeveless with two thin straps twining around my neck and leading down into a diamond shaped bodice of silver and lavender with tiny gems detailing it. The bottom was tight against my hips before flaring out with strips of misty blue puffing out like waves. I ran my hands over it. "It's beautiful, Morpheus."

"Far more now that you are in it," he replied standing next to me, dressed in his usual attire, but the stars and midnight of the inside of his coat seemed brighter. I twisted, examining my scars for a moment feeling a quick pang of nervousness… Vulnerability. He turned me into his arms, kissing my scarred wrist. "You are beautiful, my love. Every inch of you."

I sighed against his lips. Kissing him was something I'd never get enough of. My hands wound in his coat, tugging him even closer. "Damn you and your irresistible lips!"

"I can say the same of you." He chuckled, pulling away and offering me his arm. "Lucienne is expecting us in the library. She's found quite a selection on Weavers for you."

We walked at a leisurely pace, Dream was calm more so than I'd seen him in a while. Lucienne had just finished setting the books on the table when we walked in. She smiled, bowing her head a little. "My Lord, My Lady."

"That's a lot of books," I said, moving from Dreams' side to look at the piles. "Are all of these about Weavers?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid so. There were more, but I picked out the ones I thought would be most beneficial."

"This is going to take forever," I whined.

"My Lord," Lucienne said. "There are a few matters that require your attention. Merv was looking for you."

He nodded, eyes fixing on me with a worry in them that I recognized instantly. "Go, Lucienne will keep her eyes on me."

He sighed. "If you disappear again…"

"I won't." I said. "And even if I did, I have my ring back, and I won't be losing it again. I'll call for you the second something feels off."

"Very well," he said, bowing his head a little. "I'll return soon."

Lucienne and I jumped into reading, all of it both very helpful and not helpful at all. I learned the basic history of Weavers. Learned of all their names and greatest feats before they died, which was fascinating. The world benefited so much from them and no one ever knew. But, all explanation of the threads and their meaning was vague to say the least, and there was nothing on how to access them. Halfway way through Matthew had joined us and had not been helpful but offered up some support.

I groaned, setting aside another book and slumping against the table. "More of the same?" Lucienne asked.

"Yep." I replied. "None of these are going to tell me how to do this."

"Perhaps it is as Destiny told you?" She suggested. "Personal to the individual rather than a science."

"So you think I should ditch the books and try to feel my way through it?"

"Why not?" Matthew asked. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could teleport to Hell," I offered up.

He sighed. "Right. That would be bad."

"Perhaps you can practice simply summoning the threads for now?" Lucienne said. "You said it is rather simple, a bit uncomfortable but easy enough to manage."

Nodding, I stood up, moving to give myself enough room to work with. "Okay, here goes nothing I guess."

I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths I willed the darker world up from whatever depths it was buried in, opening my eyes to the threads and the headache that came with them. "Okay, now what?"

"What do you see?" Matthew inquired.

"A shit ton of glowing threads."

"Okay well, touch a few?" He said.

I moved to the flowing gold, watching it move, sparks of it flying off towards Lucienne and Matthews chests. Reaching out my finger barely grazed it before a burning hot sensation shot through me. I yelped, jumping back and rubbing my finger. "Okay… Gold thread is hot as fuck. Do not touch the gold thread! Holy shit."

"Are you alright, my lady?" Lucienne asked softly.

"I'm okay." I said. "Wasn't expecting it to be that hot."

I moved to the solid silver thread, the cold rolling off of it as I reached out. Unlike the gold it was cold and I could touch it. I held my finger to it, the cold slowly sinking into my bones, spreading up my arm. Voices echoed around me, ones I'd not heard in years, and misty visions spilled from inside it threatening to overtake my sight completely. Hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me back, severing the connection to the thread.

The world returned to normal and Lucienne held my cold hand in hers. "My lady! Are you hurt!"

"I'm fine. Why…" I looked down at my hand, deathly pale and covered in frost. "Oh."

Lucienne sighed in relief as the color began returning to my skin. "Let's stop touching the threads for now?”

Matthew cawed. “Yeah I second that.”

“Just, examine them? If you can describe them to me, I may be able to check the books for specific details.”

I nodded, once again pulling the threads back up and looking at them. All the objects around me looked like they’d been woven of blue and silver and lavender threads. Dreams thread. “The Dreaming,” I said, marveling at the realization. “It’s all made of his thread, all woven together by him.”

“Lord Morpheus is The Dreaming,” Lucienne observed. “It would make sense that his realm is built of him, perhaps even connected to him.”

I turned my head to Matthew, who had perched on the edge of a chair. His thread was thick and white, but the white was covered with winding threads of blue and black that pulsed around it with each breath he took. He himself had a blue and white mist rolling off of him. “Well? How do I look?”

I smiled. “Like a smoking bird.”

I ran my hand through it, hot and cold sensations pin pricking my hand. “Is smoking good?”

“Good, I think.” I assured him. “Your thread is lovely. White wrapped up in blue and black ones that glow everytime you breathe.”

The smoke plumed higher as he puffed out his chest. “That sounds impressive.”

Turning to Lucienne as she jotted down notes I smiled at her bright purple thread, deep and rich with veins of brown that resembled the leather of her books and tan that reflected her eyes. Unlike Matthew hers were woven together, every color touched and mingled into the purple. “Yours is different from his. Dark purple, with brown and tan, but they’re woven, intermingling with one another. Matthew’s threads don’t touch, each one is its own thing almost.”

Lucienne hummed, scribbling away furiously. “This is fascinating.”

As she smiled her thread glowed. “It’s beautiful, Lucienne.”

She blushed, something I only noticed because of the purple glittering that lit up her cheeks, hiding it beneath her glasses. “Thank you, my lady.”

The library door opened and I turned, my eyes widening at the beautiful glowing of Dream. Unlike everyone else he appeared as he always did, no mists or blocked out features. I could see every inch of him. More astonishingly was the beautiful thread that was wrapped around his head, a crown of sorts. I smiled. “Maybe you don’t need a crown after all.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

I pointed. “Your thread, it winds around your head. A crown.”

He nodded with a tiny smile just for me. “You’re looking at the threads then?”

“Yep!” I looked down at the mess of threads that wrapped around him, connecting him to everything in the room. “You’re covered in them. The threads of The Dreaming, I’d assume.”

Lucienne’s pen scribbled in my ear and Dream looked over at her. “Is she writing this down?”

“She thinks if I describe it to her she might be able to find something in a book to help us get a better idea at what we’re looking at, or, well I’m looking at.” I said quickly. “And since touching is a no no-”

“Why is touching them bad?” He interrupted.

Shit. I shrugged. “Some of them are more… potent than others.”

“She burned her finger on one and then almost lost a hand to frost bite on another,” Matthew tattled.

I turned and pointed at him. “Keep that beak zipped Smokey!”

Dream lifted my hand, examining it. “It’s fine, really. It was like less than a minute.”

“Any other interesting developments?” He asked with a pointed look and a hum of warning down the bond. “Are you being reckless?”

“Nope.” I said. “Me? Reckless? I’m offended, Dream.”

“Please, be careful.” His thoughts caressed my mind, soothing the headache as he pressed a kiss to my fingers. “Have you tried making anything yet?”

“Making things?” I inquired.

He gestured to a book. “Weavers are not just able to see the threads, but to manipulate them and in turn create things with them.”

“Right,” I whispered. “I don’t even know how I would try that.”

Dream motioned me over with a hand. “Come here, hold out your hands.”

"Dream..." I muttered.

"Humor me," he said softly. "Please." Damn his silk voice.

I let him pull me in front of the library table. "Hold out your hands." I did and he readjusted them instantly before he settled behind me. My breath caught in my throat at the feeling of him pressing against me, firm hands gently helping to hold my arms out in front of me, palms facing one another. His breath fanned across the back of my neck as he leaned down and whispered, "Clear your mind."

God, I whined to myself and his pride flared. "That's not always so easy for some people."

"I'm sure you are perfectly capable." He purred, the sarcasm light in his soft rich voice. I tensed my jaw. "Relax, Penelope."

I closed my eyes and did my best to follow his instructions, no matter how seductive they sounded rolling off his silken tongue. After a minute or two passed he hummed behind me. "Good. Now, imagine one of the dreams you wanted as a child."

I imagined the meadow.

"Focus on something, focus hard, examine every detail you can see, every sound it makes. Everything."

I focused on a group of butterflies flitting from flower to flower. Their glistening wings beat softly, the color of them catching in the sunlight. Orange. Blue. White. Green. Yellow. All of them were so beautiful, so graceful as they moved in a rhythm all their own. My fingers felt heavy with the feeling of the threads wrapped around them.

"Now, move your fingers."

"Move my fingers?" I asked with a testing flex of my fingers in the tight strings. "How?"

"However feels natural," he replied.

I resisted the urge to scoff at him as I moved my fingers, testing at first but slowly the uncomfortable tightness eased and the threads moved without resistance.

"Extraordinary," Dream said from behind me. I opened my eyes, a sarcastic question already waiting on my tongue. But there in between the palms of my hands hung five butterflies made of the glowing threads.

"Holy shit. Okay, what do I do now?" I asked, a mixture of awe and nervous tension building in my gut.

"Whatever feels natural," he said again, his hands moving to my shoulders, squeezing them gently. “Relax, my love.”

I laughed nervously. "Natural. Okay."

For a while all I could do was stand there and stare at them. My fingers twitched, tugging the threads a little, and with the pull the wings of the butterflies twitched too. Pull, a thought gently suggested something that hadn’t felt entirely like my own thought, easing my fingers apart and pulling the threads taut. They began to glow brighter until the strings snapped. Five butterflies, real butterflies, fluttered their wings, taking flight right in front of me.

Lucienne gasped at the sight, smiling brightly. "Amazing."

I slowly let my hands drop, eyes following the butterflies as they swirled overhead. Dreams hands rubbed my back as my arms dropped. I turned to him. "Did you?"

He gave me a small smile. "I did nothing."

"I made them?" I asked, returning my eyes to the butterflies.

"Yes. It would explain why the others cling to you," he stated. "You are their maker, they are bound to you."

My eyebrows furrowed. “When would I have made those?”

Dream stiffened a bit, eyes casting to Lucienne who cleared her throat and approached me with her notes. I looked at him curiously, that pinch of raw and painful hurt flaring inside me. No. I told myself, pushing it down. He wouldn’t. I looked over Luciennes notes and made whatever corrections I needed to before we settled into the chairs at the table. I’d been able to make a ball, a pen, a feather, and a small square of fabric. Lucienne suggested I practice more, to help exercise the power and hopefully lessen the pain it caused me to use them.

After a while I began to feel worn out, tired and quite irritated at how difficult it was sometimes. Dream summoned me food and after Matthew and I ate he suggested we take a walk. We walked through a beautiful garden on the grounds of his palace and we finally got a chance to talk about all the things that had happened over the past few days. “Did you send me a dream, after you left my apartment?”

“What?” He asked curiously. “What dream?”

“Everything was frozen and three ladies were in my room, talking in riddles.”

He sighed, annoyed. “The Fates. What did they say?”

“Fates as in Greek mythology fates?” I was a little surprised.

He nodded. “They have many names, The Fates. The Kindly Ones. No matter what name they go by, their troublesome nature is always the same, and they never give prophecy out freely.”

“Well I didn't give them anything,” I assured him. “Maybe they didn’t give me any prophecy. Maybe it was just gibberish.”

Dream shrugged. “Perhaps. As long as they didn’t harm you.”

I smiled, bumping him. “I’m fine, Dream.”

“Now, I’ve been meaning to ask you where all you traveled to in your three week vacation.” He teased me. “I know you saw the twins. Who else?”

“Destiny,” I answered. “Not surprising though since he’s like my boss.”

“What did he tell you?” His voice was calm, but there was a flash of something in the bond, quick and fleeting and not something I could catch quick enough. The pinch grew.

“He explained a few things, not in great detail, but it was helpful I guess.”

With a nod he breathed out a deep breath. “Anywhere else?”

I almost stopped walking at the memory of the museum, and the butterfly that now lay up in Dreams room in my bag of trinkets. “There was this one place I didn’t recognise. A museum?”

He stopped walking, his head turning to look at me. “You found Destructions realm?”

“Maybe?” I asked. “Who is Destruction?”

“My brother,” he said softly, a pang of guilt and swirls of sorrow and rage filling him. “He… He abandoned his role and his realm.” The words he left out were clear in my mind. He abandoned his family.

My heart pounded faster. “Did he… Did he have another name?”

Dreams' eyes were confused as he answered, “A few.”

“Was one of them Olethros?”

A look of realization passed over his face. “You knew him?”

Swallowing the thick lump in my throat I nodded. “He was my friend. After the river…”

Dreams hands squeezed my shoulders. “Do you know where he is?”

I shook my head. “Until just now I thought he was dead. Thought they’d…” The rest died on my tongue as I quickly pushed the painful memories back down into my gut.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his grip on my arms lessening. “I am surprised you knew him at all.”

“Me too.” I admitted. “But, that’s all the places I went.”

“How did you find your way back?” He asked, as we stood close to one another.

I smiled up at him. “I found your thread, wrapped around my finger. And I just kept thinking about how I wanted to go home.”

“I’m glad you found your way back,” he admitted softly. We stood there for a moment longer before he moved away a little. “We should return. You need to practice more.”

Groaning, I pulled on his coat and slid up against him. “I’d rather not.”

He pressed a kiss to my head and I felt him smile. “Very well, perhaps we could do something else?

I looked up at him with a grin. “Did you have something particular in mind?”

“A game, if you’re willing to play?”

“Is there a prize?” I asked.

His starry eyes glistened. “You may choose anything you wish.”

I smirked. “I can think of a few things. What’s the game?”

“All you have to do is evade me successfully.”

“Hide a seek?” I asked with a giggle.

“More of a hunt than seeking.” He answered deeply.

A thrilling chill ran up my spine. “You think you’re a good enough hunter to catch me?”

The gleam in his eyes had darkened as he answered. “Of course.”

“Fine then, rules.” I said looking up at the sun in the sky. “If you can’t catch me by sundown I win. No teleporting or power usage.”

He bowed his head, lips hovering over mine. “I agree to the terms.”

I pressed my lips to his. “Good luck, Dream Lord.”

Then I was gone, running quickly through the garden giggling. “I’ll give you a ten minute head start, darling, then I’m coming for you!” He shouted, the words vibrating through me.

***

Ten minutes had passed and Dream had begun his hunt. They were only thirty minutes in, but he was impressed. No footprints marked her path, no obvious signs she’d been anywhere in the palace at all. He widened his search spreading out beyond the palace and into the village where his dreams and nightmares lived. Some had already returned in the short time he’d been back, which gave him hope that the others would soon as well.

He checked the shops and asked his subjects if they’d seen any sign of their lady. All had told him the same thing, that she’d run straight through the town and headed off in the direction of the beach. So, he followed. It made sense that she’d choose the beach, it was large and had vast hills and mountains that would provide good hiding places. But as he neared the gate a little blue butterfly caught his eye. The insect flew along the path and then turned abruptly down a familiar road. He smiled. Cain and Abel.

Sure enough he could feel her the closer he got, though she appeared to be inside with the brothers. Dream waited, watching the area fill with the butterflies, hovering around the house she was in. When Cain stormed out and she and Abel followed, the tiny golden gargoyle on her shoulders, he wanted to move, but something in her face stopped him. She looked at Cain with a sadness on her face that made every inch of him curl. If Cain had upset her he would-

She set the gargoyle in Abels hands and walked to Cain’s side, the fountain blocking his view. He moved silently, crossing the bridge and finding her again just as she wrapped her arms around Cain’s stiff body. For a moment he was nervous of what Cain would do at his lady's kind embrace. Of the two brothers he was far more irritable and rash. He took a step closer, prepared to intervene if something were to happen, but he paused as Cain returned her hug, crying into her shoulder.

Did she know how miraculous she was? He wondered as he and Abel watched the sight in awe. When the two pulled away, the butterflies in her hair beating their wings softly, Cain wiped his eyes. "Forgive me, my lady."

Penelope shook her head and grabbed Cain's cheeks, speaking so softly he could hardly hear her. "Don't apologize." She pressed a kiss to his forehead. "If you ever wish to see the memory again, don't hesitate to call upon me."

He nodded, smiling at her in a way Dream had never seen from him. "Yes, my lady.

She turned and her smile grew as their eyes met. "I've found you."

A wicked gleam in her eyes sent his heart soaring. "Found me, yes. But I believe the exact word I used was catch me."

"You intend to make me chase you, my love?"

"Oh absolutely," she said, moving cautiously around the fountain, her hands behind her back. "We both knew you'd find me, but I'm not sure you can catch me that easily."

His brows rose. "No?"

"I'm very quick on my feet, Dream Lord."

He chuckled. "Quick on your feet, yes I've no doubts on that. But you forget this is my realm, it bends to my will."

"Ah, but we're equals, you and I." She was just out of reach now. "Whom will The Dreaming be more inclined to listen to, I wonder?"

"First you steal my heart and now you would strip me of my realm?" He joked blandly. "What a wicked creature you are."

Penelope blushed. "Oh dear Dream Lord, I've yet to show you wickedness."

He moved to step towards her but found himself unable to. Some invisible force had wrapped around his legs, pinning him to the spot he stood. Dream looked up at the proud smile Penelope had as she stepped closer, revealing the threads in her hands. "Are you stuck Dream?"

"This is cheating," he said with a barely concealed chuckle.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" She insisted. Pressing a light kiss to his lips she walked past him. "Better hurry, Dream, the suns going down."

He watched her walk away with a confident sway in her hips. Damn her and her little threads.

***

I sat on the bridge, watching the sun start to set in the distance. Any minute now I'd be victorious and my lovely pouty lipped Dream Lord would be paying me with the view of his pretty head between my thighs. A wave of power rolled over me, bringing every hair on my arms standing up. There at the end of the bridge Dream stood, hands in his pocket and his dark gaze fixed on me. He tilted his head up. "You and I have business, Weaver."

Fuck. I jumped up and started sprinting. If I could get to the library the endless shelves and Luciennes rules on manners would surely buy me just enough time to-

I slammed into a solid black mass, his pale hands wrapped around my wrists and he bent over me with a dark, hungry gaze. "You are quite quick for a little rabbit, but I am a very experienced hunter and I'm set on catching my prey."

Threads wove between my fingers before he pulled my hands away from each other. "None of that now." His eyes turned to the sun just as it disappeared over the horizon. "I win."

"You cheated!" I insisted, not even flinching at the change in scenery as he took us to the bedroom.

Dreams' eyes glistened. "You cheated first. I was merely adapting to the change in rules."

"Damn you," I growled playfully as I pushed my chest up against his. "Well, you've got me, now what will you do?"

"Now," he brought his lips dangerously close to mine. "You practice."

My mouth fell open. He had to be kidding. "What?"

He pulled away from me, summoning a desk and gesturing toward the chair. "That's right, little Weaver. Time to stop running from your studies."

"But I thought… I wasn't expecting you to pick this!" He didn't budge. "Fine. I'll practice, but you're the one missing out, Dream, my idea was far more fun than this."

"I'm certain it was," he chuckled, pushing in the chair as soon as I sat down. Pressing a kiss to my head he moved toward the bed, lounging back with a book. "Have fun, darling."

"Asshole."

He didn't react, which only made me glare at him harder. After a few minutes when it became clear he had no intention of giving into my angry looks I sighed and turned to the desk. I focused, pulling the threads from around me and began twisting them into the familiar shapes I'd been practicing. Ball. The easiest, obviously. Once I'd finished, pulling it free of the threads I tossed it to Morpheus, who caught it without even looking up from his book. Damn that's hot. I could see his tiny smirk.

Moving onto the next I started purposefully letting my thoughts drift. Perhaps that would catch his attention. The first was simple, just an image of him through my eyes while I sucked him off on his throne. No response. Pen. I tossed it over to him again, watching his nimble fingers catch it with ease. The glint in his eye as he peeked up at me told me my plan was working. I flashed him a sweet smile and went back to work.

Time to go off script. I thought, twisting the thread between my fingers until the image of a small letter opener began to take shape. Now I thought of what I'd have done if I'd won our game, pushing all the pent up desire into it and thus into Dream. From the corner of my eye I saw his hands tighten on the book, his eyes going still. The blade gleamed in the light. I threw it right towards his head, biting my lip as he caught it and turned his head to examine it. "Quite the craftsmanship, it seems you're improving." He stabbed it into the nightstand and smiled. "Do stick to the list my love, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt."

I squeezed my thighs together and returned to my work. Butterflies. The threads were soft beneath my fingers, reminding me even more of the throne room. One last try, I decided as I imagined Dream pinning me to the desk, hiking up my dress and taking me from behind. As I pulled the threads, watching the butterflies flutter their wings and perch in my hands, I didn't even notice Dream get up from the bed. His cold hands pulled the chair back, forcing me to stand, before he pulled me flush against him. "Lovely work."

"Practicing does help," I said. "Speaking of, I'm not finished with my list."

My eyes shut as the sensation of his lips pressing hot, wet kisses to my neck and shoulder spread goosebumps along my skin. "No, but that imagination of yours has me reconsidering what I'd like as my prize."

"Oh?" I squeaked out as he pushed his erection against my ass. "I think that's against the rules."

"Fuck the rules," he growled into my ear. "This is what you were picturing, was it not?"

I pushed back against him. "Hmm, it's close."

Before I could think of another snarky reply he swept the objects off the desk and bent me down on top of it. He ran his hands up my back, moving my hair out of his way as he kissed and bit at my skin. A shudder ran through my body as he grabbed my arms and directed me to hold the fabric of my gown for him. "Keep this up for me, darling."

My fingers burned with effort as he plunged two fingers inside me without warning. He made quick work of building up my first orgasm, but right as I reached the peak he stilled. I groaned, trying to force my hips back into his fingers, but his hand on my back held fast. When the pleasure had died down he continued, the same as before. By the time he denied my would be fourth orgasm I pressed my forehead to the cool wood and gasped as his skilled fingers began working me toward another denied release. "Dream…" I groaned as my legs began to shake. "Please!"

He hummed, removing his fingers from me, the material of the dress vanishing from beneath me. Dream moved my hands until they were flat against the desk. "You were right, this is far more fun."

I whined as he entered me slowly, one hand holding me steady by the hip and the other running up my sweat coated back. "Morpheus," I whispered.

"Yes, my love?" Smug bastard.

"Faster, please."

Leaning over me and pressing a kiss to my spine he smiled. "Since you asked so nicely."

Each of his thrusts were fast and deep, rocking me forward into the desk and reducing me to a limp moaning mess beneath him. He bent over me, pushing unbearably deeper inside me, whispering praise into my ear and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. I came undone once, twice, three times before all coherent thoughts were gone and only his name remained.

Moroheus. Morpheus. Morpheus. The moaning mantra in my head as I whined beneath him sent him over the edge. His body draped over mine, hot breaths in my ear as he gently eased himself out and held me upright. "You did so wonderfully, my little Weaver."

I smiled tiredly. "See? Wasn't that a better idea than practicing?"

"Absolutely."

***

The days followed similarly, Dream worked on fixing the last damaged parts of The Dreaming while I practiced with the threads and spent time among his returned dreams and nightmares. I enjoyed visiting with them, finding their unique appearances and duties absolutely fascinating, and they in turn began to warm up to me. The nights were spent either roaming The Dreaming with Morpheus or tangled in his silky sheets, sometimes both. It felt like home, a feeling I hadn't known since Olethros and the Stewards… A memory that had plagued me since Despair's realm.

Lucienne sat across from me in the library, diligently taking inventory of their books as I practiced. She sighed, setting a book off to the side of her pile, a book bound in glistening multicolored threads. A book with my name on it. "What's that?"

"My lady!" She gasped, her hand smacking down onto the book. "Forgive me! I forgot you were here."

"That's alright," I answered pointing to the book. "What's that?"

"N… It's nothing, my lady."

"It has my name on it." I observed, watching her grab it and hold it to her chest. "Lucienne what's going on?"

She bowed her head to me. "Let me just… Let me go get Lord Morpheus and then we can discuss this matter fully, my lady."

The stomach turning pinch I'd had since my return twisted into a knot settling deeper inside me as I let my hands and the threads I had in them fall watching her hurry out of the library. Something was wrong. Something Dream had been keeping from me. But what? Why?

"Heed our advice, fate touched, do not hesitate to reach out to the cold. For in the frozen depth much truth lies." The Fates words echoed in my ears as my eyes met the thin frozen thread. Could it be that easy? I wondered. Dream said their words most likely meant something, but that they never gave anything freely. And yet the longer I stared at it the more certain I was they'd been telling me to use it.

With one last glance at the door I reached over, curling my hand around the burning cold of the thread and letting my mind fall away into the images within the blizzard. Snow hung frozen in the air, the frozen lake beneath me crackling with every step I took. I couldn't see any other threads, nothing but the ridgid silver guiding me forward.

The further I walked the colder it got until a huge sculpture of ice appeared before me. Destiny, I recognized looking at the book and his cloaked face. He sat across from a child, a child with butterflies in her hair. Me. He'd said we met before, the first time I found his garden, or, I guess not the first time. I reached out and laid my hand against the frozen stone, voices and visions taking shape inside my mind.

A small version of myself walked the hedge paths with Destiny's hand in mine. I was talking, telling him every detail about my day and then some. He listened with a fond smile as he led me down the path. When we came to the familiar opening he set the table while I looked at the statues.

"Who are they?" My small voice asked curiously.

"My siblings," he said simply.

"Will I get to meet them?"

He chuckled. "Perhaps one day."

My tiny hands pet the stone raven at Dreams feet as I looked up at him with a smile. "Does this one have pets?"

Destiny looked up and shrugged. "If that is how you choose to see it, then yes."

"He looks grumpy."

"He often is." Destiny said. "Come Penelope, I have your favorites."

I jumped into the chair across from him and ate everything I could reach. Destiny sat across the table, looking like he always did. After a while I brought my hands together, summoning the threads with ease and weaving the butterflies even quicker than I could now. "Look!"

Destiny studied them as they fluttered around him. "You are improving quickly."

"It's pretty easy. You just have to pull."

"Why butterflies, Weaver?" He asked.

I shrugged. "Butterflies often represent metamorphosis, change and rebirth. They make me feel safe… Like anything is possible."

Destiny merely nodded and returned to his tea, sometimes looking up and watching me weave the threads.

My hand fell from the statue and I turned to continue down the path. What he said that day were my own words. I knew him. I'd spoken to him. I'd been weaving the butterflies since I was a child, and yet now it was difficult… I had no memory of any of it. The next statue I was perched on Destiny's shoulders, and I pressed my hand to it quickly.

"Higher Des!" I bossed, reaching up toward a large orange leaf.

He lifted me higher. "I do not understand why you need this particular leaf, little one."

I plucked it off the tree and held it right in his face. "Because this one has glowing threads! See?!"

He lowered me to the ground. "I do not."

I lifted my tiny hand to the leaf, revealing the pulsing gold threads within it and showing Destiny. "See? It's still alive. All the ones down here are dead, so I couldn't show you how pretty they are."

Destiny patted my head. "It is beautiful, little one. Now, tea?"

My hand was aching now as I continued forward with frozen tears in my eyes. "Destiny..." I said moving to the next statue of him embracing me.

I sat beneath a large tree, one that felt familiar… My parents yard? Destiny approached slowly. "Weaver."

The young me turned, letting the butterflies take flight as I released them from my threads. "Des!" The young me leapt into his arms, hugging him tightly. "I've missed you!"

"I am sorry, little one." He whispered.

Destiny's hand pressed to my small head, and something swirled around it before I went limp in his arms. He laid me on the blanket, the butterflies I'd made swirling around him angrily. "Until our next meeting, Penelope."

I squeezed the silver thread, snapping it under my hand. The ice gave way beneath my feet and the freezing water cocooned me. As I slowly began to come to the blurred face of Lucienne and Mervs pumpkin head hovered beside me. Dream held me, his embrace warm against my frost-covered skin, but the hands that should have felt comforting felt like knives. As soon as I moved he sighed with relief. "Penelope! Are you alright?"

I groaned, forcing my stiff body to move away from him, the fear and pain that lingered in me burning hotter every second. "Did… Did you know?"

I felt the pit in his stomach tighten and saw the guilt in his eyes. "Penelope…"

Now on my feet I braced myself on the library table and turned to him with tears. "Did you know?!"

Dream nodded. "Yes."

My heart dropped and a wave of nausea filled my stomach. I’d been lied to, betrayed so many times before but none of it felt like this. "How long?"

"Not long after you disappeared."

A strangled noise escaped my tight throat as I turned away from him, pressing both my shaking hands onto the table. Everything was too bright, too warm. Lucienne and Merv stood on either side, exchanging glances at one another. Matthew hopped to my side. "Penny, maybe you should sit down and we can talk about this."

"No." I bit out, turning my head back toward Dream. "You've known for weeks… You kept it from me."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what?" I demanded. "From knowing what he did?!"

With a sigh he moved to touch me. The hurt in his eyes almost made me feel guilty about taking a step back. "Please. Let me explain."

I shook my head, my fingers curling around the book, my book. "No. If anyone's going to explain this to me I want it to be him."

"Penelope, you can't just-"

"Yes I can,” I cut him off with a cold look. “I'm a Weaver, crashing the party is what I do." Without another word I walked away, book in my hand and anger filling my lungs.

I ignored Dreams' voice, Lucienne and Merv as they called out to me. The last thing I heard before I disappeared through the door was Matthew, "Fuck this is bad isn't it?"

The hedges greeted me, butterflies swarming instantly. "DESTINY!"

There was no answer as I stormed down the path toward the center of the maze. He stood next to the table, everything set as though he'd been expecting me. "Hello, Penelope."

I said nothing, just moved forward and threw the book at him. He caught it easily. "You asshole!"

"You have found your lost memories then."

"Yeah no thanks to you!" I yelled, raising my fist at him.

He caught my hand and held me, keeping me from moving back or forward. His head tilted slightly. "You have every right to be angry. I expected this much."

I scoffed at him. "You were my friend and you stole my dreams, my memories! Why?!"

"To protect you."

"From what?!"

"Yourself."

"I don't understand," I sobbed, the anger finally beginning to subside, revealing the raw hurt it covered up.

Destiny let my hand go and wiped my tears. "You were growing more powerful every day, far more than any Weaver before you. The book revealed to me that should you continue on that path you would be consumed by the power of the threads. The only way to stop this was to sever you from The Dreaming, from my brother's power."

"But why? How did my dreams harm anything?"

"You and my brother are equal. You are as much a part of The Dreaming as he is. So, in your sleep you drew power from it, that power fed the growth of your own. It festered an inevitable corruption and so I had to erase you from that world, and it from you." He sighed. "I left echoes of it... Your favorite places within his realm, an attempt to ease the loss. A poor one, I now realize."

"Why didn't you tell me when I came to you last time?" I asked through my sobs.

"You and Dream needed to face your pasts, mistakes and fears. He needs to come to terms with you choosing him and what that means for himself. You need to come to terms with the knowledge that he will not abandon you because of your past and free yourself from the torment you hold to."

"So this whole thing was just one big trust exercise?" I asked with a hoarse laugh.

Destiny smiled. "If that is how you wish to see it."

"I'm so sick of you saying that," I replied, nearly falling over.

He caught me, setting me gently into the chair. "You have exhausted yourself by coming here. Rest. Dream shall come to retrieve you shortly."

I laid my head down on the table, catching his hand and squeezing it as he turned to leave. "I'm still pissed at you… But thanks, for keeping me safe… I guess."

Destiny's hand squeezed mine back. "You are the Weaver, it is one of my duties to ensure your safety."

"Are we friends, Destiny?" I asked softly.

"If that is how you wish to see it."

"Asshole." I grumbled with a grin.

"Rest, Weaver."

I’d only closed my eyes for a minute, or at least that's how it felt before the sun had set and Dreams familiar presence filled the maze. His cold hands brushed my hair behind my ear and he smiled down at me as I peeked up at him. “Dream.”

“Come, love.” He whispered, pulling me into his arms. “Let's go home.”

The hurt I’d caused him still held in his chest, heavy. As soon as his bedroom materialized around us I wiggled until he set my feet on the ground and leaned into him, looking up with watery eyes. “I need to show you something.”

"You need to rest," he said softly.

"I need to do this first," I replied. "I need to show… I need you to understand."

Lifting the silver bound hand I squeezed it tightly, letting the cold fill my palm before opening it and blowing gently. Frozen snowflakes with the memories of them filled the air, their voices surrounding us in a light haze. Dream looked at them like they were beautiful, in a way I suppose they were, before he turned and looked at my sorrow filled gaze. "What are they?"

"These are all the people that died because of me." I answered. "Because I put my trust in people that didn't deserve it."

I caught one in my palm, willing the memory of the family that had taken me in play out in a small storm in my hand. "These were the Stewards. They took me in, gave me a home." Tears spilled down my cheeks. "One of the doctors most trusted associates learned I was staying with them from someone thought was a friend. When he came I wasn't there." Pain filled my chest but I kept going. "He tortured the parents in front of their children. And then he lit the house on fire with them still inside."

I gently lifted the snowflake back into the air, moving to grab the other. Olethros. "Your brother. He was my friend. The first one from after the river. The night the Stewards house burned he took me to a boat and disappeared. Later one of the white coats told me he led them away from the docks to buy me time." I grit my teeth. "They said they'd killed him and hung his body from a tree and let the birds pick at him until there was nothing left. Until recently, I thought it was true, thought that he'd died because of me."

The next I smiled a little at. "This was David. He was one of the few people I was able to be with, without thinking of you the whole time. He was kind and funny and accepting." I sobbed a little. "They found him and left him to die on the floor of our apartment. With his dying breath he asked me if I loved him… And I couldn't tell him yes." I exhaled a hot heavy breath. "He died knowing I didn't feel the same as he did."

Dream was deathly still, his eyes watery as he watched me grab another snowflake. "Isabel. Before Pierre and Johanna she was my best friend. She wanted me to live my life, even with the white coats and the bullshit. I was always resisting. One night she had somehow talked me into going dancing with her." I sighed. "It was one of the best nights of my life. When we were walking home they came. I told her to run but she didn't, she refused to leave me. One of the white coats, the same one from the Stewards, broke my spine…" I paused, forcing myself to keep breathing. "She tried to help me and he slammed her against the pavement until her head was split open. I only got away because someone had called the cops."

I met his eyes and shook my head. "I've been lied to, betrayed and used for so long… I've lost so many people because of it. I know you were just trying to protect me. I know you weren't hiding it to use against me or anything like that but…" I closed my eyes tightly. "But in the moment all I could feel was this. The echoes of these faces…"

Dream had moved, enveloping me into his cold embrace so quickly I hadn't noticed. I clung onto him and sobbed. "I'm sorry, Morpheus."

"No," he said. "I'm sorry. I should have told you from the start. I never should have forced you to turn to the thread, never should have made you feel this way."

He lifted his hands to my cheeks, wiping away my tears gently. "Just, promise me? Promise me you wont keep things from me."

"On my honor as an Endless, as King of this realm, as your soul bound, I swear to you that I shall never withhold anything from you again." He said, pressing his head to mine. "Forgive me, Penelope."

"I do," I whispered. "I forgive you." Curling into his chest as the ice around us melted into soft drizzles of raindrops. Dream chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't expect them to melt."

He shook his head, pressing a long gentle kiss to my lips. "I don't mind the rain. Now, rest my little Weaver."

We curled into each other on the bed, foreheads pressed together, our breaths shared and every inch of us touching. I felt the warm safety fill my chest once again, washing away the ache. He was my home, more than that he was my heart. Dream was my heart, the last, small piece of it that remained untainted by the institution's drugs and cuts. In his chest, safe and secure my heart beat, broken and scarred but not any less beautiful.

***

Dream fixed the collar of his coat for the third time as we neared Hob Gadlings house. “Relax, I doubt Hob’s going to care if your collar is out of place.”

He glared at me for a moment. “I’m perfectly calm. Though I do not understand why all this fuss is required.”

“You’re watching a movie and having drinks with your friend, I’d hardly call that a fuss.” I said with a wide smile.

He rolled his eyes at the mention of friendship. “Our original agreement was perfectly acceptable.”

"Everyone needs a friend, Dream,” I said cheerfully. “One they don’t just see every hundred years is preferable.”

"Do you have friends then?" He questioned with an arched brow.

I shrugged. "I have a Constantine."

"Is she not a friend?"

"She's more of a feral street cat, but I suppose it's close enough." My smile only widened. “I also have Pierre.”

Dream ground his teeth together. “Yes, the Frenchman.”

Laughing, I kissed his cheek. “He didn’t upset you did he?”

We’d stopped by the apartment before heading to Hobs. Pierre had been lounging in my bed, fully nude. When we appeared he stood up and gave me a hug and a big smoke filled kiss before introducing himself to Dream with a lazy handshake and a puff of his cigarette smoke.

“Of course not.” He said, but the tense tone of his voice said otherwise. I couldn’t exactly blame him. When I asked Pierre where Johanna was he told me she was out of town, on business looking for a certain doctor. Then he’d not so subtly implied he and I would get plenty of alone time for the week.

“He’s an asshole,” I admitted. “But I promise he won’t try anything.”

Dream’s eyes had softened as he looked down at me and squeezed my arm. “I trust you.”

A bubble of joy filled my chest. “I know. I just wanted to reassure you, there's nothing to worry about.”

Hob opened the door and greeted both of us with a wide hug. “Come in!

His home was very cluttered in a tidy way, not a Johanna way. Antiques collected over his long life hung proudly on the walls, he made sure to point out all the interesting ones and give long speeches for them. Dream was hardly paying attention, but I found it very interesting, getting this look into Hobs life. His living room was all set up for a movie, a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, assorted snacks set out and drinks readily available and an array of old DVDs set in a neat pile on the small table at the end of the couch.

I grabbed the movies and opened my mouth. “You have a DVD player?”

He nodded, moving out of sight into the kitchen for a moment. “Of course I do! A few years ago before all the fancy technology I was convinced they’d make a comeback so I collected everything I could for them.”

Dream looked so out of place. His black attire clashed against the warm earth tones of Hobs home. He looked around with a mildly displeased look on his face. Human things were still very new to him. “You live close to the New Inn,” he noted looking out the window to the brick building just down the road.

Hob returned with a bowl of chips. “Well I had to get a place close by. Saves the planet a bit and saves me money.”

“Your home is lovely, Hob,” I said, admiring the old tapestries on the wall. “It’s nice to finally meet a fellow antique collector.”

He wiggled his brows and smirked. “Beautiful Penelope, I am an antique.”

My face scrunched up. “That was your worst one.”

“Oh I’ve said much worse,” He argued.

Hob and I took our seats on the couch while Dream awkwardly stood by the window. I patted the seat between us and smiled. “Come on.”

He settled in uneasily. “You just sit here and stare at this screen?”

“Yep,” I answered, catching a popcorn kernel in my mouth.

“After the movie we’ll head down to the Inn and have some drinks.” Hob added, starting whatever movie he’d picked. “A perfect night out.”

The dream king looked far less convinced by the idea but settled into the couch with his hand resting comfortably on my thigh. Hob's choice of movie was fine, something I’d expect from an old man trying to impress his immortal god friend. Halfway through as the sun started to set out the window I laid my head on Dreams shoulder and snuggled into his side, a flare of want echoing between us as he squeezed my thigh.

Hob was completely engrossed in the movie, munching on all the snacks he’d laid out and making commentary about the time period. As he spoke my mind had the, apparently loud, thought that Hob Gadling had a nice voice. Beneath me I felt Dream twist a little to look at me. “So now it’s Hob Gadling whose voice you swoon for?”

I scoffed. “That’s not at all what I thought.”

“What else of Hobs are you drawn to?” He teased.

Leaning over a bit I took in the wide eyed excited gleam of the man beside Dream and smiled to myself. “He is quite handsome.”

“He looks like an ordinary man.” Dream insisted.

“Most men look like ordinary men, Dream. Not all of them have the perks of being you.”

Hob stood and excused himself to the restroom and the instant he was out of sight Dream turned to me with a grin. “You find him handsome then?”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t be disgusted with the thought of sleeping with him.”

“Oh?” He leaned forward a little, lifting my chin. “Do you wish to sleep with Hob Gadling, my lady?”

"I'm sure he isn't a poor lover," I teased him as he dragged a finger down my arm.

"But he's not me."

"That sounds a bit egotistical, Dream, even for you."

"It isn't ego." He leaned closer, tilting my head back more to expose my throat to him, his cool breath flaring across my neck as he whispered, "It is a fact. As is this," His lips skimmed across my throat, coaxing the quiet moan from it. "You would not be satisfied by Hob Gadling, not when we both know what it is you truly want."

"Oh?" I breathed out as he straightened up and though he'd pulled away there was less distance between us than before. "So tell me, O great dream king, what is it I want?"

The stars in his eyes were impossibly bright as they bore into my own. "To be worshiped."

"And what would a king... An Endless, know of worship?" I pressed tilting my chin up at him. He could kiss me with a simple tilt of his head if he wanted to, but we both knew Dream was far to much of a tease for that.

"I could show you." He said, his voice sending a thrum of power and want through me. "We both know that's something else you want."

I smiled at him. "I'm not admitting to that. You have a big enough ego as it is."

"Is that a challenge little Weaver?" He breathed as darkness swirled in his eyes.

"Perhaps,” I replied, “Later.”

We returned to our normal position as Hob returned. Dreams hand on my thigh squeezed tighter now. After the movie ended, Dream made an effort to assure his friend that he’d enjoyed himself, though Hob and I both knew the movie was not something he found fun. So, we’d all walked over to the Inn and Hob made everyone drinks. We sat at the table we had just a few days ago and talked. I could tell by the way they spoke to one another that Hob was relieved to have his friend back, and Dream felt the same way.

A hand clasped on my shoulder and the familiar scent of Pierres cigarettes wafted around me. He pulled up a chair and sat down with a grin. “There you are, Ma moitié.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded as the Hob and Dream sat up straighter in the presence of a stranger.

“There’s been a bit of trouble, I’m afraid.” He answered by taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it at Dream.

“Trouble I’m assuming you’ve brought with you.”

He shrugged. “They would have found you either way.”

Tension pulled at the base of my spine. “How many?”

“I counted 5.”

“So more then?” I responded looking over my shoulder at the windows. “Which ones?”

Pierre tapped the ashes off his cigarette, not meeting my eyes. “Giselle and her lot.”

The pain that filled me was one I was far too familiar with. Giselle had been one of the first to betray me in return for the doctor's immortality. Though she wasn’t the one that had set fire to the Stewards home, she was the one that led them there. I clenched my fists. “Great.”

He pulled the box from his bag and slid it to me. “I think it’s time to let the beast out, Ma moitié.”

Hob was the one to speak first. “I can grab one of my pistols.”

“No,” Dream and I said at the exact same time. I looked at him and sighed. “Thank you, Hob, but this is my mess.”

At that Dream nearly scoffed. “You’ll have me sit here then?”

I glared at him. “Do you think I'm weak, Dream?”

“No, you know I don’t.” He answered.

Grasping his hand from over the table I smiled at him. “Then let me handle it. Please.”

With a tense stare he nodded. “Very well. However, should you get hurt I cannot promise to remain off to the side.”

“Fair enough.”

Pierre looked at Dream with a curious look. “Wait… Has he not seen your moves?”

“No, he hasn’t.” I replied looking at the wooden box.

“Oh, then sit back dear lover and enjoy the show!” He cheered as the bell on the front door chimed.

I opened the box, moving the red fabric off of the blades and sighed. So much for no bloodshed.

***

Dream was fuming as Penelope turned to face the group of people that had filed in the door. She should just let him handle this, she should have from the start. Holding her hands behind her, she kept them close to the blades. “Giselle, been a long time.”

The woman at the back lifted herself up onto the bar, something Hob had quietly complained at. “Pen, good to see you. Pierre, not so good to see you.”

The Frenchman laughed. “I’ll take it as a compliment coming from such a frigid bitch.”

Penelope cut through the pleasantries. “We don’t have to do this. You could still walk away.”

The woman laughed. “We’re past that, Pen. Elias isn’t fucking around this time.”

“Things are that bad then?”

The woman jumped down and moved into the light, revealing the face of an old crone. “The best of us are rotting away.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “He must be pretty upset about that.”

Giselle scoffed. “Enough. Just come with us, make this easy.”

“I don’t think so.”

The woman's eyes slid to Dream and she smiled. “Is that the sandman from old Roderick’s basement?”

Penelope’s hands wrapped around the daggers, steel singing. He watched the blades glisten with what looked like fire, the red gems in the hilts glowing softly. Destruction. Dream felt his brother's power wash over him, but before he could fully allow himself to recognize what it meant Penelope spoke again, her voice darker. “Leave him out of this.”

“Maybe we will go and let Elias know that you’re getting the higher powers involved in our business.” She sounded far too smug. “We’ll trap him right back in that glass cage of his.”

“You sure this is how you want to end this?”

“Don’t sound so confident, Pen. You’ve been out of the game for years.” Giselle shook her head. “You won’t be enough to beat us all.”

Penelope’s anxiety that had slowly been building vanished. As Dream looked at her straight back and relaxed shoulders all he could feel from her was an unnerving calm. She said nothing as the first two men, tall and well built, moved forward towards her. She said nothing when they’d gotten far too close for his comfort. And she’d made no sound as her blades vanished from behind her back, embedding deep into their throats as she tossed them back onto the floor, the fire inside the steel burning brighter as their blood dripped off it.

As he watched her rage through the crowd of enemies, the glint of her blade the only thing that could be seen as she moved with speed and ferocity, he saw his brother for a moment. The way she moved, the way she twirled the knives in her hands and struck quickly, all was reminiscent of him. He'd been wrong to write her off as not a warrior, he saw that now. As Penelope stood, covered in the blood of her enemies staring down Giselle, Dream saw her as she was. His queen. A warrior in every sense of the word, and above all else his equal.

Giselle smiled. “You never fail to impress.”

Still she said nothing as Giselle leapt forward, swinging a golden ax down toward Penelope’s head. She stepped to the side, and slashed Giselle's shoulder with her blade. The woman growled, moving with a quickness that did not suit her appearance. Her ax sliced through Penelope’s thigh and he stood. She moved back a bit, holding her hand out to keep him from moving. “I’ve got this.”

His body ached with the effort it took to keep from intervening. Giselle made a few good moves, but nothing that matched the pure power of Penelope. When the first dagger stuck into her side he knew it was over, so did Giselle. She swung her ax again, a strangled cry leaving her as Penelope’s dagger sliced through the underside of her arm. Giselle collapsed onto the floor with retching breaths. Penelope stood over her, one dagger still in her hand. Giselle smiled up at her and spat at her feet. “Finish it then.”

Kneeling down Penelope finally spoke. “I hope you find some manner of peace in whatever afterlife is waiting for you.”

The blade sliced her skin and Giselle choked on a few blood filled breaths until silence filled the Inn. Even in battle his queen was merciful. She retrieved her blades and turned, walking back to the table. Everyone was silent, even the frenchman as she cleaned them and put them back into the box.

Her hands were shaking, but before he could reach over to console her, the frenchman had done it. “You know what I’m going to say, no?”

“What you always do.”

“You did what you had to.” He spoke, his eyes looking up at her like she was a goddess. “Ma moitié, you did good.”

Movement in the background put his hair on end. The Frenchman spotted it too, turning with a French curse leaving his lips. Hob stood, backing away a little. “What in God's name is that?”

Penelope turned and every inch of her froze as she looked down at Giselle’s body, twisting and curling in on itself moving until it stood before them again. Pale eyes stared at her as the gnarled hand fumbled for something in Giselle’s pocket. Dream prepared himself to move, but it was a softly ringing phone that was pulled out and answered.

“It’s so good to see you, after all these years Ms. Barlow,” an old faintly familiar voice filled the room. Penelope’s stillness twisted into absolute terror and she moved to step back, trying to flee the voice, running into the table. “It has been far too long, my dear.”

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

Text

Chapter 10 Title reveal & Quotes 😌

Tag List:

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@swearingsolemnly

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

Note

Voting for your sneak peeks has everyone like this:

😂 Literally though! Is it cruel? Absolutely. Am I gonna keep doing it? You bet your ass I as. 🤣

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

Text

Chapter 10 demands chaos so...

Penelope 🦋

Dream held me, his embrace warm against my frost-covered skin, but the hands that should have felt comforting felt like knives. As soon as I moved he sighed with relief. "Penelope! Are you alright?"

I groaned, forcing my stiff body to move away from him, the fear and pain that lingered in me burning hotter every second. "Did… Did you know?"

I felt the pit in his stomach tighten and saw the guilt in his eyes. "Penelope…"

Now on my feet I braced myself on the library table and turned to him with tears. "Did you know?!"

Dream nodded. "Yes."

My heart dropped and a wave of nausea filled my stomach. I’d been lied to, betrayed so many times before but none of it felt like this. "How long?"

"Not long after you disappeared."

"No." I bit out, turning my head back toward Dream. "You've known for weeks… You kept it from me."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what?" I demanded. "From knowing what he did?!"

With a sigh he moved to touch me. The hurt in his eyes almost made me feel guilty about taking a step back. "Please. Let me explain."

I shook my head, my fingers curling around the book, my book. "No. If anyone's going to explain this to me I want it to be him."

"Penelope, you can't just-"

"Yes I can,” I cut him off with a cold look. “I'm a Weaver, crashing the party is what I do." Without another word I walked away, book in my hand and anger filling my lungs.

I ignored Dreams' voice, Lucienne and Merv as they called out to me. The last thing I heard before I disappeared through the door was Matthew, "Fuck this is bad isn't it?"

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

Text

Oneshot: Dreams POV The Reunion

The small lingering spark of rage twisted in his lungs. "It was stolen by another magic user called Burgess."

Recognition sparked in her. "Wait, not Roderick Burgess? The old demon king himself, eh?" Recognition shifted to rage. "Woman beating piece of shit, everyone said he had the devil locked up in his basement, wait how did you…"

He'd felt the unpleasant curl of the memories beginning to swarm his mind, but the look she held in her eyes was deeper than mere pity, a realization. "It was you…"

"Yes," he'd said in answer, but the look did not fade.

"No… You're him, the man in the glass."

Impossible. Darkness laced his tongue when he spoke. "How do you know about that?"

"Holy shit." She breathed out, searching quicker for something in the pile. "My flatmate, the one I mentioned, stayed at the Burgess house for two years before the bastard sent her up the river to the looney bin."

He'd stopped breathing. No. This was surely some cruel joke. "That's not…"

She pulled the picture frame out from under a stack of papers and held it up to him. "Does she look familiar to you?"

His fingers curled around the frame, digging into it painfully tight as he stared down in awe. It was her. Curled around Johanna Constantines back, smile wide… Happy and eyes filled with the joy they'd been devoid of their last meeting. How? How was this possible?

The sound of the front door closing restarted his heart and for the first time in eighty years he felt the mark on his arm burn. The tugging sensation snapped into a forceful pull as he turned and looked at the office door.

"Johanna! You home?" The sound of her voice nearly made him collapse as he turned to the door fully. For the first time in eighty years he could feel her, her heart beating strongly like an echo in his own chest.

Constantine looked at him before shouting back, "In here!"

The doorknob twisted and the familiar sight of her slipped into the office. She had her head down, rummaging through a bag in her hands. "I got your usual, but they forgot the…" Her head lifted, running along the length of his body until their eyes met. Her beautiful eyes… His memory had not done them justice, had not done any of her justice. She was so beautiful. "Sauce."

He could feel her chest tighten and her emotions rage with disbelief. He too could hardly believe it. She should have been dead or at the very least old like Alex and Paul were now, but here she was, looking no different than the last time he saw her. No, he told himself looking at the healthy coloring of her skin, her neatly combed through hair and no longer sickly thin frame. She was healthy… She was alive.

Constantine stepped around the mess, grabbing the bag from her flatmates shaking hands. "I'm gonna, uh, give you two a minute."

The door closed behind her, but neither of them moved. Both were too afraid that this was just an elaborate dream or vision… Both too afraid to face a possible reality where this was not real. After a long moment Dream took a deep breath. It was only fair that he speak first, after she'd spent all those years talking. "Hello, Penelope."

It was the first time he'd been able to speak her name without feeling the pain of her death rip through him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. He wanted to reach out and touch her, to wipe the tears from her beautiful face. He wanted to feel her warmth on him, anywhere, everywhere. She said nothing as she closed the distance between them, throwing her arms over his shoulders and pulling herself up into him. He could feel her fingers gather up the material of his cost, squeezing as tightly as they could. The smell of lilac and peony filled his nose as the warmth of her sunk into his chest, healing the gaping wound that her loss had left.

He couldn't breathe. This was real, she was real. Her body moved slightly and his hand pushed into her back, afraid she'd try to pull away from him. He wasn't ready for that, Dream didn't think he ever would be. Her voice was soft and filled with repressed sobs as she whispered against him, "Hi, Sandman."

Sandman, he thought fondly. What would it sound like when she said his true name? He wondered, not entirely sure he'd be prepared for such a thing. The embrace lasted for a while longer, but when she pulled away to wipe her eyes he planted his hand in place, not ready to let her be out of his arms. Dream needed to touch her, needed to feel her. "How?"

She was so visibly surprised by his voice he had to refrain from smiling. Her head shook a little. "I don't really know."

"What happened?" He asked, his voice tense and rough at just the memory of Paul weeping, attempting to tell him what he already knew… that she was gone. His chest burned and he had to stare down at her to remind himself that she was here.

With a shuddering sigh she leaned forward, her forehead pressing against his chin. His eyes closed and he resisted the pull he felt telling him to press a kiss to her head, as she had when she said her final goodbye. Not final, he thought, leaning into her a little. She's right here. "After the basement…" The pain in her voice made him want to return to the Burgess house and destroy everything last inch of it. He'd gone easy on them, been far more merciful than he should have and he'd done it because she was gone and all he'd wanted then was to go home and mourn her. "I wasn't going to go back… And the only way I could see to do that was to… Well…"

"Throw a car off a bridge?" Dream said for her.

He almost regretted speaking at all when she pulled back, taking her warmth with her. Her simmering eyes starred up into his and she shrugged. "I didn't think you knew about that."

"Paul told me," he replied. Though told was a generous word to describe the unhinged sobs the man had fought to get the words through. The pain swelled up in him again and he had to look at her, look at the pulse point of her neck as it jumped with her heart, to remind himself. She's alive. "He said you were dead." He forced himself to keep breathing. "I thought you were dead."

More tears filled her eyes. "I think I was. For a little bit at least."

The words stung him. What had she been forced to do to survive all these years? What had he failed to keep her safe from while he wasted away in his cage letting her death consume everything left of him? "Then how are you here?" He finally asked. "How do you look exactly as I remember?" Better than I remember, he thought, eyes trailing down the length of her.

A scar, long and jagged, stood out against her skin and he felt the shame and disgust rise quickly in her. She pulled it into herself, obviously trying to shield it from his view. The act only made it sting more. "I only remember pulling myself out of the river." His chest constricted. She had to pull herself from the wreckage? She had to endure being alone, for how long? "Everything before is… Hazy." She nudged him, the movement bringing his eyes back to hers. "How did you get out?"

"Paul." He said. "He broke the summoning circle, which in turn restored a small portion of my power. I used that to free myself." When you get out, make them pay for it. Every second. Her broken voice filled his mind and pride mixed with regret filled him. "I kept my promise." She drew in a tight breath. "Alex Burgess pays for every second of torment he allowed."

Penelope was conflicted with joy and guilt. She'd grown even more forgiving, even more perfect in his absence. Before he could let the hurt of it settle into him she smiled. He hadn't seen that smile in eighty years, the weight of it nearly took over him. "Thank you." Dread filled her and him. "I… I did try to come back for you. I did… But…"

It hurt, the knowledge that even after whatever had she had endured in the five years she was away and after attempting to end that torment only to come out alive, changed, she'd still thought of him. She still tried to free him from his own cage. His lifted his hand to her cheek, running his thumb along the soft skin. "Do not apologize. Freeing me was never your burden."

"Still," she said, relief filling her tightened lungs. "I wanted you to know I tried. I'd be the worst person ever if I just let you rot there without a second thought, Sandman." Of course she would think that way.

"Morpheus." The need to hear her say his name was all he could feel now. The warmth that filled her made him continue. "My name is Morpheus, Dream of the Endless."

"Is it Morpheus or Dream?" A chill ran up his spine, the sound of both names from her lips scratched and itch in him he didn't know he had.

"Either, but…" he was breathless, just from her voice. "People call me Dream mostly, but in private I would like you to calm me Morpheus."

"Morpheus." God her voice was enrapturing, her smile even more so. "It's certainly not as catchy as Sandy, but it'll do."

He'd forgotten the horrid nickname, forgotten what a tease she was. "I hated that name, just so you know."

"Oh I knew, but that only made it more fun," she said laughing, laughing the way he remembered. He wanted her to laugh again, wanted to hear the sound for eternity. But, instead she looked up at him with a soft smile. "I'm glad you got free, Morpheus."

He smiled a little, bowing his head down into hers. "I am glad you did as well, Penelope."

Sorrow cooled in her and she pulled away, squeezing the necklace in her hand. "I um… I have something for you."

He watched her move through the room, his eyes fixated on the way her body moved. A sinful, lustful need rose in him. He had to smother it, now was hardly the time for such a thing. She retrieved a small pouch from one of the drawers of the cleanest desk in the room, hers he assumed. She returned to his side and set it carefully in his hand. "It's… It's Jessamy, well her remains."

Dream was flooded with the sharp pain of his raven's death. She… She kept this, kept her, all these years? "How?"

A wave of nervous fear ebbed between them as she proceeded to ramble. "I'm sorry if I've offended you! I didn't really know how you wanted… I was going to bury her, but it just didn't feel right, trapping her in that place. So I burned her, or well, Paul did… And kept the ashes hoping that, well… Hoping we'd get to have this talk."

She'd carried his loyal companion's remains with her for eighty years, not even knowing if she'd ever see him again. He didn't deserve this kindness. And he certainly didn't deserve the ashes of the one he'd failed to save. "You should keep it. To remember her by."

Pressing the pouch into her hand he heard her sigh. "Oh, I… I already have some pieces of her with me."

His eyes focused on the small vial with a few of the raven's feathers inside it on her necklace. He lifted it up, examining the intricacy of it. "I see. She would have liked that."

"Probably would have tried stealing it from me," she whispered lovingly as she pressed the ashes back into his hand and smiled against the tears that began to swell in her eyes. "Now you can take her home. You can find a place she loved and set her free."

"Thank you, Penelope," he said reluctantly, pulling his hand from hers. "I will not forget this."

"Don't thank me." She nearly sobbed. "I'm sorry I broke my promise."

"I'll not hold it against you," he said, smiling a little more. "His mouth…" Dream was started by the quiet thought that was clearly not his own. "I do not possess your unwavering ability to hold a grudge."

With a breathy laugh she said, "You know I highly doubt that."

He had to push his own questions aside as the feeling of her own wondering filled him. “You have questions.”

“Yeah, you could say that…”

“I have some answers,” he admitted freely, wanting her to know that not everything was so uncertain between them. “But…”

“Later,” She finished, seeming to understand.

“Yes.” He needed to retrieve his tools and tend to The Dreaming before he could offer her anything.

Her tender hesitation and fear struck him. “There will be a later though, right?”

“Yes.” He moved closer, fingers seeking her out as he swore to her. “I promise.”

A loud knock to the door echoed and she took a step away from him. Damn the Constantine. "I get that there's some history here, but I'd very much like to find this bag and be done with Mr. Sandman."

Penelope rubbed her hands together. “Okay, well what exactly are we looking for?”

“A bag of sand,” Constantine said glaring at him as she began looking around the room once again. Still haphazardly throwing and stepping on things with little care.

Penelope jumped into the search, and he couldn't help but watch her. Every movement, every shift, everything she did wanting to commit it all to memory. He forced himself to look away, feeling the heat and need beginning to rise back inside him. The feeling of her eyes raking over him didn't help, but the sudden thought nearly made him groan. "He looks even better naked." He turned towards her, just in time to catch her eyes. Was she doing this on purpose? Did she even realize he could hear her? He spoke instead, trying to clarify the importance of the sand. "It was one of the tools they’d stolen from me. I need it back.”

“So," Constantine said, with a tone of mistrust. "You were down in that basement all this time?”

From the corner of his eye he saw Penelope throw something at her, but he continued looking at the box in front of him. “Is this you?”

“Why?” she groaned, moving closer. “Do I look that different? Or younger?”

She took the photo from his fingers and held it between her own with a regretful look in her eyes.

“No,” he told Constantine. “Happy.”

"Shit. I know where your sand is.”

“God no. You left it with her?”

“I know, I know.”

As Penelope leaned back against her desk he couldn't stop the image of her on top of it, naked and moaning beneath him from filling his head. Dream clenched his jaw and let out a breath. “How do you want to do this?”

The two continued talking. “The only way we can.”

“Oh, so we’re finally offering you up as a sacrifice? I always thought it’d be to some demon, but I suppose an ex girlfriend is close enough.”

“Not funny,” Constantine said, slapping Penelope's shoulder on her way out the office door.

She looked over at him and smiled. God damn her. She had to know. “It is funny though, isn’t it?”

He looked down at her with a fond, adoring smile, pushing everything else aside. “You can be quite amusing.”

“Hear that Jo! Sandy agrees with me!” The familiar annoyance filled him with the nickname.

“You are not calling me that any longer,” he commanded her gently.

“You gonna make me stop?” she teased with a flirtatious grin.

He arched a brow, taking a step forward before he could stop himself. Heat and want and a filthy need to be close to her filled every step he took. “I could.”

“Pen, where's my coat?” This Constsntine was a nuisance.

“Raincheck?” She asked breathlessly.

“I suppose, so long as you bite your tongue the next time you feel the urge to call me Sandy.” "God that voice. I wonder what it would sound like when he-" She didn't know, he decided quickly speaking to cut off her thoughts. "You should be mindful of your thoughts.”

She burned beneath his gaze, embarrassment flooding her "Can you?” He nodded. “Oh god.”

He couldn't help the tiny smirk that spread on his lips for a moment before he cleared his throat and spoke to assure her, “I can’t hear every thought, just the loud ones… the ones you can’t seem to keep to yourself.”

“How long have you been able to do that?”

“The duration of this conversation.”

She covered her face with her hands. “Oh god.”

He was proud, far too proud for either of their own good. Dream opened his mouth to speak when Constantine returned through the door. “Found it. You okay Pen?”

“Yep!” She cried quickly moving forward. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll meet you there,” Dream said, far more amused than he should have been. Penelope looked back at him. "Asshole."

Then she was gone and he chuckled to himself in the empty office. He returned to Matthew, who cawed at him. "So… That girl…"

Frustration filled him. "Do not spy on me, Matthew."

"I wasn't spying!" The bird insisted. "I just took notice. She seems nice."

"She is," Dream said through his annoyance.

"She's pretty too."

"Return to The Dreaming." He growled. "And we will not be speaking of this again."

Matthew tutted. "Whatever you say boss. Tell your girl I said hi! Eh, never mind I'll tell her myself when we get wherever we're going." Dream sighed at the thought of her and the raven becoming friends. They would be insufferable. But, through his slightly annoyed state his body and mind buzzed with the knowledge that the bleak future of mourning was not what awaited him. She was alive.

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

Text

The Sandman and the Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 9: A Past As Beautiful and Destructive As Me

TW: the fates, knives, dirty thoughts, smut (Soft Dream is here)

I curled deeper into the warm covers, breathing out a sigh of relief at the heat that rolled off of them. That breath was one I could feel hanging in the frozen air, the heat of it visible in the cold as I blinked my eyes open. Everything was frozen. My pillows, the empty space of bed beside me, the windows and curtains, my chair. All of it. As I sat up, the chill filling the warm space I'd left, three figures stood in front of my bedroom door.

The first, standing closest to me, was a young woman in a beautiful sapphire blue gown, her dark hair curled in ringlets around her soft face. "Greetings, fate kept sister."

In a blink she was standing in the back and one of the others was now standing in front of me. She was older, her face slightly worn by the years. Her hair and eyes remained the same as the younger ones. "It is so good to finally put a face to that lovely name of yours, dear Weaver."

Another blink and the oldest of them stood before me, eyes cold and face wrinkled with age and wisdom. Her silver hair wrapped around her like a shroud. "She doesn't look like much, you'd think with the power in those veins she'd have a bit of spark to her."

I wanted to speak, wanted to demand what the hell was happening, but I couldn't. Like the room around me I was frozen in place, clinging to what little warmth remained. The youngest smiled at me. "I think she looks perfect!"

The oldest sneered. "Fate kept, fate kissed, fate bound. Your titles are as endless as that which you would so easily spread your legs for."

The middle one tutted. "Now, now sister-self, we cannot chastise her for answering the song she was gifted. That even remains higher than us."

"Such a sweet song they make together!" The youngest said. "I hope it does not give way to the dissonant cries that threaten to swallow it."

"A butterfly can do little against the storm to come," the eldest remarked.

"She will have to become a dragon then," the youngest replied. "Fire and armor born to weather any storm."

"The question remains if she will heed her calling or if she will bend and break and burn beneath the threads." The middle said.

"Heed our advice, fate touched, do not hesitate to reach out to the cold. For in the frozen depth much truth lies." The youngest said.

The middle reappeared. "Heed our warning, fate kissed, do not bend to those unworthy. It is their stained hands that seek to tear your wings from your back and watch you crawl and wither."

The oldest glared at me. "Heed our truth, fate bound, forsake that which you fear. For the path through flames of molten gold is that which holds your freedom."

A loud crack of shattering ice echoed in my ears, my hands cupping around them as I tried to block out the sound. When I looked back up they were gone. A faint feeling, like a hand wrapping around my arm pulled me from the frozen world. My hand found the knife beneath my pillow and my body moved of its own accord, the world swinging as I threw myself over the top of whoever had touched me and pressed the blade snuggly against their throat.

Below me Pierres eyes were glowing, his hands resting tightly on my hips. "It is good to be back beneath these powerful thighs, Ma moitié."

Breathing heavily I looked around the room, pulling the blade from his throat. It was just as I left it. My head snapped to the bed, now empty save for a single peony that lay on the pillow beside mine. Dream. I looked back to Pierre who looked me over with his heated gaze and winked. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I was attempting to wake the sleeping beauty, but in our time apart it appears I've forgotten that she has quite the bite when startled." He smiled even wider. "Though I will never complain about our current position."

"How did you get in?" I asked standing up and helping him off the floor.

"The witch," he replied. "Though we both know if I had truly wanted in I'd have found a way." He leaned slightly to check out my ass in the shorts I'd slept in. "The years have treated you kindly."

I slapped his arm. "Eyes up."

He complied with a sly grin. "Oh I've seen it all before, no need to be so prude about it."

"That was a long time ago," I said, forcing his chin upward as he started looking back.

"Ahh so my other half has found herself a new lover!" He teased flopping onto the bed and twirling the peony in his fingers. "A thoughtful one is he?"

I snatched it out of his hand and carefully set it on my nightstand. "As much as I'd love to talk to you about my sex life you have work to do."

He relaxed into my bed. "It is already done."

"You cleaned up three bodies and all that blood already?"

"You say this like it is difficult," he replied, offended. "Have the years made you forget my talents for such things?"

"No."

"Stop worrying, Ma moitié, come lay down with me and relax for a moment."

With a sigh I flopped down onto the bed beside him. He pressed a kiss to my cheek. "It's good to see you Pierre."

"Of course it is, I am spectacular!" He cheered, turning to face me. "Now, tell me of this tall dark stranger the witch claims to have caught fingers deep inside you."

I groaned. "JOHANNA CONSTANTINE!"

***

Dream had watched Penelope sleep until the sun began to rise before he was forced to leave. He hated having to go, hated that she would wake up alone, but his realm needed his attention now. So he'd placed the peony beside her, hoping it would soothe her if she woke up worried about his absence. As he stood in the corner by her door he turned to the raven that had accompanied them. "Stay with her, Matthew. If trouble comes for her again I will not be caught off guard."

And trouble indeed did come, but a kind that Dream had not been prepared for. His jaw was firmly locked in place as he watched the interaction through Matthews eyes. At first he was relieved, proud, to watch her take the man to the ground with ease, a blade to his throat, but then when she retracted it and helped him up his relief twisted into something else. Something green.

When the stranger had not even attempted to hide his blatant lingering gaze on her body Dream felt the green feeling twist inside him. When he leapt onto her bed and grabbed the flower he'd left for her, he nearly lost all his self control and when she joined him in the bed his hands curled into the arms of his throne and the room around him gently quaked.

Penelope was obviously familiar with this man, too familiar for his liking. But as he watched them he felt no flare of arousal or any feelings from her that indicated this was anything more than a friend. Even without the mark he trusted her, but that didn't stop the bitter taste that filled his throat at the sight of them. He let his connection drop, let his eyes refocus on the throne room.

His thoughts were a rampant storm in his mind. She may not have felt anything for her friend, but seeing her so close with another man brought a possessive need within him. He was not unfamiliar with this, he’d had many lovers in the past and had felt the need before, but with Penelope it was different. It was so strong Morpheus had to consciously remind himself he could not just show up in her room and trap this friend of hers in a never ending nightmare. It was more than that though, more than mere possessive jealousy that made him retreat inward.

She was happy. She had been before he showed up in the apartment she shared with Constantine. In all the years he spent locked in that cage he thought of her often, mourned her. He was not prepared to find her alive, healthy and happy in the Waking World. Before Hell, he’d been determined to retrieve his tools, answer her questions and then let her finally be rid of him. Then he saw the torture she’d endured… felt the softness of her lips on his… had her gasping and moaning against him. He did not want to leave her, he did not think he could survive it now, but he worried what him staying would cost her.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed air - he needed to think. He needed to see her.

***

Pierre finally climbed out of the bed after he was satisfied he was caught up in my sex life since our departure, and grabbed a long box from the chair. “I know the last time we spoke, you told me you did not want these, but… Given the recent events I brought them with me just in case.”

At the sight of it I clammed up. It had been years since I’d given them to him… and as he opened the lid, holding it out for me to see the gleaming steel blades within it an old pain filled my chest. I took one of them in my hand, the familiar weight of it digging up a wave of bittersweet emotions. As I looked into the reflection in the blade it was his eyes that stared back at me. Olethros. The pain was one of great friendship and a sorrowful betrayal.

"I know it's not ladylike… but you really need to learn how to throw a proper punch Miss…"

"Barlow. Penelope Barlow."

"Well, Miss Barlow, are you alright?"

"Better now that I've stumbled onto a knight."

His laugh was deep and heartfelt. "Never been called a knight before, I could get used to it."

"Well, what name does my knight normally go by?"

"I've got a lot of names, Miss. You can call me Olethros."

"Olethros, I'm glad to have run into you."

"As am I, Penelope."

I quickly set it back in the box and closed the lid. “Thank you, Pierre. Could you just… just hold onto them a while longer for me?”

His eyes held the understanding that made Pierre one of my closest friends. He nodded, holding the box with tender care. “Of course, mon amour. Now, get dressed and join the witch and I for breakfast, yes?”

“Of course,” I answered watching him settle into my chair with a shit eating grin on his face. “Get out you sly bastard.”

“Very well,” he said with an exasperated sigh, moving toward the door. “But, if your new lover disappoints, perhaps we will reconnect in a different way?”

I rolled my eyes. “You and Johanna are the worst with boundaries!”

He laughed as he closed the door with one final shout of, “That was not a no!”

“NO!” I hollered, sitting on the bed and grabbing the flower Dream had left for me with a smile.

Pierre had been the person I trusted most in this world before Johanna and now Dream. He had been by my side in my darkest moments and had seen me through it all with kindness, patience and laughter. He was perhaps the most annoying person I'd ever met, but single handedly the most loyal and loving individual. I knew he wouldn't betray me, no matter how we left things or how long it'd been since we spoke through the years. Pierre would never betray me, would never do anything to cause me harm, would never abandon me.

It was nice to have him around again, nice in a mostly annoying way, but with him he brought a lot of messy history. I had no doubts that Dream had his own unpleasant moments in his past and I truly didn’t think he would care about some of mine, but I still felt nervous, still felt ashamed. What if the things I’d done made him see me differently? What if upon learning of the years I’d spent without him was just too much? Nothing could ever change the way I see you. He’d said those words, not long ago. He’d said them and meant them with everything he was. I set the flower back on my nightstand and smiled. Dream wouldn’t scare so easily.

A soft noise echoed from the top of the curtain rods and startled me. “Would now be a good time to tell you I’m here?”

Matthew perched above me, awkwardly. “Oh my god Matthew! How long have you been here?”

“Since the sun came up,” he said. “Dream had me stick around just in case there was any trouble. You know so he could come help and all that.”

I sighed, letting the tension release from my shoulders. “I should have known he’d leave you behind. I’m sorry you’re stuck on babysitting duty.”

"I don't mind!" He insisted, flying down to rest on the bed. "It'll be fun."

"Will it be?" I asked.

"Yeah! We can get pizza or go to the movies," the raven sounded very excited at the prospect of a normal day.

"Missing life as a human Matthew?"

"Just a little," he said. "Being a bird is great and all and I enjoy The Dreaming and everyone there it's just…"

"A lot of change in a small span of time. I get it." I finished for him. “I’m not sure what the day has planned, but I’ve got to warn you it might not be the typical human outting you're wanting."

His head cocked to the side a bit. "Yeah, I doubt most humans deal with constant threats of being attacked." Clearing his throat he hopped towards me a bit. "Speaking of… You don't have to tell me, but, uh, I am curious about what exactly you've got going on."

I smiled tensely at him. "You remember Hell? Those, uh, memories you saw?"

"Yeah," he admitted softly. "Those are kind of hard to forget."

"The doctor from the asylum is the head of the sixty, hell, it might be seventy now, year long hunt I've been avoiding."

"The doctor?" He questioned. "Shouldn't he be, I don't know, dead?"

I picked at my fingers. "Yeah, he should be. But those… The, uh… The procedures he did on me… They gave him enough biological material to create a prototype of his weird eternal life elixir or drug or whatever. He took it and used the extra time it gave him to link up with the cult assholes that trapped Dream with Roderick Burgess. They mixed their weird magic and his mad science to make a better version of the prototype. He and his closest confidants took it and have been using it to keep them alive."

"So these assholes don't die?"

"They do. Their new elixir only preserves their life… Their minds I guess. Their bodies still age and decay just at a slower rate than normal." I sighed. "He's running low on my material now though, he has been for the past tenish years."

Beside me Matthew cawed. "That's why they're coming at you so hard."

"Yeah," I whispered. "If they can manage to catch me, it'll be the end this time. He'll take every last bit of me and…" I shook my head. "But that's not going to happen."

"Yeah, I mean you've got Dream now." Matthew said. "He'll take care of it."

"No." I couldn't even think of what the worst bad outcome would look like. "He's going to stay out of it. If they think he's a threat they'll just find a way to trap him again, or worse. He needs to keep himself and The Dreaming safe."

Matthew looked up at me. "Does he know that?"

"No," I breathed out, trying to keep myself calm. "No he doesn't. But… He'll understand."

A chuckle and another caw. "I think we both know it's not gonna be that easy. This is Dream we're talking about."

I laughed. "Yeah, he's kind of an ass."

“He’s much better around you,” Matthew stated calmly.

Smiling down at the raven I shrugged. “I don’t think he can really help it. He can’t exactly hide things from me, not for long at least.”

“Well, whatever thing you two have got going on I’m happy for you. The boss needs someone like you around.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone that will call him out on things,” he clarified. “Someone that’s not afraid to tell him he's wrong.”

Well, that was certainly something I could do. “Okay, shield your bird eyes dear Matthew while I get dressed for our human outting.”

He flew to the corner of the room, pushing his tiny head through the curtains and observing the street down below as I threw on the thinnest turtleneck I could find, adjusting it so the nearly faded bruising wasn’t visible before securing Jessamys’ feathers back around my neck and pulling on a light long skirt. I was covered head to toe, so any cuts or bruises I hadn’t noticed or hadn't healed yet would stay covered and not draw anymore unwanted attention my way. I set a magazine up for Matthew as I washed my face and did my hair. Listening to the bird comment on movie stars was one of the most amusing things I’d heard in a while. “You should start a podcast.”

He laughed. “A raven with a podcast, that would be hilarious!”

Once I’d gotten on a comfortable pair of shoes he flew to my shoulder and perched on me as I left my room to greet Johanna and Pierre who sat on complete opposite sides of the sofa, leaning away from each other. “Wow, don’t look too comfortable you two, someone might think you like each other.”

Johanna flipped me off. “Fuck you.”

“I would never!” Pierre said at the exact time.

“Breakfast,” I said. “Who's buying?”

Pierre’s eyes were glued to Matthew. “Are we not going to address the bird?”

Johanna smiled. “Nope. Don’t you say a word to him.”

“This is Matthew.”

Pierre's face grew even more confused. “The bird has a name?”

From my shoulder Matthew bristled and let out a caw. “Yes, he has a name and you’re not making a very good first impression.”

“When do I ever, mon amour?” He asked with a wide grin.

“Point taken, now let's go, I'm starving.”

Johanna pulled on her jacket. “Yeah, you haven’t had a real meal since Hell.”

I felt somewhat bad for Pierre as he looked between us with absolute confusion. “What has happened in my absence?”

The four of us walked to a nearby cafe and Pierre and I grabbed a table outside while Johanna went in and got our breakfast sorted. He’d pulled his chair right next to mine and leaned into me the whole time, something Pierre never grew tired of was physical attention. Matthew had perched on the opposite side of the table, beady black eyes boring into the French man beside me. Pierre stared at him for a while before turning to me to ask, “It cannot kill me, can it?”

Shrugging my shoulders I smiled at Matthew. “No clue, that's why you need to be nice.”

It was only when Johanna returned either coffee and plates of food that we got back to the situation at hand. They were back in London and if last night was anything they knew I was here too. Pierre spoke first, "So, no running this time eh?"

"No," I said, picking at the food in front of me. "Not this time."

"Why now?"

There were so many answers. I'm tired of losing the ones close to me. I'm tired of letting them push me around. But one that held the most truth. "I'm tired."

This made Pierre wrap his arm around me and squeeze my shoulder. "Finally. I have been waiting for you to turn loose the dogs of war!"

Johanna rolled her eyes. "We need to be smart about this. These cunts have people and resources, we can't take them in an all out fight."

"We have her," Pierre insisted. "No one is better in a fight than our Penelope!"

I looked down at the table, my mind drifting back to the hulking mass of red hair from all those years ago. "Fighting isn't just about numbers or strength, Inky. You have to slow down, think through the moves before you act."

I'd watched him attempt to bend the paper into the shape of my butterfly for almost an hour as we talked, still to no avail. "I've thought out the moves, Olethros. I can't win if I don't know how to actually fight."

"God damn paper," he muttered, tossing the paper into the pile with all the others. He sighed. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"You're the one that said I needed to know how to throw a proper punch!" I replied, reaching over to help guide his fingers. "I'm not asking you this lightly. I know how seriously you take fighting."

"Fighting almost always leads to death and destruction. Are you prepared for that?"

I shook my head. "No, but I don't have a choice. I have to do something, Olethros. I'd never be able to live with myself if I didn't."

I pulled my hands away from his and looked down at the disfigured butterfly. He let it fall onto the desk. "Don't think I'll ever be able to make one like yours."

With a gentle tug I pulled the paper butterfly off of where it hung on my necklace. I stroked over the soft worn paper, smiling at the memories of the friend that had given it to me, before holding it out to him. "You take it. Until you make one of your own."

"Inky…"

I set it in his palm. "Consider it payment for teaching me how to fight?"

His rich eyes bored into mine, fingers curling around my own. "Fine. But just some basic moves. You're no killer, Penelope Barlow. I just want to keep it that way."

Pierre nudged me, hand squeezing my shoulder. "You drifted off, Ma moitié. Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I answered, straightening up in my chair. "Yeah I'm fine. What were we saying?"

Johanna watched me carefully. "Pierre and I were arguing over strategy."

"Once she picks up those blades of hers we won't need your strategy!" Pierre replied.

I shook my head. "I'm not picking up the knives. Johanna is right we need to be smart about this."

He sighed. "But-"

"I don't want to lose anyone else, Pierre." I looked up at him with watery eyes. "I can't."

Cursing in French he pressed a soft, quick kiss to my lips and hugged me. "Alright, mon amour. We'll do it your way."

"Thank you."

Matthews wings flared out as he cawed, eyes focused behind us. I turned, looking over Pierres shoulder at Morpheus as he stood across the street. Smiling at him I looked at Johanna. "Are you guys good or do we have more to talk about?"

She glanced at Dream and smirked. "No, we're good. Come on Frenchie, let's go hit up a few contacts."

Pierre followed our eyes and grinned. "Is that the new lover? He is handsome."

"Very," I agreed, shoving against his chest. "Now get out of here.

He pressed one last kiss to my lips, longer than the first one, trying to get a rise out of Dream. And, if the way the shadows seemed to move over him meant anything he'd succeeded. I shoved again, slapping the back of his head, but he only smiled at me. "I have to make a good impression, no?"

"Fuck off." I laughed as he slid out of his seat, glancing at Dream as he walked away with Johanna.

Dream stayed still for a minute before he moved to join Matthew and I at the table. "Good morning," I said happily.

"Good morning." His tone held no indication of, well, anything.

I tiled my head, watching him take a piece of bread from the table and hold it. "How are repairs in The Dreaming coming along?"

"Well," he said. "I should be regaining most of my lost subjects soon."

"That's good," I said. He was off, but I couldn't quite tell why. A familiar feeling rose up in my chest, along with the sound of the raging ocean waves hitting thick wood. I shoved it down, watching Matthew peck at a plate of food, not able to get it all. I reached over, grabbing the plate and starting to cut up the food into smaller pieces.

His eyes looked down the road, where Pierre and Johanna had gone. "Was he a friend of yours? Or an old lover?"

"Both? Neither?" I chuckled. "He's my friend. We slept together a few times, but it was mostly out of convenience. I trusted him, he trusted me, we didn't have to think about potential dangers or something going wrong. We didn't have to think."

Dream nodded. "Does he know this?"

"He was there for me during a difficult time. And when he was offered an obscene amount of money to trick me he refused." I met Dreams' eyes and sighed. "I know he's a lot, but Pierre is one of the few people that didn't betray me."

"I understand," he said. "If you trust him..."

"I do trust him."

"And I trust you." He said simply. "So long as he keeps his mouth to himself you'll not hear any complaints from me."

"Your mouth is the only one I want, Dream Lord." I insisted with a wide grin.

Nothing. No smile, no teasing, just the same blank expression. After a few minutes of silence he spoke calmly, "I'm assuming there were no other attacks in my absence."

"No," I replied, bracing myself for this part of the conversation.

A nod. "Good, it won't take too long finding the individuals behind this."

"About that," I said nervously. Taking a deep breath I met his cold gaze. "I don't want you to get involved."

A flash of annoyance and anger filled him, curling around me. "What?"

"It's just…" I sighed. "These people are dangerous, Dream-"

"All the more reason for me to deal with it."

"They're well organized and well versed in both magic and science. If they find out you're involved in any way they will trap you," I said, watching his eyes flare with memories of his cage. "I'm not going to risk that happening, not ever again."

His jaw clenched. "I will be discreet."

"No." I could see the understanding fill his eyes as my aching worry reached out to him. "I have lost far too many people to this crazy cult mad scientist bullshit. I am not willing to risk losing you too."

"Penelope-"

"Promise me, Morpheus." I bit back a sob. "Promise me you'll let me handle it. Please."

He nodded, every inch of him rigid and tense. "Very well."

"Thank you."

Dream watched as I held the now smaller bits of food out to Matthew, who took it almost too eagerly. "You shouldn't indulge him."

"Oh leave him be," I said, the tenseness slowly dissolving. "He was human once, it's only fair that he gets some treats."

"If he gets too fat to fly back to The Dreaming it'll be on your head then."

I laughed. "If your magic ravens get fat from a few pieces of biscuit then that's just poor execution on your part."

Matthew ignored us both in favor of the food, but made quiet content noises from beside me. Dream continued looking around with his lips pouted. I could sense the emotions he was feeling, but couldn’t identify them. It was like a glass wall separated them from me, and looking at him I could just tell he was doing it on purpose. To keep me from being forced to feel them perhaps? Or to keep him from having to open up to me about what was wrong. Of the two the second seemed far more Dream.

I nudged his leg with my foot, bringing his emotionless eyes and face back to me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Dream…” I began. “I can feel something is off with you. Something you’re keeping from me.”

He sighed. “It is not important, Penelope.”

“I don’t care, I still want to-”

“Please.” He said, a flash of tenderness filling his eyes for a moment. “I do not wish to burden you with trivial things.”

With a sigh I handed Matthew the last piece. “Okay, but I want you to know that I’m here. No matter what it is, or how trivial it may seem, I’m here.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, sounding almost pained by the kindness of my words.

I didn’t push it further. Dream was stubborn and if he really didn’t want to talk to me, he wouldn’t. Trying to pry more out of him would only result in a fight, and after eighty years apart I did not want to spend our newfound time together fighting over little things.

After paying for the food we began walking once again. In one hand he held his bread and the other hand was stuffed in his pocket. I missed the feel of his arm wrapped around mine, but respected his space. I knew that it wasn’t something he did to appear cold or to purposefully hurt my feelings. Even in his sour mood I didn't think he'd act cruelly. He was a private person, that was all.

I followed him to a nearby park where he took a seat on a park bench and slowly began picking away at the loaf of bread, tossing the pieces to the pigeons. This was odd. Dream of the Endless was not the type to sit in a park and feed pigeons. I looked at him and just as I was about to ask what he was doing his hand snapped up, catching a rogue ball as it came hurtling towards my face. The young man that came to retrieve it apologized and complemented Dream’s catch before turning and going back to his game. “Are you alright?”

I nodded. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

His eyes gave me a once over and then the silence returned. That feeling began to aw its way back up just as I spotted the black boots approaching us. Everything was washed away with the warmth of her. With a bright smile I leapt up and threw my arms around her. “Death!”

She returned my embrace with an even tighter one. “It’s so good to see you, Penelope.” She pulled away, fixing my hair and looking at me with the warm loving gaze I hadn't seen in years. “You look good, how are you doing?”

The last time I saw her was the night I nearly died. I’d almost begged her to take me then, and she’d been the one to assure me that there was still so much for me to live for. I smiled even wider, ignoring the tears that started to fill my eyes. “Better.”

“Good.” She said looking down at Dream, her face contorting into confusion. “What’s he doing?”

I shrugged. “No clue, he’s in a mood.”

“I’ll talk to him,” she assured. “Why don’t you go do something fun?”

He looked up at us now as the words of his sister registered, but before he could speak I held up my hands. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay within your line of sight.”

Dreams' jaw was tense as he nodded. “Thank you.”

Death gave me a look, but I waved her off, walking over to a nearby tree and plopping down. The two of them had a lot to talk about, and if anyone was going to get Dream out of his mood it was her. Matthew joined me shortly, nodding to the small hot dog cart off to the side. “Hungry?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, but I’ll get one for you.”

“You’re the best Penny!”

***

Death sat down beside him with a sigh, watching him closely. “What are you doin’?”

“I’m feeding the pigeons.” It was a simple answer, one that Dream knew would not keep her from digging up what was truly on his mind. His older sister was wise and had a talent for getting the truth out of people.

“‘You do that too much, you know what you get?’” She asked with a grin. “‘Fat pigeons.’” When he didn’t react she laughed quietly to herself. “That’s from Mary Poppins. Did you ever see it?”

“No.”

She watched a child run through the group of birds that had gathered in front of them, her joy among the humans was something he found odd, but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he envied her. She saw them, truly saw them, for all that they were and she loved them. “Okay, so what’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tell something’s wrong. I mean look at you. Sittin’ here, moping, pigeon-feeding. It’s not like you.”

He sighed. “No. Perhaps it isn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong, but you’re right. Something is the matter.” He paused as she got comfortable on the bench beside him. “When they captured me, I just had one thought. Vengeance. And then…” His eyes found Penelope, mind racing with all the memories of her being chained and beaten in front of him. Death seemed to understand. “Then it wasn’t just about me, and my hunger for that vengeance grew.” With another sigh he shook his head. “It wasn’t as satisfying as I’d expected. Meanwhile, my kingdom had fallen apart. My tools long since stolen and scattered. And so I embarked upon a journey to find them. Which I did, along with the girl I’d spent eighty years mourning. She’s here, healthy and happy and I’m more powerful than I have been in eons. And yet…”

“Here you are feeding the pigeons.” She finished for him, gently clapping her hands together.

“You see, until then, I’d had a true quest. A purpose beyond my function and then suddenly, it was over, and…” He made a face. “I felt disappointed. Let down. Empty. Does that make sense? I was so sure that once I got everything back, I’d feel good… that I’d be able to let her go and move on. But in some ways I feel worse than when I started. I feel like… Nothing.” He tore his eyes away from Penelope. “You asked.”

Death put a comforting hand on top of his knee and smiled at him. “You could have called me, you know.”

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

She rolled her eyes and stood quickly. “Oh, I don’t believe it. Let me tell you something, Dream.” Taking the bread out of his hands she pointed it at him accusingly. “And I’m only gonna say this once, so you better pay attention. You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane. Feeling sorry for yourself because your little game is over and you haven’t got the balls to go out and find a new one.” Her bread wielding hand gestured over to Penelope. An obvious message. “You’re as bad as Desire. No worse.” She threw the bread at him with an exasperated sigh. “Did it never occur to you that I would be worried about you?”

“I didn’t think-”

“Exactly! You didn’t think.”

The white ball flew through the air toward the back of Death's head. She whirled around and caught it right before it could connect and with a sigh she handed it back to its owner. “Wow. You’re as good as you… friend there.”

Looking back at him she shrugged. “He’s not my friend. He’s my brother. And he’s an idiot.”

He returned to his curled up position, tossing more crumbs down into the grass. “I’m just feeding the birds.”

“Look, I can’t stay here all day. I’ve got work to do. You can come with me if you want, or you can stay here and sulk.”

His eyes flickered back to Penelope. “What about her?”

“Is she not allowed to be alone all of a sudden?” Death joked.

“There are people after her,” he said, watching his sister's face grow more concerned as she looked over at Penelope. “I do not want to be far, just in case…”

“She can come with, if she’s comfortable with that. She's good for you, by the way," Death said with a smirk.

Penelope sat under the shade of a large tree, tossing bits of hot dog up to Matthew who swooped down making attempts to catch them before they hit the ground. She'd made a sarcastic comment about his eyesight, resulting in Matthew dropping the hot dog into her hair. He made playful attempts to get it, pecking her head and tugging on her hair lightly. They chased each other around the tree, her laugh lighting up the whole park.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, though he didn’t really need an answer. It was obvious.

She pointed to him. "You get that look when you see her, even when you’re sulking."

"I don't have a look."

"You do. It's cute!"

"Dream!" Penelope shrieked, running over to him and ducked behind him so he was in between her and the raven. "Control your pigeon!"

"Pigeon?!" Matthew hollered. "Low blow!"

She peeked out from behind his shoulder and flipped the bird off. The two bickered with him between them, yet all he could do was smile. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his sister's knowing grin and immediately forced his lips down. "Settle down you two."

Finally the two relaxed and Penelope turned to his sister and asked her about work, as if it was nothing to her, speaking to Death. After a minute he realized she still hung onto his shoulders, using him as a perch, not unlike the raven she bickered with. "Is there a reason you're hanging off of me?"

"Not particularly, why am I weighing you down, mighty Dream Lord?” She teased in his ear.

"Not physically. Mentally you are quite the weight to carry." Though his tone hadn’t changed, Penelope caught onto his playful meaning instantly.

She gasped and groaned, slumping forward, now fully hanging off him, acting as if she’d been struck. "You wound me, my lord! Oh! I fear I’ll never recover!”

“I wish to accompany my sister for a while.” He said, looking at her from over his shoulder. “Will you join us?”

“I don’t want to impose,” she said, nervousness flaring in him.

Death smiled. “You won’t be. I’ll tell you when to stay put and we’ll be fine.”

“Alright then,” she replied, squeezing his shoulder and moving to stand beside him as he rose to follow his sister. She moved further in front of them and he immediately reached out to her. She gave him a comforting smile.

“You can stand with us,” he said.

“You two have a lot to talk about,” she insisted sweetly. “I don’t want to intrude.”

He let his hand return to his side. “Stay within my sight.”

“I know, I know.”

Dream watched her walk forward, Matthew perched on her shoulder, and he felt a piercing pang of guilt fill his gut. He’d told himself he would say goodbye to her and let her live the life she’d built without him. She was happy, the feel of it warmed him. His presence would only bring her trouble, but she was already in trouble. The white coats and the doctor were a thorn in his side, but the even bigger thorn was her. He recalled her words to him, her gentle plea that barred him from involving himself in the matter. If it’d been up to him he would have already hunted them all down and put an end to this. He could do it still. But what would that cost? Her?

“Look!” Death said sweetly, drawing his eyes from Penelope to the stand of fruits and vegetables. “Yum! Okay two please.”

“None for me, thank you.”

She looked back at him with that loving sisterly gaze he’d missed so much. “They’re good for you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You can just have it later,” she insisted with a shrug. When he didn’t budge she turned back to the vendor. “Just one, thanks.”

He watched the man clean the apple off and hand it to his sister with a warm smile. “There you go. It’s a gift.”

“Aw. Thank you! That’s so nice.” She turned, taking a large bite of the apple and then nodded to the vendor. “Mmm! That is delicious.”

“You are good with them,” he noted.

“Apples?”

“Humans.” His heart dropped when Penelope wasn’t where she had been. He took a long stride forward, Death's hand on his arm stopped him. She nodded to a small covered stall just a few steps ahead of them where Penelope knelt letting a child observe Matthew, who perched on her arm with his wings spread wide, clearly showing off. His heart slowed and he took a deep breath. She stood, urging Matthew to hop back onto her shoulder as the vendor, the child's father he assumed, handed her a bouquet of flowers. He listened to her whisper a soft thank you to them before glancing up to find him and Death before continuing onward, smelling the flowers as she walked.

Death watched him with her knowing eyes, practically beaming beside him at how obviously and pathetically enthralled he was with the human girl. She held the apple out to him, a smug smile on her face. “Bite?”

“No, thank you.” He replied.

“Hmm. Have you seen any of the others since you’ve been back?”

He shook his head, looking over at her. “Have you?”

“We did have one family dinner when you were away. The twins were in high spirits. Mmm, Desire was anyway.”

“With me gone, I have no doubt.”

“I don’t know. I think Desire missed having their usual sparring partner across the dinner table.”

“Any word of the prodigal?”

Death shook her head sadly. “No. Still missing. You were both missed.”

Dreams' eyes stayed locked onto Penelope as the crowd began to thin. She spoke to the raven beside her, not caring if anyone looked at her oddly, the joy he’d felt in her since this morning hadn’t dwindled at all, not even when she'd asked him to stay out of things. It was always there, buried in whatever else she was feeling. How does she do it? He questioned. She was being hunted like an animal at this very moment. Anyone else would have been terrified, paranoid at every noise or stranger, and yet she was here walking in front of him acting as if nothing was wrong. Death nudged his shoulder. “How are you sis? How have you been keeping? Aww. I’m well, Dream. Thanks for asking.”

He didn’t fight the smile this time, leaning into her and asking, “How are you, my sister? How have you been keeping?”

“I’m worried about my brother,” she answered honestly before perking up and holding out her nearly gone fruit. “And I’m enjoying this apple.”

Penelope’s sigh drew his eyes back to her. She swayed to the sound of the violin playing in the distance, twisting and twirling to the soft melody. He couldn’t help but stare at her, wondering how anyone could be so beautiful. Death pulled him to a stop, looking up at the building. “Can you hear it?”

“I know this piece,” he realized. “I haven’t heard it in two hundred years.”

“Come on,” she whispered, urging him to follow.

He looked back at Penelope. “Wait here. We won’t be long.”

She jumped up onto the stone wall and smiled. “We’ll be right here, Dream.”

***

I watched him follow Death into the yellow house where the violin had stopped playing and sighed, turning my face up to the sun. Matthew had hopped off my shoulder and settled beside me. “So, this isn’t exactly the human outting I was expecting. But it’s nice. Kind of relaxing, which is weird considering we’re walking with Death literally behind us.”

“She’s sweet,” I assured him, pulling a flower out of my bouquet and setting it on the stone beneath us. “Far more friendly than any of the others I’ve met so far.”

“Was Destiny a dick?” He asked with a chuckle. “Seems like he would be.”

“No,” I answered with a smile. “He was polite, but very cryptic.”

Matthew fluffed his feathers a little and watched the people walk past for a moment before asking, “Are you scared?”

“Scared?”

“Yeah, scared they’re gonna try and grab you at any minute?”

I looked around at the crowd of people and shook my head. “They’re not here.”

“How can you tell?”

Shrugging I watched the faces of smiling people pass and listened to the roar of their conversations. “They’ve been hunting me for eighty years. I’ve gotten pretty good at picking them out of crowds.”

He sighed. “I can’t even imagine what that's like.”

“It’s not all bad,” I said gently. “I just moved around a lot.”

“Yeah, and literally had people try to kidnap you more than once!”

“You get used to it after a while,” I answered. “It sounds sad, I know, but I did okay after a while. Lived as much as I could moving from town to town. I got to see the world, got to live in places I’d never even heard of.”

Matthew looked up at me. “You’re probably one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. It’s kind of annoying.”

***

As Death and Dream exited the house he felt relieved to find Penelope in the same place he’d left her, for once. Beside him Death smiled. “She’s lovely.”

“I do not deserve her.” It was honest, but he hadn’t meant for it to sound so hopeless.

“Maybe not. But she’s here all the same.” She said, “And from what little time I got with her it’s quite clear she’s not going to just let you disappear.”

He looked over at her, silently surprised that she’d read him that well. “I-”

“You're my brother, Dream. I know you. And I know you’re an idiot, big enough of one to think that abandoning that girl over there was a good idea.”

“She’s lost so much of her life already because of me.” He shook his head. “She doesn’t deserve to lose anything else.”

“What do you think you’ll be doing if you leave her now?” Death asked. “Because the way I see it, you’ll be robbing her not only of any future with you but also her choice in deciding if that’s what she wants.”

Death said nothing else to him, she simply made her way to Penelope and helped her off the wall with a smile. They waited for him to join them, and then they continued on. His sister's words echoed in his mind as they walked across the bridge, leaving Matthew and Penelope behind them. He hadn’t thought of what he would be taking away from her by just removing himself from her life without say or warning.

From his side she said, “I thought he was sweet, didn’t you?”

He thought of the old man they’d just left. “Sweet? I don’t know. Perhaps. My sister," He’d meant to tell her earlier, but had forgotten in his haste to move. “When I was captured, it wasn’t me they were looking for. It was you.”

Death nodded, a sorrowful smile on her lips. “Yeah, I know.”

He felt the ball of pain in him as the unanswered question exploded. So they had known, had known and did not come to his aid. She used his shoulder to kneel down and take off her boots. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking my shoes off. You should take yours off too. It’s good to touch the Earth with your bare feet. It’s grounding.” She was so odd, in a way that made him wonder how they were related. Grounding? Why would he need grounding? “Come on, I don’t want to miss the next one.”

Looking back at Penelope as she looked out at the water, a look of something in her eyes as she turned to look at him. Before he could even think the thought she’d smiled and waved him off. “I know, Dream.”

She was insufferable.

***

The water moved and rippled beneath the bridge as I bent over the side to look down at it. Matthew watched me curiously. “So, rumor has it you threw a car off a bridge.”

“I did,” I admitted, resisting the curl of adrenaline that surged through me at the memory of the car falling and the water surrounding me.

“Why?”

“It seemed like my only option at the time,” I said, chuckling. “Though that might’ve been all the sedation drugs I was coming off of.”

Matthew cawed and said, “He’s different than he was when I first met him.”

“Dream?” I asked, looking down at him.

He gave me a tiny nod. “Yeah, he was all doom and gloom the first few times I interacted with him, I mean he’s still all doom and gloom the majority of the time, but, when he saw you it was different. It actually looked like he gave a shit about something, which was new considering his resting face looks like it does.”

I laughed, my heart fluttering at the thought, before the undeniable weight I felt in my gut returned. “He’s gonna try leaving.”

“What?” The raven demanded. “Why would he do that when he’s so obviously, I don’t know, in love with you?”

“I don’t know if he’s in love with me,” I argued. “Maybe it’s just this, just tension. Once we take that leap it’ll be gone and he’ll want to move on.”

Matthew laughed. “That’s not at all what this is and you know it.”

I focused back on the water. “I just don’t want to be blindsided again.”

“You’re not gonna get blindsided, Penny.” He assured me, tapping my arm with his beak in an attempt at a pat. “He’s not going anywhere.”

***

Dream watched the woman, the new wife of the man his sister had come for, cradle her husband's body in her arms and wail. He’d known that pain, he’d lived with that pain for eighty years. The only difference was that his grief and mourning had been put to an abrupt end by the woman he thought he lost. As he and Death returned to the bridge he felt an uneasy weight in his chest, a realization, as he looked at her. She had mourned him too. When they first reunited she’d told him that she tried to come back to the Burgess house to free him. It had been left unsaid, but obvious that this attempt was what led to her current troubles. Because of him. No. For him.

Penelope was a lot of things, but a victim of circumstance was not one of them. Everything she’d been forced to endure she did so with blood and fire. She could have bent under Rodericks thumb or under the doctor's blade, but instead she burned brighter and fought and raged until the chains that held her broke. She had not chosen to be stuck in the basement with him, to receive the mark that bound them, but she’d chosen every action that followed. And each time her choice was the same. Him. She chose him every day for years, most likely far longer than even he knew. He looked at her and felt her steady heartbeat in his chest, felt the swarm of joy and love that filled her as her eyes found him across the bridge. If he gave her a choice he knew what her answer would be and that scared him.

Death looked up at him and nudged him forward, and they reunited with the duo just as she’d finished pulling a flower from her bouquet and placing it on the bridge. He nodded towards it. “What are you doing?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I just felt like leaving a little piece behind.”

Death smiled and rubbed Penelope's shoulder. “That’s sweet.”

“Where to next?” She asked as Matthew settled back on her shoulder.

Death watched him with a curious gaze as he watched Penelope continue down the new street, not even batting an eye at what they were here for, not questioning any of it. “What?”

“How do you do it?” He questioned.

“Do what?”

“This. Be there, for her, for all of them.”

She shrugged modestly, as if what she did wasn’t that important. “I have a job to do. And I do it. When the first living thing existed, I was there. When the last living thing dies, I’ll put the chairs on the table, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave. And I’m not there for all of them, there are exceptions. Mad Hettie. Penelope. And then there's your ongoing project. How’s he faring up after all this time?”

“Who? Hob Gadling?” Dream sighed. He hadn’t thought of the man in a long while. “I don’t know. I was forced to miss our last appointment.”

“Well I’m sure he’d love to see you.” She said, “They’re never too keen to see me though.”

He looked at her softly. “Does it not bother you?”

“I actually used to think I had the hardest job in all our family.”

“Oh did you?”

“They fear the Sunless Lands, yet they enter your realm every night without fear.”

He smirked. “And yet I am far more terrible than you.”

She laughed for a moment before a nervous guilt passed over her features. “It was fine in the beginning. Dying and living were new things and people did them with the enthusiasm they always bring to new things. And then after a bit, it just got harder.”

“But you continued.”

“I thought about giving up. Walking out.” She walked into the house as he looked up the road at Penelope.

“Don’t wander,” He reminded her, noticing she’d gone further than he’d thought.

She turned back around and came walking towards him with a sarcastic salute. “Apologies, Dream Lord Sir!”

He rolled his eyes and followed his sister inside.

***

I sat on the steps of the house Death and Dream walked into a few minutes ago, pulling another flower from the bunch and setting it on the step beside me. “No more questions dear Matthew?”

“You’re kind of an open book to be honest,” he replied from his perch beside me. “Though I am curious as to what your theory is on your whole situation.”

“That’s a very loaded question.”

“Aren’t those the best kind?”

“I guess it depends on who you ask.” I retorted, avoiding the answer.

He looked at me expectantly. “Come on, you have to have some theories.”

Shrugging I sighed. “I mean I did a long time ago, or at least I thought I did, but eventually it all just molded into one very dark theory.”

“Let's hear it.”

“I’m cursed.” I finally said, looking away from him, anywhere else. “It’s kind of the only thing that explains everything. Anything I touch, anything that I get close to gets ripped from the world because of me. It’s why I never… Why no one…”

Matthew was quiet for a while before he said, softly, “I don’t think you’re cursed, Penny.”

“Thank you.”

***

Dream had watched his sister take the child with a heavy heart and thoughts filled with the memories of his own son's loss. He exited the house, Death close behind when they walked into Penelope and Matthews conversation.

“I’m cursed.” She said after what appeared to be a long moment of silence, looking out at the sky. “It’s kind of the only thing that explains everything. Anything I touch, anything that I get close to gets ripped from the world because of me. It’s why I never… Why no one…”

Dream felt her sorrow mingle with his own as Matthew softly replied, “I don’t think you’re cursed, Penny.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was strained, on the verge of tears as Death closed the door loudly.

She stood quickly, not even turning to look at them before she continued forward, moving out of their way. When they all stood together for a moment, to travel to Death’s next appointment she didn’t look at him, just kept her eyes on the ground in front of them, twisting her necklace between her fingers. How long had she thought this? He wondered. How long had she been waiting for him to abandon her as well because of some curse?

In the next location he watched Penelope more closely, watched her leave a flower in the room of the patient across from his sister. She made small talk, laughed alongside the stranger and bid them a gentle farewell when it was time to leave. Her sorrow had lessened when she rejoined them, walking closer and closer to them each time they moved now, but still out of reach.

"You were there that night. The night she should have..." He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

Beside him Death nodded. "Yeah, I was."

"What happened? Why didn't you take her?"

"Because she pulled herself out of that river and breathed." She said simply. "She was alive again."

"How..." He wanted, no needed, to know. "How did she feel about that?"

His sister met his gaze and smiled sadly. "She wanted to come with me. She was one of the first that ever has."

“Could she have?” he asked.

“No. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Will you take her eventually?”

Death shook her head as they walked down the alleyway. “I don’t think so. Something tells me she’s not meant for my lands, not for a long, long while at least.”

Dream looked at Penelope where she stood on the sidewalk by the street as his sister worked beside him. She left a flower on a small ledge of a nearby building with a smile. And when some loud drilling or construction work echoed from a few streets away she covered her ears with her hands, a wave of fear hitting her, and him, like a truck. But, just as he moved to go to her he felt her take deep breaths and heard the soft words that left her lips as she pressed her hand to her chest. “I’m here. I’m alive.” When they rejoined one another she’d calmed down, so much so he wouldn’t have even noticed what had happened if he hadn’t been looking.

In the field she waited on the path for them, leaving a flower on a nearby bench as she knelt down and played with a group of dogs as they and their owners passed through. She was so bright and full of life, even though only moments ago she was nearly curled in on herself with a residual fear. As they resumed their movements he could only focus on one thing. How resilient she was, had always been from the beginning. No one else would have survived, and they certainly wouldn’t be as she was, not as courageous, not as happy, not as alive.

“It’s funny, looking back now,” Death continued beside him. “I used to think I had to do this all by myself.”

“But you do.”

“No. At the end, I’m there with them. I’m holding their hand and they’re holding mine. I’m not alone when I’m doing my job. And neither are you. Think about it. The only reason we even exist, you and I, and Desire and Despair, the whole family. We’re here to serve them. It isn’t about quests or finding purpose outside our function. Our purpose is our function. We’re here for them. Since I figured that out, I realized I need them as much as they need me. I’ve seen so many cool things and people and worlds. I’ve learned so much. Lots of people don’t have a job they love doing, do they. So, I think I’m really lucky.”

She said it all with a passion he’d long since forgotten. Dream didn’t even truly remember the last time he enjoyed making his creations. “Listen, I’ve got to head back soon, but before I go I need to say this. That girl is in love with you, Dream. She has been from the start, she was the night I found her by that river. And if you leave her after everything you’ve both been through she will never forgive you. You’ll never forgive yourself and I certainly won’t forgive you. So, just this once, don’t be such an idiot.”

He stepped in front of her and held her hands. “You’ve taught me something I had forgotten. I thank you, my sister.”

She smiled. “Aw. That’s what family’s about, little brother.”

Penelope had stopped off to the side but quickly joined them when Death turned and opened her arms. She embraced her tightly and Dream watched her sink into the hug, soaking in the warmth of his sister's embrace. “Will I see you again?”

Death chuckled. “I don’t know when it comes to you.”

“Then I guess we’ll see,” Penelope replied fondly.

“Goodbye, Penelope. I might be seeing you.”

“Goodbye, Death. I might be seeing you too.”

***

As we walked through a small crowded alley Dream set his hand against my back and led me through the crowd of people. Once we reached a larger area he stood close beside me, his hand occasionally brushing against mine. "I'd like to introduce you to someone. A friend I need to reconnect with."

I opened my mouth in amused surprise. "Friend? That's a big word for you, Dream."

He rolled his eyes, lips twitching to fight the smile. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course," I said, falling into step beside him.

Looking up at him through my lashes I watched his eyes fill with that signature gloss of fondness. "I've not seen him in a long time, he may not be too happy with me."

“Oh?” I nudged him. "What'd you do?"

“What makes you think it was my doing?"

"Because I know you," I said laughing.

"I may have insisted I had no need for his friendship."

I hummed. "You know, you're kind of an ass, but I'm sure your friend will let it slide."

That soft smile finally graced his lips. "How very optimistic of you."

"Well one of us has to be."

Dream and I walked a ways before a familiar old tavern came into view. Beside me Dream looked sad, his eyes staring at the old building as if it had meant something more to him than I understood. I stayed quietly beside him, letting him work through the emotions I could feel bubbling against whatever barrier he'd kept between us, something I hated more and more with each passing minute. It felt wrong, not feeling what he did, even more so being able to feel something, but not all of it. Finally I said, "I came here once before it closed."

"You did?" He asked softly.

I nodded, leaning against him a bit. "Yeah, the place was an absolute shit hole, in the most endearing way of course."

"You should have seen it when Death first dragged me here." He chuckled a little. "They had livestock inside with the food and drinks. Absolutely abhorrent."

Looking up at him I smiled. "Don't lie, you loved it."

"I did not," he insisted. "But I suppose I did grow fond of it over the years. More so the friend I made here."

"Were you supposed to meet him here?"

"I was, a long time ago."

I pointed to the red graffiti. "Maybe he went to the new one?"

Dream sighed, turning and following the red that lined the fence. I didn’t need the bond to feel the nervousness rolling off of him. Did he and his friend leave things so horribly between them that he felt afraid they weren’t waiting for him? I leaned into him a little more, offering up a reassuring smile. Just around the corner, across a small section of tall grass was a beautiful brick building with white trim labeled The New Inn. Small tables with green umbrellas shielding them lined the patio as Dream and I entered.

Inside was decorated with old pale blue wallpaper and dark trim, blue curtains lined the large windows and antique looking tables lined the wall across from the bar. It was busy, but not so much that we couldn’t move through the space. I pulled away from Dreams' side. “Go look for your friend, I’ll hang out at the bar for a minute so you two can catch up.”

“You do not need to-”

“Go, Dream,” I prompted with a smile. “Unless you want me there for your grand apology.”

He nodded, moving through the space and around the corner, out of view. When he disappeared from my line of sight the ache slowly began to build again and I found myself worrying that if I followed he would be gone. God I was pathetic. If he was going to leave, why would he invite me to meet his friend with him? If he was going to leave, why would he still be around at all? I sighed, leaning against the bar counter, my eyes finding his black clad figure as he stood beside one of the tables, with his friend I assumed.

“Can I get you anything?” The bartender asked with a comforting smile.

I smiled back, recalling the man I’d met at the old tavern. “What’s the oldest whisky you have?”

***

Dream looked down at Hob Gadling with a smile, one Hob returned with a chuckle. “You’re late.”

“It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting.” The man's smile widened and he nodded to the seat across from him, which Dream took with a lightened heart. He was so sure that Hob would be angry at him, yet the man simply seemed happy to see him.

The two spoke for a while about what Hob had been doing in Dream's absence, but then something at the bar caught his friend's eye and he smiled even wider. “How many more immortals do you have running around?”

“They’re not my immortals,” Dream said simply. He supposed now was as good a time as any to explain a few details to the man.

Hob nodded to the bar. “See that knockout of a woman over there?”

Dream turned, his eyes immediately finding Penelope sitting at the bar, making polite conversation with the man behind the counter as she swirled a glass of whatever drink she’d ordered. He turned back to Hob with wide eyes. “Do you know her?”

“I met her at the old tavern, waiting for you actually.” Hob said with a chuckle. “She has not aged a day! So, I assume she's one of yours then?”

He was surprised to say the least. First Penelope had met his sister, then his brother, potentially his mother and now she'd apparently met Hob Gadling. He looked back at her, just as she rose from her seat to come find him. The warmth of her smile almost made him miss the fear that was twisted in her gut. He wanted to inquire about it, but as her eyes slid to the man he sat with and her smile grew he had to push the thought away. She pointed to him, squinting a little. "Hob?"

He laughed, standing and embracing her. "Strange Penelope. I should've known you were one of his immortals."

"I should have known you were! You're so obvious about it with all those age jokes!"

Dream watched Hob take his seat, trying his best to ignore the way his eyes lingered on Penelope as she pulled a chair up beside him and sat down. She looked at him and nodded to Hob. "So, this degenerate is your friend?"

"Yes, yours as well it appears."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't say friends. We met once, drank a little and then I never saw him again."

Hob scoffed. "That's about the same thing he and I do every hundred years. I don't even know his name!"

Penelope turned to him with wide shocked eyes. "You haven't told him your name? How long have you been meeting?"

"A very long time."

"Are you serious?!"

Dream sighed. These two were going to be absolutely unbearable together.

***

My stranger, Hob, was my Dream Lords best friend. God it was funny. So funny I had to physically restrain myself from laughing multiple times as the two interacted. Dream told Hob his name and explained a few little details and I watched poor immortal Hob Gadling eat the words up with glee.

Once he'd had his fill of Dreams answers he turned to me and smiled. "So, how long have you been around?"

"A hundred years. Well a hundred and twelve years."

He smiled and shook his head. "You're just a newbie then, aren't you?"

"A hundred and twelve is hardly new!" I argued.

Hob shrugged. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

I tensed. "Why?"

"Well, as an immortal myself it's kind of a staple of the experience."

Trying not to think about just how many that actually was I nodded, my fingers curling into my glass. "Yes."

"How many?" He asked, leaning forward with a smile. Hob was curious, rightful so, I was the first immortal he'd met.

"A lot."

He hummed. "What was the first one? How'd you do it?"

"My father." I answered stiffly. "I tore his throat open with my teeth."

Hob made a face. "Well, I've never done that before."

"I don't recommend it," I took a drink of my whisky. "Takes weeks to get the taste out."

"Oh I can imagine!" He said. "Now, what's the worst way you should've died? Mines a tie between starvation, thrilling I know, and hanging! Interesting story that-"

My eyes were glued to the amber liquid in my glass as I thought about all the ways I should have died. There were so many… All under the pale eyes of that damn fucking doctor. Dreams hand wrapped around my thigh, his thumb drawing tiny circles into the skin. "You're here, with me."

I smiled at him, putting my hand on top of his, the memories fading away the more I looked into his eyes. Hob continued on describing his most noteworthy deaths, but he didn't ask me about it again. As the sun began to set Dream and Hob began reminiscing on the old days.

"Do you remember what the place looked like at the beginning?" Hob asked, laughing. "It was god awful!"

"Yes," Dream agreed. "I believe the livestock was partly to blame for that."

"Livestock," Hob shook his head looking around. "It's crazy how far humanity has come since then."

"How did the old tavern end up closing?" Dream wondered.

His friend shrugged. "Some people wanted to turn it into an apartment or something. Project fell through a little while after I found this place. I do miss it though."

"Why don't you two go back and look at the place?" I asked. "It's just around the corner."

Hob gave me an odd look. "It's locked up though."

"Hob Gadling, are you telling me you've never broken into a building before?" I laughed.

"I've never really needed to before," he mumbled.

Turning to Dream I said with a smirk. "I know for a fact you've broken into plenty of places. Fancy a walk down memory lane?"

He smiled a little. "I'm not opposed to the idea."

"Good! Because I want to hear all about you two idiots over the years!" I stood, nodding at the men to follow.

The gate was easy, so easy Dream hadn’t even gotten to offer his assistance before it slid open. The two looked around, pointing out things that had changed before we even stepped inside the musty space. Dust coated all the leftover furniture and the remaining sunlight that peaked in through the busted windows made the space feel even more like some far off memory. I stood at the bar, in the same spot I had been sitting the night Hob wandered over and smiled. What were the chances of us meeting? What were the odds of it being on the day he was waiting for the same Sandman that I, in one way or another, also waited on?

Hob settled in beside me, smirking at the fond memory. “Still the prettiest girl in the place.”

“It’s good to see your moves haven’t gotten any better,” I replied as Dream looked around the space.

“And what about your moves?” Hob asked with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Strange Penelope, what ever happened to the bloke you were getting hot and heavy with that night?"

I nearly choked and sent him a look, heat rising to my cheeks as Dream's gaze fell on me."You noticed that?"

"Oh I think everyone noticed that."

"Well, I wouldn't know what happened to him. I never saw him again."

"A one night stand, how scandalous!" Hob sang.

I groaned and shook my head. "No, we kissed a little and I left."

"Was he that bad?"

I shrugged, eyes gluing to the floor. "It wasn't him. I just... Couldn't get someone else out of my head."

When I looked up and met Dreams gaze it was dark and hot as pride and tingle of something else twisted between us. I took in his posture, the way his jaw had tensed, the way his hands had curled into themselves. Was he jealous? Before I could ask, Hob turned to him. “So, you’ve got some kind of… Magic, right?”

“I do,” he answered coolly. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was just thinking the best way to give Penelope a taste of what things were like in the old days would be, well, through some kind of magic.” He answered. “Can you turn back time or something?”

Dream scoffed. “I am not a magician Hob Gadling.”

“Well what can you do?” He inquired.

He looked at me for a long moment before nodding. “I can cast a simple illusion. It should suffice for your purposes.”

Hob nodded with a wide grin. “Alright then, let's give the girl a proper tour!”

Dream waved his hand and the room around us filled with smoke and livestock and people from long ago. I looked around at them, listened to the near incoherent conversations they had before turning and looking at Hob, who was now dressed head to toe in rags. Suppressing a laugh I nodded. “This was the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Oh shut it,” he scolded. “This was what everyone wore back then. I get better!”

“When was this?””

“1389,” Dream replied from behind us.

When I turned to look at him I was taken aback at the sight. His hair was longer, brushing against his shoulders. The black tunic he wore had long intricate sleeves that flared away from his wrists in a dramatic fashion and his ruby hung around his neck. I nodded at him. “Not bad, Dream.”

“Oh come on he looks as ridiculous as I do!” Hob argued before he scoffed. “You know what just take us to the next year!”

Dream merely smirked as he waved his hand again, the illusion around us shifting. The smoke cleared and things had gotten a little cleaner. The people's clothes changed as they shifted through the space. Hob was still dressed poorly, but less so than he had been. His hair was cut shorter and combed through and his brown attire looked at least somewhat cleaner and finer made. I pointed to his hair. “At least you improved a little.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, let's all make fun of the dirty little peasant!”

My eyes slid over to Dream. His hair was also shorter, framing his face similar to the first one. His black attire was slimmer, better fit to his body, the long cloak flared behind him in a very Dream way as he moved through the space, inspecting the fireplace by the table in the corner. “It’s a bit simple for you.”

He chuckled. “Simple?”

“Yeah, your usual style has a bit more flare to it. Fancy boots, your little midnight coat, you know Dream things.”

Hob looked at the fireplace with Dream and laughed. “I can’t believe I was going on about chimneys and card games.”

Dreams eyes slid away from me, a dangerous glint in them leaving me wondering what trick he had up his sleeve. “Indeed, it was quite riveting to listen to.”

“1589 then?”

With a nod Dream did his magic and the space lit up with the warmth of the fires. Everyone was dressed finely, making conversation and Hob had changed the most. He was dressed head to toe in an elaborate silk tunic adorned with blue designs and frilled cuffs. His hair was pulled back and his face framed with a goatee. He held his arms out nodding enthusiastically. “It’s good right?”

I nodded back, running a hand over the fine fabric of his shoulder. “An improvement for sure, Hob.”

“Ah, no then I was known as Sir Robert Gadling!” He proclaimed proudly.

I leaned back against the table and laughed at him. “Sir, what did a degenerate like you do to get such a fine title?”

He leaned in and whispered, “I don’t actually remember.”

Just as I was about to ask where Dream had gone he walked around the corner and my heart stopped, mouth falling open slightly with a breathless, “Oh shit.”

He was dressed head to toe in glossy black leather. His hair was slicked back, revealing the glint of an earring. God this is not fair. I bit my lip, eyes focusing on the ruby that reflected in the candlelight as he walked leisurely towards me, each step echoing through the space. I was blushing, I just knew I was. Hob had moved to look at something across the room and I had never been more thankful for his absence as Dream stood, dark eyes looking down at me.

“Well, what is your verdict, my lady?” He inquired, tilting his head a little, flashing his neck.

“It’s…” My voice was hoarse. “It’s a good look.”

His brow arched and he smirked down at me. “Good?”

A shiver ran down my spine and straight to my core. God damn you and that fucking voice. His smirk grew and he closed the little space that was between us. I tried to keep my thoughts from straying, but as soon as my hands touched the soft leather of his chest, in an attempt to steady myself, the filthy image filled my mind and if the unbearably hungry look in his eyes meant anything his too. It was a simple little fantasy. Dream, dressed in this newfound leather attire, throwing me on top of the table and fucking me relentlessly in the tavern full of people.

His lust smoldered between us as he took in the new information. “Is that how you think it would go?”

“Am I wrong?” I asked, straining to keep my eyes on his and not on his lips.

“Perhaps we’ll have to test that active imagination of yours,” he whispered, lips moving closer to mine. “Later.”

Then he pulled away from me entirely and it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on me. Hob rejoined us, asking to continue through the fun, while I glared at Dream. You’re an asshole.

The next hundred years Hob had lost everything, dressed back down to rags and disheveled hair. Dream however was dressed elegantly in black, long hair cascading down his shoulders. I glared at him as Hob looked down at himself and complained. I should pull your dumb long hair. He merely chuckled at me and we moved forward.

A hundred years later and both of them were dressed in high collars and well adorned outfits. They looked good, but I couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of their hair curled and prim and proper. Hob rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what fashion was back then!”

“I don’t,” I said between laughs. “But my god your hair!”

A flash of gold entered the illusion and I turned with wide eyes staring at Johanna. Dream hummed. “Ah, I’d almost forgotten about this.”

“Is Johanna immortal too?” I asked looking at the image of the woman in front of me.

“No,” Dream assured me. “This is her ancestor. Though the resemblance is uncanny.”

“She would absolutely hate this,” I said with a smile at the thought of her disgusted face looking at the poofy dress.

I saw Dream’s 1889 look first this time. A simple black overcoat, short hair slicked back underneath a long top hat. He quickly took them both off, revealing a form fitting black shirt with his ruby around his neck. He looked good, and he knew it, but I refused to give him the satisfaction after his rude teasing. So I turned to Hob, who was dressed in simple gray and white with nicely styled hair. “Looking good Hob!”

He beamed at me. “I told you I got better.”

I ran my hands down his shoulders and smiled back at Dream. “Don’t you think this is a good look for him?”

Dream glared at Hob, then at me and sighed. “It looks fine.”

Eventually, the sun set and Hob retired for the evening, but not without making Dream promise to return soon… before the next hundred years, to make up for missing their last meeting. Then it was just he and I, walking along the mostly empty streets. “So, it looks like I know your friend.”

“Yes,” he said. “I was not expecting that.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

With a quiet sigh he looked at me and smiled. “Would you come with me back to The Dreaming?”

Warmth filled my chest and I turned into him. “Of course. But I need to grab a few things from my apartment first, and tell Johanna.”

He nodded in agreement, using his sand to take us to my room. I packed a small bag of clothes, knowing full well I intended on staying as long as he’d let me, before I left in search of Johanna. Dream waited in the doorway as I searched the living room. “Jo?”

“In there,” she said from the office. She was knee deep in a box of crosses, grumbling to herself as she tried to fish out a particular one. When she saw me she smiled. “Have a good time with your man?”

I rolled my eyes, moving through the mess to grab the bag of trinkets from my desk drawer. I’d wanted to show Dream some of the things Jessamy had found, but with the insanity of his arrival and everything that followed there hadn’t been time. “Shut it. I’m going with him for a few days, I hope. Will you and Pierre be alright here?”

She nodded. “Absolutely. He’s annoying as fuck, but the french man is very good at handeling himself. And I’m, well, I’m me so no worries there.”

“Be safe, and please don’t kill him while I’m gone,” I said, giving her a one armed hug over her mess. “I want to be there for the show.”

She laughed, but looked in my eyes with a seriousness unlike her. “You seem off. Everything okay?”

I sighed. “I’m about to find out.”

“If we need to kill him, let me know, I’ve got some people that might know a trick or two.”

“Goodnight, Johanna.”

As I made my way out the door she hollared back, “And if you fuck him I’m going to want the details!”

I laughed all the way back to my room and smiled at Dream when he gave me a curious look. “All set to travel, Dream.”

He set a hand on my back and I curled into his stiff body. Something was still on his mind, but I couldn’t tell what, so I elected to ignore it… I’d wait for him to bring it up, or at least until I couldn’t wait any longer.

The sand took us somewhere different this time, the boards of the pier creaked and groaned with the soft gentle movements of the water. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but the deep sapphire and the reflection of the misty star filled skies. The air smelled like rain as a light breeze surrounded us, making me curl deeper into Dreams embrace. For a moment we stood in the silence, content to just exist, but then Dream cleared his throat and stepped away. He pulled the bag of Jessamys ashes out of his coat and smiled down at me. "She would have wanted us to do this together."

I nodded, holding my hands out and letting him pour half of the ashes in my palms before he poured the rest in his. Together we slowly let the ashes spread in the light breeze and the glistening waters below us. "Goodbye, old friend."

"May you finally be at peace," I whispered.

The silence that had once been comforting was now filled with uncertainty as I felt my gut twist the longer we stood. "Morpheus."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to leave?" I watched the water, afraid to look away.

He sighed, hands clasped behind him. "I thought about it."

There it was. The answer I didn't want to hear. Stinging pain, echoes of the countless abandonments and betrayals over the years filled me. Tears threatened to spill over as I said, "I would understand if you did." He hadn't been expecting this, his eyes looking down at me. "I can't imagine what it must be like, being thrown into the mess of my life."

"That's not at all why I'd been considering it, Penelope." He turned to me, his hand settling on my arm. "Look at me, please."

I did so with my jaw clenched. "Then why?"

His eyes looked even brighter here as he looked down at me. "I don't deserve you."

I laughed a little, tears rolling down my cheeks. "If you don't then no one does. You're not perfect, Dream, I’m not expecting that of you. I’m not perfect either."

"You are far better than I am."

"Maybe, or maybe both of us are imperfect." I pulled him down by his cheeks, pressing my head to his. "Have we not given enough? Do we not deserve even the chance at happiness?"

He closed his eyes, sinking into my hands. "You do deserve that."

"So do you. You are my chance at happiness you idiot," I breathed. "You always have been... You always will be."

His hands cupped my face as he pulled away enough to look down at me. "I am far from what you deserve, but so long as you want me I will always be yours, Penelope Barlow."

“I meant what I said the other night. I want all of you, Morpheus."

“I’m beginning to see that.” His eyes softened as he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. My hands slid into his hair as the kiss deepened, quickly filling with the heat and pent up need we’d both been keeping reigned in since Hell, maybe since long before. I felt one of his hands leave my hair and then a slight tingle rushed over my skin and when I pulled away we were in his bedroom.

His eyes watched me take in the change of scenery, the depth of their want barely contained as I smiled. “That’s a very impressive trick, my lord. Do you have any others?”

"I have plenty of tricks," he said, pulling me back to him.

"Will I get to see them?" I asked breathlessly.

"Maybe a few." Heat ripped through me. "Now," he whispered, breath fanning across my face. "Where were we last night?"

"I'm pretty sure I was on top of something." I mused, pretending it was difficult to remember. I felt the hard wood behind me as Dream lifted me up onto the top of the replica of my desk. "I was wearing a dress and you'd just torn one of my favorite pairs of panties." The slight wave of his fingers sent a chill up my spine as my clothes shifted to a silk dress, not unlike the one I was in last night, soft and cool against my bare skin, already bunched up above my thighs.

"Anything else?" His voice was low and rough.

Fisting his coat in my hands I pulled him closer. "Just you."

He gripped my legs tightly as our lips connected. Soft hands dragged up my thighs, moving beneath each of them to drag me further down the desk and into him. I groaned at the feeling of his hard cock straining against his pants. My hands slid under his coat, pushing it off his shoulders greedily as Morpheus' hands moved again, under my dress to pull my thighs apart as wide as he could.

I gasped at the sudden chill of my exposed ass on the bare wood as he shoved the dress up higher, holding it in a tight grip in one hand while the other gathered the slick from my soaking folds and lifted them to his lips. I watched his tongue curl around his fingers with a needy whine. "Are you going to show me what your mouth can do when you're not pouting?"

He chuckled, returning his fingers to my core, circling around my clit torturously slowly and drawing out a strangled moan from my chest as I held onto his arms for dear life. "Next time."

"God, Morpheus," I gasped as his fingers pushed into me.

"You're so beautiful like this," he mumbled against my skin as he buried his face in my neck. He pressed soft kisses to the faded bruise left by the white coats, soothing over the skin with his tongue before biting and sucking new marks along my collarbones. "Falling apart already and we've only just started."

His pace quickened and my hips moved against his fingers. I gasped, the coil that had formed in my gut tightening every second. "You…" Another gasp as his fingers found the deliciously sensitive spot. "Ah, you… Make falling apart easy."

"Show me, my lady," he whispered as my fingers gripped his hair, tugging roughly at the roots.

His voice alone was enough to send me over the edge with a loud breathless moan. His fingers coaxed me through the orgasm, and slowly began building me up to a second before they stopped. I gripped him tighter, whimpering as he pulled away from my aching cunt. "Morpheus, please!"

With a chuckle he grabbed me by my thighs, and lifted me off the desk. "As much fun as that position is, I'd prefer take you on the bed this time."

The chilled silk sheets caressed every inch of me, now completely exposed before the Dream Lord. I scoffed up at him. "That's hardly fair."

"Maybe not," he admitted, eyes running over every inch of me, drinking in the sight with lust.

"Are you going to relieve yourself of your clothes as well, my lord?" I asked.

"I want your hands on me," he rasped. "If you'd like to do the honors."

I moved to sit up, running my hands up the sides of his things, under the black shirt he wore. Our eyes stayed locked as I relieved him of his shirt, pressing light kisses along his abdomen and working on his pants. When he was at last standing in front of me just as bare as I was I bit my bottom lip to keep in the groan. My eyes ran over the defined lines of his muscles, the memories I had of his naked body did not do him justice. Wrapping my hand around his hard dick I looked up at him, watching his eyes roll back and his mouth fall open slightly. "God you're pretty."

"Enough teasing," he gasped, wrapping a hand around my wrist to stop me. "Tonight, I will worship you."

"Worship can go both ways," I reminded.

Dream smiled, stroking my jaw. "You may worship me all you wish, later."

"Later," I whined as he gently pushed me back onto the bed. "I'm starting to think you like that word too much."

"I like you a great deal more," he whispered, kissing the scar along my thigh. He moved to the next scar, my knee and then the next, my hip. Every scar I had received his attention and every inch of skin between them was worshiped with kisses, bites and hickeys until he finally reached my collarbone.

"Morpheus," I heaved, every inch of my skin burning with the adoration he poured down the bond. "You said no teasing."

He sighed against my skin, his head moving toward my breasts. "My apologies, my love. Let me make it up to you."

When his tongue darted out and swirled around my hardened nipple I nearly choked on the moan. He continued the same attention to the other, seemingly attempting to draw out as many noises from me as he could and I was in no position to deny him. Every touch felt like fire, fueling the coil in my core until I couldn't take it anymore. "Morpheus, please!"

Smiling against my skin, his teeth grazed my nipple one last time, tugging on it lightly before he moved to press a searing kiss to my lips. "What do you want, my lady?"

"You!" I whined breathlessly. "Please."

Without another word his eyes locked onto mine as he lined his leaking tip with my entrance. My nails dug into his arms as he slowly pushed into me. Head thrown back against the silk I gasped beneath him and his hand beside my head fisted in the sheets. "Oh my god!"

A strained chuckle vibrated through him. "Not quite a god-"

"Endless," I said, a moan interrupting me as his hips finally came flush with mine. "I know, I know just shut up and fuck me."

Dream took my words to heart, his free hand gripping my hip tightly as he pulled back, almost pulling out of me entirely before thrusting forward. Oh god! My hands found purchase in his hair, tugging tightly and earning a moan from him as he continued setting a brutal pace. "I've thought of little else since our reunion," his voice in my head was too much as I writhed beneath him, the sounds spilling from my lips were absolutely unhinged. "Yet, in all my fantasies I could never have imagined just how wrong I would be. You are far more exquisite than I could ever imagine."

"Morpheus!" He looked down at me, his breath fanning across my face as he began thrusting harder, lifting my leg over his arm to push even deeper inside me.

"Keep making those sounds for me," he ordered.

I moved my hips against his, panting and scratching at him, blinding pleasure building even faster in me as his dick hit just the right spot. "There…" I breathed, pressing my lips to his in a sloppy, desperate, needy kiss. "Don't you dare stop."

He bit my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth as he moved even faster, both hands on my hips, lifting me slightly up off the bed and pushing me down against him to match his pace. "Come for me, Penelope," he urged.

The coil wound tighter and tighter and then he moved his fingers to my clit, circling it quickly to match his thrusts. I came beneath him, my toes curling and head thrown back with a cry so loud I was certain at least half The Dreaming heard. He didn't slow, his thrusts growing faster and more erratic as he chased his own pleasure. With a few final movements he came, hands gripping me tightly as we both heaved against one another, sweaty and satisfied. Between us a steady hum of love and adoration flowed.

Morpheus gazed down at me for a moment before he pressed his forehead to mine. "I love you."

I smiled and breathed out a content sigh. "I love you too, Morpheus."

"We should have done this from the start," he said, rolling to the side, still holding me in his arms.

"Absolutely," I agreed. "But, the wait was worth it."

His smile was more beautiful than the stars. His fingers caressed over my back, lovingly tracing the scar up my shoulder. "You are so beautiful."

"As are you," I whispered back, my body melting into him. "So, do Endless dream kings sleep?"

"I can sleep," he said, waving his hand, encasing both of us in the silky blankets.

"Will you sleep with me then?"

"There is nothing I want more, my love."

***

When I woke the next morning the feel of his cold smooth skin beneath my palm sent a wave of happiness through me. He'd stayed. I moved, my cheek rubbing against his bare chest and his arm wound around me a little tighter. "Good morning." God his voice was even sexier now.

Looking up at him, bathed in the gorgeous light of the rising sun I smiled. "Good morning."

His fingers ran through my hair, scratching lightly at my scalp as I lifted myself a little to press a kiss to his jaw. "I trust you slept well."

"Better than I ever have," I said, burying my face into the crook of his neck. "Though I should have expected as much with the king of dreams in bed with me."

His lips pressed into my hair. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what was that bag you brought?”

Oh! I sat up quickly, reaching over to where my bag lay beside his bed. Magic is the best. I could feel his eyes roaming down my naked body as I fished the smaller bag out and set it on the bed. “Ta da!”

“It would certainly be more impressive if I could see what's in it.”

He sat up and then it was my turn to admire his naked body. I hummed, looking at him before leaning to press a kiss to his shoulder as he settled in beside me, pulling the bag open to reveal the shiny treasures within. “It’s mostly junk. But I wanted to bring it so you could see some of the things Jessamy found.”

Goosebumps rose on my skin at the coldness of the air, so Dream stroked a hand down my back and pulled me in for a kiss as a pair of the clothes I’d brought magically appeared on my body. When I pulled away I grumbled in disappointment at the sight of him also redressed, he only smiled. “There will be time for that again later.”

“Later again,” I groaned. “Fine, but it better be good, great king.”

“Was last night not?”

“That was perfect,” I assured him. “I’m just saying you owe me some mind blowing sex for robbing me of your naked beauty.”

“I could use the same argument for you.”

“Please do,” I encouraged with a wicked grin. “I have plenty of mind blowing ideas.”

He began sifting through the bag, looking at each small trinket with bright eyes and a smile. I told him the story behind all of them, moving so I was between his legs and leaning back against his chest.

When he pulled the old wired ring out I sighed. “This was one of the last things she brought me.”

“I know,” he said. “I sent her to get it.”

“What?” I turned, looking back at him with furrowed brows.

“You were crying,” he said softly, running his fingers along the stone. “She told me it was because you were worried for me. So, I sent her to find it.”

I looked down at the beautiful opalescent moonstone. “Is it from The Dreaming?”

“No,” he replied. “I told her to find a moonstone that she liked. Where she found this particular one I’m not sure.”

“Why a moonstone?”

With a small shrug he smiled at me. “Sometimes when you’d look up at me from that basement floor your eyes would catch the light and shine like these stones do. I figured it was as good a gesture as I could offer at the time.”

My heart filled with joy as I curled back into him, kissing his neck and jaw before pressing a longer one to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, not yet, it's not.” He curled his fingers around the ring and when he reopened it the beautiful stone was set in a dark, intricate band that shimmered and shined with starlight everytime the light hit it. “There, now it is perfect.”

“Morpheus,” I gasped. “It’s beautiful.”

He slid the ring onto my finger and kissed my knuckles. “I’ve enchanted the stone as well. If you ever need me, just invoke my name and I shall find you, wherever you are.”

“Probably a useful trick to have, all things considered,” I said, stroking his cheek.

“That reminds me, Lucienne requested my presence in the library. She wishes to go over a few things she’s found that might explain your disappearing act.”

I kissed him, intending for it to be short, but he cupped the back of my head and pulled me into him. The easy, soft kiss made every inch of me tingle with a gleeful happiness that was alien to me. It felt like I was finally where I belonged. He sighed against my lips when he pulled away, his thoughts swimming with my own. I lightly pushed against his chest. “Go, before we get lost in all those filthy thoughts of yours.”

“As if yours are much cleaner,” he teased.

Blushing, I shrugged. “Can you blame me? You’re far too good looking for clean thoughts.”

“Go back to sleep, it’s still early for human standards. I’ll be back as quickly as I’m able and we can continue this discussion.” He kissed my head and made his way out the door, sparing me one last glance before he closed it after him.

I smiled as I lay back on the bed, running my finger over the new shimmering ring on my finger. My eyes closed and I breathed in the absolute perfection of the atmosphere. When I opened my eyes next, everything was too bright. Lines of colors flared in my vision no matter where I looked and my head swarmed with a blinding pain. I grabbed my head, my hands digging into it tightly as everything began to twist and pull around me.

I stood, falling to my knees immediately and gasping for air as the pain began to lessen and my hands slammed down onto the glossy red floor.

Tap.

"Come now, Petal, we don't have all day." A familiar voice purred as my vision started to return to normal. With a groan I looked up at the figure clad in black standing before me. Gold eyes and red lips twisted into that wide grin. "There she is, our baby Weaver."

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

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To all the lovely people who enjoyed How to ruin a Dream Lord’s proposal (and get away with it) and asked for a sequel...

You shall soon be fed

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

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I’m obsessed with ep.6

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nerdydaydreamer · 2 years

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14 Hours to Cape Town

Summary: When the rest of the Avengers are sent on a mission to Cape Town, you're forced to stay behind to recover from a previous mission while Loki isn't trusted enough to go along. How will you cope being made to stay in the compound with the man you're in love with when he seemingly wants nothing to do with you?

Loki x f!reader

Genre: Smut, smut without plot

Word count: 4.7k

18+ - Minors do not interact

AN: Ok, y'all, when I say this has no plot it really has no plot. I just really wanted to write some filth. Enjoy!

The coffee cup sat nestled in your hand, the comforting warmth of the liquid seeping through the ceramic and into your skin as the conference room warmed up around you. The mission briefing sat open in front of you, but you had yet to read a single word it said. Nervous energy was streaming through you, making you unable to focus on even the simple task of reading a five page briefing, and the only way you could channel it without being obvious was tapping your finger furiously against your coffee.

It wasn’t as though Loki was doing anything particularly menacing at the other side of the table or going out of his way to make you feel uncomfortable, as far as you could tell from your stolen glances he was simply reading his own briefing, but you had never been alone with him before. Or, more accurately, you had never been alone with him since That Day.

You weren’t scared of Loki, and nor did you dislike him like so many of the others seemed to. It would be so much easier if you could make yourself dislike him, but, no matter what, your heart still fluttered each and every time you caught sight of him. You had been drawn to him ever since he had arrived in the compound, something about him hooking itself into your heart and refusing to let go. He was witty, incredibly so, and he shared your own penchant for dry sarcasm that often flew over the heads of the others. It hadn’t taken you long to fall for him and all too quickly he became the main subject of your dreams and daydreams.

But then he had turned you down.

What exactly you had been thinking, you weren’t sure. Maybe your newfound confidence from becoming an Avenger had gone to your head, or maybe your loneliness was making you reckless, but when he had noticed your subtle advances towards him he had flatly, and almost cruelly, shut down the idea of anything ever happening between you both.

The mortification had been so great you hadn’t been able to show yourself in the communal areas for a week, and still you made every effort not to be in a room where he was. Despite his rejection, your heart still ached for him, but you had resigned to loving him in secret and it hurt like hell.

As you both sat in silence waiting for the others to arrive, you knew the chances of him saying anything to you were low, he had likely forgotten the whole episode, but still you couldn’t relax. Like a teenager experiencing their first crush you were hyper-aware of his presence, ears tuned to every tiny movement he made at the other side of the table. You felt incredibly stupid as you both sat there not uttering a word to the other. Loki had barely glanced at you since you sat down, hadn’t said a word since the tight “hello” he gave you when you greeted him, but still you pined after him. You desperately wanted him to look at you, to smile at you, to give you any tiny morsel that could fuel your misguided fantasy that maybe, just maybe, he did feel the same way about you.

You stole another glance from the corner of your eye. Loki was still concentrated fully on the brief in front of him, seemingly oblivious to you even being sat at the table. Your hopeful little heart plummeted to your stomach. You really were nothing to him.

Swallowing the hurt, you chided yourself for even getting your hopes up when he had made his feelings, or lack of them, crystal clear. Pulling your gaze from him you forced your attention back to the brief, trying to at least get the gist of the mission before Steve arrived to take charge. The mission itself didn’t phase you - fighting a bunch of rogue Chitauri that had somehow been enhanced by HYDRA - but what did phase you was where HYDRA had stationed them.

South Africa.

You fought the groan that was growing in your throat, fought to keep your expression neutral and unbothered lest Loki make some remark. Cape Town was 14 hours from New York, maybe less than that on the Quinjet, but it was still going to mean hours stuck in torturous close proximity to Loki. A one-hour mission briefing you could get through, but a 14-hour flight? It was beginning to feel as though the universe was mocking you.

Before you had the chance to flick through the remainder of the briefing, Natasha pushed open the door to the conference room, coffee in hand and looking as though she had already been up for at least five hours. Relief surged through you at finally having someone to break the awful silence in the room.

Her eyes flicked between you and Loki, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Wow, I’ve been to livelier wakes.” She quipped, taking her seat next to you. You gave her a look as if to say “don’t even” and she shrugged. “Oooh, South Africa this time. Look at us branching out.” She said, nodding at your open briefing. “Feels as though we only just left Europe.”

“Some of us barely did,” you replied. You’d spent three weeks in the medical wing of the compound after the last mission, one of them spent completely unconscious.

Natasha gave you an affectionate nudge with her shoulder. “You still kicked ass, even if you did end up getting yours handed to you.”

You rolled your eyes but gave an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Nat,” you said quietly.

You both continued to chat about the mission, exchanging tactics and tips. You hadn’t been an Avenger when the Chitauri had invaded New York, so any piece of advice Natasha had to give was warmly welcomed. Across the table, though, Loki still remained silent, and you hated yourself for even noticing. What exactly would he need to do in order for you to put your silly little fantasy of living happily ever after with him to rest?

You were thankful when the rest of the group began to slowly trickle in. Some, like you and Natasha, nursing their own coffee and slowly beginning to come alive; others looking as though they wanted to murder Steve in his sleep for having them awake at the crack ass of dawn. You took a refill from the large cafetiere Wanda had brought in as Steve began the briefing, only half listening as he went over the same protocols and safety measures that you heard before every mission. You almost drifted off listening to the monologue that you were sure you could recite by heart, but his last order had you jerking rudely back to reality, certain that you had picked him up wrong.

“Wait, what?” You asked Steve with a small, disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

Steve gave you his trademark stern stare. “I spoke with your doctors. They agreed you’re not strong enough yet for a mission of this magnitude. I’m sorry, but you’re staying here.”

Words refused to form on your tongue. You were angry. Upset. Humiliated. “Come on, Steve, I’m fine!” You looked helplessly to Tony, eyes silently begging him to have your back like he always did. “Tony, tell him, please!”

Tony was quiet for a second, refusing to meet your eyes, and your shoulders sagged. “Look, kid, I’m sorry, but I agree with Rogers. You’re still recovering from Europe and this is a big mission.” He said softly but firmly, finally meeting your gaze.

Instantly, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. “So you think I’m a liability?”

“No.” Tony said, pointing his finger at you. “You might be a huge pain in the ass sometimes, but you’re one of the best on this team. We don’t know what enhancements HYDRA have performed on these bastards or what else is going to be there when we touch down. We need you back at full capacity when, inevitably, we have to go back. You are not a liability,” he said firmly again. “Besides, we need someone to stay behind to keep an eye on…him.” He threw a glance in Loki’s direction.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki interjected slowly before you could say anything.

Tony immediately swiveled his chair around to face him. “Really, Reindeer Games? Did you miss the part of the briefing where it said we’re fighting Chitauri? You think I’m going to let you within a ten-mile radius of your little army? Have you try to conquer Cape Town like you did New York? You’re staying put.”

You watched Loki narrow his eyes. “Has it ever crossed your brilliant mind that I’m exactly what you need to vanquish them? I can easily win their trust, promise them safety, stall them, and allow you to attack when they least expect it.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Gee, and what are the odds you actually do that, big fella? More like you run off and join your little friends and try to destroy us. Again,” he added pointedly.

“Enough!” Steve raised his voice over their arguing. “Everything has been decided upon. You,” he looked firmly in your direction, “are staying here. As are you,” he looked back towards Loki. “The rest of you, I’ll see you at the Quinjet in an hour.”

Still raging with anger, you stood from your seat. If Tony and Steve both agreed that you needed to sit this one out, you didn’t have a hope in hell of going to Cape Town with the rest. You’d never had to sit out on a mission before, but what made it worse was having to sit it out with Loki. Your only saving grace was that the compound was massive. Realistically, you weren’t actually going to be stuck with him, and there were plenty of places to escape to if all got too much.

“Hey, it’s alright. It’s only one mission.” Nat said beside you, gently rubbing your arm and bringing you from your thoughts. “And, if he really starts to be an ass, I have nunchucks and some brass knuckles in my room that you’re welcome to use.” She joked in an attempt to make you feel better.

In spite of your anger, you couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe being stuck with Loki wouldn’t be so bad.

oOo

You had tried not to look too dejected as everyone had boarded the jet later that morning. If things went well, the mission would take a few days at least Steve had said as he’d climbed aboard.

“Don’t let that maniac bother you,” he’d said, talking about Loki.

“I wish you would all stop calling him that. He’s not a maniac,” you’d replied, still quick to jump to Loki’s defence in spite of everything.

Steve had given you a look that so clearly said he disagreed, but he didn’t argue. “Just look after yourself, okay?”

“I don’t need to look after myself. I’m fine,” you’d said pointedly, letting him know you were still pissed at his decision.

“That’s the spirit.” He’d said, slapping you affectionately on the upper arm and running to join the others.

You’d watched the Quinjet disappear from view and then retreated to your room. Loki, unsurprisingly, hadn’t been at the carrier and you had no idea where he’d sequestered himself. Flopping down on your bed, you thought of the long, boring days ahead as you waited for the others to return. Days of tiptoeing around the compound in the hopes that Loki wasn’t lurking, or hiding away in your room to try and avoid him and the embarrassment of knowing he knew you were besotted with him

You didn’t know if you could stand it. Days of it just being you and him with no one else to turn to to distract you from your growing feelings; days of awkward encounters that would only fuel your silly little fantasy that he was simply biding his time before declaring his love for you in some huge dramatic gesture.

And suddenly, you had an idea.

Steve had told you to stay here, but hadn’t defined specifically where here was. You could easily go and stay with a friend in the city, leave the compound and Loki behind for a few days, maybe have a one night stand to try and get him out of your system. Something akin to relief flooded through you at the realisation. Why hadn’t you thought of simply taking a break from the compound before? Taking some time away to try and forget Loki and what the two of you could never be?

Swinging upright on your bed you grabbed your phone, fired a text off to your friend saying you would be landing on their doorstep for a few days whether they liked it or not, and grabbed a bag to start balling clothes into. In less than ten minutes you had everything you needed shoved into a bag and were ready to leave, save for your phone charger which you were sure was lying somewhere in the kitchen. Your manic energy came to a sudden stop. You had no idea where Loki was hiding, but leaving your room raised the chances of having a run in with him. Moving tight against your bedroom door you cocked an ear, listening intently for any sound that would indicate he was close by.

Silence.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you pulled open the door and padded down the hallway to the kitchen and living area. In the absence of the others, the silence of the compound was deafening. You kept expecting to hear Sam’s booming laugh as you reached the living area, followed by Bucky’s quiet demand to explain what was so funny.

What you didn’t expect was seeing Loki reclining in one of the easy chairs, feet up, and a book lying open in his lap. You stopped short in the entryway.

“Oh, there you are,” you said before you could stop yourself, loathing how your heart still fluttered pathetically at seeing him.

He glanced up from his book, blue eyes briefly meeting yours before he returned his gaze to the pages in front of him. “I haven’t murdered anyone or put any plans for world domination into action, you can report back to the authorities,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your lip twitched a fraction, a smile threatening to split your face. “I didn’t think you had.” You replied instead, heading straight for where you were sure you’d left your charger.

You felt his eyes on you as you searched around, heard the quiet thump of his book closing followed by the soft thud of his footsteps crossing the space from the living room to the kitchen. A quick glance to the side and you saw him standing against the kitchen arch, his gaze trained on you.

“So, are you going to hide all the knives in case I stab you in your sleep? Set up some cameras to make sure I behave myself? Put me on a lead, perhaps?” He goaded you. He was clearly still tetchy from Tony’s earlier comments and, in the absence of anyone else, had decided to take it out on you.

“If you were going to stab me I highly doubt you’d use a kitchen knife to do it. Too much mess.” You replied absently, still searching for the charger that wasn’t where you’d thought it would be. “Anyway, I’m not going to be sleeping here. I’m going to stay with a friend in the city for a few days, so you’re free to do whatever you want,” you explained, not quite sure why you were telling him this. Nervous energy? Or maybe you just wanted him to know you trusted him.

For a moment there was silence as you continued hunting through drawers, and you were sure he’d given up on his attempt to spar with you, but when you straightened up he was still standing there, eyes narrowed like he was appraising you.

“You’re scared of me,” he said simply, as if he were telling you the weather.

“No!” You immediately turned to face him, the search for your charger instantly forgotten. “I’m not scared of you, Loki,” you said forcefully. Let him think anything else, but you wouldn’t let him believe you saw him as someone to be feared.

“Oh really?” He all but sneered at you, taking one step into the kitchen. “So the running away as soon as you’re made to be alone with me is because you enjoy my company so much? Similar to how you can barely stand to be in the same room as me?”

You stared dumbly at him, unable to fully compute what he was saying. “Did you hit your head lately?” You couldn’t hide the anger that was seeping into your voice, anger at him for being angry at you for reacting to something he’d done. “I stay out of your way, I’m staying out of your way, because you’ve made it very clear that you don’t like being around me!”

His lip curled slightly and you knew he knew what you were referring to. “I’ve never said that I don’t like being around you,” he replied instantly, frustration lacing his words.

“You don’t have to say it, Loki! You’ve done a pretty good job of showing me and making me feel like a complete idiot!” You were shouting at him now, all the hurt and embarrassment that you had been squashing down inside you finally simmering to the surface.

“Because you’d never believe me if I told you the truth!” He yelled right back at you. “The stories you’ve been fed from the others, how could you possibly believe the god of lies bearing his soul after that? If I told you right now that I’ve fallen in love with you, would you even believe me?” The question was rhetorical, but the hurt in his voice was impossible to ignore.

You were struck dumb by his admission, every occurence over the past few months beginning to slot into place like a puzzle coming together. Inside your chest your heart gave a leap of joy, almost as if it were screaming “I told you so”, and you looked him right in the eye. “Yes,” you answered simply, your voice the barest trace of a whisper, “because I’ve imagined nothing else for the past few months.”

There was the briefest flash of confusion on his face, the smallest twitch of an eyebrow, as though he had been expecting you to say anything but that. Your heart was pounding like a drum in your chest, fast and hot in anticipation of something, anything. For a moment, there was nothing, only Loki’s eyes locked on you like a magnet, and then he was across the kitchen in four steps, gathering you into his arms and kissing you with such ferocity it knocked the breath from your lungs.

You returned his kiss with equal fierceness, lips parting easily to allow his tongue to slip inside. He walked you backwards until you were pinned against the kitchen counter by his hips, his hands drifting under your shirt and grazing the skin of your stomach, making you shiver in response. Every nerve ending in your body was suddenly alive with electricity as his hands slid up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing lightly over exposed skin. You felt him pull the cups of your bra down, take a nipple between each thumb and finger and squeeze, making you moan into his mouth.

He smirked into the kiss. “So sensitive.” He murmured against your cheek, beginning to trail hot open mouthed kisses down your neck.

You angled your head to give him better access, eyes fluttering closed at the heady mixture of his lips on your neck and his hands on your breasts. Your arms tightened around him, one hand slipping into his hair in a vain attempt to pull him closer. In response, he pushed his hips into you, letting you feel his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he practically growled into your ear.

You pulled back to look in his eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire for you. “So do something about it.” You replied impishly, leaning back in to kiss him and making sure to sink your teeth into his lip while one hand drifted down to palm him.

Immediately, you were elevated in his arms, your legs locking around his waist and, in a flash of green light, you were laid out naked on his bed, your clothes appearing to have also vanished in the process. Loki hovered over you, his hands around your forearms pinning you to the mattress as his eyes took you in.

“You are exquisite,” he breathed out, the sincerity of those three words causing heat to rise to your cheeks.

Before you had the chance to respond his lips were on your neck yet again, causing your back to arch as he skillfully nipped and sucked the expanse of sensitive skin. A moan emerged from your lips as the warm heat of his tongue soothed every small bite at your neck. You pushed against the weight of his hands, desperate to tangle your own in his hair, to run them across his naked chest and back, but he held you firm to the bed.

“Not yet.” He murmured smoothly in your ear, forcing another moan from you as he nibbled your earlobe.

At a torturously slow pace, he trailed hot, lazy kisses down your neck, across your clavicle, and between your breasts. You closed your eyes, letting the intoxicating sensation of his kisses on your body drag you under, but snapping quickly back when he gently sank his teeth into your nipple. The noise that fell from your lips was somewhere between a moan and a whine, and you heard Loki hum in approval.

“Oh, I do love that little noise.” He moved back up until his lips were mere centimetres from yours. “But what I love more is how you’re making it for me.” His lips crashed down on yours, silently conveying how deep his desire ran for you. His kiss was slow and deep, the earlier frenzy of emotions stilted to something more profound.

You were so caught up in kissing him back you didn’t notice that he had freed your arms until you felt his fingertips trail down your thigh. In a heartbeat your hands were on him, tangled in his hair, running down his back, gliding over the planes of his chest. You couldn’t get enough of him. You locked your legs back around him, one of his hands then coming to grip behind your knee and press you closer to him.

“I’ve dreamed about how your legs would feel wrapped around my waist,” he said, his voice raspy with lust.

Your cunt throbbed achingly as you imagined Loki having dirty dreams about you, imagined what he had dreamed about doing to you. After months of silent pining you were desperate for him.

“I’ve dreamed…” you began, stopping abruptly when the tip of his erection brushed against your cunt, unable to contain the whine that tumbled from your lips. Wantonly, you rolled your hips down, vainly trying to create some friction against your clit.

Loki’s eyes came alight with mischief and he pulled back from you. “Yes?” He asked with feigned innocence. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I’ve dreamed about you touching me,” you said, heat rising to your cheeks at the admission.

His eyes twinkled and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Oh? Like this?” He traced one finger around your nipple.

“Not like that,” you answered.

“No? Maybe like this?” He trailed his fingers slowly up the inside of your thigh, stopping a mere centimetre from your aching cunt.

“Loki.” You mewled out, shamelessly rolling your hips in a silent plea for his touch.

“Or maybe like this?” His fingers began to stroke your clit, causing an obscenely lewd moan to fall from your lips.

You arched underneath him, the feeling of his fingers better than any of your filthy daydreams. “Exactly like that,” you encouraged him. “Fuck!”

“So wet for me already and I’ve barely even touched you.” He teased, his fingers still expertly working your clit. You felt your orgasm begin to build, the familiar tightening in the bottom of your stomach and speeding up of your heart telling you you were close.

“Loki, I…” you breathed out, locking eyes with him. You felt the pressure build, a few more strokes of your clit and he would send you over the edge.

And then his fingers went still.

“Not yet.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear, making you whine in frustration. He silenced you with a kiss, hungry and impassioned. “The dreams I’ve had about you, my darling.” He said, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck once again

Your cheeks flamed at his simple admission, your head almost going light thinking that this god, who had no doubt had lovers from every corner of the universe, had had dreams about you,

“You have consumed my mind night after night.” You gasped at the feeling of the tip of his cock lightly pressing against your cunt again. “I’ve lost count of how many mornings I’ve awakened hot and bothered and desperate to have you in this bed.” He spoke slowly, his hips rolling in time with his words and lazily tracing his tip up and down your cunt.

“So stop teasing me and fuck me, then.” You half cried in frustration, your hands on his back trying to pull him closer, desperate to feel him inside you.

He only grinned sinfully at you. “So impatient, my darling.” He said, slipping two fingers inside you and beginning to pump slowly in and out of you.

In and out.

You let out a strangled groan.

You heard him chuckle and he pushed your legs wider, his fingers inside you picking up speed and making you throw your head back against the pillow, nails digging into his back as his fingers curled inside you, hitting the exact spot you needed him to. “Fuck, you feel so good.” You praised him, your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Above you, he laughed darkly. “Oh, my dear, I promise I can make you feel even better.”

Before you could process what was happening, his fingers had left your cunt and you felt him slowly begin to press himself into you. He was bigger than you had anticipated, stretching you deliciously until he was fully inside of you.

“Better?” he asked, a wolfish smile on his face.

You could only nod mutely, struck dumb by how it felt to finally have him inside you. He gave you another lingering kiss and slowly began to move on top of you, picking up speed when he finally became comfortable and making you cry out his name. You knew he was ruining you, nothing and no one after would be able to compare to the bliss he was making you feel.

He moaned as he continued thrusting into you, a sinful sound that made your cunt squeeze around him. Your name was spilling from his mouth and you pulled him down to you, sealing your lips to his and kissing him like a woman possessed. His fingers found your clit again and you arched into him as your orgasm began to build. Skillfully, he stroked you until your orgasm ripped through you, the combination of his fingers and his cock still thrusting into you making you howl his name like a prayer. The pleasure kept going until tears formed in your eyes, until Loki gave a last shuddering thrust and collapsed on top of you.

You held him to your chest as you both caught your breath, unable to speak in the wake of your climax. “That was…amazing.” You said stupidly when you found your voice, your fingers still stroking his hair.

He pushed himself up from your chest, a devilish grin on his face as he kissed you long and slow. “My darling, it’s 14 hours to Cape Town. 14 long hours before anyone will be checking in on us. I haven’t finished with you yet.” He said huskily, and, still grinning wolfishly, he positioned himself back between your legs.

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