Chapter Text
They were in Fiddler’s Green, enjoying the lushness of the world, just them. Rose had convinced Dream to lay beside them in Gilbert’s vast expanse of greenery as they soaked in the false sun of the dreaming, basking in the presence of each other. Rose on his left, Jed on his right, both siblings curled around him as they did absolutely nothing for once.
Just… basked .
“Oh,” Rose groaned as her vision fuzzed in and out. “I think I’m waking up.”
“Yes, it does appear so,” Dream said, voice a light hum as he leaned his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, Rose. This was quite enjoyable, and I do believe quite needed.”
Rose hummed, curling further into Dream’s chest, nestling there. “I miss seeing you in the waking.”
“I do not wish to cause you any more strife with Lyta Hall,” Dream told her, even as Jed voiced his agreement beside her. “Despite her… Fury… she does truly care for you, and it makes me happy to know you have someone like that in the waking.”
“Can’t you send Matthew to keep an eye on us?” Jed asked, “so we know you’re there.”
“I am always there,” Dream assured Jed. “Though I am afraid I cannot constantly spare Matthew that way. I do have need of him.”
“Yeah, you do,” Rose agreed. “He and Lucienne are the only ones who really tell you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear.”
Dream made a sound of displeasure at the words, but made no move to deny them, either. A warm, fluttery gust of wind shot through the air, letting the trio know that Gilbert was, in fact, chuckling.
Rose’s vision blurred again, though she fought.
“Wake, Rose,” Dream encouraged her with his own amused chuckle. “I will see you again soon.”
With a groan, Rose let herself wake up in her bed, in her apartment. She had forgotten to close her curtains all the way last night and the light was now stabbing her eyes. Obviously the cursed reason as to why she was awake and no longer with her brother or Great Grand-Uncle in the dreaming.
Rolling over, Rose let herself think over her dream-time with Uncle Dream. From the moment she fell asleep…
She sucked in a breath and slowly pushed herself up, looking to where she had left her laptop on.
She hadn’t fallen asleep at her bed last night. She had been writing at her desk, trying to wrap up the last edits for her book.
Had she sent it!?
Throwing off the covers, Rose raced over to her laptop, desperately trying to remember what she had been doing last night. Had she sent them? The deadline was last night at midnight.
What did she remember?
Matthew. Matthew was there to greet her in the dreaming, to take her to where Jed was waiting, talking with Gilbert cheerily. Then Dream had joined them shortly after, looking somewhat smug, and Rose had dragged him into sprawling on the ground because that grin almost never meant anything good…
Oh, that cheeky little…
Rose knew exactly what happened. Dream truly had been watching over her last night, because her manuscript, which she was pleased to see she had finished before she passed out, had been sent in at 11:59 last night. And judging by the last edit record on her computer, she had passed out at 11:23, having spent two straight days on that manuscript with nearly no breaks. Jed had been worried, she remembered, and he must have told Dream. Because last night, her Uncle had sent in her manuscript just in time and gotten her into bed.
“Thank you, Uncle Dream,” she whispered to the dreaming. “Thank you.”
Her editor had already done the editing, too. Mostly small spelling mistakes and a couple places she had forgotten a few words or phrases, but otherwise brilliant. Rose was beaming ear to ear as she sagged in relief.
She was starving, she realized. Having hardly eaten the food Jed had tried to give her. Burnt chicken tenders. Her poor little brother was probably as exhausted as she had been, and a glance into his room confirmed this fact as he slept on, clearly enjoying some alone time with Dream.
Rose moved to grab some breakfast, hoping to find something to eat. She made a quick breakfast of eggs, noting how the meal she made was one Lyta taught her.
Lyta…
Dream held no ill will towards Lyta, nor did he wish her any harm. In fact, Dream had insisted several times that he wished she would manage to make up with Rose, to have someone watching over them in the waking. Rose had been against it at first. She had her friend Carl, of course. And Hal came by for visits on occasions. But…
They were civil, now. It was such a painful word to think about, but after catching Dream in their apartment, Rose had tried to explain, tried to speak the truth, to tell Lyta of Daniel and Dream, but she wouldn’t listen. Lyta was convinced that they were brainwashed, that Dream was going to turn them against her. Help him take Daniel.
That was the last thing Rose wanted. Because if Daniel was taken by Dream, then that meant it was over. It would all be over. She would lose them both.
But Lyta wouldn’t listen.
Rose needed Lyta to listen.
But Lyta wouldn’t listen.
But… how?
Lyta needed to listen to words, but how could Rose get her to do that if she wouldn’t allow herself to hear the words.
Wait…
Listening without hearing?
Now that was something Rose knew how to do.
Taking her hastily thrown together breakfast, Rose rushed to her room and began typing earnestly.
She had a story to write.
—--------------------------------------
While not an extravagant poet, Rose had a beautiful gift of taking what she knew of the Dreaming and of her Uncle, and placing them into stories and books. As the girl continued to write and create, her relationship with Lord Morhpeus truly flowed beautifully into her books as time passed.
So when a new short story showed up in the library, written by Rose Walker, Lucienne was intrigued, quickly picking up the packet of paper to read over it. It wasn’t a bound novel, much to Lucienne’s surprise, and it didn’t appear to be one she intended to publish further, but perhaps it was a personal tale. Lucienne was almost hesitant to read it, but it wouldn’t be the first time Lucienne had read personal letters and things.
By the end of it, Lucienne truly wished she had not touched it.
For what Rose Walker had written was clearly meant as a letter to Lyta Hall, as Lucienne could tell by the introduction and the curious cast of characters. Not to mention, it was clearly in its final draft, though sloppily edited. But the horror it revealed was a secret that her Master had clearly been keeping close to his heart.
He had hidden it well, but now that Lucienne knew what was happening and what to look for, she could see the signs so clearly. They were screamingly obvious, horrifically so. Lucienne wanted to slap herself for not having realized her master’s boone.
Dream had once said that they had not cared and would not come for him.
Lucienne knew that to be a bold-faced lie, and she was not about to allow this to happen again. Not after the first time. If her Master was to be such a fool, then she would do something foolish in return.
“Matthew!” Lucienne called earnestly, not daring to let the bird speak as he entered the library. “Take this to Death, and don’t breathe a word of this to anyone , do you understand me? Not even him. ”
“Woah, okay, Luce,” Matthew held up his wings in mock surrender, “whatever you say. Is something-?”
“ Now! ”
Matthew was gone, short-story taken with him.
The Dreaming would not lose him again. Lucienne had to make sure of it. Somehow.
—-------------------------------------
“What are you reading?” they ask her as she guides them to the sunless lands.
“My great grand-niece wrote a story!” she tells the first twenty five excitedly, because she does have a job to do, after all. She can’t truly take a break to read it all in one go, and she must read it a sentence at a time as she moves on to each person who entered her domain. “Well, she’s written many stories, but I’ve hardly had the chance to read any of them. I’ve been told I absolutely must read this one, though, so I do hope you don’t mind if I’m a bit distracted.”
“It’s a puzzling tale,” she tells the next twenty eight who ask her, clearly very puzzled and a little bit distracted from her job. The words are painting a picture beautifully. Death is quite proud of Rose’s skill, and she hopes Dream is just as proud, but the tale the words paint are providing an image that has Death worrying her lip. “My great-grand niece wrote it for her friend. But it appears to be about my brother and her friend’s son. I’m not quite sure what it’s truly about. I suppose books are an odd mystery of their own, after all. Please excuse me for a moment. I do apologize.”
“It’s about my brother, actually,” she tells the next thirty seven, certainly very bothered, but taking breaks in between her reading, paper packet tucked under her arm as she tries to smile. She has a job to do, after all, no matter how worried or scared the words make her feel. She can’t just stop. She has to keep going. “A biography, I would say, about events that have yet to happen. My great-grand niece wrote it. She’s written many tales and stories. I should like to read them someday.”
“Its about an idiot. My idiot brother, to be precise,” she tells the last person, a subtle fury threatening to rise inside of her as she has finally finished the tale without a happy ending, sealing the fate in black ink. “My great-grand niece wrote it. I’m sorry, I usually try to be far kinder. Would you give me a moment. I have something I need to do.”
Before the person can speak, Death is gone, clutching the packet, ignoring all formality, and appearing in the realm she never has reason to visit.
“Sister?” Desire startles, clearly basking in their own presence, and, as Desire tends to be alone in their domain, having Death appear before you would scare anyone. “What brings you-?”
Death slammed the packet into Desire’s chest. “Read this. I have work to do. We’ll discuss it later.”
And then she goes back, smiling bright and sunny again, leading that last life she temporarily abandoned through to the sunless lands. She had a job to do, and Desire would come to find her once they had finished reading.
—--------------------------
For a week now, Rose walked up the stairs to Lyta’s apartment and slid the newly edited story under the door. A tale foretold of the future, of the fate of Morpheus, King of Dreams, and Lord of Nightmares, predicted for himself by the circumstances of Daniel Hall’s birth. It told of Daniel’s fate, too. The inevitability of it all.
In tales with Greek gods, the Fates would tell of the upcoming tragedy, and the heroes would attempt to prevent it, unable to accept the tragedy of their future. In the end, they would bring the fate to pass, and they would crumble and fall at the hands of great tragedy. Or, perhaps, to the hands of Despair. Maybe even Delirium.
But Dream of the Endless knew better. For in the end, trying to avoid one’s fate was futile, and the Dream King’s fate was sealed in the Book of Destiny, so it would seem. The minute Daniel Hall was conceived, Dream’s life was no longer in his own hands, and he would be forced to die, however the Fates may decree it.
He would not fight. He would not run. He would live what time he had left, and then he would let his sister’s hand grasp his.
There was nothing Rose nor Lyta could do to save their families, just as Dream could not avoid his Fate.
Task done, Rose let out a sigh and stood up, brushing off her pants and moving to walk downstairs. She had to get Jed to school, after all.
Behind her, the door opened.
“Rose?”
Rose paused, turned. Lyta Hall stood there, Daniel on her hip.
“I… I read it,” Lyta held up the packet. “All of it.”
Rose swallowed, searching Lyta’s face for any sign of her thoughts.
“And?”
“I don’t like it,” Lyta admitted, gaze drifting to the packet of paper, “but I know a thing or two about inevitability. Can we talk?”
“I have to get Jed to school,” Rose motioned down the stairs, “but I would really like to talk to you.”
A teary smile spread on Lyta’s face, one Rose knew she was reciprocating.
“I’ll come with you,” Lyta offered, “if you’ll have me. Have us?”
“I’d like that,” Rose agreed.
—---------------------------------
“You are disturbed, my twin,” Despair whispered to Desire. “Why?”
“This, my dearest twin,” Desire held the packet out to their sister. “I fear I have made a grave miscalculation.”
“Oh?”
“Our brother is truly an idiot, and he is going to do his most idiotic thing, yet.”
“That scares you?”
“This time?” Desire asked, moving to stand before Dream’s sigil. “Yes. It scares me. Pass this on to our baby sister if you see her. You have had more cause to see her recently than I.”
“Of course, my twin,” Desire agreed, looking down at the packet, face contorting. “Oh dear.”
“What? What is it?”
“I had hoped I was wrong, my beloved twin, but I fear I was right,” Despair said, hook digging extra hard into her hand, smearing blood on the edges. “I fear I should have spoken sooner. Dear Dream has dipped in and out of my realm several times, but he has avoided mirrors since his captivity when he can. I should have know-”
“You could not, my twin,” Desire scolded, pulling Despair to them with an affection only Desire could offer. “You know how proud he is. He would not have given an inch before now. If I had known throwing mortal family at him would make him cave so emotionally then I might have done it far sooner.”
Despair, however, was not entirely convinced. After all, she did not necessarily need mirrors to check on those in her realm, and Dream had dipped into her realm before. Still, Dream had often been haughtier than thou more often than not, and Despair had let her pettiness rule over her with Desire’s schemes.
Now her brother had done one of the things many in her realm tended to do. He was just playing the long-con to get there.
—------------------------------
“I keep having to wash sand out of his bed,” Lyta said, brushing Daniel’s hair back. “I was so paranoid about it.”
“Uncle Dream says he doesn’t like to stay in one place,” Rose hummed, reaching out a finger for Daniel to grab. “You’re quite the little adventurer, aren’t you Daniel? Uncle Dream’s bain of existence.”
Daniel gave an amused, giggling laugh. Yanking Rose’s finger so he could clap his hands together and still hold on. He was clearly quite pleased with his acts of terror against Dream.
“He makes Daniel new Dreams, trying to keep his entertainment, but he really does like to explore the dreaming,” Rose hummed, managing to take her finger back. “Most of the dreams know to take the utmost care of him, and those that are told not to do so are simply told to take him to someone who can.”
“And he… he truly doesn’t wish to take Daniel?” Lyta asked, unable to wrap her head properly around this shift in her insanity.
Rose pursed her lips. “I think it would be better if you heard the truth from him.”
—--------------------------------
“Thank you, Lyta Hall, for agreeing to talk with me,” Dream greeted the woman, welcoming her into his throne room where she stood tensley, arms linked with Rose. “And I do apologize for what has happened, for the fear I caused you. It was not my intention for the words to be said as a thread. They came from the burst of my own realization, fears, and acceptance of the situation. I have no intention of taking Daniel from you. And I hope it is not necessary for a long, long time.”
“Just…” Lyta sucked in a breath as she sank into the chair in front of the table. “Start from the beginning. With Hector.”
“Of course,” Dream promised.
Waving his hand over the sand, he let the story begin.
“Your husband, Hector Hall, when he passed, managed to hold onto life long enough for Rose to get to his side, to hold his hand. And in that moment, it was enough for some small sliver of the Dream Vortex within her to wake up. Subconsciously, your husband avoided my sister, Death, and latched onto the Dream Vortex within Rose, allowing him to create a space within the dreaming that existed nearly separately from all else. So, while you were asleep, he latched onto your dreams and created an unbalance, causing the Vortex to have some connection to the Dreaming stronger than any other. That, Rose, is why you could appear in the Dreaming as you pleased, because Hector Hall connected you to both the waking and the dreaming. As a result, he sped up the process of destruction once I was freed from my imprisonment, and he disrupted the balance between the two worlds.”
“So… why couldn’t Hector remain in the dreaming?” Rose inquired, asking one of the many set questions she and Dream had agreed upon. “I mean, you offered me a place when I died.”
“That, dear Rose, was because you were already in the dreaming when you died,” Dream told her, told Lyta, too. “Whenever someone dies in their sleep, they are given the option to remain within the dreaming. In a sense, they can become part of my domain, though few rarely stay in the dreaming. Many wish to reunite with their loved ones in the Sunless Lands. Part of it is because my sister is far kinder than I.”
Rose snorted, causing Dream’s lip to upturn slightly.
“I could not keep Hector Hall here, however,” Dream admitted, turning his gaze to Lyta. “Because Hector Hall did not die in the dreaming, he was not mine to claim. There are rules that even I must follow, and as such, Hector Hall was not mine to claim. And because of his attachment to the Vortex, he would have destroyed the entirety of the dreaming had I let him remain. I made the mistake of allowing the Vortex to survive much longer than I should have, and as a result, when I came to you and your husband, Daniel had already been conceived, and the Dreaming was falling apart.”
Lyta sucked in a breath, shutting her eyes for a moment.
“So… when you walked into our house… you were forced to act quickly or lose the entirety of the dreaming,” Lyta concluded what she had drawn from Rose’s story. “And to add insult to injury, I conceived a child in your realm, basically bearing the heir that will eventually become you.”
Dream nodded, his face becoming pained. “Yes. And I am… sorry, Lyta Hall, that it had to be your son. I, myself am a father, and I fear I lost my son long ago.”
“You did?” Rose questioned, eyes blown wide.
“Not to Death, no,” Dream shook his head at Rose. “My son managed to convince my sister to pass her gift from him, and my son yet lives, though in a sorry state, and I fear that the last we spoke, we claimed we would never see each other again.”
Rose gave him a look that said they would be talking about this later, but for now, Lyta was hunching forward. Quite suddenly. Dream and Rose both jerked up, moving to the woman.
“I just need to think,” Lyta said clutching her head. “I… you’re making me give up my son.”
“I wish there was another way, Lyta Hall,” Dream promised gravely. “I truly am sorry. But not even I can go against the words in my brother’s book. My fate is sealed, and by Destiny’s decree, so is that of your son. I wish there was another way, but I ask that you spend time with your son, let him know he is loved. That, my dear Lyta Hall, will be one of his greatest struggles. I will confess, I have never been very good at seeing love or letting others love me. If I had one wish, one dream , it would be that Daniel Hall know love before he becomes Dream.”
The look Rose was giving him. Perhaps he could get out of this conversation.
He knew better than that, of course.
Suddenly, something nicked at the back of Dream’s neck. A small sort of tickle that caused him to snap to his feet. The feeling became more intense as he turned into the direction of his gallery, breath catching in his throat.
Twice in less than a year, in less than a decade? Not nearly as rare as they liked to believe. But thrice? In less than a year?
Unheard of.
“Uncle Dream?” Rose called, concern lacing her voice. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I am being summoned?” Dream whispered.
“Summoned?”
“My brother requires me,” Dream breathed, suddenly struck by the sheer absurdity of it all. “They all require me, it seems.”
Turning towards the doors, Dream reached through the dreaming, trying to find… “MATTHEW!”
“Here, boss!” Matthew landed on the table. “What’s up?”
“Stay with Lyta Hall and Rose until they wake,” Dream instructed quickly. “And tell Lucienne that I am being summoned.”
“Really? By who?” Matthew questioned, gaze turning towards the direction of Dream’s gallery. “Death? Desire?”
“All of them,” Death spoke, his voice grave. “The third family dinner in less than a year, Matthew. This cannot be good.”
“Third family-” Matthew flapped his wings wildly, clearly panicked. “Are you going to be okay?”
“That, my dear Matthew, I do not know.”
And with that, Dream went towards his gallery, ready to answer the summons from his siblings. For it was all of them calling him. Demanding, really, from the place that wasn’t a place. Destiny had called out first, of course, but then the others were suddenly there, demanding he appear before them.
“I am here, my siblings,” Dream called out as he stepped into Destiny’s realm, “what is-?”
Desire lunged forward, dragged Dream to his chair with such blinding speed that Dream had to take a moment to process what had happened, and slammed a bound stack of paper in front of Dream on the table.
“You are going to sit here and you are going to read this,” Desire huffed, seething at something. “And then we’re going to discuss it.”
Dream kept his emotions stoic as he looked over the packet, instantly recognizing Rose’s work but surprised to find he didn’t recognize the title. Perhaps it was a story that Rose had been working on recently, though he was rather confused at its unbound state. The pages had blood on them, but he supposed it was Despair’s, rather than Rose’s, and the pages were slightly damp, but so was his baby sister, so… He would ask her later, of course, but…
The story itself was addressed to Lyta Hall…
“Oh, Rose…” Dream sighed heavily, not needing to read the tale to know what was written. “What have you done, Rose?”
“You already know what she wrote of,” Despair stated, catching Dream’s own despair easily now that she was actively trying to find it. Because of course she would. He was dipping into her domain, within her sight, something he had been attempting to avoid. “You are unsurprised by the tale this story spins.”
“My Fate was sealed long ago, little sister,” Dream said with such finality. “If that is all you wished to discuss, then I must be going. As you can tell, I must continue preparing my realm for the loss of-”
“Sit down, brother,” Desire was suddenly standing before him, golden eyes and smooth voice forcing Dream to sit as if the desire was Dream’s own. “We did not call you on a whim.”
“There is nothing to discuss,” Dream huffed, his body sagging, the fight already gone from him. It had been far too stressful a day for him, his nerves trying to speak to Lyta Hall and now this. “There is nothing to be done and nothing to discuss. The Dreaming will perish and I with it. Daniel Hall will have to repair what is left. My Fate is written in our brother’s book.”
The others all turned to Destiny, desperate for an answer, but Destiny had none to give. At least, he had not the comfort to give them. He, too, had come to accept the fate of his younger brother.
“Destiny, please,” Death tried. “Look in your book. Turn the pages. Look ahead-”
“It does not work that way, my sister,” Destiny corrected her with the weight of an older siblings that had had to repeat himself far too many times. “I cannot turn the pages. But our brother is right. His Destiny has been written in my book and he has been preparing himself for his coming time.”
“But we know this time,” Desire tried, but even the flirt in their voice wavered. “We did not know with my twin, but we know now.”
“That will not make a difference, my sibling,” Despair was the one to voice. “Our knowledge has not changed the words. They have not changed him.”
“He has cracked,” Delirium hummed. “Right in his heart. Big old cracks. They can’t be fixed. He can’t go. He can’t go. So he must go. Far away. Far, far away. Gone and gone and gone. Will I cry? I think I’ll cry. I’ll cry for you, my brother. I love you.”
“And I you, my sister,” Dream told her.
Desire’s gaze snapped to Dream, where their brother had put his hand on top of the packet of words that spoke of a truth in tales. His future had been written twice, it seemed. Once within his brother’s book, and now by his Great Grand-Niece.
There were some things even Desires could not obtain, and Dream let his siblings bury their face in his lap, gripping the ends of his robe as they processed this one Desire they could not obtain. He knew they would need a moment as they trembled, and Dream allowed himself to comfort Despair, running a hand through her hair with a delicateness that he had once known but long forgotten. A love that Rose and Jed had reawoken within him.
“I must get back to work,” Dream stood once more as Desire pulled back. He grabbed the tale Rose had written, moving past his siblings with one last goodbye, allowing Death to wrap him in an embrace. “Pardon me, my siblings, I did not wish for you to find out this way.”
“But you wouldn’t tell us,” Delirium whispered, causing Dream to stop. “You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. You would go. You would die. You wouldn’t tell. You wouldn’t tell. You wouldn’t tell.”
“No,” Dream admitted. “I would not have told you. Perhaps it would have been better had I never spoken of it. But I have much to prepare, and I must go. Good day, my siblings.”
“We’re just going to let him die?!” Desire wailed as Dream left them, fury rising inside them.
“I don’t believe we have a choice, my twin,” Despair tried to soothe, though unable to do so. “It was written in our brother’s book.”
“You cannot be serious? Death! My dear sister! Do something !”
“There is nothing I can do, my sibling<’ Death shook her head, smile nowhere to be seen. “Dream has decided his fate.”
“He’s not okay,” Delirium cut off whatever Desire was going to shriek next, her voice soft, almost a whisper except that it was an octave too high. “He’s sad, and something is wrong. He’s not okay. He’s got cracks. So many cracks. I don’t think my brother is okay, Desire.”
“No, baby sister, he is most definitely not okay,” Desire agreed, for once unbothered by their sister’s insane musing. “The idiot. ”
Death and Destiny remained silent. One in her mourning of what was to come, the other only focused on his book. Reading the words before him. For Destiny could only see the present moment, yet as he was born of time, the present moment was what it needed to be.
The present moment was his brother’s fate, and the words…
The words were blurred. Indecisive.
How strange?