[POV: You were born a Dream vortex, and Lord Morpheus has been watching you all your life. You meet, finally. What will your story be? Part 2. Part 1 here.
(This is quite long, and I could’ve made two posts. But to me this section feels like its own whole part/mini-arc, and I didn’t want to break it up. Anyway, please be warned, VERY DISTURBING THINGS! TW: Ra*e, child abuse, graphic violence.)]
I am sixteen, and the palace is no longer my home. I am to be wedded tonight. Then I will go away with my husband to his kingdom.
My father had certain requirements for my groom. A King, not a Prince. Rich. Powerful, but not powerful enough to attack and overcome us. His kingdom not so near that they could start encroaching on our borders when we are not looking, but not so far that we cannot keep an eye on them or take quick action. Then there was the question of dowry amounts.
Nobody asked me what I wanted.
As the old lady promised, they did start looking soon, and the first King passed all the requirements to reach the final stage two years ago. What he did not know, what nobody knew was this: I was prepared. Not to marry him or ‘please’ him (which I still did not fully understand even after staring at a book full of illustrations that the old lady gave me, it disgusted me and scared me more). As I left both my girlhood and my Dream Lord behind, as I realized I did not have anyone but myself on my side anymore, slowly the idea, the determination took shape in me: I would take matters into my own hands. I was not ready to go anywhere, let a King do anything to me. So, I was going to deter him. And I had a plan.
Something happened when I had been visiting the Dreaming regularly, something I learned. I was telling the Dream Lord about wanting stories, and ashamed, I confessed I was too stupid to read. He shook his head. ‘You are not stupid. It is a disease that humans do not have a name for yet.’ He was the first one not to blame me for lying about this, and I was still stunned when he hesitated before adding, ‘If it is stories you want, dreams are the purest of them, and you can explore. But be very, very cautious.’ He looked regretful afterwards, like he should not have told me this. But he made me remember that I could visit other people’s dreams, and realize that it didn’t have to be only people I knew of. After that, I tried to find the richest stories, the most vivid imaginations, and I could be in them and know them. I learned to navigate dreams I did not dream up. It is a skill I practiced and honed over the years.
So, the King who wanted to marry me- even from thousands of miles apart, I found his dreams. And then I tried something I had never tried before. I tried turning them into nightmares.
I started easy. Walking around his dream, I touched a horse and imagined it to be a monster- gray, skeletal, sharp teeth. It became so. I touched a tree and made it die. I touched a beautiful woman, a courtesan- and all her teeth fell off as she laughed hysterically. In my mind I felt a leash, and I wrapped it around everything: nothing must escape my control, nothing must slip away to anywhere else, all of it must obey me.
And they did. Night after night, the King woke up gasping, and screaming, scared, bewildered- the nightmare assaults not so vast that things became too unstable for me handle, but relentless and consistent. He did not see me at first, but not showing yourself needs focus and one night, trying to control too many elements, I lost it. The King saw me, and he shouted at me, ‘Who are you? Who are you?’ He must have been shown my portrait, but my face would be covered, only my eyes would show. He would not know me here. ‘Do not marry the Princess’, I told him. ‘Do not marry her, and all this will stop.’
‘I cannot refuse.’, the King panted, ‘I cannot offend her father. I am on the verge of promising-‘
‘You will never sleep again!’, I screamed, things turning even darker around us, and tonight I struggled to focus and keep it all gathered, ‘What you will face in your sleep is worse than any war!’
Desperate, I started pulling in his deepest, darkest fears, beckoning nightmares I did not even know I could, and he gasped, ‘Okay! Okay! I will not marry her!’
Afterwards, I collapsed, exhausted, and I heard his voice- the Dream Lord. I had not seen him in a long while. I had felt him watching me. I ignored it. But that night he was there. He stood behind me.
‘These elements’, he said, voice stern, ‘Are not for a human to control. I am the shaper of forms. You are not equipped to-‘
‘Why can I do it, then?’ still catching my breath, I snapped. ‘If I’m not meant to, why do I have these powers?’
He was silent. I think he did not have the answer. I stood up, turned around.
Seeing him hurt. I had missed him so much. Everything that happened every day, I used to note down in my mind- this, this, and this I will tell him the next time I see him, and share this thought, and ask this question, and ask him to show me this- all that stopped in the space of one night, and I had since felt the empty space- the habitual noting down only to realize there was no point anymore- and it always throbbed with pain.
But I was grown, and I was strong. I did not beg for friendship. So I had kept my promise, and never tried to find him again.
Now, he spoke no words for a while, letting me breathe. Then he said, ‘If you become an active threat to my realm, I am bound to take action.’
‘What action?’, I challenged, ‘What will you do?’
He did not answer, and I remembered- ruling is killing. Just like my father, he was a King, and just like my father, when someone jeopardized his kingdom, he eliminated them. It was perhaps very dim of me, but I had never thought of this before. But as soon as I did now, it seemed obvious. Of course.
He had been watching me only to one day perhaps kill me. He had never been my friend. He told me this more than once, and I tried to accept it, but this was the first time I truly believed it. And I felt alone, deeply alone, all over again.
He saw the understanding and the pain dawn on my face, and I might be wrong, but I thought he lowered his eyes for a fraction of a moment in- what? Regret? Shame? Sorrow? I did not know, but he recomposed himself, and said, ‘Do not try this again. I-‘, in this momentary pause, his eyes met mine, and I suddenly, stupidly, remembered the ocean and his smile, and how it made me feel, ‘I do not wish to harm you. But if-‘
‘I will’, I told him the truth. ‘My father will find someone else for me again soon enough, and this is what I plan to do to them as well. And I can, I can do this. I can keep control.’
‘We cannot be sure about this. The risk—’
‘Kill me, then!’, anger flared in me, anger, frustration, and something beyond that I could not name. Why couldn’t he be my friend? Why couldn’t he be on my side? Why couldn’t anything be fair, ever?
I walked up to him. My body had grown since I saw him last, and now came up to his chest. Standing close, I challenged him, ‘If everything I do is such a risk, kill me right now, Dream Lord! For the first time in my life, I am trying to be strong, I am learning to survive, like you told me to! I cannot take everything they do to me quietly anymore. I would fight, and you have to kill me to stop me.’
The Dream Lord was still, looking at my face. His eyes looked like a storm coming, his lips pressed together rigidly. My words had been defiant. I felt angry, exhausted, and hurt. The one I thought friend, spent my happiest hours with, he shoves me away, then I see him after so long, and what he does then is threaten to take my life? So be it, then. Let him. But then I was afraid, deeply afraid. I had seen the Dream Lord’s power before, saw how he could unmake creatures into powder and mist with one movement of his hand. He could kill me, he could. And me- after everything was said and everything was done, I wanted to clutch onto my life. I was human, and I wanted to live more. I did not want to die.
I fled. I could leave dreams at will now, so I closed my eyes and willed myself awake.
It would not have been hard for the Dream Lord to find me in sleep and dreams that I had afterwards, though. But he never did. I wondered why. He had been right in saying that I was not perfect at controlling dreams, and if what he had told me about vortexes was true, I was dangerous. Yet he did not come after me. Did he not have to yet, my thought occurred, or did he not want to?
The King whom I scared, true to his words, refused to marry me. My father was furious. He did not declare war only because he did not want to spend the money just then, but it was a thought for later. I breathed a sigh of relief, and I felt powerful. They all thought I was pathetic, but I was not. I could do something for myself.
Eight months later, another King was lined up, and I went to work again. Or rather, I went to sleep. This time, it was easier. This King had terrible things in his past, things he regretted, things he was afraid of. All of it was served up in his sleep for the Dream Lord’s little nightmares just waiting to find him, and I only had to be there to guide them. But they would have found him anyway. I did not have to tell this King not to marry me because he went mad. I felt a little bad, but not very much. And I did not see the Dream Lord. Perhaps what I did this time was too small to register effects on the Dreaming.
My father was worried now. I was growing too old. So when he found a third King willing to marry me- which took some time- he did not pay heed to the reputation he had. This King was not known to be good or just or particularly capable. But he had riches to offer as dowry, and that was good enough for my father.
I received the news of my impending marriage calmly. Things would be progressed with haste this time, before this wedding too could be cancelled. Already the maids and companions in the inner halls murmured about me- a girl who got her marriage called off twice was as good as a pariah. I was not shunned only because I was the Princess. ‘Pray, girl’, the old lady spat at me, ‘You must be married this time.’
I had no intention of letting such a thing happen. So I went to sleep prepared- I would end this before it ever began.
The first thing I heard was a little girl whimper.
The first thing I saw was the little girl’s thighs wide open.
Then I saw the King between them, forcing himself, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. And the pleasure intensified when the girl screamed in unbearable pain.
This was not a nightmare. This was a happy dream for the King.
And it was true. It had been true many, many times.
I ran. Faster than the girl’s scream, faster than sound, I travelled through fragments of dreams of millions of people- I did not know where I was going, I did not have any focus. I ran, flew, travelled until I couldn’t anymore, and I when I collapsed, spent, I was near the Dream Lord’s space in the Dreaming. Underneath the memories I tried to bury, my heart still remembered it as my happiest and safest place, and with my guard down, it ended me up here. He found me shaking, arms around my knees, cheeks wet with tears.
He did not ask me anything. He always watched me, he knew what I saw.
‘H-how could he not feel it?’, I sobbed. I had been beckoning, working with, reshaping nightmares for a while now; worse than the worst things done and faced by Kings in their lifetimes- war and torture and murder and betrayal and cruelty- I had seen in mere nights. I had stepped on rivers of blood, smelled the graying tongues and decaying mouths of hanged men, touched the still-warm slit throat of a dear friend, heard heads of children cracking open. But every time what helped me shape nightmares, what made them be nightmares was guilt. Guilt and shame and regret and fear – deep underneath every terrible thing the Kings did and justified before the world, in their heart they knew those crimes would circle back to find them because they deserved it. But this one- this one did not have any of that. And that was what made me so deeply shaken and afraid. ‘How can he not feel anything?’ I could not stop sobbing, ‘Any guilt, or regret- even deep as I explored? How can he not have a conscience?’, the face of that little girl, the fear and pain- it was plastered inside my eyelids.
In the green meadow, on the wooden tree-branch bench, the Dream Lord sat down beside me. ‘All humans are…’, his voice was heavy, ‘Not.’
I looked at him. A grey melancholy wrapped around him, and it was pulpable through even my own grief. ‘How can he have these dreams in your realm?’, I demanded, ‘How can you allow it?’
‘Human affairs are to be left to humans. To intervene in creatures’ dreams is not my function.’, he still sounded sad, but there was no uncertainty in his answer, ‘It is to contain them.’, he sighed, and looked at me. ‘Even my nightmares cannot defeat this man. You cannot make him a mirror, Princess. He would not see what he should. He will have his judgement in Hell. But until then, he is free.’
‘What should I do, then?’, I asked the Dream Lord, helpless.
He stood up, ‘Go back.’
‘Go back? And, and-‘, the end of the thought was incomprehensible, ‘Marry that man? That is what you want?’
‘What I want or do not want is immaterial.’, he did not look at me, and his voice was even deeper than it always was- as if it was keeping something buried-, ‘I have my duties, and I shall have to fulfill them.’
I opened my mouth- to cry out, protest, scream, be sick- I did not know which. But before I could, he banished me away with a swipe of his hand.
I did not try to find the King again for a while. I tried to think up other plans- impossible, fantastical. I would run away (I had never truly set foot outside the palace, and did not know how to survive there; and then, who was to say other men like the King would not capture me?), I would stab the King in the wedding night (they would hang me, and wage war on our kingdom, thousands of innocents would die), I would beg my father for mercy (this was the most futile of these thoughts- mercy was not something my father had.)
No other way. No escape. So I spoke brave words to myself, tried to harden my resolve to stone, and entered the King’s dreams again. I was powerful, wasn’t I? I could be powerful enough. I could defeat the King. I could make him see and feel what he deserved.
I could not. I was affected by his dreams- not just the infliction of violence on the helpless, but the utter remorselessness of it. It diminished my power. Things would not remain in my control; the elements would not obey me. The King was strong in his subconscious. In his staunch belief that he should not suffer, he did not. Desperate, I called on nightmares, strong, and they came- not of my making, but the Dream Lord’s- they came from others’ dreams, from everywhere in the world, and they brought fragments of those dreams with them. I tried not to let them loose at once, but I could not control them, and it all started to slip and swirl and blur and whirl and-
‘Enough!’, the Dream Lord was here again, and he shouted at me, ‘Stop! Stop now!’ I thought I couldn’t, but I just could, at the edge, and now that he was here, he could exert his authority over his creatures as well. We sensed each other’s energy, each other’s aura of power, different but similar, and I pulled in my rein, as tight as I could, while he banished the volatility, sending back the stray Dreams and Nightmares. ‘Wake up!’, he said, ‘You are making the realm unstable at this state. You need to wake up!’
I did, but I thought I didn’t, because the Dream Lord was still here- in my palace, in my room. I blinked, I shook my head, but he did not disappear. For the first time ever, he was with me, physically, here, in the real world. His cloak looked different- still long and black but made and worn in the style men in our kingdom wore them. His ruby hung on a chain designed with the kind of flourish you would expect in the palace.
‘I warned you.’, he said standing by me bed, thunder in his voice, ‘Yet you tried to shape dreams you had no business shaping, futile and reckless-‘
‘I had to try’, I whispered, a deep sorrow wrapping around me. I had lost this time. There was no way left now.
Quietly but visibly, the Dream Lord exhaled, ‘This shall be your last warning. I cannot have another close call like this. Try such a thing again, and I shall end this.’
‘End me, you mean.’, I could not even manage to feel anything about it at that moment. I was so defeated.
His eyes closed for a fraction of a moment, ‘Yes.’
Not in the liquid world of dreams, but here in the calm of the solid world, I met his deep blue ocean eyes, and things I had tried not to think of, learned not to think of came rushing back to me. Me at four, looking, yearning for these eyes in the waking hours, me at seven, holding his hand, looking up, ‘You are my friend, aren’t you?’ and him saying no, he had never said anything but no, but he comforted me when I sobbed on his shoulder, he let me be in his company, he listened to me even when it looked like he didn’t- I knew because he would ask related questions months later, surprising me- he showed me the things and places he designed, and sometimes he even talked to me- and never like I was a child- as much as he called me a child, he never talked to me like I would not understand. He would never admit it, and I would never ask him to again, but despite himself, he had been the only friend I ever had.
I did not know what he saw in my face as I looked at him, remembering, regretting, but his eyes flickered, muscles around his mouth moving only the slightest. Then he said, slowly, almost haltingly, ‘If you died in your sleep…’, he paused before finishing, ‘your soul would be released in the Dreaming. You could stay there afterwards.’
And then he was looking at me like it meant very much- what he said, this offer- and almost relieved, or even hopeful, that this solved everything, this was a way. And I felt things inside me slowly harden. Maybe it would have meant the world to me too- when I was younger, and begged him to claim me, keep me with him in the Dreaming, when I did not even know or understand death or dying very clearly. Maybe I still did not, but what I really did not know was living.
‘So I marry a monster, or I die. I do not get to live. Never.’
He did not say anything, he did not have an answer for me.
‘And having me go on as a ghost is your kindness for me.’
‘I can only offer what is within my power.’, he sounded strained, like I didn’t understand, but he was the one who did not understand.
‘You only offer what is easy for you.’, I said, feeling strangely calm.
‘Easy?’, his voice shook slightly and his eyes flared, ‘You think.’, he enunciated every word, deep and cutting, ‘Having to kill y- a creature is easy?’
‘It must be easier than finding a way around it. Tell me Dream Lord, have you ever tried that? You must have access to all the knowledge in the world. Have you researched, travelled, asked questions, tried to find out if it was possible to resolve the threat of a Dream vortex any other way, if it was even possible to join their power with yours, to train, control, harness it? Maybe not, maybe killing them is the only way, but have you tried any other? You have known me all these years. You haven’t even asked me a single thing about any of this, ever. You know what you know, or what you think you know, and you do what you do- eliminate vortexes. One human life to save the universe. One choice that is easy.’
I could see him affected by my words- usually so stoic, he was visibly breathing now, his lips slightly parted.
‘Thank you for your offer, Dream Lord, but I do not accept.’, I was sitting up on my bed, I lied back down. ‘Kill me when you have to’, I turned away, my back to his, ‘And forget me afterwards. If I was never worth saving here, I do not want to be saved after I die.’
I could still feel his presence, the weight and energy of it, heavy and raw and not calm but crackling, but then he was gone, leaving behind only his parting words, ‘Every living thing everywhere is dependent upon the Dream choices you make. It is not just you who could die. Remember that.’
The next day, my father called me to his chamber. He was a man of few words, and he did not waste time with formality or delicacy with me. ‘Certain information has come to my attention.’ he told me. ‘The Kings who refused your hand at last moments- they had nightmares. Their physicians were consulted, that is how I know’
Of course my father had physicians of foreign Kings on his payroll. He likes to strike when they are the weakest. Example: an older king about to die, princes vying for their place- this is when you drive your wedge.
‘I do not like coincidences.’, my father continued, ‘So I arranged for receiving updates from the physician of your betrothed. And he mentioned the King had not been having restful sleep like he used to.’ He leaned in and looked at me, ‘Explain this.’
‘M-me?’, I sounded guilty even to myself, and my father was not fooled. I knew how I looked- sallow cheeks, dark circles under my eyes, hair hanging limply, hunched. I looked like a witch, and that was what he thought me.
‘My own daughter, when we have been stoning and burning witches in this kingdom under my rule…’, he looked stunned, ‘Where did you learn it? The Dark Arts? Who taught you? When?’
‘Nobody! I don’t know anything, father! I swear!’
He pressed the inner corners of his eyes with his fingertips. ‘Perhaps I should have exiled you to a farming family as soon as your mother died, remarried. I could have more children, useful children. But her father would not-‘, he stopped, ‘No matter. I do not have time for this. But this stops now.’
His eyes burned as he locked his gaze with mine, ‘Whatever you think you can do, giving people nightmares or whatnot, know that you are no match for the mages I can call upon. They will do what they need to do- exorcise you, wash or burn away the dark magic from you, and I would arrange for that right now, except I need this allyship with your betrothed King. I need this business, and also I need this marriage to happen, because already the people are talking about the King’s unmarried daughter.’ His face twisted in disgust at the words. He took a deep breath, ‘You will marry him, and you will stop your unholy practices that are damaging your senses and judgement- targeting perfectly good kings who were willing to marry you! I-‘, he looked like he could not believe anyone would be so utterly unreasonable, then composed himself, ‘I do want you married and a queen, but if your missteps cannot be controlled, I will not hesitate to make an example out of you, be you my own daughter or not.’
I could not find a single word to say. I could not find a single way to stop this. And this is why I am standing here right now, in my wedding outfit that is so colorful and festive, ready to give my hand to the King that everyone sees and the monster that I know him to be. Perhaps I should cry. But I do not. If trying was futile, crying now is even more so.
_________________________________________
The wedding procession was large. The ceremony was solemn. The celebration was boisterous. The travel to the new kingdom was long. But three days later, all of it is done, and I am in my new bedchamber in a new palace, and I am being torn open.
Finally free of his alcohol haze and alone with his bride, my husband the King wants the pleasure that he thinks is due to him, and he is extremely vexed to find me neither demure nor obedient. I scream wordlessly, tears wetting my face, as he enters me without any restraint, applying all the force he has. He is not satisfied- I am too old for his taste. Not only that, I thrash about, inconveniencing him- I am not small enough for him to press down and fully keep under control with his body. His dark eyes crinkle in annoyance, and he flips me over. Then he enters me from behind, and from the pain- pain like which I never knew could exist- I slip into unconsciousness. But he does not stop.
I sob.
I bleed.
I scream into pillows until my throat is raw and my voice is broken.
I choke on my own tears.
My husband is disgusted with me. Before a month passes, he leaves me alone. He does not come to my chamber anymore. And I know he has found other girls, little girls, to keep him satisfied. That almost makes me go find him, beg him to come back, do whatever he wants to do to me. But I am craven, and I am weak. All my resolve and all my fight that I had before feel like fairytales. I do not even make dreamscapes anymore- awake or asleep, I just let my mind wander in a shapeless, meaningless gray. Sometimes I think I hear a voice- resonating, familiar- ‘Not now’. ‘But my Lord, this piece needs attending-‘, ‘Not now, Lucien!’- but none of it means anything to me.
I am just starting to breathe, just starting to find the tiniest fragment of myself again, when it really begins- the end. The King leaves for a war. And my son comes home from hunting.
My ‘son’ is my stepson from the King’s previous Queen. He is older than me, and as soon as he lays eyes on me, his mouth curves into a smile that makes my blood run cold. ‘Lovely to make your acquaintance, mother.’, he bows, mocking, ‘My father left me behind to watch over the Kingdom. That includes his Queen, doesn’t it? Don’t worry, I will-‘, he leans in, his hot breath in my ears, ‘take care of you.’
He comes at night. It begins, and it is relentless. My husband was old, and there were limits to how long he could last. My stepson does not seem to have any concept of any limit, and he enjoys inflicting pain as much as his father does, if not more so.
‘Listen, mommy’, he spits as he enters me, yet again, panting, ‘I have it all planned out. I have my people in place. I have the weapons stored and the attacks ready. My father will not come back to find his throne again. He will be banished in the dungeons, if he is lucky enough to survive the bloodbath.’, it makes him laugh, the thought of the blood and death, ‘So you might as well be my whore now. And-‘, he drives into me more forcefully, making me whimper in excruciating pain, ‘I am not afraid of your father. I will make that kingdom mine too, just you watch-‘, he puts his hands on my throat, and starts pressing on with his fingers, ‘if you are still living then, that is.’, I can’t breathe, and watching my blue face and gasping lips brings him to climax. For me, everything goes dark.
The Prince was not lying about his influence because I am unprotected and helpless. My maids part ways for him, guards who were meant for me give him access, chamberlains and servants turn blind eyes. He keeps coming back, and no one stops him.
Once I am able to form thoughts, make decisions that feel conscious, I think of fighting back again. Find his dreams, do things I could… but I cannot sleep, and always I am in pain. Unfocused and weak, even in the hours of fitful sleep I have, nothing in dreams makes sense anymore.
I try clawing at him with my nails. Biting on his ear. Kicking him. But I am not strong enough. He enjoys it, the challenge, my final helpless submission.
But I have to be, I have to strong enough, survive, and tonight, I wait. I wait until he is on top of me and not looking. Then my hand wraps around the small but heavy vase I hid behind the pillow, and I break it on his head.
Stupid, stupid useless me, the blow should have had more force. He is hurt, he rolls away, staggers up, but he is not dead. He is furious. He is shaking, but it is a calm fury. ‘You bitch!’, he hisses, ‘I wanted to spare you. But I need not bother.’
I try to run, but he catches me, half- choking me to unconsciousness. In the few dark minutes, I am floating, painless, in a gray haze, and suddenly I feel eyes on me- does that not feel familiar, this feeling? But who, what- I have no thoughts, no anything, and I awake, finding myself tied to the bed. The Prince is waiting, barely controlling his rage, and with his knife, he makes a long, slow, slanting slit on my skin. Then he makes another. Another. And another, the cuts getting deeper. Every tiniest fraction of the knife drag is agony beyond measure. My blood soaks the bed. I can feel the Prince panting, he loves doing this. And then he picks up a candle. He will burn me, he will burn every bit of my skin and then the whole of me.
With the very last of my strength, I writhe. He left the knife. If only I could free one hand, if only-
My scream is so loud and air-shattering I am sure everyone will run into here right now, the whole palace, but no one comes, no one comes to save me, and I do not exist anymore, I am agony, pure agony as the Prince holds the candle under my feet. I can smell burning skin and flesh, and I jerk so violently- yes!, my hand, it is free, the knife-
But it slips from my hand, and he has seen me. I pick it up and throw it towards him, and it leaves a slash on his cheek as it flies past. He cries out, and there is no control now, he cannot control his rage. Putting down the candle, he grabs my wrist, and I hear the crack as he breaks it. Then he shoves my head in the bedpost, and I am- what, what is- no thoughts, nothing, only pain, and he is hitting me, all over, I cannot breathe, something wet and salty in my throat, in my mouth, choking me- blood, and he picks up the candle again, his face of a monster, and I see the flame coming closer to my face, my hair- and he will set me on fire, now, this, this is the end, my life-
Then there is a golden haze over my face, but it is not from the candle, it is fine and powdery, and it is sand.
I sob with relief at the sudden painlessness. I am here again, endless gray haze- am I dead?
But I see the Dream Lord. And I see the Prince too. The Prince looks confused, looking around. And the Dream Lord- I have seen so many terrible things, but I have never seen anything so terrible as him at this moment. Fury is etched on every smallest line of his face, his eyes burn like blue wildfire, he feels like deep and frozen and ancient violence wrapped in the barest human form. Wordlessly, he waves his hands, and monsters come out from the dark- such monsters I cannot describe, and he sets them upon the Prince. I can see them latching on, starts feeding on him as he is lost under them, screaming in agony, disintegrating, and I cannot watch anymore, I cannot bear any more violence- but then the Dream Lord touches ny forehead, gentle, and as I slip away, I hear him murmur, ‘Sleep, Princess. Sleep, and do not Dream.’
Time passes. I have no sense of it. I am lost in an endless fog of pain that is punctured by moments I find incomprehensible. People screaming, murmuring words, ‘-discreet’, dialogues, 'My, my, sweet sibing, what is this that I hear of you intervening with the human world, such days!- ' and I do not know where they come from. People taking care of my body, wrapping me in clean bandages, trying to give me food- I don’t feel most things, and I don’t know how to think anymore. Often I see the Dream Lord by my bedside, and is that here or in the Dreaming? Am I awake or am I asleep? I can make no difference. He sits quiet, watching me. Once I think I feel his fingers lightly touch my forehead, but then everything is shimmery and gone, and maybe he is not here, maybe he was never here, it was all me in my own feverish delusions.
Slowly, things come into focus. My thoughts start making sense. It has been a month. The Prince was found unconscious in my bed chamber, he remained so for days. Since coming awake, he is deranged. He screams in terror at invisible things at all hours and is kept locked up.
I am a prisoner as well, though that is handled more delicately. With the King and his most important envoys gone on a war, and the man who was meant to be in charge suddenly insane- his people and plans bewildered and scattered- no one quite knows what to do with me or this situation. Ministers the King left behind must have decided on this- try to heal me, have me as the King left me, but keep me ready for the King’s judgement. No one yet knows which way the blame will fall, but I am sure it won’t be long before they do. Messengers must have been dispatched.
Within a month, they know, and I know, for I am thrown into the dungeon, all niceties and secrecy about my imprisonment over. The King will return from the war, I am told, and judge my trial. What they do not say is may be he will not return, the war will be lost, and this palace will burn, and I with it.
Eight months later, the war is won, and the King is back.
It is cold here. It is dark. But I am left alone, and nobody touches me. I am at peace.
My body heals slowly. I can think again. So I think.
I am informed that I will have a public hearing tomorrow. The guards are excited, murmuring. The Queen- yes, I am still the Queen of this kingdom after all- having a public trial! Bare faced, in front of alll the men! It will be a spectacle. I do not doubt this is the intention. Absorbing another kingdom, the King is more powerful than my father now. He means to offend him, he means to provoke, he means to go to war again.
The day is cloudy, still I cannot open my eyes fully. I have not seen the sun for so long. And I have not slept for three days and three nights. Whenever sleep tried to pull me under, I pinched myself, slapped myself, stood up, walked. I did not sleep.
The courtyard is filled with people of all ages, and I can feel the pulpable anticipation of high drama. The King sits on a high throne, two of his most trusted ministers beside him. I am not shackled, but I am held tight by guards.
The charges against me are read out loud. I am a witch, a practitioner of unholy satanic magic. I lured the Prince to my bedchamber, and I drove him insane. I meant to capture the kingdom in the King’s absence.
‘What do you have to say for yourself?’, the King asks me. His face is an image of impatient fury. He would burn me, and he would rather do it sooner than later.
‘I admit to being a witch.’, I say, my voice sure and clear. ‘I did not lure your son to me, he came to me, he forced himself upon me repeatedly, he tried to kill me. And he was conspiring against you.’
Every sentence I speak elicits gasps from the audience, and at the end, the crowd breaks out in loud murmurs. Order is not restored. The King stands up. ‘You-‘, he is stunned, and he is even angrier now, and yes, yes, I too would do this sooner rather than later.
So I close my eyes, and I take a deep breath, and I feel the wave of exhaustion- so tired, so sleepy, and right this moment, I am not quite asleep, but not quite awake. I can access the Dreaming, and I can still be here. When I open my eyes again, a little girl is standing near the king. She is naked, bleeding from between her thighs, and her mouth is twisted in a silent scream.
The minister to the King’s right jerks violently, his face going white. ‘M-m’, he cannot finish his sentence.
‘He was your friend, the King, when he was a prince, wasn’t he? And this is what he did to your daughter. He told you it was a soldier at the border who stole her away? It was him.’
‘Witch!’, the King shouts, ‘Black magic! Do not believe a word she says!’
But blinking, not falling asleep but not awake, I pull in more and more of them, from the Dreaming, these images of the girls the King hurt, bloody and twisting in pain, and the guards back away from me, and the crowd too, and there is gasping as members of the court recognize some of the children, and darting eyes as others who knew, who helped, are faced with the reflections of what he did with them.
‘H-hang her!’, the King shouts again, ‘Burn her! She is-’
But no one will come near me, and I walk slowly towards the King, and images of the girls, I make them walk behind me. Good thing these are just images from the Dreaming- no soul, I would never have done this to their soul.
‘Yes’, I say, ‘I am a witch. And I will capture this Kingdom. But I will not end you. Your people will.’ I face the crowd, with my army of images.
‘I am not lying’, I make sure I do not sound drowsy, make sure everyone hears every word, ‘This is your King, and this is what he does to your children. And you- he has been spending on wars, but who gets the riches of it? Do you have food on your table? Do you have a roof over your head? Are you not worked relentlessly by the lords in his favor, only to earn mere pennies, and are you not whipped when you demand more? Do you not freeze in winter? What do you gain, by being loyal to this king here?’
I learned about this kingdom as much as I could before marriage, and I can see in the crowd’s faces that the truth has not changed.
I let go of the girls’ images, and all of them disappear at once. ‘Follow me!’, I command, ‘You shall earn fair pay, you shall feed and clothe your children, and I shall protect you. And if you do not, well-‘, I raise my hands to the sky, ‘I am a witch after all.’
From the Dreaming, I pull in lightning, and thunder, and swirling darkness over my head, around me- none of it is real, all images, but it looks real, and I scream- ‘Follow me! End the king! NOW!’
The minister whose daughter the King hurt- he moves. He moves, and the King was not ready; all it takes is one stab of a knife and he falls down, clutching his throat, blood spurting out, eyes wide in disbelief. The other court members, the guards, the crowd watch this scene, speechless, and then there is a wave and with a sinking feeling I realize there will be a stampede- I have caused chaos, everyone is confused and scared, and this is no way to start a revolution, bring change- haphazard, ill-planned, messy. Maybe they will burn me right now-
But then, it rains gentle sand, and everyone, whoever it was, whatever they were doing, is asleep. All is still and quiet.
I am the only one awake, fully awake now, and the Dream Lord walks the real world, coming to stop before me.
He glances around, taking everything in for a moment, then looks at me. ‘This is what you have done.’
‘Yes.’, my voice trembles just slightly, ‘You watched me practice.’ I have not seen him since he saved me from the Prince, keeping aside when he was by my bedside- I am still not sure those times were not delusions. And I did not try to find him. But I knew he always watched, still.
‘I watched you manipulate single contained elements in the Dreaming. Had I known it was for this, for merging them with the waking world, I would not have allowed it for a mere second.’
‘Too late now, isn’t it?’, I say. I was careful hiding my plans from him- barely even a plan, since I did not know it would work. I deliberately had not slept the last three nights so he could not watch my unconscious. Moreover, I had felt I needed to be between dream and reality for my plan to work. ‘And it is fine. I-‘
‘It is not fine.’, his eyes flash, his voice is rough, ‘Look around you. You have caused chaos in the human world using material from the Dreaming. This is never, ever meant to happen-‘
‘But it did, and it will again if it needs to.’, I close the gap between us, going to stand near him so that I can look into his eyes. ‘I know I don’t have this situation as ideal, but it’s not because I could not control the dream elements. I could, and I can now. I practiced, I learned, I am better than ever before. You know.’
Nearly seventeen, I am tall now, and I almost come up to his chin. Never could I look at him this close before, and with his face pale as moonlight, hair black as the oldest darkness, eyes hard as twin jewels, jaw sharp as a knife, he is terrible, he is beautiful, he is endlessly other. And I see it now, I understand what I fully did not as a child- that he is not merely a Lord, the King of Dreams, but he is it. He is Dream, and he contains all of it- every time I travel through, merge myself in, pull from the Dreaming, it is him, all him. Dreams are sunken in my blood and bones, and so is he. And he may still kill me, but I am not afraid. I have had enough of being afraid.
‘I am a Queen,’, I tell him, dipping each word in determination as I say them, ‘and I shall be so. I will rule, and however bad it looks now, I will bring it all under control. But I will do it my way, and you will not stop me.’ I don’t take my eyes off his, he needs to understand I mean this, ‘I am better with my powers- abilities- and I will use them sparsely. I will not use them at all if I don’t have to. I don’t want the universe to end, everything to disappear,’, I pause, feeling the truth, ‘you to disappear. I will be careful. I can do this. Trust me.’ He watches me, intent, still. I breathe, ‘I am not a child anymore, Dream.’
For Dream, I have always been a problem that needed attention, and even when he has been kind to me, despite himself or on purpose, this truth has always been behind his eyes, this concern, and I felt it. But right now- when I have never perhaps been a bigger inconvenience, bigger problem for him- astoundingly, I do not feel it, for the first time. Dream's eyes are fiery, and I have not seen the sun for months, have not eaten a proper meal or had a proper bath in that time, and I am far from the well-groomed, rosy-cheeked, lush-haired Princess that I used to be, but those eyes look at me like they would look at beautiful things. What I think I hear behind the restraint in Dream's voice is pride.
‘No’, he murmurs. Lifting his hand, he touches my chin, feather-light with his fingers. ‘You are not.’
[Update: Part 3]
-------------------------------------------------------
Tag asks: @libra207, @asexualaromosafezone
