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Her fish always took her lots of fun places. It was such fun following her fish because she went to so many lovely places, and many lovely things happened. Sometimes bad things happened too, but she didn’t like to remember those times. The fun places were much better. Though she had a hard time remembering those, too.
Her fish was currently taking her to a very big house with lots and lots of people. The big house with lots and lots of people felt like it was hers, so she went there. Because that’s what she did. She followed her fish and went to the many many people that were hers. Sometimes they only brushed her realm, she thought. Not fully mad, but acting like it. Yes. That was it. These people weren’t hers at all, but they were acting like it.
Her fish was certainly taking her someplace fun. Full of loads and loads of fun. Maybe some bad things too, but she didn’t like to think of that. She couldn’t always remember the bad things. But she was going because her fish was leading and now she was in a big house, and she was in a basement and she had found something.
A big fish bowl. Water on the outside. Silly mortals. And inside was her brother.
Her brother.
Why was he in a fish bowl?
That was silly of him, and he always called her silly.
He was watching her, studying her with that blank, meanie face of his. He’d have more fun if he let himself feel. Loads more fun. She’d go over there right now and make him feel things. Yes. That’s it! She could do that!
She began to step forward.
And then she really felt her realm descend into madness in the big house with lots and lots of people.
—----------------------------------------------
He was trapped in a glass cage. A creation by his captors, meant to confine him and mock him all at once. For what was glass but sand in its true form. But with his powers bound the magic circle, Dream was well and truly trapped.
For years, his captors would bang on the glass, demanding that he give Roderick Burgess what he truly desired. His son. Immortality. Riches. None of which was Dream’s domain to give, and Dream often wondered how such an amatuer could think this of him. But the true binding that kept Dream ensnared was, in part, his pride, but the confinement by which he was trapped.
A glass cage with no holes.
The air had run out merely days after the cage’s construction. Dream was unable to verbally respond to his captors, despite their demand that he do so. There was no air to speak. No air to even make a sound. He was trapped in a mortal form without an ability to call for aid, even should he want to.
And by now, thirty years into his captivity with much happening around the world due to his absence, and his realm beginning to crumble, Dream truly wished he had the ability to call for aid.
But he could not.
His captors had ensured that.
So, when his baby sister walked into the basement, unseen by mortal eyes, Dream knew he had truly gone mad. Trapped as a mortal, he was going to lose his sanity and his realm and everything. She would not help him so long as he could not ask. It was not the way of the Endless to simply give aid.
So when she began to walk towards the seal that bound him…
Dream scrambled in his cage, moving to his knees, causing the guards to jolt to a stand, but succeeding in Dream’s true objective.
Stopping his idiot sister.
“Why are you in a fish bowl?” was her question as she stopped mere centimeters from the circle. “That doesn’t seem like you. That seems like me. At least. I think. It’s in my head that I would.”
Dream wanted to speak. To say something. To tell his sister to run and leave, or to beg her help. But he could not. He could not speak or do anything. Just moving as suddenly as he had caused the guards to summon Roderick Burgess, and now his sister was forced to watch as the man made demands and screamed his head off.
“He’s not quite mine yet,” Delirium said as Roderick ranted, unheard by the mortals around them. “But he’s almost there. I’m sorry, my brother. He’s not mine yet.”
Dream slank back to lay down in the cage, once more trying to cover himself as best he could. Trying to convey with his eyes that he did not blame her for this. Delirium did not necessarily control her realm, but simply moved about it. Sometimes adding to the chaos or sometimes just watching. Sometimes starting chaos within the chaos.
But Delirium had once been Delight, and it hurt Dream to see that joy gone from his sister. Even in her insanity, she loved to smile, and now that smile was gone. Due to him. To the state of him.
Eventually, Roderick Burgess and his cult left, and Dream was sat there. Waiting.
His sister did not leave.
She was once more far too close to the circle, and Dream remained in his coiled position on the ground, watching her from the corner of his eyes as she swayed in place.
Delirium fell to the ground quite suddenly, and it took every muscle and ounce of self-restraint in Dream’s body not to jolt again. She looked upset as she stared at him, and she rolled over onto her back so she could look at him upside down.
“If I go, I won’t come back,” Delirium was staying. “If I stay then breathless it shall be. But lonely, lonely, lonely. Not lonely. I am here. I am here.”
Dream let her ramble, allowing the sound of his sister’s voice to wash over him. Never before had he wished so dearly to save his sister from the agony in her voice. He used to find her cheerfulness as an annoyance. A burden, perhaps, but even in her distressed ramble, he took comfort in the sound of his sibling near. He let his eyes close, let his own thoughts drift as they tended to do now.
To his past. To his actions. His lovers, his son, his creations, his subjects.
His siblings.
Sometimes he thought of his parents, Time and Night, but neither had truly ever been there for him, and when they were, it was always with criticism. He had few, if any, fond memories of them. But his siblings…
He regarded most of them with disdain, even Destruction he had held at arms length until he vanished. Leaving his realm for naught. It wasn’t until Destruction left that Dream realized he truly loved his brother more than himself.
His foolish pride had stopped him from realizing that.
Or, no…
That wasn’t it. Yes, he could remember, when they were all so much younger, a time when he had loved all his siblings so very dearly. They had all loved each other dearly, no threats or warnings. But then what had happened? What changed?
Well, obviously he had changed. His siblings had hardly changed from the last time.
Killala, he realized, was when Dream had begun to drift away from his siblings. Yes, perhaps Desire had manipulated Killala and Sto-Oa, but Dream had never been given proof of that. It was his assumption by their comment that night when he found Killala had not only chosen Sto-Oa over him, but that she had chosen to cheat on him that very night he introduced her to his family.
He held them with such disdain after that, he supposed. Cutting them off. Holding them away. Never letting them too close, and always picking fights.
And then he… accepted Despair’s challenge.
Oh, the fool he was. How prideful and arrogant. And he had won. Of course he had won the stupid little game. He never played the twins’ games lightly, and it was only that he knew Despair was still adjusting to her realm that led him to accept her game.
How cruel that had been, accepting a game he knew he would win. She had been so new to her role, everyone else had been on eggshells, treating her delicately. Fearing to lose her. Desire had been extra affectionate with their twin, and so when Despair, obviously yearning for that affection from Dream, tried to get it, Dream had scoffed and trampled over her like a bull over it’s taimer.
It was cruel of him.
Truly.
He’d have far too much time to think it over.
“Sing. And breathe. And Dancing. Dancing pigs. And dreamy Dream. Lovely dreamy Dream.”
Part of Dream, selfishly, wished his sister would stay by his side forever. Even if it would drive him mad. It would be no less than he deserved for how he had treated her.
—-------------------------------------------
Delirium did not leave. His baby sister spent much of her time wandering the basement, creating such odd things even his best creations could never compare to. Sometimes she would watch the guards mind, having them talk utter nonsense for his amusement. A few times she swam in the moat. Her company was welcome, by this time.
She had discovered that he could not breathe, could not speak, though it took Dream some time to come to that conclusion because she had never been a word smith, for all his sister was a magnificent imaginer, her thoughts were far to jumbled to verbalize, but she tried. Patiently. Waiting.
He adored her presence some days, but he could never stop the fear that gripped him whenever Roderick Burgess got close to her. His baby sister had suffered enough, she did not need to suffer more.
And then, one day, Jessamy found her way into the basement. Delirium was quite excited by this, as was Dream. For it was hope. If Jessamy could only break the circle or the glass, then perhaps he had a chance of escape, or perhaps a chance to call for aid. But Jessamy was not strong enough. She could not break the cage, and then Dream’s hope just… died. With two words…
“Uh oh.”
And with Jessamy. As her blood splattered all over his cage and he fell dead.
Jessamy had been across the circle, unreachable by Dream or Delirium when it happened. And Delirium, her poor mind so destroyed, could not warn Jessamy of the danger. Not in time.
For in the next minute, Jessamy was dead. Shot by Alexander Burgess.
And in that moment, Dream dropped his gaze, surrounded by glass, and mourned.
An act, he found, that summoned his other younger sister.
“Why have you entered my realm, sweet Dream,” Despair accused, standing outside the circle, hook pressed to her cheek. “Are you so prideful that you would let yourself enter my realm in such a state but dare not call me.”
“NO!” it was Delirium who protested, suddenly latching onto Despair, much to their sister’s surprise. “No. He can’t. He can’t. It’s glass. Not a goldfish bowl. Look. Sister. Look.”
“I am looking,” Despair sighed, though she was not looking at Dream, and she had some disdain for Delirium’s presence. “What more do you wish me to do?”
“Look!” Delirium stressed. “Look! His chest. His chest. His chest.”
Despair sighed again, hook moving to her hand, prepared to dig in as she looked to her brother, if only to shush their sister, but the hook stalled in its action before piercing flesh quite suddenly.
“Sweet Dream,” Despair breathed, growing horror in her voice. “Sweet Dream. My Sweet Dream, what has happened? Can you not speak, my brother?”
Dream glanced, slowly, to the guards, before shaking his head. Tiny. As much movement as he could manage without moving at all.
And now Jessamy was dead.
“She’s hurt, sister,” Delirium said, voice suddenly small. “Very hurt. I tried to help, but the circle.”
“Oh, my dear little sister,” Despair breathed, turning to see what Delirium had tucked to her chest over her too long coat. “What happened here?”
Dream had not been able to look at either of his sister’s properly since Jessamy. There was still blood on his cage. Mocking him. A stark reminder that his hope was gone. And what was he without hope. But now, with two of his sister’s in the room, he willed himself to look at them. Fully. Trying to comprehend what was…
Jessamy.
Alive. She was injured. Would probably never fly again if the wound on her wing was anything to go by. But now that Dream was looking, watching as Despair, who didn’t understand healing, tried to wrap Jessamy’s wing with Delirium’s shirt, he could see what had transpired.
His sister, so secretly clever as she was, had thrown her deliriums out so that everyone believed Jessamy was killed. She could not save Jessamy, but her simple cry of “Uh Oh” had alerted Jessamy to the danger, and she attempted to escape, getting shot in the wing as a result. So while everyone, including Dream, had believed Jessamy dead, Delirium had caught the bird in her coat and tried to stop the bleeding with a mind and body that thrumed and shook too much to be able to do so.
Dream curled on his side, contorting his body to cover himself and hide his face, and he wept. Relief. Hope.
“Do not worry, sweet dream,” Despair told him, “I will take her to better hands than mine.”
Dream nodded minutely this time, hoping his thanks was present in his face, in his eyes. But he was never very good at emotions, and he feared that she would take his expression the wrong way. But there was truly nothing he could do, however. No words would come past his lips, and he was aware even those had failed him in the past.
So he watched as Despair vanished, taking Jessamy with her. Leaving Delirium. Covered in blood.
Dream could not stop himself from thinking of the blood actually belonging to his baby sister. And as anyone knew, a being who fell into Despair’s realm did not so easily leave it. And Dream… Dream fell into a horrific despair as he stared at his baby sister covered in blood that was not her but could have been hers.
And he cried. Silent, muffled agonized wails so as not to alert the guards, unable to actually make sounds anyways due to the lack of air, but clearly catching Delirium’s attention.
In that moment, part of him wished she would claim him in her realm.
—--------------------------
Delirium had taken to driving the guards insane. Roderick Burgess was cycling through guards far faster as a result. He was infuriated about it, but the man had already stripped Dream of everything he could. There was nothing more he could take.
At least, that was what Dream believed.
“Oh no,” Delirium said one day as she swam in the moat around Dream’s cage, suddenly bolting upright from her rather perfect backstroke. “I gotta go, Dreamy. I’ll be back. I promise this time. I can do that!”
Just minutes later, Roderick Burgess returned, demanding Dream give him what he wanted because his mistress had vanished with Dream’s tools in tow.
And Dream felt such panic grip his chest as his baby sister had sprinted up the stairs so suddenly, and now his tools were gone. Far from his reach than they had ever been. The image of his baby sister covered in blood, her own blood, terrified him and he found himself spiraling back into his sister’s realm.
Despair answered his call immediately.
“Hush, my brother,” Despair tried to soothe where she knew not how. “Hush. Our little sister is fine. Trust me, my brother.”
Dream tried, he did, but despair’s realm was so crippling. Painful. Dream was no stranger, but heartbroken despair had nothing on this . Despair sat herself outside the circle, as close as she dared, hook forgotten. For Despair knew her realm well, and if the sight of Delirium covered in someone else’s blood was painful to her brother, then Despair causing herself pain would only mean Dream would spiral more.
“My twin,” Despair breathed, calling to her other half. “Please. Come to me.”
“I am here my twin,” Desire appeared without fail. “Though I know not why? Hello, Sweet Dream.”
Dream said nothing. He could not, but seeing Desire changed something in Dream. Not bad, either. Dream was not angry to see them here. In fact, Dream seemed glad. And Despair would like to think, that after these last few years, that she knew her brother well enough to tell the tiny expressions on his face for what they were.
For she had been observing him in his glass cage since she came to save Jessamy. Glass, like a mirror, allowed her to see. And see she did.
Dream was glad for her presence. Glad for Desire’s presence. Longed for Delirium to return.
“My twin, please,” Despair said, causing Desire to whip their head to her.
“What? You can’t truly pity him, can you? All he has to do is ask.”
“But he cannot ask, my twin,” Despair said, causing Desire to scoff in disbelief. “Look at him. Truly look. He has summoned me but cannot do anymore, my twin.”
Desire narrowed their eyes at Dream, studying him. Dream sat up, moving to sit in a sort of hunched ball so Desire could see him properly. Both Despair and Dream saw the moment it clicked for Desire.
“No…” Desire breathed. “No. The mortals are amateurs. How could they possibly-?”
“They did not know,” Despair shook her head. “They were amateurs, but they took advice from a stranger. Though I have not been able to find out who.”
“A stranger?” Desire murmured, crouching outside the circle. “Sweet Dream, you do not deserve this.”
This was said softly. Kindly. Gentler than their earlier taunts. Dream had obviously reached the conclusion that Desire and Despair had some hand in his fate long ago, but even this extent was beyond them. For Dream knew that the twins would take no greater pleasure than coming to their brother’s aid and putting him in his place. But without the ability to call, that wasn’t an option.
“Delirium was here, first,” Despair told them. “She remained with him, but something got her attention.”
“Oh?”
“I know not, my twin,” Despair shook her head. “I was watching over our brother from our realm. I saw her leave in a hurry, nothing more.”
“Her mind is quite strange,” Desire hummed, moving to stroke Despair’s hair.
Neither twin missed how Dream leaned towards the twin, as if yearning for the same. Desire and Despair froze. Dream seemed unaware of the action he had just done, simply watching them both as if he couldn’t believe they were there. Despair made sure to jab Desire with her hook, to which the other yelped.
“My twin, why?”
Despair gave Desire a look.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“You say that, my twin, but I know you. I know your smile. You cannot lie to me. It has been forty years, my twin, and he has suffered enough. There is no air. He cannot feel any touch but that of cold glass. He has been living in my realm for some time, and his souls has been made bear to me. Since Jessamy, he sees a repeating image of our little sister bleeding out as our older sister beckons her to the beyond, all while he is trapped. Do not mock him for this, my twin. Let him have this. Let him have his hope that he may be reunited with us again. I fear it may be the only thing that saves him.”
Desire said nothing, going back to stroking Despair’s hair with a gentleness they only ever gave their twin, but golden eyes locking with that of their older brother. Desire could see it, now. Her brother’s many Desires. To ask for aid. To save his realm. To be free of this prison. To seek revenge. To find his tools. To be by Jessamy’s side. To be clothed. To feel touch. To eat and drink. To speak.
To have his siblings near. To touch them. To hold them.
He desired them.
“Captivity has not been kind to you, dear brother,” and for once, Desire was actually sympathizing with him. “I wish you could ask.”
He wished he could too.
—-------------------------
The day Death came was the day everything just went wrong.
Desire had been present but even they were surprised when Alexander Burgess suddenly turned on his own father and killed him. An accident, of course, and Roderick Burgess was truly mad by this point. But just as Desire and Dream believed Alex wound free him , that all changed when a stupid member of the cult mentioned Alex’s now dead father.
“NO!” Desire seethed, half tempted to grab Alex by the face and force the boy to look into their eyes. To force the suddenly dwindling desire back to the surface.
But the Endless would not interfere unless asked. An unspoken rule between them.
Dream, naturally, fell back into Despair’s realm in time for Death to come see him. She, naturally, being the amazing older sister, saw the problem immediately.
“Oh, Dream,” she breathed, lifting her hand as if to press against the glass, but unable to pass the circle. “Little brother. What have they done to you?”
Dream pressed his hand to the glass but said nothing. He could not say anything, of course, but his face expressed every agony he felt in that moment. Dream had always been closest to Death, and right now, he yearned to be in her arms more than anything in the world.
He pressed his hand to the glass as if there weren’t barriers blocking them.
“I can’t stay,” she whispered, voice so heartbroken.
A few tears came to his eyes and he nodded her off. Hand lowering.
Death lingered, tears of her own falling.
“I love you.”
Dream locked eyes with her. Opened his mouth, seemed to choke.
“Tell me when you’re free,” Death told him, giving him her kindest smile. “Tell me then. I’ll listen.”
And that was that.
“Look after him when you can,” Death instructed the twins.
“We’re trying, sister dear,” Desire hummed. “We are trying."
Death nodded, gave her brother one last worried, but bright smile, and then she left for her next appointment.
—-------------------------
Neither Desire nor Despair could spend all their time in the basement. They would pop by when they could, and Despair would try to keep an eye on their brother, but they had their own realms to oversee.
Besides, they were trying to solve a mystery.
Who taught Roderick Burgess to confine an Endless?
Desire was quite peeved about it. The trap was meant to be simple, to get their brother to admit he would need their aid. That they were equals. But with Dream unable to voice said call, this entire thing was pointless.
And that angered Desire.
How had they not seen? Not noticed? Obviously someone had a vendetta against their dear brother and had taken advantage of Desire's trap. But who? They must of had some strong desire, so they must have been in their realm.
Who? Who had done this?
Desire wanted revenge. Desired it. This was their game and whoever had done this was going to pay.
"Oh my," Desire seethed, purring the words in amusement. "My oh my. Such a naughty little nightmare you have been."
The Corinthian.
How curious.
Well, if the Corinthian Desired the imprisonment of his master, then Desire would be sure he got exactly what he wanted. How darling . He would be begging by the end.
But if it had been a Desire that took away Dream's voice, then perhaps it was a Desire that could bring it back.
But which Desire could they tempt?
—-------------------
It was 1989, the day after Dream's fated meeting with Hob was set to be held. He found himself mourning the loss of his friend, curled on the bottom of his cage. For there was no way Hob did not remember their last encounter, and the other must have come to the conclusion that Dream had meant his cruel words. So Dream was left to himself, now.
Waiting. Mourning.
Desire and Despair visited him when they could, to which he was grateful. They told him many things, about the world, about their realms, about Jessamy.
Jessamy had lost her wing, but she was now in the care of Lucienne, Cain, and Abel. He learned his realm was barren, too, for which he mourned.
Some of his Dreams had gone looking for him. Others had believed they were abandoned and fled. Dream longed to rebuild his realm, to call his dreams and nightmares back. But even should Dream be freed, he had not the power to rebuild his realm without his tools.
He took comfort, however, in the fact that Alianora's realm remained, giving safety to many young women within his realm.
But everything else had decayed, and Dream longed to go home. To have his power back. To feel. To breathe. To eat and drink.
"My sweet Dream," Despair appeared outside his cage. "You are teetering into my realm again. Do not let yourself mourn. All you need do is ask, my brother, and we will help. Do not fear. We are here."
Her words, a promise repeated by both Desire and Despair, were the only hope Dream had to hold onto. And hold he did. He clung to those words, longed for them to be true. Over the years, his siblings had repeatedly promised him such things. Their aid. Their touch.
He would pay whatever price they deemed fit for such gifts to be fulfilled.
And then, as he allowed himself to hope, his baby sister tripped into the room.
Literally.
Delirium came running down the stairs, still invisible to mortal eyes, but on the third to last step, she tripped over her own feet. She tumbled through the iron bars, slamming them open and causing the guards to jolt in horror. Tumbling and rolling in circles she managed to drop one of the things she was carrying and Despair only barely caught the object as Delirium tumbled straight into the most, causing both guards to panic and race up the stairs.
Dream, temporarily unsupervised, leaned forward to watch as Delirium's head resurfaced.
Wearing his helm and ruby.
"My sister!" Despair gaped an expression mimicking her brother's own expression, verbalizing what Dream could not. "What is this?"
"I found them!" Delirium declared, muffled by the helm. "The lady took them. So I rode in her car. And we went places. And I asked for them back. And then she asked we go safe places, so I took her safe places. And she had a son named John and we went more safe places. Then I came back, but I got lost. Lost and upside down. It's hard to see, big brother. Why is it hard to see?"
The item Delirium had dropped was the sand, now held with precious delicateness from his sister. Delirium took the helm off, revealing a bright little smile that caused her entire being to shimmer with a Delight that was so infectious, Dream could not help but smile for the first time in nearly a century.
"You look happy when you smile," Delirium declared.
Yes. He supposed he did.
"But what now, my sister?" Despair questioned her. "We cannot leave our brother’s tool lying about, and we cannot free him."
"I've held them a long time. Very long. At least, I think it was long. I got lost for a long time. My fish couldn't find the way. But then it did. I can hold them. Hold them and stay with him. Like before."
"Is it alright with you, my brother?"
Dream could only nod as his sister climbed from the moat. Holding his tools, she sat before him in front of the circle. The sound of footsteps caused Dream to settle back in his cage. Alex Burgess would simply believe the guards had gone mad, but he would come back to check, if nothing else.
So when a new face came down behind Alex and Paul..
New. Familiar.
It took what little control Dream still had of his emotions not to wail or cry or scream.
Even if no sound would carry.
"You start now," Alex Burgess declared. "The fools."
Which left Dream alone in his cell, his siblings outside the cell, and his new guards still staring.
The woman quickly released a string of crude expletives as she observed first the cage and immediately moved to examine the circle.
The man, however, was captivated by Dream, walking forward slowly and moving to press his hand to the glass. Dream mirrored the action.
"Hob."
Dream tried to speak, mouthed the word, the name. Tears gathering in his eyes. Hob seemed to realize Dream's plight, palm pressing harder against the glass as if his own strength could break it.
"What have they done to you, old friend?" Hob Gadling breathed, horror barely masking his worry. "I'll get you out. We'll get you out. Johanna Constantine is a skilled mage."
Dream swallowed harshly, sending a questioning glance to the woman.
"Looks like her ancestor, right?" Hob gave a weak chuckle. "Got a temper and knack for bargains like her, too. You can thank your Raven for our current acquaintance."
Dream's eyes blew wide.
"Funny thing, that," Hob hummed. "She appeared on my doorstep some time ago, wing shot off. Then, after she was healed, she vanished. Popped up with Johanna some time ago. Never knew she could speak till the two showed up together."
"Wait, hang on," Johanna, who had been muttering to herself, frowned at the circle. "It can't be that easy. Can it? But it appears to be…"
"What is it, Jo?" Hob asked, not once removing his gaze from Dream.
"It's… the circle seems to be binding your friend. But it's not meant to do anything more than keep those like him in or out."
"Johanna, I already crossed the circle," Hob deadpanned.
"No, I mean…" Johanna lifted her head to glare at him. "I meant breaking the circle, you twat. Burgess and McGuire both mentioned they approached the glass regularly. If I thought it was a danger to you, I would have stopped you. I am referring to breaking the seal."
"And?"
Johanna huffed, took the heel of her boot and dragged it through the yellow circle, scratching the old, worn paint type thing. Dream seemed to spasm at the damage done to the circle, leaning towards Hob with his entire body.
"Yeah, that did it," Johanna nodded to herself. "Now to just break the glass…"
Despair and Delirium were so enthralled by this turn of events that they almost didn't realize Desire had joined them, holding Jessamy in carefully cradled arms. However, the moment the circle was damaged, all three surged forward, pressing hand to the glass as if they could reach their brother through it. Delirium even tried to bang the helm against the glass as though she could force it through to her big brother.
"I could shoot it," Hob offered as the siblings all surrounded each other.
"You could," Johanna agreed, but "though he's an immortal being trapped as a mortal in a glass cage. One of those bullets hits him, it might make him weaker than he already is. You heard Burgess. It's been nearly a century."
"I am open to suggestions, Johanna!"
As the two mortals were arguing on the best way to safely shatter the glass, the three younger Endless siblings were watching their brother’s powers slowly return, but his week mortal form was unable to properly accept power in such small but powerful snaps with his body constantly all but dying over and over.
“We must break the glass,” Despair bemoaned to her siblings. “We must!”
“I know, my twin,” Desire shook their head, frantically watching their brother’s tear stained face. So close yet so far. “But I am not gifted with destruction of the physical kind. I’ll have to enter the cage, my twin, to try and soothe our brother through the pain.”
“But the air, my twin!” Despair shook her head. “Your own suffering would only hurt our brother more.”
“Then what do you suggest, my twin!” Desire spun on her. “Tell me, my twin. Has our brother not suffered enough!”
“I suggest you step aside.”
Mortal and Endless alike could only gape and move out of the wave as a blade far larger than any man should ever be able to carry suddenly pierced the glass of Dream’s cage and destroyed it.
What happened next, neither Hob nor Johanna would ever truly remember. Well, at least, not in the waking. In the dreaming, they would remember.
—-------------------------
For those who might have somehow entered the dreaming and arrived at the castle, they would have seen a rather strange sight should they look through the cracked door to the throne room.
A large, bulky man with bright red hair was wrapped around something, though it was hard to see what that was at a distance. But, if the inquired just a bit, moved a bit closer, they would see that, the first thing they would see, was a plump looking woman, sitting at the man’s feet, blonde, greasy hair falling across her face as she wept, a thin arm reaching out to wrap around her shoulders and hold her to the side of a hidden body. Her hands were curled around said arm, holding the shaking limb in place.
Curled in the man’s lap, around a too thin body, was a person dressed as a cat, neither man nor woman, and they idly played with the other’s hair, occasionally brushing tears from the face of the pale man they were curled around.
Practically melded to the chest of the pale, thin man was a little girl, wild red hair buried face first into the man’s neck, hugging him in a vice.
But if a person was to stare too long at the sight, they would feel suddenly guilty and have the strong Desire to be anywhere else. So no one ever looked for long. Not that many came to this part of the dreaming much anyways.
“My siblings, I must rebuild,” Dream croaked to them.
“And you will,” Desire cooed, twisting strands of Dream’s hair between their fingers. “You will my brother. It will be far grander and far better than anything you have ever made before, but for now, sweet Dream, stay here. Stay with us. Do not deny yourself this desire I feel within you.”
Dream tilted his head into the gentle massaging by his younger sibling. His answer to their request plain to see, as the arm he had around Despair tightened, the other moving to better grin Delirium against his chest.
The weight of his baby sister allowed him to feel as his chest rose and fell, breathing for the first time in nearly a century. The feeling of his siblings holding him was both overwhelming and oh so very welcome. His entire body tingled and burned, shaking with the touch but yearning it so bitterly, desperately.
Delirium’s tiny body against his chest. Despair tucked into his side and holding his arm. Desire pressed to his back, combing through his hair and brushing away tears. Destruction encompassing all of them with his entire body, shielding them from the danger and threats.
It was some time before Death and Destiny entered Dream’s realm. Death carrying a bag of foods and drinks she had gathered while working, Destiny holding only his book. The pile of siblings quickly moved themselves about, changing their positions so that they might be able to properly greet the oldest two siblings.
“Oh, quite the banquette,” Desire hummed, only slightly teasing as they helped Despair situation Dream to sit up against Destruction’s chest. “Probably better than whatever our brother cooked.”
Dream hummed. “I quite liked our brother’s cooking, my sibling.”
“Your taste is shot then, brother dearest,” Desire cooed.
Destruction huffed, giving Desire a slight nudge with his hand. “At least one of you appreciated the efforts of my return.”
“I am glad to have you are both back,” Death declared to her brothers, as she placed a tray of assorted foods on Dream’s lap.
As Dream looked to the food and to his sister, he swallowed. His voice was back, and she was pulling away. Only to grab more food, of course, but Dream’s panic seized him in that minute, and he reached out to grab her arm. She turned to him, kindly waiting for him to speak his mind.
“My sister,” he swallowed, hand shaking with the sudden quick effort. “I love you too. I love you too.”
Death’s smile was so very warm, and she moved the food so she could hug him best she could with Delirium still plastered to his chest. He let the tears fall just a bit harder as he buried his face in her shoulder and hair.
“Get over here, you git,” Death scoffed wetly to someone behind them.
Dream knew it was Destiny the minute his hand landed on Dream’s shoulder. Not from the sound of his chains, but from his touch. And his siblings were all gathered around him, wrapped around each other, around him.
It was perfect. Everything he craved in his captivity, and everything Desire and Despair promised.
But…
“My littlest sister,” Dream breathed, pulling back from Death and nudging his sister. “Might I ask… why?”
Delirium looked up at him, head cocked. “Why?”
“Why did you go to find my tools, my sister?” Dream elaborated the subject of his question. “I could not ask you for help.”
Delirium blinked at him. “A not rule.”
“A… what?” and that was Desire, voicing what Dream was too confused to do.
“A not rule. We have rules. Rules and rules and rules. We must follow those rules. But we have not rules, too. We made those ones. They are ours and not ours. Not follow but should follow. Not rules.”
“Suggestions,” Destruction offered patiently.
“YES!” Delirium chimed so giddy. “Not rules!”
Dream smiled at her. No longer was his sister’s rambling an annoyance. He had missed it in the time she was gone from his side, and he was glad to have it back. He tangled his fingers in her hair, letting the wild locks curl and tangle around his shaking fingers.
“You needed yours. So I went. Because it’s a not rule. I could help. I could go and come back. If I promised then I’d keep it. You didn’t need to ask because it’s a not rule. It exists in our head. In my head. In your head. I can help so I helped. I can help now. Rebuilding, too. No need to ask.”
The siblings were left trying to piece together what their dear little sister was trying to say. And, as it often was, Destruction pieced it together, first.
“Dream, my brother, what our sister is trying to say is that we did not always have a rule among us that we must ask in order to aid each other,” Destruction told him gravely. “It has been so long, we have all forgotten it. But what she speaks is the truth. We may help each other without debts or asking. I think, in a way, we all tried to help. After all, Destiny was the one to tell me where you were and the fate that befell you.”
Dream whipped his head to his older brother.
“What our brother and sister speak is true,” Desire read from his book. “I told Destruction and left him with the choice of what to do. Death told me of the plight and that dictated The Book of Destiny and my own actions. While Delirium’s reactions were more obvious, even Despair and Desire acted in a way to save you. Perhaps without realizing. Fiddling with Desire’s and Despair, trying to keep up your hope while trying to discover the source of your plight, the twins ultimately interfered in affairs that led to you being free so soon. Had our littlest sister not found you, though, I fear your suffering would have been far worse, and far lonelier.”
With those words gripping Dream like a vice, he curled around Delirium, gripping her as tightly as she had held him.
“Thank you, my sister. Thank you.”
Delirium, who was once delight, pressed their foreheads together and beamed in the purests form of delight the dreaming had seen in many millenias.
“I love you, Dreamy.”
“And I you, my sister. I love you too.”