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It had been five days, six hours, and approximately thirty-seven minutes since Hob Gadling disappeared from the Waking world and Dreaming. He had stepped foot in neither, and all indications are that he has been taken - his apartment had evidence of a fight, though not a long one.
Lucienne read off the last report to Lord Morpheus, watching the shadows around him snap hard and angrily. The storm outside that had been raging for those five days grew louder, thunder and lightning snapping across the sky with more ferocity for every minute, every second that there was no news.
Hob Gadling had disappeared so thoroughly it was as though he had never existed at all.
"Thank you, Lucienne."
She lifted her eyes to her lord, but the cold words sent a shiver down her spine, lacking inflection. He still stared out, across his realm, all of his senses on high alert for the faintest touch, or hint of Hob Gadling, his King Consort.
Lucienne looked to the second throne at the top of the staircase, sitting beside the one she had known for her entire existence. Though her lord and his husband rarely used the thrones for anything other than... recreational purposes, the shadows growing over the second were not an indication of anything good.
However, those were thoughts best left for being far out of her lord's presence. She snapped her heels together and faced him again. "We've expanded our search." Opening the ledger, she turned and offered it to him. "Seven Nightmares and ten Dreams volunteered to go into the Waking and Fae realms, to reach those that do not come here, so we might learn more."
Dream dug his fingers into the edges of the book. "That is dangerous."
"It is," she agreed. "But it is the only way to see the Dreams of those who do not come here, or are able to ward themselves from the Dreaming. If they are keeping the King Consort from the realm that he rules at your side, they can likely keep themselves from it as well."
Dream nodded to her. "It is good logic, and wise thinking." He turned his attention to the book. "Let me know what they find, or if they require assistance." He traced his fingertips over the edge of the ledger again.
"We will find him, my lord," Lucienne promised it, meeting his blindingly bright eyes and the fury that simmered there, waiting beneath the fear and need to move slowly. "We will find him." She turned and headed back to the library, to the ravens who were waiting for her command to reach out to more of the other realms to find the missing King Consort.
-
It was another three days, agonizing, horrible and exhausting days, where the storm raged without stopping, and the blackness around Lord Morpheus' eyes grew bleaker and angrier, before Lucienne at last heard news. News that she had not been expecting, as the young Nightmare hopped in front of her and explained what should have been impossible. He had seen the King Consort and knew where he was.
"Come with me," Lucienne said, scooping the small Nightmare into her hands, and striding into the throne room. Her King had shut the doors days ago, but now, she slammed them open and risked his wrath.
"My King, news!"
All at once, any of the fury on Lord Morpheus' face was gone and he was in front of her, towering over her, shadows crawling around him, into the sky and walls.
"What news? Tell me!"
Lucienne held out the Nightmare, whose name was Scrimp, and watched Lord Morpheus narrow his eyes. "He has news," she explained.
Dream turned his full attention to the small Nightmare cupped in Lucienne's hand and watched Scrimp quake in fear. It took more effort than it should have, but Dream pulled himself back from his Nightmare form and reached out to cup Scrimp into his hands and carefully bring him closer, sitting at the base of the stairs. "I am not going to hurt you, little one."
"You're worried for your Consort, sire," Scrimp said, rolling around in the welcome chill of Lord Morpheus' hands. Their legs, many as they were, struggled to gain purchase on the smooth skin before he righted himself. "But I have seen him. Not his Dreams, no, nor his Nightmares, but I have seen him in the Nightmares of another."
Dream inhaled sharply, glancing up at Lucienne before back down to the Nightmare in his hands. "You have done well, Scrimp, I am very pleased. Where did you see him? Do you remember?"
Scrimp straightened up what little he could. "I saw him in the Nightmare of a Duke of Hell, my lord. They have him, and even then, I did not see him for long." He looked up at the Dream Lord, blinking all of his eyes at once. "The Duke was dreaming of their plans for you, and using him as bait to bring you to Hell."
Dream's eyes fluttered shut.
Outside, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, the ensuing thunder loud enough to have the castle quaking. He brought his attention back to Scrimp. "You have done well, little Nightmare. I am very proud of you." Dream held out his hand to Lucienne and watched her take Scrimp from him.
He stood up in a flourish, his coat growing around him, fury a cloak that was settling over his shoulders as he imagined Hob in the clutches of Hell, being tortured, being used as bait for him. Hob, his husband, a Monarch of the Dreaming. A low growl began to escape from his lips and he took a step forward.
"Forgive me, my lord!"
Dream paused and turned to look at Scrimp, guilty for the way the Nightmare immediately cowered reminding him to pause, to wait. He stared and raised an eyebrow.
"I can move fast and multiply!" Scrimp said, wiggling easily in Lucienne's arms. "I can summon the other Nightmares in a way that will not alert Hell to your plans!"
Dream blinked and pulled more attention to the small Nightmare. "For what purpose?"
Scrimp tilted his head and rolled in Lucienne's palms before rising to his full height, blinking all of his eyes. "Why, for the march on Hell to rescue the King Consort, of course. Your Consort has been taken, and we must go to bring him home."
The bravery of the little Nightmare made something in him relax, a fraction, and Dream shifted to kneel in front of Lucienne's palms, so he was at eye level with Scrimp. "You are the bravest of my Nightmares to offer to undertake such a task," he said, reaching out to stroke over him. "You would come with me to Hell, to bring him back?"
"We all would," Lucienne answered, her back straightening under the look of her Lord. She lifted her chin and a faint smile curled her lips. "He is a Monarch of the Dreaming, my lord. If you lead us, we will follow."
Dream looked between the two of them, but Scrimp was shouting his agreement. Outside, the lightning cracked again, and he stood in a careful motion, his clothes shifting with his intent until he was clad in the same armor as he was the last time he had gone to Hell for his tools. But he would require still more.
"Summon the Nightmares and Dreams who will fight," Dream ordered, his voice soft. "Order the gates shut upon our leaving, and warn the remaining to take refuge in Fiddler's Green and on the Steppes. They will be safe there until we return."
"Yes, my lord," Lucienne agreed, spinning away as she watched Lord Morpheus turn and walked toward a dark hallway that had not been there before, one she had never seen. She frowned at it, but turned her attention to the work that she had been ordered to complete. "Come, Scrimp, we must move quickly."
~!~
The hallway was dank with the scent of eons-rotted flesh and blood, but even as Dream walked deeper into the bowels of the castle where none but he had dared to tread, he knew that it was the right choice. Lucifer had chosen war, kidnapping one of the monarchs of the Realm, and it had been far too long, perhaps even out of their recollection, since he had waged war with Titans that had threatened to tear the Dreaming apart and come out victorious.
Perhaps.
Perhaps it was time that he reminded all of Hell, and Lucifer themselves, that he had once done war with creatures of nearly unbridled power and won. That he had carved his gates and Helm from their bones, and that their bodies and flesh had provided the foundation for the Dreaming and the growth of all of the forests and fields.
Perhaps it was time that they were all reminded that he was the older brother of Destruction, and with his brother gone, that they had all absorbed parts of his aspect that thrummed through them, a string ready to be plucked at a moment's notice.
Perhaps... Dream thought, reaching out for the weapons he had once wielded against Titans, pulling them into his hands, his power crawling around him, eager for his intent, such as it was. Perhaps, in the rescue of his heart, tonight would be the night that they all remembered the power that Dreams held. Even in Hell.
-
Gathering the last of the weapons that he required, Dream turned to leave the dungeon and paused by the door, his eyes caught on the writing on the door. A promise to himself, eons old, if he was ever to raise these weapons again, to only do them in the name of protection of others, and never for his own gain, to protect those who could not protect themselves.
Dream pressed his fingertips toward the words writ in titan's blood and closed his eyes, imagining Hob, at the mercy of Hell, and Lucifer's ridiculous vendetta against him. It was for the right reasons, the best reason, and perhaps the only one he would be able to countenance these days.
Letting his fingers slip away from the ancient words, the promise that he had once made to himself without fear, with quiet certainty, Dream made his way through the halls, back to where his Nightmares and Dreams were beginning to assemble, one after another. Cloaking him in the armor that he had once worn eons ago, the shining galaxy-black Nightshade armor that made him difficult to see and even more difficult to strike was easy. Carrying the weapons, varied as they were, that could bring down any creature in existence? Much, much more difficult.
Dream marched to his throne room and climbed the stairs to the first platform, putting him in sight of all of his Dreams and his Nightmares, all of them who looked to him for guidance, for help, and for more. They were his, and he was them, and he would make sure that he would keep them safe this day.
Lucienne's return, clad in armor of shining bronze, wicked blades at her side, had Dream smiling faintly. He had not thought that she would remain out of his battle, but it was Matthew, soaring in, settling on his shoulder, wearing the same armor that Lucienne had once worn as a raven herself that had tears drawing close to falling. Instead, he focused on those who had joined him.
"The King Consort," he started, determined for his voice not to break. "Has been taken, kidnapped by the denizens of Hell. A trap, laid for those who would care for him." Dream stared out at them impassively, shadows beginning to crawl along the edges of his armor, his form fluctuating until it was far from human, towering tall over them, the armor stretched to accommodate the size change.
"We will shatter their palty trap," Dream promised, his voice ice as he looked between them. "It has been eons, long before you were all created, that I waged the full force of my abilities on another. The titans who did battle with the Dreaming when the first creatures began to Dream, it is their bones I wear and that shape the gates of the Dreaming itself. The weapons that brought them down are the ones I carry into this fight, and there are none who will be saved from my wrath."
Dream looked among them and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "I cannot stop you from coming. I know that even if I tried, you would follow, and I would not have you hurt in this fight, for it will be a fight." He glanced between all of them and couldn't help the faint smile. "Hob would be proud of all of you, standing here with me." A cheer went up amongst them and Dream was helpless to smile wider at the sound.
"So instead I ask you this," Dream said, lifting his eyes to them. "For the first time, since the first War of the Endless was waged against my kingdom, I will bring the true power of what I am to bear on the denizens who have deigned to take what is mine. I will rob from them their Dreams, and in turn, their Hopes. I will destroy them from within for what they have dared to try to take, and in my wake, I bid you show them no mercy, for they would show us none."
Dream stepped forward and the castle shook around him. He poured the sand into his palm and watched it carefully overflow, spilling to the floor in fine lines. It began to storm all around them and grow, grains touching each of them as he prepared to move them to the gates.
"Follow me," Dream ordered, the finality echoing in his voice. "Follow me, to rescue him, my heart, who is more worthy of this rescue than any other living creature. Follow me to save a Monarch of the Dreaming, and because he would not hesitate to do the same for any of you."
This time, when the cheer went up, Dream let the power of his creations lift him as he brought them all to the gates of hell. The weapons, the blades, that he had once used on titans were familiar and rested easily in his hands as he stalked toward the gate that blocked him off from the realm of Hell.
There would be no waiting for Squatterbloat, there would be no march through the deepest corners and pits.
No. This time? This time, Lucifer would regret what they had done. They had no upper hand here, and he would prove it, would steal away every dream they had ever had until all that was left of Hell was the agonized rage of the truth of what they were.
Approaching the gate, Dream felt Matthew's triumphant cry in his ear, and Lucienne at his right hand. Shadows surged ahead of him, and all it took was a single slice of the weapons held in his hand for the Gates of Hell to melt away. Stepping into the forest that Squatterbloat walked through, Dream turned his attention to the Gatekeeper and strode closer, his intent clear.
"Move, Squatterbloat, for you have much to fear. Move Squatterbloat, I demand that you hear." Dream fell into the rhyme as natural and easy as he always had, and Squatterbloat had frozen, staring at him. "I have come for that which has been taken. Your leader, your monarch, their victory forsaken." He raised his sword. "Lead the way, lead the way, now I demand." A pause. "Or shall you be a victim, Squatterblaot, of my sand?"
In an instant, Squatterbloat was gone, fading into the mists and Dream tightened his hands on the blades and marched forward. Once all of the Dreams and Nightmares were through the gates, his sand once more surrounded them. Like this, with the full weight of his power unmasked, open, and raging around him, moving them all through the realm of hell was an iota of the power he carried on his shoulders and into the fight ahead.
He moved them directly to the second set of gates, past the towers that would torture them, past the pits designed for those who believed themselves deserving. Dream paused in front of the gates, towering above them, and scoffed, staring.
-
“What’s he doing?” Matthew hissed, watching Dream walk closer, every movement slow and measured.
“Remembering his fury.”
Matthew cawed, loudly. “Why?”
“Because the dangerous kind of rage is the rage that burns cold-hot. A chill, ice itself so intense that nothing survives it, delivered by a hand that is calm, steady, and precise. There is nothing quite like the beauty of a rage such as that.” Lucienne quirked her lips in a smile. “It was once thought that only the evocation of a muse could lend description to such fury.”
“I don’t get it,” Matthew said, looking at her.
“You will,” Lucienne promised, tossing Matthew into the air, before turning to those behind her. “Step back!”
-
Dream heard Lucienne give the order for them all to make room as Matthew launched himself into the air, and Dream...
Shifting forms, far more than mere clothing, or a few inches for intimidation, was exhausting in another realm, but it was the work of an instant for Dream to grow large enough to tower over the gates. Lucifer was waiting, just beyond, watching, eager to see what he would do. Dream continued to grow, until the gate was no bigger than his hand.
There were shouts of fear now, concern rising through the ranks of the assembled lords of hell, all of them trying to run now, but there would be nowhere to run, nowhere for them to hide what he would visit upon them. A caw from his raven told Dream that they were ready, that his creations were ready for him to make the approach that he had promised.
Reaching out for the door, Dream sank his fingers into the bleeding scab and ripped it from the realm, throwing it acres and acres behind him into the barren wasteland. He tipped himself forward, his form towering over the castle, over the torture chambers, and over the armies assembled.
There was no fear in Lucifer, but they were the only one, for they knew him as he had been, and knew, perhaps, what had arrived for them all in Hell. Dream tipped his gigantic form forward and crashed into Hell, his form disintegrating into wisps of shadow and Dream.
In seconds, the screams began. Dream was not gentle. He did not cradle those of Hell that he touched, that believed they deserved the torture they were given. From them, he ripped all the dreams they had. Dreams of heaven, of success in battle, of advancing through the ranks of hell, of anything. He tore their dreams away, a violent streak of pain across all those he encountered, the same way that John Dee had once done, but far more purposeful, far more intentional, all for a single reason, one.
His hope. His Dream.
Dream ripped through the ranks of hell, and behind him, the Dreams and Nightmares descended upon those remaining. Without daydreams, without their hope, at their basest, the lords of hell and denizens put up little fight, but Dream reached further, extending his power, the full force of it, the full brunt of it, into every little nook and cranny, searching for the one he had come here for. Dream would find him. They would not keep his Consort, his love, his life from him, and whatever pain they had given him, he would pay back for the remainder of existence, hundreds of thousands of times over.
"Dream!"
The shout of his name from the castle, worried and happy all at once, had large portions of Dream gathering, a monster towering over the pits to stand the height of the castle, battle armor at the ready, inky black pools for eyes that had red lights at the center, a promise of the violence to be delivered.
"Give him to me, Morningstar," Dream ordered, his voice echoing across the entire realm, trembling under the weight of it. "Give him to me, or I steal every Dream you and your generals have ever had and never give them back." He leaned in closer to where Lucifer stood, holding a blade to Hob's throat, a growl echoing in his throat. "Your realm will not last the week if I take it all, it will destroy itself."
Lucifer raised their chin, tightening their hold on the human, and pressed the knife in deeper. "You cannot destroy Hell. It is needed. It is the place of my capture and imprisonment, as well as the other Princes, after all. You cannot destroy what the Creator has wrought." They emphasized the final word, their disgust with it clear. "You are only the King of Dreams."
"Only." Dream chuckled at the word and leaned closer, his hands fading into shadows as he pressed them into the castle, encompassing all that it was in his shadows, in the galaxy-bright light of his eyes as he leaned closer still. "I don't need to destroy your realm to destroy everything it holds. The titans taught me that when they came for the Dreaming. They did not seek to destroy it, they wished to capture it. Except I will not capture Hell. I will leave it, barren and torn asunder for what you have attempted to take from me."
"He is a human!" Lucifer snarled. "Exceptional, in that he cannot die, but that is it! Tell me why a human is worth such effort, such a display of power from one of the Endless!"
Dream watched Lucifer and saw hints of the old Morningstar, before they had fallen, and before the Silver City had been wracked by a war that even to this day, left it deeply scarred. The child who had never understood humans, their gifts, why they were special, why they were held above all others.
"If your eons," Dream started, his voice soft. "-trapped in Hell, have not taught you the value of mankind, their depths and breadth, then there is nothing that I can tell you that will satisfy your need for an explanation." He reached deeper into the castle, searching, searching. Lucifer was smarter than this, Lucifer would not have Hob in front of him like this, so easy to take and recapture. The trap that had been promised was ringing across his senses, so Dream reached deeper and deeper into the castle.
"But why him!" Lucifer snarled, their wings quivering. "He is nothing! Not a King before your elevation, not a god or deity, a mere human, who will return to nothing when this universe and creation is destroyed!"
Why indeed.
At last, Dream's shadows found the spark that he had been searching for and he cupped it carefully in his palms. For an instant, he worried that his shadows would scare the spark, the bright light that was curled so tightly on itself to be almost hidden, but no. No, it leaped into the arms of his shadows, eager for the protection and comfort they offered. Turning his full attention back to the Morningstar, and the fear that was slowly overtaking their face, Dream chuckled and looked to the facsimile they held against her.
"You received the announcement," Dream said, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "I assured it. He is my husband, he is King Consort of the Dreaming, one of its Monarchs. Of course, the realm marches to his rescue. Of course, I come here, in all of my power, strength, and fury to return him to where he belongs." Dream shrunk himself a fraction, pulling his husband, his King Consort, his other half closer and closer still as he kept his focus on the balcony where Lucifer stood. "Do you think his being human precludes any of his rights as monarch?"
"I do not understand why you care!" Lucifer snarled. "You have dallied with all manner of creature - married another, loved many. What does he have?"
Dream continued to shrink himself, until he nothing more than the same figure, the same vessel that had stood in front of Lucifer once before, victorious with hope. The figure in Lucifer's arms trembled and reached out for him and Dream looked at him. Though the form was accurate, the eyes were not, and there was nothing but contempt waiting there. He smiled and looked back to Lucifer, his eyes lifted.
"Give him to me, now. I shall return that which I have taken in one week, and perhaps then, you shall understand what a gift Dreams are to even the citizens of Hell," Dream said, looking at Lucifer. "This is your only chance before I remove them permanently and you will lose them forever, even your own."
Lucifer scoffed. "You could not take my dreams, even if you tried."
Dream chuckled, low and vicious, stepping closer to the Morningstar, his eyes flickering down as they dug the blade deeper into the Hob pretending to be his Consort, then back to the rage-filled eyes. "Do you truly believe that to be the case? Even the greatest among the Host, their Dreams? I am them," Dream said, breathing the words softly, like a whisper.
A small flick of sand was all it took tinkling in the not-sun of Hell's light, sticking to the Morningstar's cheek so their eyes went slack and desperate. "Still thinking yourself above them, Lightbringer? And here I thought you might have learned from the particular blunder that ended with you here in the first place," Dream taunted, stepping in close. "But now I've taken it. All of it."
There was nothing but the heaving, gasping breath, and Dream could feel Hob approaching now, the shadows that had rescued him slipping armor on him, providing him a weapon to stand beside his King, because he would never be one who stood behind, only shoulder to shoulder.
"Give it back," Lucifer demanded, their eyelashes flickering. "Give, give them back, you can keep the foolish human." They shoved the creature forward, at the Dream King, turning away from him. "Return that which belongs to us!"
"Belongs to you," Dream mocked. "They are me. Your dreams, the dreams of any creature in any universe across all of creation. They are me, and I am them. I have not taken what I was not already." He flicked his fingertips and the darkness of hell beyond them, the generals that had surrendered to the creatures of the Dreaming, all of them no longer having the hope, the drive, to keep fighting. "There is no dream that is not me, and does not belong solely to me to be woven, adjusted, and grown. Just as there is no nightmare that does not belong to me to be torn, shredded, and broken down. They are all me. All of them."
The word was low and creeping as he whispered it against the Morningstar, staring up at them, quietly certain that had he not already taken the Dreams, he would have felt the full weight of a blade forged in hell brought to bear. "So tell me, Lucifer. Make your terms of peace, and perhaps, perhaps I will see fit to give you back what you now so desperately require."
"You have your human," Lucifer spat, gesturing to him. "Take him and go."
"Ah, but you see," Dream said, barely glancing at the demon-turned-human. "That is not my Consort." Lucifer's eyes were ice as they bore into him, the promised violence there only continuing to grow brighter and brighter. He smiled. "Did you think I wouldn't notice? So bent on revenge that I would not see the hate in my supposed husband's eyes?"
Lucifer scoffed. "He'd been tortured and abandoned for you by a week, decades down here, of course he despises the sight of you."
"Now," A voice said, chuckling brightly. "That's not quite right, is it?"
The demon with Hob's face twisted and lunged for him, blade out and poised for his heart. A flash of a familiar blade had him wanting to smile.
"No." The word was quiet and vicious, followed by the rending of flesh from flesh.
Dream closed his eyes against the image of his false beloved losing his head, thankful that the form shifted back to a demon almost immediately, instead turning his attention to the Hob that stepped up beside him, clad and cloaked in Dream's power, his whole form singing with it.
Lucifer trembled with rage.
"So you see, Lucifer Morningstar, once Lightbringer. You have no more leverage," Dream paused and looked at them, raising his eyebrows. "There are no more moves, as you told me once in our game. So now, we come to the finish, and you will state your terms of unconditional surrender to the Dreaming and make your promises of inaction."
"You will be destroyed," Lucifer snarled, clenching their hands into fists, their wings spreading. "You may be Endess, but your human is not, and there will come a day where he is human enough that he will fall to the vices of men and be mine!"
Dream looked to Hob, standing beside him triumphantly, and raised his eyebrows.
Hob shrugged. "I've got vices aplenty and absolutely no intention to die. So I will continue to be human, quite happily so. But falling to vices? I've done that for several centuries now and I think I've had my fill. I rather like spending my days as a married man. Consorts do get their benefits, you know."
"If you do not set the terms, we will," Dream said, meeting Lucifer's eyes again, waiting. The sounds of the battle in the distance were beginning to fade, and soon they would need to leave this place, to return to the Dreaming, victorious. "Make your demands now, while you can."
"You leave, the both of you, never to return," Lucifer spat, glaring at them. "Your pathetic human will be barred from Hell, unable to enter, keeping him safe for you."
Hob sighed and stepped forward. "Not good enough," he said, pushing his hands into armor that now held pockets, of all things. "Try again."
"Not-" Lucifer cut themselves off, their voice raging to a fever pitch. "Not good enough!? You arrogant child, daring to think-"
"I might be a child by your standards," Hob interrupted, watching as Lucifer flushed even darker in the face. "But I know a bad deal when I see one and that is an atrocious deal." He tilted his head and stared at Lucifer. "And now, since you have made your offer, you have forfeited the right to make another." His teeth gleamed as he smirked. "So instead, I will suggest the actions you take, and if you do not take them?" He gestured to Dream. "Your dreams and that of your generals remain gone, forever."
Lucifer stared at the human and glanced at the Dream King, who seemed content to allow his human, of all wretched creatures, to facilitate the bargain. "Do you speak for the King of Dreams, human?" They spat.
"He is my husband," Dream said, crossing his arms over his chest. "He speaks for me in every way that matters and even more still. He is welcome to negotiate our terms with you, Lightbringer."
"I will not forgive the insult of being treated in such a way," Lucifer threatened, their wings snapping out on either side of them again. A lethal blade settled into their palms, but a glance at the bleached white blades in Lord Morpheus’ hands was enough to stay their blade, at least for now.
Hob scoffed. "What insult? You are negotiating with a monarch. A crowned monarch too, mind you. So I am not sure precisely what insult you are referring to." He gave Lucifer a vicious grin. "Now, I think that one thousand hell years without Dreams sounds fitting for the denizens of Hell. Of course, they may still be visited by Nightmares, as is their wont."
Pausing, Hob glanced at Dream and caught the fraction of an approving nod before he turned back to Lucifer again. "And for the monarch of hell, who kidnapped the Consort of another, who attempted a trade for that Consort under false pretenses, and who, despite the generosity of others, continues to mock negotiations?" He hummed. "What could a fitting punishing for you look like, hm?"
"An oath, on the Creator," Hob said, watching Lucifer's eyes flare once again, this time with steadily growing power. "To never touch me, or mine again, for the remainder of my existence, however long it is." He paused and smirked, raising his eyebrows. "That would, of course, include Dream and the Dreaming by extension, as I am King Consort."
"You-"
Hob didn't let them finish, didn't let them build up to the growing fury that was taking them over. "If you swear to it, your dreams will be returned to you. If you break the oath, may the Creator have mercy, though I think you will give him no reason to be so."
Lucifer snarled. "He would never agree to broker such a deal, and forcing me to swear upon him is folly, for you have no guarantees in your safety."
"Then swear it on the Endless," Dream said, his voice rumbling with the threat of power. "All of us. While we may not be as strong as you one on one, Lucifer Morningstar, you cannot hold against us all. Swear on us, your oath, so you may be believed, and we shall consider the matter of Hob's kidnapping done."
For several long seconds, Hob was worried that Lucifer wouldn't take the deal, and wouldn't agree to what they were suggesting. It was a harsh punishment, but had Dream been anything other than Endless, he would have been stuck in Hell for who knows how long. The several months he'd been down there (thanks to the time dilation was already lurking at the back of his mind, ready to become new nightmares), had been bad enough.
"Very well."
Lucifer's voice was ice, a quiet rage, filled with the fire and brimstone of their realm, settling into the bones of all who watched. "I swear on the Endless that I shall not touch you, or those you have claimed as yours. I accept the punishment decided upon by the victorious kings, and in turn, make the demand that they leave immediately and our realm be free of their presence."
They faced the two monarchs of the Dreaming, their triumphant grins and seethed, power gathering in them as they continued to watch and stare. "We will not forget this."
"And we," Hob said, stepping forward with a bow. "Will send you an invitation to our vow renewal in a millennia or two." He smiled. "I would thank you for your hospitality, Lucifer, but there was none. Instead, I will wish you well with the riots that will come your way with the denizens of hell unable to dream any longer."
The scream of rage echoed across the entire realm of hell, but Dream had already reached out with his sand to whisk them away, gathering each and every Dream and Nightmare, pulling them close, racing for the exit to Hell, and then back through the gates and borders of his world into the Dreaming.
The drain of power left him gasping, stumbling, as they landed in the throne room, and in an instant, Hob was by him, steadying him, helping him upright. Allowing himself a moment of weakness, a moment of relief, Dream leaned against him, breathing slowly.
"You are well?" Hob asked, his voice soft. His eyes glanced down at the weapons still held in Dream's hands. He had not seen them used, but there was a weight to them that was never present in the other weapons Dream used.
Dream lifted the blades and looked at the ichor staining them. Remnants of Demons, of those he had torn down in Hob's name to at last be able to reach him, hidden deep in the recesses of Lucifer’s castle. They had torn down hundreds, decimating any protective force, and the sight of them caked in black blood made something in his soul ache. He had kept his promise, and the blood drawn had been for the right reasons.
"I am," Dream agreed, turning to his Nightmares. He did not sway, Hob remained pressed too close for that, but he would rid himself of this accursed armor and weaponry. "I must, what I'm wearing."
"I got it," Hob reassured, looking to the other Dreams and Nightmares. He turned to Lucienne, whose armor streaked with blood and ichor had been replaced by her usual suit. "Lucienne, set up a patrol around the weakest parts of our borders. I trust Lucifer's word, but not the word of their generals to obey them. We must make sure all are safe."
Lucienne gave a bow. "Of course my lords."
Hob sighed in relief as the Nightmares and Dreams, at last, started to make their way out of the throne room and Hob could turn to pick Dream up and into his arms.
"I should be carrying you," Dream protested, leaning in to press his forehead against Hob's hair. "You were the one captured, I should be caring for you."
"Not after all those displays," Hob corrected, his voice soft. "They didn't do anything to me that I haven't survived dozens of times over, pretty sure they didn't actually know what the hell they were doing, not that I’m going to tell Lucifer that.”
Dream wrapped an arm around Hob and held him tighter, clenching his eyes shut under the imagined weight of Hob's torture. He breathed slowly, the weight of the armor becoming heavier by the moment, but Hob seemed unbothered as he made his way up and past their thrones, all the way to where his bedroom was, a few steps beyond. When he was placed back on his feet, he stumbled, grabbing at the wardrobe to steady himself.
"Woah, woah, easy dove," Hob soothed, reaching out to help Dream lean back against the wardrobe until it had taken some of his weight and he could keep Dream propped up with his own body. "Don't fall over on me, I'll never let you live it down."
Dream made a quiet noise in his throat and looked down at the knives still held in his hands and trembled. They were so heavy. Had they always been this heavy? But he couldn't let go of them, he had to go, he had to put them away, horrible, vicious things that they were, they needed to be, be locked away.
"All right, let's get you sorted," Hob said with another soft, soothing sound. There was tension still hovering in Dream's body, almost as though he couldn't let go of it, as though he were carrying some burden that only he knew and was aware of. He reached out to take one of the two wicked-looking knives from Dream, but his lover flinched back and he froze, his hands hovering in mid-air.
"Dream?" Hob asked, his voice softening. "What's wrong?"
Dream looked down at the blade, the blade that had torn through hundreds of demons, through the flesh of Titans, carving their bodies and bones and trembled, glaring at his fingers, forcing them to release the blade, watching it clatter to the floor. He heaved in a breath as he turned his attention to the other blade, struggling to make his fingers release it. But his hand wouldn't obey, no matter how hard he concentrated on the sensation of letting go.
"I've got you," Hob whispered, reaching down to Dream's hand, carefully removing his fingers, one at a time from the sword. Dream had started to shake, almost violently, and when he dropped the second to the ground, a shudder had started to run up his spine. Whatever the hell those blades were, they weren't something he was going to let Dream touch again if he could help it.
Now to get the rest of him sorted. "Armor next," Hob said, making sure Dream knew that he was about to reach in closer. "This stuff is pretty cool, considering it changes size with you, but I'm guessing you're not enjoying wearing it."
"No, I am not," Dream whispered, his voice pained. It was so heavy, it weighed on him, on the unconscious, what he had had to do, the souls he had had to destroy to bring Hob home to him. A soft whine left him as Hob went to work, carefully removing each piece of the armor, only to leave it in a pile on the floor. His limbs were still shaking with the phantom weight of it and Dream was trembling harder than he could ever remember.
Had he shaken like this after the battle with the Titans? Had he felt like he was going to fly apart, barely able to concentrate long enough to obey basic instructions? Was this truly how he had felt afterward or was this some new malady afflicted to him by his trip into Hell?
"It hurts," Dream admitted, even though it rankled. Hob's fingers were already at the leather clasps to his standard armor, what he had worn under the Nightshade and Titan bone, undoing them easily, as though he'd practiced a thousand times over. His chest heaved in relief when it, at last, came free and Hob removed it. "It's... it's heavy," he tried to explain. "All of them are."
"Shhh, it's okay, dove, you don't have to explain, it's all right," Hob reassured, rubbing a hand up Dream's side, stepping in close to wrap an arm around him until he had stopped shaking so hard he looked about to fall over. "You came to get me, and you performed a lot of magic that exhausts you and even I can see it."
Dream's head was swimming as Hob carefully removed the last of the Nightshade armor, and finally, he was free of the weight. He gasped, his chest heaving as he sucked in a desperate breath of air after breath. Dream scrambled for Hob, yanking him in close, never mind that he was still half undressed and Hob had yet to remove any of his armor or other clothing.
"Hob," Dream barely managed the word, pressing his face to the stubbled neck of his husband, holding on as tight as he could, clinging to him. For his husband, he would wear that accursed armor every day if he had to, but now he was free, and now he didn't have to think about it. But he didn't have the words to explain, not today, and maybe not even ever. Thinking too much about the Nightshade armor would require explaining what it was, what he had needed it for and where it had come from.
Dream shuddered, biting down on his lip as he stared at the armor on the floor. He barely noticed Hob stripping off the rest of his armor and then his own, until he was pulled against a warm chest, and perfectly warm skin. A part of him relaxed, sagging into the touch, breathing in slowly until the power in his chest no longer felt like it was going to explode out of him and his trembling was dying down.
"All right, bed with you love," Hob coaxed, bringing Dream over to the blankets, turning them down, and ushering him into the black sheets. A moment later, he had a weighted blanket that he settled on top of Dream, watching his face go slack in bliss. "Give me one moment and I'll be there, I'm just going to make sure I have that armor wrapped so you don't have to touch it again."
Dream was selfish. The armor would try to leave its mark on Hob Gadling, but the respite to not need to look at it, or even acknowledge it again was a welcome one and he sank into the warmth and weight of the blanket with a quietly pleased noise. His eyes fluttered shut as he listened to his husband move around, gathering his things together, until at last, the covers were lifted and a warm body was pressing in against him. Dream turned to sink into it with a happy sigh, wrapping himself around Hob, pressing in as close as he dared.
"The armor is ancient," Dream whispered. "As are the weapons. They are younger than me, but not by much. They were the first I carried, the first I used, and were the first ever to defend the Dreaming." He shuddered and pressed his face closer to Hob's skin, breathing in the scent of it, even here in the Dreaming. "Before I knew how to create my own weapons, before I knew so many things I know now, I needed to fight, to prevent my realm from being captured."
Hob rubbed his hand up and down Dream's back, soothing him in the way that seemed best from the way that Dream melted into him with a pleased sigh and wiggle. "So they're different from other weapons?" he guessed.
Dream shuddered and dug his fingers into Hob's skin. "The leather armor you see me wear. It is me. However it is me in a way that I have learned, over the past eons, that does not require tearing off pieces of me to wear." He felt Hob go tense and look over at the other armor. "The ones you saw me in today, those... I tore from my existence, my being, to forge. There is nothing stronger, not that could protect me..." he swallowed hard. "But imagine wearing the skin of another human..."
"Fuck," Hob swore, tightening his arms around Dream, pulling him in until every inch that he could possibly manage was pressed together. "Fuck, Dream. I'm so sorry, love, you shouldn't have had to wear those. That's..."
"I can never be rid of them," Dream said, clenching his eyes shut. "For they are me, and I cannot give them to another. But I swore, I swore I would never wear it again, nor wield those swords. Only under the gravest circumstances." He relaxed his hold a fraction and pressed a kiss to Hob's heart. "This merited."
Hob clenched his eyes shut and did his best not to fall apart under the realization of just how much Dream loved him, and how willing he was to hurt himself for those that he loved. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Dream's hair and held him as tight as he could. "Thank you, love. You were magnificent in your rescue, and I am so glad that you came to get me." He paused and smiled. "Not that I ever doubted it for a second."
Dream let himself relax under the calming wash of his husband's words. The Dreaming itself, with their borders closed, would sleep safe tonight, and the Morningstar had been prevented from ever approaching close to the Dreaming or his husband again, and he could ask for nothing more to sooth his soul into rest, proper rest. The Nightmares and Dreams had all returned safely, and the dreams he had stolen from hell would be kept from them for one thousand years. A fitting punishment, and he would need to tell Hob as much, once he woke again.
"Sleep, or, rather, rest," Hob coaxed, reaching up to comb his fingers through Dream's hair, keeping him close. "Rest, my dove. I have you, you are safe now."
Dream made a quiet, disgruntled noise. "I should be offering such comfort to you, you were the one tortured."
Hob let out a small laugh and nuzzled into Dream's hair once again. "You keep trying to pick this argument with me and I'm simply not going to let you, love. I understand that, but guess what? They didn't do much torturing, mostly just threw me in a dank basement and kept forgetting to tease me." He nuzzled into Dream and gave him a squeeze with his entire body. "I am well, I promise you that."
Dream relaxed a fraction and rubbed his fingers up and down the length of Hob Gadling's back, stroking over his muscles and the skin stretched over them again and again. Memorizing the touch of his husband was one of his favorite activities and this was no exception, a way to lull his mind like no other. "You know I will always come for you?"
Hob made a quiet noise and nodded. "Of course I know that. And you know I'll always come for you, my King. There are none who would keep us apart, and with the Lightbringer at the top of that list, I would like to know who else would be willing to try." He smiled faintly and rubbed at Dream's back, glad that the last of the tension was pouring out of him in slow increments.
"Now, a favor, beloved, husband-mine, and king," Hob murmured, feeling Dream shiver, though not in the way he had been. "Rest. You can guard the dreams of us all while your body takes the rest that it needs. I will hold you until I'm ready to wake." It was an easy promise to keep, and one that had Dream smiling against him.
Dream let out a quiet breath and settled his nose against his husband's pulse, listening to the steady thrum of life in his veins. There was no sound in existence that soothed him as easily and as well, and wrapped up like this, under a weighted blanket no less, ensured that he would rest in a fashion that would satisfy even his picky husband.
They were safe, the Dreaming was safe. That was enough for now.