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His realm was shaken by thunder and lightning, with heavy rain and large hail falling. It had been like this for quite some time. Dream tried to calm down and pacify the weather accordingly. If only so that Matthew could do his job without complaining about wet feathers. Although, all attempts to rectify the situation were futile, and the negative emotions that had accumulated in him for a long time prevailed inside again. Captivity, betrayals, the fall of his kingdom, the vortex… Everything he took on in an attempt to distract himself quickly became harsh and acidic. At some point Dream realised he couldn’t go on without resetting. He was bitterly aware that he was again defeated by the twins - the Despair of his helplessness and the Desire to see Hob overpowered his stubbornness and he had no other choice but to crave for the calming presence of his beloved. However, that was out of the question, Hob had a credit week at the university and Dream didn't want to distract his lover from important work, which would be extremely disrespectful.
It would be easy to let thoughts slip to the dark waters, but it would introduce certain difficulties that Dream didn't want to face yet. Besides, he didn't know how long it would last, and this state caused caused by the release of the darkness could... prolonged. Things had just recently started to get better, his kingdom, his relationships with his loved ones, which, apparently, now allowed themselves a lot more leeway towards him, especially Death. Speaking of the devil, Dream heard the whisper of her call. It was useless to resist, sooner or later she would let herself in. He turned his head towards the front doors without raising his gaze, hoping that this way the agony would remain hidden from his sister.
Death stomped resolutely in her combat boots across his marble floor, her ankh dangling from side to side with vigour.
‘My favourite silly little brother.’
Dream frowned, but gave in to her half embrace, ‘Greetings, sister.’
‘Is this a novelty like this? It's not very hospitable to douse visitors head to toe.’ Death patted him on the back.
Dream agreed with that, but she couldn't understand the intricacies of his predicament. In summary, there was little he could do without resorting to drastic measures.
‘Don't be silent little brother. I can see it all in your eyes, which you persistently hide from me. I'm not going to rub your nose in what you're avoiding, but things are heating up. Delirium is feeling bad because the weather keeps getting closer to the borders of your kingdoms.’
Dream squirmed inwardly. The last thing he wanted was to cause his little sister any distress. He shouldn't have been in this situation in the first place.
Death leaned into his space again and poked a finger into his chest. ‘I know the decision will please few, but perhaps this is the full arsenal of options you have at your disposal. Stop holding the darkness inside. Let it come out. You know in time things will come back to normal.''
And a moment later, she was gone. Dream clenched his fists and looked up at the stained glass, hoping it would give him a clue. All he saw was an impenetrable wall of storm and rain.
Dream knew Death was right, but her words still stung and stabbed like a thousand needles. Rationally, of course, he agreed with her. No one liked dealing with... Nightmare. It was, if it could be called that, part of its charm. No one should like their nightmares. "Bad" dreams weren't made to be liked in the first place.
So everyone avoided him as a Nightmare, which was a bittersweet recreation. Even Lucienne, a woman who seemed to be neither frightened nor repelled by anything, limited her intercourse with him these days, and addressed only urgent matters. She was tactful about avoiding him due to "communication problems", as she called them.
But it was still Dream, he and Nightmare were one being, he had the same feelings and thoughts. Perhaps he expressed them differently, but it couldn't be that repulsive, could it? Dream didn't know. He also didn't know how long it would last. It could have been a few days or a few decades.
He certainly didn't want to face Hob this way. Dream risked scaring him and sowing discord in their relationship with his actions or words, though he didn't remember Nightmare ever being able to speak in coherent sentences. Not that there was anyone willing to talk to him when he was like this.
Dream was beginning to feel vibrations emanating from his centre, threatening to shatter the clarity of his existence. Time was running out for the fictitious choice. Once again, he'd procrastinated until the last minute and wouldn't even have time to leave Hob a message. He hoped Lucienne would be kind enough to inform his lover that Dream wasn't feeling well, and they wouldn't see each other for a while.
With thoughts of warm brown eyes and a loving smile, Dream let the sand roll around and the darkness crawl out of the hidden depths of his mind.
Everything around him went black.
…
Hob had been buried in papers, both at home and in his office for days now. Where could so many paper recorded traces of human activity even come from? And why did he ever give so many writing assignments to the kids? Year after year Hob promised himself the same thing, and time and time again he found himself buried under future waste paper.
How he missed having free time, sleeping more than five hours, a life without caffeine, and of course his endless gloomy boyfriend. To think that Hob's heart had become so spoilt so quickly. Once he'd waited a hundred years, now he couldn't bear to wait a week.
But tomorrow it was going to stop, and as soon as Hob got a proper night's sleep, he expected to see Dream in the morning. Perhaps the two of them wouldn't be able to help themselves and would meet in Hob's dream and consummate the reunion with sweet morning sex. God's wounds, he was distracted again. Thoughts and dreams of... his own Dream took his mind from a rather dreary essay on the origins of armorial bearings to a fairy tale where all that existed was the two of them.
When Hob went to bed after a couple of days he finally exhaled fully. He pulled the blanket up and closed his eyes. Almost immediately he felt a chill run down his spine. Everything was dark, and for a second Hob was afraid he'd lost his sight. There was also the lingering feeling that someone was watching him, burning holes in his body, in his soul. And as abruptly as this dark dream began it ended and the next thing Hob knew was the ceiling of his room and the light coming through the gap between the curtains. He barely cracked his eyes open and shifted his gaze to the bedside clock. Damn, he'd slept for twelve hours, not bad. Dream was either insanely happy right now, or he was winding circles around his bed in impatience. However, as Hob got over the dizziness of sleeping so long and his vision began to clear, he didn't notice any black spot in any corner of his bedroom. For some reason the memory of the nightmare he had seen the night before came to mind. Hob shook his head, probably Dream was busy and would join him later.
It didn't happen. Hob spent his day waiting for the sudden sand whirlwind, finding that nothing had happened. An uneasiness slowly boiled up in him. He and Dream had agreed that as soon as Hob had finished all his business on Saturday; they would see each other on Sunday. Dream had always been overly punctual and serious about their dates, so Hob wondered involuntarily about things that might have happened to his lover.
As he fell asleep that night, Hob had a clear goal in mind: to get into the heart of The Dreaming. Dream had shared with him how to find it. Hob needed to think of Dream while falling asleep, which was never a problem, and keep the idea of seeing him in his head. As usual, a pleasant shiver ran through Hob's mind and he began to realise himself in his own dream.
He had expected to see the beautiful scenery of The Dreaming, or he might have found himself immediately in the gothic splendour of the throne room. All Hob saw, however, was darkness. The air around him seemed as thick as velvet and as impenetrable and acrid as the smoke of a fire.
Experimentally Hob stretched out his hand. Shadows flowed through his fingers encircling his forearm and creeping further out. There was something familiar about it. The familiar feeling of the embrace his lover had given him - just as tenacious and possessive, infused with trust and adoration.
Hob felt the shadows touch his neck, and the floor beneath his feet became liquid. It was as if he knew he had to let it happen, that this was how he would meet Dream. However, someone abruptly grabbed his other arm and yanked him in the opposite direction of the gloom. Suddenly flames erupted beside him and the shadows that had gathered around him hissed, crawling away. Hob turned round and met the gaze of a very concerned Lucienne.
‘Mr Gadling.’ The flickering flame of the oil lamp illuminated her frowning brow.
‘Please, just Hob. Hello, Lucienne.’
She smiled at him and nodded. There was a sharp creak behind Hob that made them both wince. It felt like he was in a horror film and wanted to poke around in a basement that hadn't been entered in ages.
Hob heard a light whisper, like a breeze, in which his name was clearly recognisable. He turned in that direction, but Lucienne's tight grip prevented him from following the call. What the hell is going on here?
‘Lucienne, what's going on here?’ he asked quietly.
Lucienne frowned again. ‘Let me take you somewhere nicer and you can ask your questions.’
Hob nodded, trying to keep up with her and not lose sight of the safe spot of light created by the lamp. It was as if they were in a black hole.
Lucienne seemed to navigate the darkness almost effortlessly, only a couple of times she stopped, muttering something to herself and changing course slightly. Hob barely heard the fragment of a phrase about someone changing corridors on purpose. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, as if last night's nightmare had happened again. Finally they reached their destination. Lucienne stopped, let go of his shoulder, and pushed something with her elbow in front of her. There was a terrifying creak, and somewhere in the middle of it, a terrible squeak. Hob guessed remotely that it was the door from the palace. He expected to see the clear sky of The Dreaming, but everything outside was just as murky.
There were scattered points of light in the middle of the fog. Usually there was a starry sky high above The Dreaming that stretched above the clouds, now the stars could practically be touched by hand. Hob put his head down and twitched with horror. The earth was moving continuously. Somewhere hands were even visible, as if begging for help, they reached out with the desperation of a drowning man tearing out shreds of tile.
Lucienne patted him on the back. ‘I promise they won't hurt us, we just need to get to Fiddler's Green.’
Reasonable. Hob thought of the sailors lost in the storm and caught in the tranquillity of the green shores. He overpowered himself and followed the brave librarian. Hob still didn't quite understand how The Dreaming space worked, so he just tried to step where Lucienne had stepped and not think about how soon they would be in a safe place. It was like Dante's Divine Comedy. The scenery was more frightening than he had imagined when he read it.
There were screams and groans, gunshots, the sound of bones breaking. It was like Hob was back on the fields of World War II. Wild beasts howled somewhere in the pitch darkness and it was unclear when to be ready for an unexpected strike of claws and fangs. In addition to this terror, Hob phantomically felt light touches like shadows from the palace. Somehow feeling them was calmer, as if they were protecting his back from the unknown lurking in the darkness.
When Lucienne stopped, Hob practically slammed into her back in surprise. Recovering, he peered over her shoulder. Fiddler's Green seemed unaffected by the nightmare going on around it. The scenery was just as friendly, with a full moon over the clearing and a breeze fluttering peacefully through the blades of grass.
Lucienne lowered herself into the roots of a spreading oak tree. ‘Have a seat.’
Hob followed suit. At last he felt he could relax; he counted to ten and got his ragged breathing in order.
Lucienne adjusted the frames of her glasses on her nose. ‘Your curiosity is fair, but I don't know how much I can tell you.’
‘Let me guess, it's his majesty's private affairs?’ Hob wanted to defuse the situation, but Lucienne's frown only intensified.
‘Yes in fact, it is. It happened once on my watch, yet it was enough to make me wish I'd never encountered it again.
Hob's worries for Dream multiplied. Hell, what if his beloved needed him right now?
‘Is it really that bad? And where's Dream? How is he? What's wrong with him?’
‘That's a lot of hard questions to start with,’ Lucienne smiled bitterly. ‘All I can advise is to go back to the Waking, and try to go back to sleep again, and don't look for Dream under any circumstances. It's going to take some time, and I can't promise it won't be long.’
‘You already know I won't listen to you?’
‘Of course,’ she shook her head.
Hob saw that Lucienne didn't want to tell him all the secrets. He realised that it was not her fault, but rather the demand of his sometimes foolish lover. By all means Hob had to find out what was going on and help Dream. His brain was quickly scrolling through ways to gather information from the resisting individuals. God's wounds, he didn't think Dream would appreciate it if Hob started threatening and blackmailing his librarian.
Hob exhaled heavily against the barrel behind him. He should have been smarter and asked questions not directly related to the incident.
‘Can you give me more details? What happened to him? Is he angry or upset?’ he tried.
‘I guess you could say that, however it's something more than his usual bad mood. I'd say multiplied by a number with a lot of zeros.’ Lucienne's gaze became more troubled. ‘From what I understand, this sort of thing happens from time to time. Again, I have encountered it once, and the experience was quite exhaustive. I am genuinely worried about Lord Morpheus, however, there is little that can be done. The darkness can only be waited out.’
Hob realised that Lucienne herself had jumped at the chance to give him as much detail as possible without speaking directly about the problem, which was apparently taboo.
‘Is there really no way to help Dream?’
‘...Nightmare,’ Lucienne barely audibly whispered, as if imminent punishment was to follow the spoken word. Hob almost missed it. Knowing Dream, punishment might indeed follow.
He cautiously interjected. ‘Nightmare?’
Lucienne tensed slightly as he said the word. Hob's mind immediately flashed back to the conversation he'd had with Dream, when his friend had graciously shared all of his titles and tried to explain what each one meant. Dream was the King of Nightmares, which made complete sense given his role in a kind of esoteric hierarchy. But Lucienne reacted as if it were a different being. Apparently that was what Dream had become now, and why it was a literal nightmare all around.
It sounded as if Dream had been holding back his emotions for a long time and they came rushing out all at once. Well, unfortunately, Hob could see it happening. The connection made sense enough. It threw him into confusion that no one had tried to do anything about it. Dream or Nightmare had siblings, at least someone could have offered to help...
Lucienne seemed to be still puzzled by his earlier question. Hob didn't like being right about the fact that no one cared enough to prevent what had happened.
‘To answer you, I'll say it again, time is the best healer here. He is difficult to communicate in this condition, he can easily cause harm both mentally and physically. When he goes back to his old state and finds out about it, he'll feel even worse. After all, our nightmares are not our friends. We have to avoid them, as we should.’
Well, Hob could understand her point of view. But he couldn't accept the idea of leaving Dr-, Nightmare to wallow in his own emotions. With his hands on his knees, Hob stood up. He thought about how kind the shadows had been, and they hadn't hurt him, even if it was a trap, he wouldn't know unless he checked. Maybe Nightmare was calling for him, because he needed him and Hob had left him like that. Resolved. Hob was going to find out what was going on in that lovely head of his.
‘You're not going to stop me, are you?’ He turned round to Lucienne watching him intently.
‘I know it's no use,’ she sighed doomfully. ‘But if anything, you can always find a quiet corner here and count on me to help you get back.’ With those words, Lucienne pulled out a small book from an inside pocket, which became huge as soon as it unfolded. Hob realised it was a dismissal and waved his hand and headed back to the palace.
This time he had to tread a road full of creepy hands by himself. A couple of times he tripped over snags covering almost all the ground that his eyes could see through the gloom. Walking with the lamp was much easier, but it would prevent him from finding the Nightmare, who was obviously hiding in the shadows. Hob thought about calling out to his lover, but to be honest he was afraid to make a loud noise in the darkness.
As he walked across what he guessed was the bridge, he heard the splashing of water. Curiosity overcame fear and he cautiously approached the balustrade. There was something shimmering in the water. Two white dots. It was as if one of the stars that hung around had fallen into the water. Hob stepped closer, resting his hands on the marble. The movement beneath the surprisingly smooth water surface intensified, the burning dots seeming to follow him. Hob didn't know what came into his mind, but he bent forward so that his entire upper body was above the water. So quickly, as if by lightning two white dots were in front of him. Two clawed wet hands encircled his head and something slippery and soft covered his lips. Hob didn't know how, but he instantly recognised his lover and responded to the kiss without hesitation. At that moment his consciousness felt as if it had been plunged into a deep sleep.
When Hob opened his eyes, they practically rolled out of his orbits at what he saw. Thousands of galaxies swirled above him, as if he were looking through a window into space. His back was resting on something cozy and moulding to every millimetre of his body, the fabric felt like the softest silk under his hand.
Hob quickly went back in his mind to the recent events and jumped up. Or rather he wanted to jump up but couldn't. His chest, stomach, and legs were pressed against by the quietly buzzing black mass. Hob continued to try to move, which caused the black void to shift. Slowly, with an eerie and sharp cracking sound, the tangle began to unfold like a cobra preparing to attack. The limbs formed into angular, clawed branches, and a pair of tattered wings emerged from above, which, if you looked closely, consisted of translucent faces frozen in horror. Hob shuddered. It was an objectively gruesome sight. The creature continued to extend, becoming larger than the black blob in Hob's lap before it. Two hands or paws with sharp curved claws came down on either side of its head. Hob could hear the surface cracking from the tension. This was echoed by the cracking of shifting joints. The wings rose acutely upward and dropped just as sharply becoming the cloak.
Straightening into some semblance of a direct line the creature lowered what should have been its head down. And then Hob was confronted again by two fallen stars. Of course it was D- Nightmare. Nightmare, who wriggled in his lap until their faces were millimetres apart. His eyes burned in the dark like toxic light bulbs, and instead of his usual dishevelled hair, Nightmare's face was framed by feathers and sea mire. Between them, Hob caught glimpses of small chains and beads. An enjoyer of all things shiny even in this form, eh? Hob grinned to himself. Nightmare twitched on him and his head slowly turned sideways ninety degrees, or more, as if on gears. Hob tore his gaze away from the acid eyes and turned his attention to the rest of his lover's face. The sharp nose was still intact, only the tip was covered in small black scales. The mouth was something else. The black lips were compressed into a single line, reaching up to where the cute dimples on Dream's cheeks used to be, and then there were rips on either side where the top piece of flesh was missing. The edges of powerful jaws and sharp teeth were freely visible.
Hob had obviously been staring for a long time, and Nightmare took advantage of it by grinning grimly, stretching his mouth into a crescent moon, showing his two upper sharp fangs.
Nightmare looked like a chthonic monster, his ribs cracking open and folding back one by one like the keys of a piano. His whole body seemed to absorb light, despite the whiteness of his skin, and Hob quickly looked around his surroundings for a source of illumination. He settled on an antenna coming out of Nightmare's head like an angler fish. Then Hob had thoughts of being trapped, and how long he had been lying there and whether he would be released in the foreseeable future. But those thoughts were getting ahead of themselves. These were his future problems. Right now, Hob didn't even greet his grim king, what disrespect.
‘I didn't say hello did I, sweetness?’
Nightmare growled at him. His eyes narrowed and unclenched like a camera lens.
‘C'mon, big guy, I'm sorry, I didn't expect that when I fell asleep tonight.’ Or not tonight anymore, Hob added inwardly. Good thing he'd taken a leave. But Lucienne's words about time still wouldn't get out of his head.
The growl turned to a deep rumble.
Hob couldn't stop himself and reached out his hand, not touching Nightmare, but offering it, as if treating a fearful animal. His head whirled round again and the cold as a corpse cheek, or rather what was left of it, lay in his palm. Hob could feel the icy teeth on his skin. He caressed the angular face and tucked a black feather behind a pointed ear. The feathers seemed soft, but they cut like knives when touched. Hob jerked his hand away and stared at the trickles of blood running down his fingers. Nightmare hissed at him, as if scolding Hob for his own carelessness. He intercepted Hob's hand with his own and drew his lips close to it. A long, pointed tongue appeared between them. The Nightmare swiped it across the scratch. Before Hob's eyes, the wound healed and a chill spread through the area.
Nightmare reminded Hob of a kitten. It was an ancient horror, but first it was still his horror, and second, Hob wasn't so easy to push away. Nightmare didn't answer him, but he reacted, so he understood.
What to do but try to calm the beast that had immobilised him Hob did not know. In his thoughts there were various obscene images, but he will postpone this discovery for another time. However, there was a murmur around the room in which Hob vaguely recognised laughter. Well, Dream had told him that he could see particularly vivid thoughts, but he had promised to control it. Nightmare obviously didn't. Hob didn't mind, and was glad to have the approval of the newly formed fantasies. Once they got past the barrier of understanding they'd damn well talk about it.
Speaking of talking. Hob was good at it, and Dream liked his chatter. There wasn't much he could do in this situation except talk Nightmare through this. So Hob made himself as comfortable as he could under the heavy weight spreading overhead and around (was it a giant tail?) and wrapped his newly healed arm around the clawed hand. Nightmare's limbs were as cold but still as damp as the air in the cellar. Black scales spread, tapering and diverging into small lightning bolts, from the tips of the sharp fingers and ending at the elbow, where a joint protruded from it.
Hob traced them with his fingers in fascination as he recounted the hellish week away from his beloved. Nightmare stared at him unblinkingly, and based on the tension not leaving his body above him, Hob was sure his love was listening. A couple of times during particularly emotional moments of narration, a slight growl could be heard from Nightmare.
Pausing in his chatter, Hob slowly brought the black hand to his lips and showered soft kisses on his knuckles. Nightmare squirmed again, watching him with interest. In the darkness between the creaking ribs he heard vibrations that sounded like purring, as if he were stroking a huge, bloodthirsty panther. Hob couldn't take it anymore.
‘How did you turn into a little feral kitty? You owe me an explanation, don't you?’
Nightmare had an incomprehensible opinion on the matter. But it seemed to get to him, and the hand that Hob held in his hand broke free of his grip and pressed down on his throat. Nightmare's head and upper torso surged upwards, hovering menacingly over Hob. He felt short of breath, and could almost hear his own ribs cracking from the pressure. The pain stung his insides unbearably. Hob's consciousness was filled with chilling fear, and memories of cold water filling his lungs back in the 17th century. His vision was becoming blurry around the edges and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. As Hob finally said goodbye to consciousness, and everything went completely black he felt the sharp rush of air in his chest again. His eyes and throat burned. Dream, or whatever he was calling himself now, was well aware of this one of Hob's greatest fears. It was despicable to do such a thing to him. However, what could he do if that was the essence of Nightmare, it was who he was. Hob didn't know about that part of his lover, but it was still him, so Hob wouldn't have given up on him in that state. But he was still going to be angry. Hob coughed violently and stared disapprovingly at the creature gazing at him with all his superiority. Nightmare's eyes burned brighter than before, his jaw open almost as wide as a snake's, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth and fangs. A shiver ran through Hob's body. Nightmare shook his head from side to side like a Chinese dragon at a festival being driven by sticks. All right, it was probably best to accept his rules of the game, Hob wasn't in a dominant position here. Nightmare clearly liked affection, but not condescension or demanding behaviour.
‘Forgive me, duck?’ Hob said in a harsh half-whisper due to a hoarse throat.
Nightmare closed his mouth in a halting motion and drew closer. A devilishly frightening smile appeared on his lips. Both clawed hands clenched just above his waist, and with a sharp snap, Hob felt all his bones fuse together. It was as easy to breathe as before.
Hob didn't say thank you out of spite, because the original cracked ribs were still Nightmare's fault
Nightmare lowered his face, sniffing his cheeks, touching his skin with the tips of his ghastly fangs. Slowly he brought his mouth to Hob's lips in what was obviously meant to be a kiss. Hob accepted the offer without hesitation and reached out again, this time placing his hand gently on Nightmare's shoulder. Hob turned his head, changing the angle, and ran his tongue over the sharp teeth. Nightmare almost meowed (that Hob would keep to himself, thank you) and pressed their lips together harder. He growled into his mouth and Hob felt something cold and wet running across his palate. Nightmare's tongue was strangely long and sharp like a reptile's. Gradually the burning sensation began to leave Hob's throat, and everything seemed to freeze, as if he'd chugged mint gum with cold water.
Finishing whatever it was he was doing, Nightmare pulled away, licking his lips one last time and Hob finally caught his breath completely.
‘So, you like being scary, darling?’ Hob slowly brought his hand to Nightmare's face near where the large tear in the flesh was and circled the skin around his teeth with his thumb. He watched the muscles contract and relax.
The jaws under his hand opened and closed abruptly, making a strange sound that was definitely something. Hob was sure he'd heard it before, but he couldn't remember exactly, the sound seemed too specific. It was something between a sneeze and a bark. Right, that's what bats did to communicate. Nightmare frowned and repeated the sound, but more quickly. Well now he was almost mimicking the cats as they snapped their teeth at the birds outside the window. Hob would not risk his throat again and say it out loud. Perhaps, however, Nightmare had taken offence at the call to explain himself. After all, his reaction as a Dream would probably be no better, scowling and sulking in a mysterious sour silence if he was asked to explain his not always coherent behaviour.
While he was thinking, Nightmare made such a concentrated appearance as if he was preparing to reveal all the secrets of the universe to him.
‘C'mon baby, I'm listening,’ Hob smiled encouragingly at him.
Probably smiling in the face of potentially the scariest entity imaginable was stupid of Hob. Nightmare seemed a little pissed off by this. But he didn't startle it this time, only a growl escaped between his teeth and his ribs vibrated and snapped back and forth faster. Hob was pleasantly surprised at the change. He took his eyes off his lover for the first time since waking up here and looked around. Before, it had been as pitch black as all of The Dreaming, with only the stars on the ceiling providing any semblance of space. Now it was as if the shadows were concentrated mostly around their king and the corners, leaving the rest of the space in an ashy haze. If what Hob was doing was really calming Nightmare down, it was welcomed.
There were hoarse sounds above him again. A clawed hand, like the branches of a willow tree, grabbed him by the chin and spun him back around. Nightmare made another guttural yapping sound, looking Hob straight in the eye. Was he trying to talk to him?
‘Love, unfortunately I don't echolocate, you'll have to be more...ergh…human friendly?’
Nightmare frowned in displeasure. He stretched his neck and opened his mouth again. This time the sounds were a little smoother.
It had a hoarse beginning and a melodic ending ‘....h....ob....’
Oh, that was sweet.
‘Well, hi to you too. You, duck, are Nightmare i guess?’
The being above him twitched strangely. It was as if both joy and nervousness were coursing through Nightmare at the same time.
‘...h...h...o...w?’
‘Oh, Lucienne told me.’
Nightmare growled at that, and Hob hurried to not let the anger rain down on the poor librarian. ‘Don't worry, I insisted. You know I would have found other ways to find out about what happened to you, right?’
Nightmare shook his head at that, but the storm seemed to have passed. As if a sudden wave of drowsiness had come over him, the entity above Hob blinked owlishly out of sync, like the porcelain dolls that had scared Hob out of his wits when they appeared. But watching the once again blackened eyes, and the white dots that had returned to their place alternately hiding behind thick lashes, Hob couldn't help but find it cute. Creepy, but cute. The effect was echoed by a sudden yawn that made Hob look right inside the toothy mouth he'd just kissed, and it made him masochistically want to stick his tongue in there again. Hob also wanted to give this being all the care, attention, and love he was capable of.
Nightmare's head tilted up and dropped down to the junction of Hob's neck and shoulder. Hob felt the cold and wet tip of his nose touch the spot behind his ear and couldn't hold back a moan. Nightmare didn't pay much attention to him as he made himself comfortable on his lap, wrapping his arms around Hob's body as best he could with strong lower limbs that looked like octopus tentacles. His head was still there, but Nightmare's torso jerked downward, as if someone had cut the threads holding him in the air, and they were pressed tightly together from top to toe. It was oddly comfortable, despite the smell of dampness and the slight wet cold.
Hob thought of cats crumpling beneath themselves before curling up in the strangest and most confined space they could find. Yes, that was definitely what Nightmare seemed to be doing - sleeping, oddly enough. Hob had never seen him sleep as a Dream. He'd suggested it many times, but his lover had insisted he didn't need to, and they'd just limited it to Dream lying next to Hob when he fell asleep and being there when he woke up. Hob often wondered if Dream wanted to sleep on his own, but denied himself those little wishes. Hob could barely get him to enjoy food and drink for that matter, but Dream was still adamant about not needing sleep. And now that same insufferable and beloved entity was clearly dozing on Hob, purring into his neck, causing a tickling vibration.
‘You gotta be tired after all that. Aren't you, little one?’ Hob ran his fingertips gently over the ridges on the bony spine. The sounds the nightmare made sounded more like a jet engine, evoking long-gone memories of flying the first aeroplanes.
‘Yes,’ came a low mumble right into his ear drum.
That was the whole mystery, wasn't it? In that honest answer, in admitting what he wanted and taking it shamelessly. Hob didn't know if it was even possible to get that from Dream. Often it was his centuries of gaining empathy and sensitivity that helped him, and the fact that he gradually got to know Dream or Nightmare better, even if it seemed like insignificant grains of sand. But no matter, Hob was willing to wait as long as it took.
‘Rest well then, love.’ Hob stroked him some more, running his hand around the long, lifeless neck like a Modigliani painting, gently circling what must have been Nightmare's waist with his other hand.
A tentacle thinner than the ones that encircled his legs coiled around his forearm in recognition.
‘I will.’
Hob could get used to that charming assurance. Nightmare was already sniffing peacefully into the back of his ear, occasionally making a humming sound that caused vibrations throughout Hob's body. It felt good. He moved beyond simply stroking his back and began to run his fingertips over all the safe parts of Nightmare's body, who purred with affection.
The proximity and peaceful humming soothed Hob's mind. He must have come down from the adrenaline wave the same way, and now his body was demanding rest. It was so easy to close his eyes in the safety of the embrace of his favourite menacing Nightmare. Hob still didn't understand the mechanics of sleeping in a dream, but he wasn't complaining.
He didn't realise that he had fallen into the vacuum, and when Hob opened his eyes the next time it seemed to him that only a few minutes had passed, but he knew from bitter experience (it had been an accident, he never blamed Dream) that time flows differently in The Dreaming. Years could have passed, or it could have been only a few hours. But as he became fully aware of the strangeness of time in The Dreaming, and even of its intactness, it became easier for him to understand the frequency with which Dream appeared in the Waking.
Right now, Hob preferred to dwell on the fact that several hours had passed. It felt like a full regular night had just passed. Perhaps it was because of the lighting in the room, which was so reminiscent of what he saw every day in the morning, through the thick curtains. It reminded Hob of the times when Dream had stayed with him in his bed, after lovemaking or just for the sake of being there. It was damn nice to wake up and see his lover's relaxed face next to him.
This time was no different. Nightmare lay peacefully on top of him, still pinning him down. Hob didn't complain in the slightest.
However, it was as if the Nightmare had changed slightly. The aura surrounding him had become less hostile. The eerie feeling was still present, but as Hob realised it was a feature of the image. The creepiness wasn't set up to be dangerous, it just was. He followed the bony back, in front of his face. Apparently in the sleep Nightmare had sort of made a circle and now its head rested mostly where Hob's thigh began. Hob felt like a sleep toy.
He lifted his shoulders a little, stretching as far as his position allowed, and reaching out his hand he returned it to Nightmare's waist, stroking it like a scaredy cat. Hob could see the muscles contracting and vertebrae clenching to allow the head to rise that was staring at him with a deathly look right now from behind the bony shoulder.
‘I suppose, good morning sweetheart?’ Hob felt like he was continuing to push his luck, but he couldn't do anything about his stupid mouth. Though if he thought about it, his stupid mouth had led him to what he had now. All that immortal life and the enchanting ancient horror he loved with all his heart in his lap.
Nightmare lifted up moving like a dead man rising from the grave. A hand, still clawed, but softer and gentler encircled Hob's face. Nightmare leaned lower and captured his lips in a kiss. Hob couldn't resist running his tongue over Nightmare's teeth either. The rows of shark teeth and huge fangs had been replaced by neat but still sharp tips, and the fangs were becoming more like those sold in supermarkets on Halloween. Perhaps Hob was licking every bit of his lover's mouth too closely, but there was nothing he could do about curiosity, and Nightmare didn't resist or show any visible discomfort. If Hob squinted, he could tell that Nightmare was enjoying the attention, judging by the incessant rumbling.
Courage surged through him, and he wanted to press his body against that formidable little kitten and give it all the affection and care he was capable of. Hob squeezed his palms wide open on the cold skin and rolled over, trapping Nightmare between him and the soft surface, continuing to kiss him as if for the last time. After all, this method of grounding worked well on Dream, well when he was Dream.
Nightmare screwed his head up as their mouths tangled in messy kisses on his cheeks. The sharp teeth were sure to leave red marks on his jaw, but Hob didn't find the strength to resist. He was in turn doing what he madly and irrationally loved - kissing Nightmare on the tip of his nose, which had become even sharper with that form.
He loved the hell out of him.
‘I love you so much, duck. I think I'm obsessed. Says a lot about a man when he doesn't mind being bedded by a closet monster, huh?’
Nightmare propped his shoulders up with both hands and lifted him slightly so that they could have a dialogue without eating each other's faces. The ease with which Nightmare held his weight was doing something to Hob. God's wounds, he was fucked.
‘Yes. You are insane, indeed.’ Nightmare furrowed his eyebrows, looking at Hob like he was looking at the most complicated puzzle.
‘But you love me ain't you?’
‘Yes.’ Nightmare frowned at him as if he hadn't expected this from himself and at the same time hadn't expected Hob to ask such stupid questions.
And that little ‘yes’ was making Hob the happiest man in all of existence. Nightmare continued to stare at him, gradually the thin eyebrows relaxed.
Hob was about to dive back down to taste the storm again when the Nightmare simply disappeared from under him and at the same moment appeared beside him like a glitch in a computer game. There was worry read in the eerie features of his face and in his eyes, black, not as before wild and yellow.
‘What is it, duck? Did I do something wrong?’ Anxiety braided itself around Hob. It was one thing when his lover choked Hob when he didn't like something, that was relatively acceptable, but it was another when Dream or Nightmare silently tolerated it. Hob was afraid he had missed something in all this new environment. He reached out and placed his hand next to the clawed branching fingers, giving Nightmare the choice to touch or not. Nightmare poked at Hob's hand with his finger, as if it were an unidentified object piquing his interest.
‘The Dreaming,’ he whispered.
Ah, that's it. Even knocked out, the king was still a king - he worried about his kingdom. Nightmare rose crawling closer to the edge of what they lay on. Hob took the hint. It was worth it to first of all let Nightmare know that his subjects were alright. Yes they were scared, and were in complete darkness, but Fiddler's Green remained unaffected, so they could probably survive this. Nightmare was no better, Hob could take the liberty of saying that his beloved was scared too.
Turning round by inertia as if getting out of bed, Hod found that he had done just that. He was now standing on the hard floor. His back was clearly not expecting this. Hob stretched out his arms flexing them, crunching his bones. Nightmare remained immovable. He was sitting on... was it a huge bed? A huge bed that clearly belonged to the king of dreams and nightmares. Wow. Hob had not expected to be invited into the royal chambers.
Nightmare sat hunched over on his knees with his head turned in Hob's direction. There was a deep longing in his eyes. Did he really think Hob would abandon him? ‘Like the others did.’ Hob thought bitterly to himself. He was probably no one to judge them, but the welfare of Dream or Nightmare was still his first priority. Especially if he had so quickly switched from worrying about The Dreaming to worrying about Hob leaving him. Deep down, Hob was a little glad that his lover had put himself first rather than his function.
‘Oh, darling, I'm not going anywhere. I promise.’ Hob walked over to his ridiculous incarnation of an ink puddle, gently cupping his hands around his lover's face. Nightmare was sweetly supple in his arms. Hob brought their faces close together for a deep kiss, trying in it to convey to his beloved that there was nothing to worry about.
‘You do not wish for me to be gone?’ Nightmare whispered the question against his lips.
Hob's heart ached.
‘No. Of course not, love.’ Hob stroked razor-sharp cheekbones with his thumbs. Nightmare studied his face sceptically.
‘Fool.’
Hob held himself back from laughing. It was illicitly cute, the way Nightmare seemed to spit that obvious fact in his face.
‘I'm afraid, this fool is yours, darling. As you are mine. My foolish dark curled up ball of a lord, eh?’
Nightmare snapped his teeth and gave him one last peck on the mouth. He placed his hands on Hob's shoulders, linking them behind his neck, leaning against him. Hob didn't fully identify the limbs in that smoky black tangle with which Nightmare now stood beside him, but they made him about ten centimetres taller than Hob. Nightmare didn't stop, moving forward with his hands on Hob's shoulders becoming one palm resting a cold weight between his shoulder blades. Hob obediently went wherever he was led.
Everything around him was still a blur, but Hob trusted Nightmare. He heard the door open and then a rush of air hit him in the face. Hob lowered his gaze beyond the shroud of fog and his breath caught. Apparently they were standing on a balcony that overlooked The Dreaming. Space worked differently here and Hob thought he saw more than he should from this height. Nightmare leaned on the railing hunched over, staring gloomily at his realm.
Hob tried to distract him, and proceeded to try to get him to talk. ‘Hey, has this ever happened before?’
Nightmare glanced over his shoulder, but didn't look up and only nodded devastatedly.
‘So you know what to do, right?’ Hob put a hand on his sharp shoulder.
‘Yeah, but the fog came so fast.’ Nightmare was surprised at his own conclusion. Hob couldn't tell if the surprise was pleasant. Nightmare let go of the railing and crept backwards, staring upwards, trying to make out something in the sky.
‘Is that good?’ Hob turned back to Nightmare, stepping up close to him.
Nightmare was looking up at the mist again with a thoughtful expression on his intimidating face. ‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘Usually, it remains dark for so long that I wonder if The Dreaming would see the light again.... if I would once again see the light... see anything.’ Nightmare looked devastated.
‘Oh love.’ Hob hurriedly hugged him, as much as the surface of Nightmare's body allowed him to touch.
Keeping one hand on the sharp protrusion of his spine near his lower back and the other resting on his sunken belly Hob pressed Nightmare against him. His lover responded to the embrace and turned around beginning to press forward. Nightmare continued to push further until Hob felt his kneecaps rest against something soft. Nightmare made one last move forward and Hob was forced to grab onto it, he found himself lying on his back. Looking round at the new object, which he could have sworn wasn't here a moment ago, Hob realised it was one of those decorative 19th century half sofas. The dark wood blended beautifully with the nice mint green colour of the fabric and the patterns created by the embroidery.
Nightmare looked intensely focused on everything that was going on around him. His eyes swivelled like surveillance cameras, his tense jaw and twitching ears giving away how strained he was. Hob leaned back against the soft back of the couch, letting the Nightmare settle in as he pleased. He didn't think for long; Nightmare crawled back onto Hob's lap, turning sideways so that his head with its sharp cheekbones rested on Hob's shoulder and his long limbs were thrown over Hob's legs and twisted, hanging off the edge of the couch like creepy vines. With one of his branching arms he was possessively clutching Hob's chest just above his heart. Apparently this position, specifically lying on top of Hob, was the position Nightmare preferred when he was like this.
‘That's it,’ Hob muttered and turned to leave a kiss in his hair that felt like oil, ‘Best to sit down and think things over quietly, innit? You can see The Dreaming now, it's been left undisturbed apart from the weather changes, I can't compare it to Dante's hell anymore, so I reckon it's time to take care of you.’ Hob left little kisses all over everything he could reach, on the corners of the slits of Nightmare's eyes, on the pointed ear lobe, on the temple where there wasn't even a trace of a pulse.
Nightmare almost relaxed in his arms and purred a little, but Hob noticed the wary glances his lover cast at particularly dark corners. Hob had a hunch, but he was afraid to flaunt it, as he didn't know most of the arrangement of this world. He had to get Nightmare talking to make him feel better, but Hob had to do it smoothly.
‘Well the darkness. Probably a logical occurrence for this situation. Couldn't imagine anything else.’ Hob pondered out loud.
The corners of the fanged mouth were pulled as low as possible, frustrating Hob with his choice of topic of conversation.
‘All because darkness is my personal nightmare. Like a black hole. I use them to visit my Mother. When necessary. I do not know a worse place. There is no hope of seeing the light there, as it is impossible. You no longer know how much time has passed. How soon it will be over. You can be there for hours, but it will feel like centuries have passed,’ Nightmare whispered faintly.
Hob's heart was bleeding. He could feel his eyes becoming wet
‘Shit. Duck, I'm so sorry.’ Hob pressed Nightmare as close as he could. He remembered the place Lucienne had brought him to. ‘Wait, but Fiddler's Green was left untouched, wasn't it?’
Nightmare turned his head towards him to stare back questioningly. Then he lifted himself up and looked down at The Dreaming from the balcony again. His black eyes searched for something in the vast panorama. A sharp surprised singh followed.
‘Yes. Fiddler's Green was not affected by me.’ Nightmare's head bowed at an unnatural angle. ‘Perhaps my last conscious thought was the impulse to leave a place in The Dreaming where dreams could wait out the storm.’
Hob couldn't help but smile.
‘You see, love, you are a good king.’ He stroked Nightmare's neck with his knuckles. ‘It's not your fault at all. You're just scared of the darkness yourself, that's why you attack as a defence. In reality, you're just as sane as usual, especially when you're at peace now. It's just that maybe you're more kitten-like, huh.’ Hob tucked the no longer so sharp feather behind Nightmare's ear.
Nightmare turned his head towards Hob with a raised pointed eyebrow.
‘Yeah, look at you. You're fluffy and squeaky,’ Hob chuckled softly.
‘Ugh,’ Nightmare let out an extended rumble, between his ribs. Hob assumed he was embarrassed by the way Nightmare rubbed his nose against Hob's neck, settling the head on his shoulder again.
‘Shh. I got you, baby,’ Hob pecked him on the black top of his head.
Nightmare crawled around some more, arranging all of his limbs on top of Hob. Dream had tendencies to weave together. Given that Nightmare was more sure of what he wanted, he shamelessly clinged to Hob like a teddy bear. It was insanely cute. How could anyone reject this most adorable creature?
The said creature was at this moment rumbling and nuzzling under Hob's caring fingers. It warmed his old heart.
‘I love you, you know?’
Nightmare lifted his cute little nose again and stared at him. A sharp, toothy grin spread across the slit of his mouth almost reaching his ears. Smirking like the hellcat he was, Nightmare brought their faces close together so that they shared a breath.
‘I want to eat you alive Robert Gadling. Make you the part of me forever.I want to weave you into the fabric of my universe. Absorb all your light and make you mine. Make you a sun in my solar system. Wait the amount of time it takes to watch you explode into a new stream of infinite particles and carry me into oblivion. On my final journey with you.’
Hob froze trying to grasp the full meaning of that metaphor and when the cold black claw literally pulled his jaw back up he realised how wide open it was.
‘I'm not sure I could ever beat you at verbal expressions of love, my dear heart.’ Hob ran his hand over the ruffled feathers, amongst which he could again find fragments of dishevelled hair. He was glad to see that Nightmare had finally calmed down, and that the weather in The Dreaming was beginning to get better. The first glimmers of light showed in the mist.
‘It is not necessary as long as you show how much you love me with your deeds. Your love curbed an ancient horror today and that is worth a lot, my Hob. ‘ Nightmare shook his head and kissed him deeply.