Immortals and Empires

Chapter 16: Developing, Denial

Two brothers are reunited, but they must be Guardians before brothers.

Their safety net is beginning to unravel.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

suicidal ideation, implied violence

if you wish to avoid the former, avoid the passage between the first and second cuts. if you wish to avoid the latter, avoid the passage after the third cut.

- - - - -

Dream had so much on his mind he wished he could rip it out and bury it in his brother's unburied grave. So many people kept taking up space in it he wanted to forget them all, then promptly became horrified at the distressed thought and pushed it all away. He needed a distraction. He couldn't just sit here with his thoughts, staring at the empty plate.

Swap. Oh, shit. How long had it been, out there? He hadn't meant to leave Swap in charge for so long. He'd only done that since Swap actually listened to him and Dream trusted him not to start another war whilst he was off dealing with Ink. But he hadn't meant to stay in Ink's dream for so long, was Swap okay—

The Council. They would be demanding answers and— and he would notice it as a moment of weakness, Swap would be in danger, shit—

Would anyone go near the four being held captive? Would his absence lead to them being denied food and drink? Surely not. Swap would stop them. He told Swap to protect them. They'd be okay. Unless Swap wasn't okay.

Stars.

The plate was reflectionless porcelain.

Killing Nightmare changed nothing. It certainly hadn't stopped him from returning in the present. Dream was reliving his past all over again, only worse with every premonition of what was to come.

His fingers ached. It'd been a long time since Dream had been on the battlefield. He'd naturally been an archer, and so had developed the habit of flexing his fingers every so often. He'd also gotten into the habit of subtly looking back to check his quiver before remembering he wasn't in the midst of warfare just yet.

So, when Dream had been busy moping around his empty plate and a trickle he felt immediately rang every alarm bell in his head that hadn't already been ringing, his fingers instinctively grabbed onto it and threw it like a frisbee.

The plate in question hit Nightmare square in the chest.

Hit—

Hit

Nightmare—

His fists unclenched.

Unclenched so quickly that if it were his back his spine would've shattered.

Nightmare never broke eye contact from the plate, which should've shattered on impact but, being in a dream, hadn't.

"Hello, brother."

- - - - -

No tears were spilt, perhaps that was the worst of it. Dream knew how to handle tears. He did not know how to handle the hollow tiptoeing around an unburied grave. So he listened till Nightmare stopped talking.

He had hoped for a fleeting moment Nightmare was just part of the dream, but fact cannot be changed with mere hope.

Dream exhaled. "You think I'm about to deny everything you just said."

"I know you," Nightmare unabashedly confirmed it. "You're the type to run away from your fear."

Dream sighed, tracing the plate now resting in his lap. Nightmare sat in front of him, cross-legged. "I know. But I can face them now."