Chapter 23: The Dreaming
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Ravenna stumbles as she materializes on the shores of the Dreaming, her balance failing her. She hits the ground with a thud, the sand scraping against her skin. Spitting out a mouthful of grit, she mutters, "Darn it."
"You're late, Lady Ravenna," a voice says with a welcoming smile. A tall woman with a shaved head, brown eyes, and pointed ears extends a hand to her. "I expected you days ago."
Ravenna blinks up at her, confused. "Have we met before?"
"Indeed," the woman replies, still smiling. "But not in this lifetime. I'm Lucienne, the chief librarian and guardian of the Dreaming."
"I'm Ravenna. But you know that already." Ravenna returns the smile weakly as she accepts Lucienne's help and they start walking toward the Gates of Horn and Ivory. "Is he here?"
Lucienne shakes her head. "Not at the moment. Lord Morpheus is always busy. He rarely stays in one place for long."
"Did he leave any word about where he might be?"
"Lord Morpheus was summoned by Lady Calliope."
Ravenna's face falls. "The one he shared a son with?"
"That's the one."
"Are they... seeing each other again?"
"I'm not sure of the details," Lucienne says with a hint of sadness as three creatures- a gryphon, a wyvern, and a hippogryph-appear to usher them through the gates. The sight of the Dreaming's heart, with its enchanting beauty and Dream's castle, leaves Ravenna breathless.
Lucienne's eyes twinkle as she sees Ravenna's reaction. "Let me show you around. Perhaps the library would be of interest. We have stories that might capture your imagination. And Mervyn's eager to see you again. He always enjoyed your company."
"I'd love that," Ravenna says, her enthusiasm returning.
As they jog down the path to Dream's castle, a figure zooms into view- a woman riding a broomstick, decked out in a top hat and tails, sipping from a cocktail. Ravenna squints, struck by her resemblance to Delirium. The creature lowers her broom and spots them.
"What do we have here, Lucienne?" the creature asks, her eyepatch glinting as she looks at Ravenna. "Oh, my dreams! It's Lady Ravenna! Welcome back!"
She laughs loudly, soaring off into the sky of the Dreaming. Ravenna watches her disappear, baffled. "What was that?"
"The Fashion Thing," Lucienne explains, guiding her across the golden bridge to the castle. "She has been many things. Flapper... mod... punk... She was a 'Mad Madonna Witch' for a while. Last time I saw her she was the 'Mad Yuppie Witch.' But that was a year ago."
"Interesting," Ravenna says, grinning.
At the library, they encounter Mervyn Pumpkinhead, who's busy mopping the floor. His head is a pumpkin, and his appearance is a mix of scarecrow and jack-o'-lantern.
"Mervyn Pumpkinhead, meet Lady Ravenna," Lucienne introduces. "He handles construction, maintenance, and demolition in the Dreaming."
"Thanks for the intro, Lucienne. But sometimes I feel my job's a bit redundant. Dream Lord can change anything at will." Mervyn, with a jaded tone, turns to Ravenna. "You look paler than I remember, Lady Ravenna."
"I think you're one of the coolest parts of the Dreaming, Mervyn," Ravenna says with an encouraging smile. "And don't worry, I won't let Morpheus screw with your job. Not on my watch."
"That's good to hear." Mervyn smirks, his eyes twinkling. "I've got work to do. Nice seeing you again, Lady Ravenna."
"Same here, Mervyn. Same here," Ravenna replies before following Lucienne further into the library.
"This library consists of a collection of every book that has ever been imagined, even if that book was never published or even written," Lucienne says, stopping at a rack labeled 'Ravenna' in elegant cursive. "This rack is dedicated to your stories. Every past life of yours is recorded here."
"And these stories here were written by you. You were once an author." Lucienne adds, pointing at the lower shelf.
Ravenna traces her fingers over the spines of her life stories, pulling out the fourth book. As she opens it, she's pulled into a vivid memory.
Dream, lying on the bed with a mischievous grin, says, "I shall marry you someday."
Ravenna, combing her hair, responds with a teasing smirk, "Not with that cocky attitude. Besides, you aren't that good."
"That's very rude," Dream retorts dramatically.
"No one asked for your opinion," Ravenna laughs, struggling to keep a straight face.
"It's called freedom of speech." Dream retorts dramatically and Ravenna has to stifle back a smile and a laugh with his comment. He sits up, patting the space between his legs. "Come here."
She climbs onto the bed, settling against him. He takes the brush from her and begins to comb her hair. "Careful with your words, my love. We don't want to deal with my bad side."
"Do you have a bad side?" Ravenna teases, looking at him through the mirror.
Dream's breath tickles her ear. "Do not test me."
"I like to try," she murmurs, her voice a mix of affection and challenge.
He wraps his arms around her, his fingers tickling her sides. Her laughter fills the room as she tries to push him away. Dream's smile broadens, savoring her joy.
Later, Ravenna is at her study desk, working on her novel. She coughs violently, her handkerchief stained with blood. She knows she's dying. Dream, hiding his own pain, tries to comfort her, but she sees the anguish in his eyes.
He places a hand on her desk and strokes her tired head. "Having trouble staying awake?"
Ravenna nods, her eyes heavy. "Why? Want to keep me distracted?"
"If I keep you awake, I promise you'll be more tired than before."
"Flirt," she laughs, as he pulls up a chair and places a hand on her thigh.
Dream's touch is both comforting and tantalizing. "Continue your work. The deadline's in a week."
She bites her lip, her resolve wavering. "I'm serious, Morpheus."
"So am I," he says, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
She stops his hand, placing it on his lap. "No."
Dream's smile fades as he looks at her unfinished work. "How far are you?"
"Nowhere near the ending. I'm lost," she admits.
"Maybe I can inspire you?" he suggests.
Ravenna narrows her eyes. "I don't tolerate cheating."
"A little cheating won't do a harm. No one has to know. It will be our secret," Dream says with a wink.
She hesitates, then sighs. "Fine. Only because your creativity is wild and more intense."
"Flattered, I am," Dream says with a smug grin, taking the quill from her and setting it aside. "Now, come here. I want to hold you."
"If you don't help me finish before the deadline, I'll skin you alive," Ravenna threatens as they move to the bed.
Dream chuckles, wrapping her in his arms. "I feel threatened."
She snuggles into him, feeling his warmth. "You're so warm."
He kisses her forehead. "Sleep, my love."
"I love you, Morpheus," she tiredly murmurs, not knowing they will be her last words before she falls into the slumber of death. A painless death this time.
Dream's heart aches as he holds her lifeless form. His worst fears have come true. He clings to her, his tears silent but fierce. The thought of her being in his grasp but unable to hold infuriates every part of him. When he is ready to provide the love he can give with no bounds, chaos surrounds him taking her far away from him. It is utterly awful and tragic. Their love is a hymn of forbidden.
Back in the present, Ravenna closes the book, a tear slipping down her cheek. She returns it to the shelf and looks around the library noticing Lucienne's absence, nor the wise-cracking janitor.
Heavy footsteps reach into the library, gaining immediate attention of the mortal where she turns to find Dream walking with grace.
"Lucienne, I was informed of a guest by the gatekeepers-" He freezes on his spot at the sight of Ravenna, a scandalised expression spreading across his face. Any hints of his earlier brooding have now disappeared.
Just looking at him, makes Ravenna realise how much she has missed him. The sharp curve of his cheekbones tapering down to a strong jaw. The arch of his brows and the firm, sensual curve of his lips. He is the same, looks even more handsome. And she still gets those stupid butterflies.
She nervously puts up a hand, waving slightly. "Hi."
"Go home, Ravenna. I have no business with you." He says, his face granite, his tone resolute.
"Someone once told me we end up where we're meant to be," she replies, her voice trembling. "And I'm meant to be here. With you."
He doesn't move or dare to respond as she takes another step toward him, but his eyes are burning with intensity.
In a spur of the moment, she wraps her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest. He tenses beneath her, but she is too busy melting into his warmth. "What can I do for your forgiveness? I will do anything, everything."
His hands find their way around her shoulders, gently pushing her away as if she is some kind of a disease for him, then he utters, his voice toneless, his words cold. "Nothing can be done."
He turns and walks away. Ravenna stands there, her heart heavy. Her shoulders slump as she clutches her elbow for comfort, her mother's words echoing in her mind.
...If he ever falls out of love, chase after him to the ends of the world. Show him that the love you offer is irreplaceable...
"He's playing hard-to-get. Let's see how long he can keep it up." With renewed determination, Ravenna stomps after him.
She catches up to him, her voice breaking through the silence. "I love you."
Dream pauses, but his expression remains unchanged. Ravenna's heart sinks, but she persists. "I love you, Morpheus."
Dream sighs and starts to walk away again.
"I love you so much," Ravenna's voice cracks with raw emotion as she shouts after him. "I said I love you! Why are you leaving?!"
Her words echo through the hall, and Dream's pace quickens. The intensity of her confession seems to pierce the very fabric of the Dreaming. Ravenna's frustration and heartbreak fuel her resolve. "I bloody love you!" she yells, her voice trembling with desperation.
Sand swirls around Dream, and he vanishes, leaving Ravenna standing alone, breathless and fuming. Her emotions rage within her, a tempest of love and anger. She stomps her feet, the anger giving way to a deep sorrow. "Stubborn as a mule," she mutters bitterly.
In the quiet aftermath, Ravenna stands amid the empty hallway, her shoulders slumped. She tries to compose herself, rubbing her arms as though to ward off the cold sting of rejection. Her mother's advice echoes in her mind, a beacon in her sea of despair.
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