Chapter Text
“Help me load up the other box,” Dream said as he finished straightening the belts on the larger crate. He was almost done loading up the supplies onto the small carriage. “Or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?”
His cheeky remark was directed to his sharply dressed husband. As part of their honeymoon, they were going to stop by a town known for its large markets, where Dream would sell some of his precious ores and pieces from his collection. Hopefully trading in for lots of luxurious nights in this country’s finest establishments.
“I wasn’t made for physical labor, do you see these moves? I’m a distinguished prince!” Tommy shrugged at him from where he was perched on the stone wall in their courtyard, dangling and swinging his legs excitedly. He slid off with the grace of a tripping swan and jogged over with a big smile and creasing eyes. Laughter painted every part of his face in those days, thinking it would only last during their newlywed period, only to be surprised with decades more.
The pair loaded up the rest of their items onto the carriage before sitting together at the front. It was pulled by none other than Dream’s beautiful and powerful stallion, Spirit. That horse rode them restlessly through the countryside and towns alike, until they had their fill and returned to the castle.
Tommy never thought to question it. This one horse had been by Dream’s side since before they officially met. And by extension, he was the bowyer’s horse, too.
Spirit was once so tall, Tommy needed help from Dream to get on his back. It was a little embarrassing, but he eventually learned to do it on his own. The current Tommy was a far shot from that pampered, happy thing he once was. Now, if he needed to get down and dirty, or do some heavy lifting, well, it was just part of life. It didn’t mean he liked it better; if he had to be truthful, the lavish life of little worry was far preferred. This cold and empty lodge, in the middle of the woods, with his days spent at work and scraping by, were taxing just on their own. Added was Tommy’s past and the mountain of emotion and experiences that came with it. A life that went on too long.
The next morning, he awoke in relative peace, blinking away heaviness and frost despite being within the confines of his mound of soft and fuzzy blankets. Outside was quiet, no more pelting snow or howling winds. He took a deep breath, letting the events of last night fizzle back in and through him. He had to speak with the monster outside, he’d decided. The bowyer’s terms will be strict and final, he had to stand his ground. Tommy covered his head back under the covers, his bravery so easily extinguished. Dream won’t take any of this well, but he will also refuse to be ignored when it’s broad daylight again.
Tommy threw the blankets off with finality, wearing a twisted expression.
The outside world had brightened up, with gentle sunlight pooling between the pine branches and casting sparkles in the snow. It won’t melt for weeks to come, especially with winter in full swing, but all life in the tundra was out to appreciate what little sun they could get. Even birds were heard from somewhere up high.
Tommy pressed his palm against the door, the other firmly holding on the handle to twist it open. Anticipation and dread both gathering in his brain, too early in the day for this. He hadn’t even had breakfast yet! As he began to push it open, he could almost feel the weight of the body he knew had slept right outside, almost blocking him in. Tommy pushed the door further out with more strength than needed, only to launch right out into thin air. He stumbled briefly onto the clear floorboards before straightening up. His porch and yard were lacking any large figures, but the pawprints and thrown-up snow were clear evidence of its presence.
The bowyer looked around dumbly at first, before spotting the fluffy white tail, perfectly camouflaged but sticking out the side of his lodge. The side with the overhang and his dry firewood. Dream had taken shelter there at some point in the night. It must have been so quiet because Tommy never woke up. It frightened him to think that Dream could be so large but still so sneaky and cunning. That was a terrible combination to have on a predator. Terrible for the prey, anyway.
Sudden movement of the tail brought him out of his thoughts. Tommy walked quietly around to the corner, just as Dream came into view and instantly turned his head to him.
“Tommy! Look, Spirit recognizes me! He let me take shelter with him.” The wolf said with such enthusiasm that Tommy was left dumbfounded. Something then clicked in his mind and he brought his eyes up at the horse which made a small sound back, glossy dark eyes locked on him too.
Tommy looked between the animals with a staggering realization of how similar in size they were, but also remembering something he’d left on the backburner, distracted wholly by the return of his ex-lover.
Their horse Spirit, who had unexpectedly arrived at his doorstep just before the wolf himself had.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had him here?” Dream stood to his full height now and faced Tommy fully. His confusion passed onto the bowyer, who had no good answer.
“You went back for him, didn’t you? Back to get him from the castle, so he wouldn’t die.” The way Dream spoke almost sadly churned something bitter in Tommy’s gut, because he almost definitely had not even looked in that direction. But he was now feeling the guilt of abandoning the loyal steed. Had it not been for the horse’s own survival instinct and whatever ingenuity even got it here, Spirit would have died of starvation by now.
Dream tilted his head at Tommy as the silence stretched, with his features only twisting to reveal the progress of emotions going through him at the question.
“Tommy?” The wolf took a step forward and brought one paw up to the edge of the porch, which was elevated off the ground to protect from the cold. Tommy stepped back when he saw the large, clawed thing encroach closer to his feet, spooked by the idea of being grabbed and dragged into the woods screaming and crying.
“Yeah, well, n–no, actually…” He fumbled his words, retreating still while his eyes darted away. “He came out of nowhere, the same day that you did. I thought you were… You were following him. Bringing him. I don’t know.”
Dream’s previously glad expression faltered, evident by the scrunch on his snout and drooping ears. It turned stern as he looked back at the horse, then softening again. A lot was going through his own mind. Tommy made it pretty clear before they separated that he wanted out of their old home.
“Right… Spirit is my horse, after all.” Dream commented, beginning to realize just how put off Tommy was by him as a whole. That fear must extend to everything that has to do with him.
“It’s… impressive. That he came out here on his own. I mean, he’s so old now.” Another realization striking him, this time much simpler to grasp.
The wolf’s head lowered as Tommy said nothing else, besides standing there and looking at them.
Everything that Dream had touched was corrupt in his mate’s eyes. From Tommy’s remarks about the dust in the castle, to the darkness and eerie quiet that blanketed their town—it was all just an extension of the wolfman’s corrupted soul. It was also deja vu, like he’d had this epiphany before, but only for a brief conscious moment. Just before succumbing to the snake venom and battle wounds. His gaze stuck blankly to the floor, wide and concerned, distant from the rest of the world. Wishing to see anything other than clawed hands with no thumbs.
“Dream.” Beside him, Tommy had come closer again. His expression had become determined, a front to protect his fragile heart before he changed his mind and hid again. “If you want to stay here, then… Then I have some rules.” His fists balled by his sides to control his shaking.
The wolf’s face gradually changed to calm, indicating that he was listening without intending to interrupt. Tommy swallowed dryly before continuing, his next word gaspish.
“Okay… Come to the front.” He gestured to the wolfman to follow, which he did gladly.
Tommy sat on the stairs leading down, as Dream circled around to the spot in front of him, laying down to be on his eye level. He’d trotted over excitedly, unable to hide it in this body. Tommy was talking to him! On his own, and he sounded agreeable.
Seeing the beast’s eyes locked on him expectantly, Tommy struggled to speak again. His eyes trailed over the other, as if he’s surrendering to his whims and not trying to set boundaries. Whatever Dream thought their talk was going to be, clearly it was more optimistic than Tommy.
“So, your leg is all good now?” He started instead, skirting the topic until he could collect his senses again.
Dream looked over his wrapped up thigh and gave it a good pat with one paw. “About alright. Eating and resting helped speed up the healing a lot. It isn’t really painful anymore.” He explained before leveling Tommy with an unamused look. “I still need you to change the bandages before it gets infected again though…” The implications that he’d been neglected were not lost on Tommy. The bandages were dirty and crusty, with matted fur around the edges.
“Just chew them off and let it air out.” He said deadpan to the appalled wolf.
“I’m not gonna—act uncivilized just because I’m–I’m–”
“Built for the woods? Lots of natural and supernatural healing capabilities?” Tommy finished for him with slight amusement at prickling Dream’s skin. This was always going to be a sour topic for him, but he’s gonna have to deal with it.
“Tommy,” Dream pressed the name firmly against the back of his teeth, bristling as his elbows lifted off the ground briefly.
The bowyer felt that instinctual shiver to back off, but he somehow resisted the urge this time, although his palms pressed on the step behind him, ready to lift him up to his feet at a moment’s notice.
“Th–that’s one of my rules!!” He spat the words out, struggling to keep eye contact with the beast’s gleaming yellow glare. He saw it flicker down from Dream’s surprise.
“You’re gonna feed yourself and take care of yourself, if you want to stay here! Because I don’t have the resources to support you. I don’t have the space for big pets!”
“I’m not a pet!!” Dream snapped, his tone appalled, but he stood down and cleared his throat. “Feeding myself…” He grumbled, “Okay, fair enough. But I’m not a pet or an animal.”
Tommy was about to bite back, but he refrained with only a roll of his eyes. To be fair, he didn’t really consider the wolfman to be an animal, despite his current predicament. These were unusual circumstances.
“Right, right. Good.” He nodded sternly. “Not an animal, just overgrown.”
Dream’s withering stare told him it was time to move on to the next rule.
“You’re gonna stop complaining about everything.”
“I do not—”
“Starting now! Starting now!!” Tommy raised his voice. “The squirrels ain’t going to judge where you piss and there’s no other human around to do that either!”
Dream retracted with disgust, his maw gaping and a paw pressed to his chest.
“As long as I don’t see where it happens either!” The bowyer quickly added. “You’re gonna go do your hunting and maybe sometimes I’ll come with you if I need to hunt as well. And you’re gonna groom yourself so you don’t stink up my place.”
Every insinuation was another sword through Dream’s heart; he felt so attacked but so helpless to object.
“ Okay ,” He growled sternly. “You’ve made your point. Be self-sufficient. That’s the rule, right?”
“Right!” Tommy crossed his arms proudly.
A moment of silence befell them before Dream raised a brow. “So is that it?” He asked curiously. After the outburst last night, he expected a lot more.
Tommy’s satisfied expression fell, even as the wolfman was listening to him so patiently. Uncharacteristic patience from Dream. But they both knew that couldn’t be all he wanted to say. It was almost too much to put into a simple set of rules, and as Tommy’s brain tried to string them into one, his arms turned from confident to hugging around his body, his composure crumbling as easily as snow fell from the roof.
“Listen…” He started quietly, “Just… fucking listen, okay?”
Dream frowned at what he took as an accusation, “I am listening!”
“I’m not just gonna…” Tommy struggled to say it, knowing that Dream would take it in the worst way possible. He feared the reaction more than voicing his feelings at all.
“Let you… back into my life. Haha.” The strain pulled taut, crackling against his ribs and twisting his heart. Enough to scratch at his sanity. He’d given it much more thought than just one or two nights. It had weighed on him after running from Dream’s fallen body, all the way until the words finally left his mouth just now. He would never let them fester too close to his consciousness, because what did he have left in the world if he let go of love too? But if he let that love fester, then it wouldn’t let anything else grow inside . Dream was too possessive and jealous, he had proven as much over and over again. Tommy could never be free if he let Dream love him fully. But he could be so happy. He’d never gotten to a sensible answer, so he preferred to drown out the mere notion with the sizzle of hot iron in his bucket and the clink of the hammer against it.
Dream visibly tensed, his fur raising and his eyes scanning Tommy like radar. His jaw fell open as he prepared to object.
“You could earn the privilege to stay around me, but I… I won’t fall for you. At most, we could co-exist.” Tommy delivered the rest of his decision with a burning sting behind his eyes. Saying he doesn’t outright love him would have been kinder for both of them.
“You have to earn that too, though.” He swallowed thickly, mouth dry and voice dying on him. He didn’t understand why it hurt to say, or why Dream was actually staying silent when asked to hear him out. The wolf’s ears were pinned back like a pathetic, stepped-on worm, his face more fallen than Spirit’s old features.
“You… think now, that you won’t grow to like me again.” The wolfman attempted. Tommy’s feelings towards him were finally sinking in and it took breaking their hearts again.
“But maybe you’ll change your mind. Forever is a long time.” He licked his lips awkwardly, as if choosing his words carefully and not just trying to sway Tommy this time. He could tell from the bowyer’s rancid, acid stench that he was in turmoil. It was new for Dream to know that he was the cause of it. It was not the first time, just the first that he was aware of. He was toeing the line, for once fearing what Tommy might say that could be worse than this. Still, he did not respect the bowyer’s words seriously enough. He was being given the time and closeness, so he could always coerce the other back into his arms; all he needed now was the time.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Tommy chanted, waving his hands at Dream scoldingly. “No more fucking necromancy shit, no talking about the dead, none of that ever,” he stressed, watching Dream’s brows scrunch disapprovingly.
“There is no forever, ever after for us! No death talk and especially no killing anyone!! Only prey animals when you need to eat. Got it?!” Tommy raised his arms up, boiling over as he scorned the other with his glare alone.
“No kissing up to me! No dark magic bullshit! No murder!!” He stood up as he shouted his rules again. “We are not anything and you’ll take care of your own damn self! No manipulating, no tricks and no killing people!! Absolutely zero killing and reviving!”
His voice flowed out in one complete mess, a volcano of his pent-up emotions spilling out and down the stairs and burning the wolf in front of him. All this off his chest left Tommy shivering on the steps with his fists painfully curled and teeth grit as his shoulders heaved with every tired breath. The final signature he put to his declaration came from the crack of his throat, “You got all that?”
Dream regarded him with thinly veiled rage. He’d risen from the ground before he knew it, but his head was low and locked onto the bowyer he was shadowing against the door of the lodge. He stepped forward onto the steps, crowding Tommy further into the dead end behind him.
“Look at you, raising your voice at me.” He spoke in a low, threatening tone, the grin on his face forced and only serving to expose his fangs. “That’s certainly new.”
When Tommy’s fear scent filled the tense air around them, Dream’s inner beast delighted in it. But Dream had no real intention to do anything. There was nothing he could do but let out his frustration with Tommy’s purposeful distancing and his own crippling loneliness.
“I’ll adhere to your rules and do my best to become close to you again. I’m satisfied as long as I have you by my side and it seems that you’re willing to tolerate that, which is hope for me,” he explained, his eerie, feral smile vanishing. He wasn’t so much a threat now as he was imposing, the way a statue of a powerful but merciless old king might be.
Tommy breathed out a gasp, something of a scoff that he was unsurprised, but too stressed to act composed.
“I have some rules of my own, though.” Dream continued evenly, to which Tommy gaped.
“Wh–You–you don’t get to—”
“I want to be allowed inside the lodge and the workshed and every little building you might make in the future.”
Tommy was taken aback by the simplicity but also the audacity. He exhaled sharply, unsure of what to even say. It was clear as day that this was just a part of what Dream promised him, something he’d exploit to get close to the bowyer again. How fucking bold of him to outright demand it.
Dream lifted his paw and planted it beside Tommy’s head on the door, pushing it slightly open as if to display what he meant. But the bowyer grabbed the knob then pulled the door against his back until it shut closed again. His frown loosened into uncertainty as Dream narrowed his eyes, but neither said a word for a long moment.
“That’s all then?” Tommy broke the tension eventually, mimicking the wolfman’s own prior words.
“Well—”
“Okay!! I believe we’ve come to some common ground then.” He rushed out before Dream inevitably got more out of him. The day had just begun and he already wanted to curl up in bed.
“Fine, you can come inside the workshed and warm your furry ass on my smelting furnace, but don’t think for a moment that you’re welcome where I sleep!!”
Dream clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“This is the people house,” Tommy pointed a thumb over his shoulder, then at the workshed in the distance behind Dream. “That’s the dog house. Period.”
Dream growled and pressed his other paw against the wall, effectively locking Tommy between them. It was completely dark under his figure, where the bowyer was caged in. Small and helpless, should the beast choose to follow his whims.
“Not like we both fit in my house anyway,” the bowyer added, but he was visibly shivering. His bravado only lasted this long because Dream hadn’t touched him directly yet. He can be as big and scary as he wants, but he won’t really try to hurt Tommy, that’s what the bowyer was starting to realize.
He poked a finger into Dream’s chest to drive his point further, but retreated once his hand began to sink in there whole.
“You’re making me sleep on the couch?” Dream remarked with sarcasm. “Really?”
“Yes. Really.” Tommy puffed out his chest, with his rapidly beating heart in such clear earshot of the wolf that Dream nearly laughed.
“That’s progress!” The wolfman beamed at him, leaving Tommy in disarray at the insinuation. “I’m allowed inside!”
The scene dissolved before Tommy’s brain caught up with it fully. Dream slid off the wall and turned tail, the tip of it brushing over his arm and wagging. Moved by his own volition this time, which looked comical. An imitation of how dogs would express excitement.
The bowyer shook it off and rushed after Dream, “ Noo , no that’s not what this is.”
He came to an abrupt stop just before bumping into Dream’s side, as both of them stood back under the overhang, where Spirit was lying on the ground. His legs were folded close to his body, and his head rested over some dry logs in a rather peaceful sleep. His ribs expand and deflate with slow and even breaths.
Both men stood in front and watched the horse in silence, but while Tommy regarded him questioningly and was still very much stuck in his conversation with Dream, the wolf looked somber. There was such a clear sorrow in his eyes before he quickly closed them, that Tommy lost his train of thought once he noticed it. He raised a brow, leaning in front of Dream to try and look at his face properly. His gaze drifted over to the horse again, once Dream sat down where they stood.
The wolfman sighed quietly, a fragile breath that begged to not become suppressed. Tommy pondered the image in front of him, horses don’t even lie down, do they? They’re too vulnerable that way.
Spirit’s muzzle was graying, whiskers of pure white and eyes distant from the space around him. They opened slowly to regard the two figures in front before resuming his peaceful rest. His legs had carried him farther than any other horse in history. Through lands far and wide and kingdoms now fallen, always with his rider on top. Into war, into markets, into the castle. But this? This had become the last time he would gallop.
For Dream, it was the scent. A particular instinct he’d never been conscious of, but far-strengthened by his current body. Because it would be important information to a predator in the wild, knowing which animals are young, sick, or dying, in order to pick off more easily. It was coming off in waves from the old horse, signaling his time was near. Dream wondered how many times he’d smelled it before without realizing what it was.
Tommy had walked over to the horse and sat in front of him, brushing Spirit’s mane away from his face. The horse thrilled quietly, while the giant wolf just sat and watched them. The bowyer turned to him, searching his blank face. On Dream, that only meant one of two things—he was concealing his intentions or his feelings. Tommy feared asking.
After a while of silence, Tommy spoke up, as the air had gotten thick with trepidation.
“You think he’s sick?”
The wolfman’s ear flicked, as if being brought back to the present.
“Y’know, from the blizzard?”
Dream blinked before he suddenly sputtered. An empty, near-soundless gush of air. The bowyer’s expression churned, unease in his chest.
“Tommy… No.” The wolf shook his broad head, letting it weigh him down to the ground. After a pause, as if deliberating it, Dream added, “He’s more than two hundred years old, you know.”
Tommy chewed over the facts, a chill spreading over his hands, but he didn’t let it enter him yet.
“Well… How long do horses usually live?”
Dream raised his head at him suddenly, incredulous. Clearly Tommy was grasping the situation, though in typical Tommy fashion, he was trying to avoid the dark truth.
“Not two hundred years.” The wolfman informed him sarcastically. “You can’t be serious right now. Are you doing it on purpose?”
Tommy defended, “No! I don’t understand.” He looked over at Spirit, petting his tired face. He didn’t doubt Dream’s proclamation; he’d seen him riding the stallion before he knew either of their names. Then it dawned on him, and Tommy’s head flitted up to Dream abruptly, accusatory.
“They don’t live nearly that long, do they?”
“About thirty years.” Dream scoffed. He turned to the side with his ears dropping, knowing that Tommy would hate the explanation.
The number stabbed through Tommy, and he took his next breath in like a gasp as he stood up suddenly.
“You… You've been doing it since long before me.” His voice came quiet but seething. A finger was pointed like a spear at the wolf, who faced him ominously. “I thought revival didn’t work on animals and that’s why you got people from our village—”
A splitting growl shut the bowyer up and startled Spirit. Tommy’s name was uttered between bared teeth; he’d hit a nerve.
“It doesn’t,” Dream’s voice returned from the animalistic noise. “Spirit has never died, I kept him alive by any means possible. He is what I had before you.”
Dream had risen to his paws, the fur on his back bristling and shadowing the bowyer, raised against the light to stab at the sky. The implications of his words hung heavily from his jaws. The bowyer didn’t say anything, only analyzed them through his frazzled brain. The idea that he wasn’t Dream’s first attachment had never once crossed his mind, but here the wolfman was, practically admitting it.
Forever is a long time, Dream had said just earlier. Tommy wasn’t scared anymore, he merely felt profoundly lost in what was to be the wolfman’s eternity of being forced to outlive everything he cared for. For someone whom time can heal over and over, Dream had chosen to cling and keep instead, even if it meant performing abhorrences in the face of nature and god. Just as he was beginning to understand the other’s obsession, his own human reality reeled him back in. The monster is not to be sympathized with, he should be struck down and caged in hell. Whatever Dream claimed to do in the name of love was always hiding behind his mound of corpses.
“I fed him potions and special food. I’m an alchemist after all, remember?” The wolf sneered.
“You gotta let him go, man,” Tommy returned in a whisper. He felt more sorry for the horse now. Yet, when he looked at Spirit now and in every recovered memory he carried, the stallion never seemed angry at his master for what he’d done.
Dream’s frustrated face darkened further, then released. “I know that! I can see it’s what he wants! Eventually I knew it was coming.” He ranted on, interrupted by another of Tommy’s careful words.
“You delayed it as much as possible, you’ve seen him like this before. I saw how you looked at him just now!”
“Yes, Tommy, many times.” Dream’s expression contorted coldly. “Spirit is the only horse I could trust to carry me into battle and across any land. So I let him know that I still needed him.”
It was Tommy’s turn to get angry, balling his fists, “That’s not fair, Dream! It’s not natural! You forced him—”
“You want to talk to me about fairness?!” The wolf’s growl silenced him, thumping paws at his chest. “When I thought I was dying, look what god did to me!” He barked out a laugh. “Life isn’t fair, Tommy. Every good thing that crossed into yours, I wove in there myself. You were an orphan that I dropped at the doorstep of the richest family in town. You were always protected. You moved from your comfortable familial home into my castle where you never worked a day in your life.”
Tommy’s eyes stung, he wanted to protest. His life had not all been written by Dream’s whims.
“All thanks to this horse and my generational existence.” Dream breathed heavily by the time he was finished. His teeth grit as the two men glared at each other. A tear had streaked down Tommy's cheek, and Dream’s throat was raw. The history between them hung heavily from the overhang, dropping large clumps of snow. Dream wasn’t standing firmly as he usually would, his form was tense but fragile and his eyes distraught, conflicted. Tommy had rarely ever seen him this way. He noted the familiarity between now and when he was an old man, lying in their bed while Dream refused to get in before he finished his lab work.
It was surprisingly the wolfman who broke off eye contact first, shutting his eyes as he walked away without a word. The bowyer watched his back with confusion and worry still wetting his features. Dream walked a few paces away, just on the cusp of Tommy’s homestead, before he began digging. His large claws made quick work of the piled snow until they hit frozen ground. Dream yelped for a moment, caught by the frost and hardness, but continued on with sullen determination.
Tommy approached him after a moment of watching the wolf sink into the ground. “What are you doing?” He asked as if it hadn’t already crossed his mind.
There was a long pause before he heard an answer. “Spirit will be gone by sundown today. I can smell it on him.”
Tommy was taken aback by the bluntness, looking at the horse who lay so peacefully. “You’re gonna let him go?” His voice cracked slightly, almost disappointed. But it wasn’t right. He would miss the horse just as much, but he’d also never want him to suffer a too-long life. Two hundred years must feel as old as Dream himself. Spirit had experienced his own eternity.
The wolf’s guarded eyes swiveled to him, “Isn’t this what you yelled at me to do earlier?”
Tommy couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t have this morning, but it was unfolding before his eyes. Dream wasn’t even trying to argue the revival rule or somehow turn it on him. He had accepted this ordeal scarily fast.
“You’re not gonna beg me to take back the rule for Spirit’s sake?” the bowyer asked in bewilderment, before he could think better of it. And he was rewarded with an abrupt pause from Dream, concern and realization both shooting through his wolfish face. It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He refused to look at Tommy.
“I told you, it doesn’t work on animals anyway.” The hole was completed, what was to be Spirit’s grave.
Dream straightened up and stepped back to observe the deep void. His legs were dirty and chilled, the pads of his paws frostbitten. But this pain was nothing.
“I can let him go.” He spoke into the dirt. “He’s served me well, so he can go.” The tone of voice sent shivers down Tommy’s spine for reasons different than usual. He felt the palpable distress and knew firsthand just how much Dream couldn’t bear to leave his attachments. Even when he pretended not to be bothered, he was clear as glass to the bowyer now. He was rushing ahead so he wouldn’t have to stop and really think about this whole situation.
“He was simply the best horse.”
Tommy let him speak, even while Spirit was still alive and close by. All words lost on him.
It was sundown when he’d be lowered into the grave. This time, Tommy helped with a shovel. The burial was silent, save for the natural ambiance of the peaceful evening. There were even a few rays of light cutting through the roof of clouds. Spirit’s grayed stare was devoid of its vibrant shine and Dream refused to look at it. It was unthinkable to see the powerful stallion motionless. Despite the deep wrong he carried on his back, there was nothing more to be done. If he just kept telling himself this, then it would leave him alone faster. Spirit can’t be revived and Dream isn’t even able to feed him anything himself.
Tommy wiped his forehead with his sleeve after returning the shovel to the workshed. Dream was sitting still over Spirit’s closed grave. His form sullen and his head low. Watching him from this distance, he didn’t really look that much bigger than Tommy himself. The bowyer had thought all day about the implications of today. From the rules, to the acceptance of the old steed’s death. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, not with his familiar view of the wolfman, anyway. Was Dream really satisfied with this? As he’d proclaimed, just being close to Tommy was good. Watching him now, appearing nearly broken and half a man, Tommy had to wonder if this was Dream’s first time experiencing loss.
Clearly, Tommy being on his second life here, it was not. But he couldn’t really say he ever died, either. It was merely a small blink and then he was born again. For Dream, it looked a whole lot different. The bowyer was beginning to know his grief only now, the type of thing that drives people insane. He’d definitely call Dream insane.
No, this is more like his first time accepting loss.
Long after the sun had set, Dream was still sitting there by the grave, in the exact same pose and staring blankly at the ground. It was surreal to think that his god-horse could ever end up under the soil. The long-repressed idea that everything he has will disappear long before he does. He’d managed to disillusion himself, that this time will be different, that if he can unlock the secrets of the world, then he could keep Tommy by his side at least. Even after the last black hole in the universe dissipates. They’ll still be there, the embodiment of love.
All in the name of love. Every sick and twisted idea put to the test on the next subject. Hacked, carved, strung, and hanged before the sky to mock god. The venom and rejection of his beloved was only part of his punishment now. The other half is this—pathetic, feral experience. Eternal damnation to live like the monster he acted as. It’s not like he could have ever rode on Spirit again, or even taken his reins for a walk. He was not even allowed to pet him one last time. Dream will see the whole world crumble, and this time, he’ll be truly helpless beside it. Forsaken and hated even by his soulmate.
The door of the lodge creaked open as Tommy emerged with a lantern, looking over where he had been for the past hours, every few minutes. He wasn’t checking on Dream, no! He was making sure no other wild animals would try to come and pillage Spirit’s resting place. He didn’t concern himself with Dream’s wrong state of being, they aren’t anything to each other. He’ll be fine in the morning and pestering Tommy again. The bowyer should take this rare moment of silence and solitude to mourn on his own and rest up.
He walked over to the railing on the porch and left the lantern there, albeit it barely reached the white wolf by the edge of the homestead. Tommy watched him a while longer, eerily unmoving as he was. It was honestly starting to concern him that something else was wrong, but he resisted the tug to go and look.
Then, there was movement. Tommy gawked as Dream lay down slowly where he sat, curling into a ball and hiding his head under his tail. He looked like the mound of upturned snow they dug that day. Now that was just downright pathetic, Tommy thought and sighed. This stupid moron was going to sleep out in the freezing cold and mope all night. Embarrassed, Tommy refused to watch this any further. He strolled onto the path with the lantern until he reached the fluffy pile.
“Hey.” He voiced, to no reaction. “You planning on sleeping out here? There’s gonna be another snowstorm, most likely.” His air of indifference faded quickly once his stare drifted onto the upturned ground. There was still no response.
“No one’s gonna get him here, you know.” Tommy said to convince himself just as much as Dream. This being the centuries-old horse’s final resting place was actually kind of peaceful. Did he deserve a grand send-off with lots of flair and riches? Certainly. But was it among his two favorite people? Well, Tommy supposed Spirit loved Dream too, if they slept together under the overhang even in this state.
“No wild animals,” he flicked his wrist, “And shit…”
Dream shuffled closer into himself, getting cozy it seemed.
“You shouldn’t be doing this shit on your own anyway. It’s better when you share it with other people, yeah?” Tommy said with a hurting throat. Heated from the tears he was holding back. Deep down, Tommy wanted to be comforted, too. He also loved Spirit, he also spent many decades with the horse. He was once Tommy’s, too, and Dream had proclaimed as much.
“I’m glad you accepted his choice,” the bowyer uttered with a sob. He would have never expected this from Dream. Maybe he was still half human after all. But one chance occurrence couldn’t erase the past couple of decades.
Dream’s tail moved away from his face, and Tommy was compelled to look back at him when their eyes met. The wolf was tired, exhausted even. His eyes were unfocused and dry, but the black skin around them was glistening. The bowyer couldn’t fathom to think what this meant, but knew it was a sad sight.
“Can I come inside?” Dream asked him with a hoarse voice, already prepared for the answer No .
Tommy wasn’t expecting this, but it tugged right on his heartstrings. While his first thought was to think Dream was using this situation to manipulate him, he decided he wouldn’t care about that this once. It was a particular night.
“On my bed?” Tommy shot back but with no bite, only a sorry attempt to look stern. “It hasn’t even been one day and you already want to step over my rules.”
Dream’s expression fell somehow even further, but this time he also looked bitter.
“You’ve kept me out almost the whole day though and now I don’t have a fire going inside my cabin. I’m gonna fuckin’ freeze too.”
At this, Dream looked concerned, but he raised his head up with puzzlement at the way Tommy was speaking to him far too casually.
“That’s not good. Maybe you should come sleep by the furnaces in the workshed then.” Once again, Dream invited him to where they could sleep together, and that fact wasn’t lost on Tommy.
“Yeah? Am I supposed to lay my head on the cobblestone floor?” Tommy shot back.
“Well, I’m going to be there too, so—”
“Ohhh my goddd, dude,” Tommy exasperated. “You are so predictable. You think you’re so sneaky.”
Dream rolled his eyes. For a moment, they recreated a series of moments that came to pass so often during their marriage. To speak back to each other, tell jokes and banter and flirt, all in front of Spirit. The past was blending in too much with the present, but there was nothing he could do now except press on.
“Just this one time, okay?” He stressed with crossed arms. “Cause I’m cold and you look so pathetic right now.”
“Hey!” Dream protested, but he was on his feet already. “Give me a break, I buried my pet today.”
“Yeah.” Tommy agreed somberly, looking over to the grave. “I guess I’m the same. I let the whole day go by without thinking of anything else.”
Dream looked at him for a long, quiet moment. His head still low and at level with Tommy.
“Do you wish he could have been revived?” he decided to ask, tilting his head at the bowyer. He knew Tommy to be a highly emotional person, and right now, he was definitely bottling up a lot of it.
Tommy looked anxious before he shook his head. “Stop breaking my rules.”
Maybe he does. But his conscience would never let him think it. It just wasn’t right. He rejected it body and mind, knowing the horrors it took to even figure out it was possible. It would probably take a whole lot of dead horses to bring Spirit back, too. Tommy winced and turned abruptly.
“Just come before I change my mind.”
It came to neither’s surprise when Dream snuggled right up to Tommy’s back on his small bed. Long legs curved around the bowyer’s body and pressed it into thick, warm fur. The bowyer couldn’t deny that it felt good after all this. He would not freeze tonight, nor suffer alone. And for what it was worth, the gesture had calmed Dream, too, but Tommy always had that effect on him. There was a time when the wolfman melted in his touch. They would both lie in their bed, surrounded by intimacy and safety to be who they were. For Tommy, it was hard to imagine that this is who Dream had always been. He only knew him for one fraction of his long life. But it was moments like this that reminded him there was a slight possibility.
Instead of claws, there would be human hands wrapped around his torso, and instead of fur, the soft, silky pajamas or the warmth of his body. Gone was the heavy intake of air from a wet nose and the feel of a fluffy chin on the crown of his head. It would slowly warp down into something much more familiar, and Tommy would feel fingers roam his ribcage again and a soft breath on his nape. But there was still the bushy tail weaved between their legs like an extra blanket and the occasional flicker of a pointy ear. It wouldn’t be until he was firmly grasped and turned all the way around to the other side of the bed that Tommy would realize he wasn’t just dreaming about his ex-husband’s touch, but he was feeling it right now. And suddenly, there was a lot more room on the bed again.
Tommy’s head whipped around to see a familiar human face, just as the last of the pointed snout was retreating into it. He gawked at the naked man in his bed, who shivered from the lack of fur and gripped him tighter. Eyes blinked drowsily open to meet gaping blue ones. Dream had turned back into a person during the night.