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The ballroom was empty, save for the king of the underworld and the god of sleep dancing across the blackened wood flooring. The obsidian walls caught a glimpse of a face that not many would get to see from the king; a soft look of love and happiness was cascaded across his features, and a warm look of fondness and pure appreciation caught in his otherwise cold eyes. This was a look purely for the god of sleep.
And the diamond chandeliers caught a look much like that of the king of the underworld from the god of sleep. A smile was placed on his face; a smile of gentle care, and in his heart was a feeling of home; a feeling of security in the king’s arms that nobody else would ever get to feel.
The two spun around the room for hours, each so focused on the other that if the world were to be falling apart with each of their steps; they would not notice.
“Don’t you have a job to be doing, Dream?” George spoke softly to the king of the underworld, although not leaving his arms or stopping their waltz.
Dream hummed in response, continuing to lead the dance, his attention only leaving George’s face to make sure he didn’t hit the walls or the limestone pillars that held the ceiling high above them, or when he would send a glance at his black tourmaline throne that stood on a platform of polished howlite, “The servants can see to it, my love.” the king muttered.
The music that was playing from the ivory grand piano that sat in the corner closest to the ballroom’s entryway crescendoed and with it the speed of this immortal waltz followed. Moving faster to keep in time with the music.
Around and around and around, an immortal waltz between two gods, in the unholy ballroom of the underground. It was when footsteps could be heard above the music of the piano when the king ended the dance and made his way to the black tourmaline throne, stood on that howlite platform and sat in it, like nothing had happened. The previous warmth drained entirely from his face and was replaced with the coldness of a man who felt no emotion other than hatred and anger.
George looked like he was lost. He felt no anger, or sadness at the king who had been holding the god of sleep moments before; just confusion as to why he had been let go, confusion as to why there was no warmth in the king of the underworld like there was when he held the god of sleep. He reasoned that the tourmaline throne that he sat on must have taken the warmth out of Dream’s immortal soul.
Oh, how Dream wished he could have kept George in his arms. The god looked like a lost puppy when Dream had let him go. It was quite sad, although the king did what he needed to do in order to keep the respect of his subjects. To keep the respect of those trapped under his rule, those who give him power.
Soon enough a small girl stepped into the ballroom. George was attempting to talk to the king, but was silenced as the little girl stepped into the room.
“Your majesty?”
“What do you want.” Dream spoke coldly, not caring that he was talking to a girl about eleven years of age.
“There’s somebody in the throne room that wants to speak with you.”
“Send them away.”
“It’s the- It’s the fire god?”
The king sighed, “Tell him I’ll be there soon.” He lowered his hand and turned his attention to George as the little girl left. “You were saying?”
The god of sleep just stared for a moment, before following after the girl without saying a word.
Dream sat tall upon his tourmaline throne, as a reminder to all the gods and goddesses who flooded into the ballroom of who was in charge and that they were in his domain. Everyone in the ballroom of obsidian black and ivory white was under the reign of Dream; Under the reign of the king of the underworld.
With a quick hand signal from Dream, the soul who sat on the bench behind the grand piano began playing a familiar song, a song that at least one of the gods in the ballroom would recognise. And he sure did.
As the piano began playing the god of sleep nearly froze at the song that was playing; Dream must’ve picked it knowing that George would attend this ball that he spontaneously chose to throw. Regardless, the god pushed down the memories that resurfaced and took the hand of the fire god that stood next to him. Guiding him in a dance hoping to blend in with the array of colours that were presented by the other gods in the room; the blacks and greens and reds and whites. It was a large array of colour and gods, did George hope he wouldn’t catch the gaze of the king. And so he danced, he danced; speeding up with the music and slowing down when the music slowed. The god of sleep was probably the only god moving in time with the music.
Occasionally George would cast a look at Dream hoping that his eyes wouldn’t meet those piercing emerald green eyes each and every time. About the sixteenth or seventeenth time of glancing over at the king did their eyes meet. One pair of eyes was cold and calculated, shielding any thought behind them; and the other pair had a look of fear but also anticipation of what to come next.
Dream’s eyes met George’s and he smirked slightly, Finally . He stood from his throne and began making his way to the god of sleep. The king pulled the god of sleep from the fire god who danced with him previously, he moved his hand to sit on George’s waist and took the other god’s hand in his own. Dream danced in a Viennese waltz; moving himself and George further away from the crowd of gods, although he didn’t stop his dance once.
As soon as George found himself in the king’s arms again he felt no warmth or security like he used to when the two would dance. There was no feeling of home in Dream’s arms anymore. George looked deep into the sharp emerald green eyes that stared at him and saw only a burning fire of hatred; This was a fire hotter than any that Sapnap could ever attempt to summon, this fire burned brighter than any fire the god of sleep had ever seen.
“It’s been a while, hasn't it? My Love .” Dream spoke directly to George; absolute venom in his voice when we uttered the words my love.
The king leaned in close to the sleep god before him, and whispered “It’s all over. Tonight is the last night.” Dream’s behaviours suddenly changed and he acted like he used to when the two would dance. He had a soft smile plastered on his face, “ Why don’t we enjoy it.”
“You’re a horrible man.” George spat out the phrase; matching Dream’s whisper, although he still allowed Dream to lead their dance.
With each step that fell onto the blackened wood flooring Dream knew the world would begin to crumble. He would be the king of this new world with George ruling by his side. Dream couldn’t help but laugh. Laughing for the new world as he knew that the current leading gods would be trapped in the remains of the underworld; when the king leaves his kingdom, it all crumbles.
With enough passing time the ceiling of the ballroom; black as night, began to crumble. At first it was the smallest amount of debris; only the occasional pebble of stone falling onto the dancing gods, goddesses and immortals. And then came the larger stones; falling and crushing any of the souls that resided in the ballroom, trapping anyone immortal unfortunate enough to get caught beneath the debris.
With each passing moment larger and larger pieces of debris fell from the ceiling. The debris fell in a spiral around the king and his chosen partner, and with each piece that fell George looked more and more panicked, thinking Am I next? And then the largest piece fell, the remaining piece of the ceiling that was found directly above Dream and George.
The god of sleep shut his eyes; bracing for the feeling of being crushed. However, he only felt the slightest breeze of wind coursing around him. Along with the king’s hands letting go of him.
With this opportunity George shoved Dream away from himself and opened his eyes. He was greeted with the sight of a black sky and a barren rocky wasteland. George recognized the terrain though, and he fell to his knees. This place, this wasteland was his domain. The Valley of Slumber.
“Do you like what you see my dear?” Dream spoke proudly, a strong laugh following his question, “This is the dawn of the new world; our new world.”
George turned his attention to Dream, and screamed. “YOU ARE A SICK AND TWISTED MAN DREAM!” The god of sleep choked on his own tears. “AND TO THINK THAT I ONCE LOVED YOU.”