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In the days since Rose Walker changed everything, Lucienne had allowed herself certain liberties of comfort and familiarity. At first she’d been hesitant to speak to Lord Morpheus as an equal, despite the fact that every being of the Dreaming already seemed to see her as the boss, but over time she had become less nervous when approaching him with news, or ideas. With time, she had found her confidence in entering his throne room with a bit less pretense, though she always, always made sure to address him as “my Lord.” There was a fondness in that pleasantry that she quite liked, and a little thrill still, all these eons later, at the way he always, always turned his head to her when she called him that, no matter how busy he’d been before.
These days were truly more relaxed. The citizens of the Dreaming were thriving, Dream was more often in a pleasant mood than an antagonistic one, and there were no more rogue nightmares feeding on the energy of humanity. It was all as it should be, and Lucienne, a creature of habit and lover of monotony, was thriving.
Today she approached Dream’s throne room with two books he’d requested, and because she was in such a particularly good mood, she’d forgone her formal jacket and had even gone so far as to unbutton the top two buttons of her vest. It was a small change, but for Lucienne, it felt huge. She wasn’t sure if she hoped that her dream lord would notice, and she wasn’t sure what reaction exactly she expected from him. A curious smile? Perhaps a comment about her attire? A joke? Or that special smile that very, very rarely crept onto his face, when she least expected it, and made her blush to the very tips of her pointed ears? Lucienne smiled to herself as she thought of that last possibility. Yes, maybe that was the reaction she hoped for…
“My Lord,” she said, stepping into his newly reconstructed throne room. Crystals danced far above their heads, shooting beams of light everywhere around them. Gentle waves of dazzling blue glittered here and there, and Dream had added trees too, trees that stretched far, far above their heads and dropped stars sometimes like fallen leaves. Even amongst all of that splendor, though, the first thing Lucienne saw was her lord, Dream of the Endless.
Dream was lost in conversation with one of his most beloved creations, a little half-boy-half-dragon dream who always had tall tales to tell in his tiny but excited voice, and a tail that never stopped wagging this way and that. His tiny hands were covered in shimmering gold scales, and they sparkled as he waved them around.
“We flew everywhere!” he was saying to Dream, who listened with the rapt attention of a good father, smiling and raising an eyebrow.
“Is that right? Everywhere?”
“Yes, we flew everywhere. Everywhere in all the Dreaming,” the boy said, wiping his nose with the back of one of his shimmering hands. “And then she had to go. She had to go back to the Awake.” His voice sounded sad then; even after hundreds of years, he still always missed his friends from the Waking World, when they disappeared in the morning. “Can I please have a friend who will stay? Please?”
“Are you that lonely even with all the other dreams that live here, young one?” Morpheus asked, shifting on the steps he was seated on. A sunbeam danced in front of him before sliding back along the walls, casting him in warm yellow and then soft silver tones. “You tell me frequently of all the mischief you get into with the other dreams.”
The boy pouted up at him, inching closer until Morpheus finally rested a hand on his head, soothing him. “I do have lots of fun with the other dreams! But they all have their places to stay with their family and friends, and my friends go Awake every morning.”
Lucienne smiled to herself, waiting patiently for her turn to speak. Of all the dreams, little Golden Wing was made to be so young, a companion and friend for visiting children. He needed a bit more time when he visited for an audience, and usually a good deal of coaxing to know when he'd stayed overly long.
“Perhaps I shall make you a special friend, then, a friend who will stay with you when you’re lonely. But you must promise me that if I do, you will still find time to show all of the visiting children from the Waking World how to fly. Can you promise me that, little one?”
Golden Wing nodded emphatically, his tail thrashing with delight. “I promise, I promise!” He hopped from foot to foot, unafraid in his closeness to Dream, too young and innocent to realize no one was normally allowed so close.
Dream’s lips turned up in a smile, and it felt as if the light beams sang in response. “Alright then, young one. For now, return to your meadow and your flowers. Tomorrow I’ll send you a new friend.”
Golden Wing threw his arms around Dream in a hug, taking the dream lord by surprise. With a hesitant pause, he patted the boy’s back, slowly relaxing from his stiff posture. Not many in this realm would have the courage or misplaced confidence to hug the king of dreams, and certainly not without asking first.
Lucinenne smiled indulgently at the scene in front of her, once more squashing the instinct to make any sound that could ruin the moment. Instead she focused on engraving the scene in her memory. Later, when she was alone in the library, she would use one of the sketchbooks she kept away from casual view to capture this moment in all of its purity to the best of her abilities.
After another enthusiastic squeeze of Dream’s middle, the little dragon darted away, flinging himself into the air to fly up and squeeze through a window that certainly wasn’t meant for anyone to go in or out of. Dream stared after the boy for a moment, smile still on his lips as he turned to Lucienne.
“Thank you for waiting, Lucienne. What have you brought me?”
"I've brought you the books you've asked for," she said, approaching him with a good deal more grace than their tiny visitor had. "Rose Walker's new book, sir, and the book of life for Robert Gadling." She noticed the sharp upturn of his head at the mention of the latter name, the way he found his feet in a fluid, easy manner. His pale hands extended toward her for the books, and Lucienne felt a brief tug at her heart. She'd seen that look on his face before, rare and precious as it was, and this time it wasn't directed at her.
Handing him the books, Lucienne tempered her disappointment, reminding herself that she may be a steward of the Dreaming, and one of Lord Morpheus' favorite creations, but she was also always just that: one of his creations. She was not a mystery or an enigma, not an unpredictable and exciting mortal from the Waking World. As soon as Dream had his books, he opened the book about Robert Gadling and flicked to a certain page, apparently hunting for some particular information. Lucienne took a few steps back, quickly rebuttoning the top buttons of her vest and wishing she had her jacket. She would feel less foolish now, less exposed in her arrogance to try to snare his attention.
"May I go, my lord?" she asked, wanting to leave his sight and return to her work, forget this ever happened.
Morpheus didn't even look up from the book, his eyes darting back and forth over the page. He seemed to find what he was looking for at last, and after considering it briefly, he closed the book and held it extended to her. Dream spoke her name, his soft, husky voice soothing but powerful in the way it encompassed her and the entire throne room around them. "Lucienne?"
She blinked at him from behind her glasses. "Yes, my Lord?"
"I thank you for bringing me these books, and I wish to return this one to you now," he said, though he made no move to step closer to her. Lucienne hesitated and then took a step closer, reaching for the book. "You know this man is my friend, and I mean to make an effort to be a better friend, as well as master and king."
"I do know that, yes." She took the book back from him, holding it against her chest. She hoped he had not sensed the petty but brief jealousy she'd felt, nor the relief at his explanation of this mortal being a friend. But why else would he have taken the time to clarify? "You will be making a new friend for Golden Wing tomorrow, my Lord?" she asked, determined to draw attention away from the awkwardness she still felt.
"Yes. And I'd like you to hold court in my stead, if anyone should need me."
Lucienne stood up a bit straighter, head high. "Of course, my Lord." With nothing else holding her there, Lucienne bowed her head to him and turned away, wanting to return to the safety and familiarity of the library. She could go about her work, keep everything in order, and fall back into her comfortable routines. She was a creature of habit, she reminded herself, preferring the embrace of the known over the seduction of the unfamiliar. It was just in her making.
But then she heard his voice again, heard her name, lower this time, barely a whisper. "Lucienne."
She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back, feeling his eyes on her even before she saw him. His expression was inscrutable as he considered her, his eyes taking all of her in, from head to toe and then back to her face again.
Finally: "I liked your buttons the way they were today. You might wear them that way again."
Lucienne felt a blush creep clear to the points of her ears and she quickly nodded, desperate to play it off. As she pushed her glasses back up her nose and offered him a nervous smile, she caught the amusement on his face and blushed again. The smug bastard, he knew exactly what he'd done, and what it would do to her. "Yes, my Lord, if you wish," she said, and then hurried away, pleased but embarrassed.
Much later, when she sat down later at her desk to draw, paper and pen laid out in front of her, Lucienne undid the top two buttons of her vest. Perhaps she would never button them again.