Work Text:
Fuck, they hated being out here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, was it? They hated being out here alone. They hated being out here now that they no longer recognized the shores or the swirling, dark waters. The sky was gray and lifeless, like the rest of the land. Dust and grit covered what little was left of the once beautiful kingdom. The palace was crumbling. The throne room was nothing more than fallen walls and beautiful stained glass windows fractured across the floor. None of the foliage still grew in the once green kingdom; only rotting trees dotted the landscape. Even fewer creatures remained, and who could really blame them? Most held out for decades, but as time passed, it seemed more and more unlikely that their sovereign would return, and why would they stay in a decaying kingdom?
They used to find peace out here, walking through the dark sand on the edge of the world. They were never alone out here back then. Back when they could reach down and run their hands through the soft, black sand. Now it is sharp as broken glass, cutting through their fingers if they dared to reach a hand down to the shores. They hadn’t been out here in some time now, the pain of remembering those good days overwhelming any peace they could find. The memories were as sharp as if the realm fell to ruin mere hours ago. Instead, over a century passed, and not a single bit of the pain faded. It was one of the downsides of their life; they could never count on time to heal the pain of losing someone that meant the world to them.
“Your Majesty?” A gentle voice called, cutting through the sound of waves hitting the shore. They didn’t turn towards the voice, keeping their eyes fixed on the dark waters as footsteps came closer, crunching through the sand glass broken dreams painpainpainpain– “Justice, dear, what are you doing out here all alone? And so close to the waters at that.”
Justice sighed, a bitter smile taking over their face. What a question. What were they doing out here? So far from the safety of their own home. The peace and calm of their own realm. Grieving, they almost said. Hoping. Dare they say, even dreaming. But dreaming did nothing in this cold, merciless world. Dreams no longer existed. Truly, Justice was wishing. Wishing they could do something other than stare at the tormented waters in front of them and wait. And, fuck, they didn’t even know what they were waiting for anymore. They weren’t sure they believed he would ever come home. Surely the rest of them wouldn’t leave him alone for the rest of time, right? The world needed him. The past century proved that. Maybe they all just liked the chaos better.
Wasn’t that a sobering thought?
“Just thinking, Lucienne,” Justice finally said, turning to face their only friend through the difficult century. One of the only people who remained steadfast in the decaying kingdom. “Hoping, I think.” They scoffed at that, though. “I’m not quite sure the world remembers what hope is, with him gone.”
Lucienne sighed, taking Justice’s arm and leading them away from the shore. They cringed when they saw the gates. You used to be able to see the castle from here. See the turrets and towers piercing the sky. The green trees reaching for the sun, taller than anything in all the other worlds. All the other realms. “Forgive me for sounding like your father, but you must have faith that your uncle will return. There is nothing else we can do.”
“Nothing else they will allow us to do,” Justice corrected angrily. “I should make all of those cowards pay in blood for what they’ve done. For thinking they can master Death. For demanding what is not theirs to ask. For Jessamy.”
“Sire.”
“But I am no longer allowed on the mortal plane! My father would confine me to the Gardens if I tried; sorry excuse for a brother he is. And the twins. Right delighted at the whole thing! Oh, if only I could claw Desire’s eyes out–”
“Justice.”
Justice took a breath, letting their system depressurize. They knew that tone. One that Lucienne typically reserved for their stubborn, boar-headed uncle. A tone that meant thoughts were being shared that should never reach open air. And she was right. Justice knew better than to threaten family. Knew that their words were empty because they couldn’t hurt one another without hurting themselves. But, that didn’t stop some of them from finding crafty ways to get around it, and if they had to sit through another family dinner listening to Desire go on, they would have to invest in some of those… more lucrative means of punishment.
“I know it must seem as if your family doesn’t care that he is missing,” Lucienne started as she led Justice through the gates. The courtyards were just as barren as everything else. Spots of gray grass where flowers and bushes used to grow. “But I’m sure they miss him terribly as well, even if they have… odd ways of showing it. He is their brother, after all.”
Justice scoffed. “You clearly haven’t met Desire. They hate him. All of the younger siblings do.”
Lucienne didn’t have anything to say to that. Who would? Dysfunctional families existed, but how many siblings could say that they actually hated each other? That they would kill one another if they had the choice? That’s probably why they were made this way. Some sick joke by the creator so they could find the true depths at which a being would go to scar someone they couldn’t physically harm.
They continued their walk through the courtyard, passed dead trees and patches of bramble. Under the gnarled branches of Justice’s favorite tree. The one they played in and slept under when they were just a child. They reached the palace steps and slowed to a stop, paralyzed by what was left of the flowerbeds on either side of the cracked marble. They used to be filled with poppies of all colors growing in the shade of black-eyed susans. It was Justice’s favorite of all the flower patches in the realm. They could practically hear their uncle explaining the flowers’ meaning as they pressed into his side, still young enough that they barely came up to his hip.
“Do you know what the tall yellow flowers are, young one?” He had asked, smiling when they shook their head. “They are called black-eyed susans, the flower of justice. They are given as a symbol of encouragement and motivation.” He paused, and their eyes went wide as they started to understand. “And do you know what grows below them?”
“Poppies!” They had cried eagerly. “The flowers of the Dreaming!”
“Correct, little one,” he praised, and Justice beamed. Then suddenly, there was a flower in his hand. A poppy. As they watched, it faded from one color to the next, circling through every hue in the flowerbed before them. “This one is for you,” he had said, pinning it to their jacket. “As long as you wear it, I will be with you.”
Justice brushed their hand over their coat pocket, where the flower rested for millennia. The day he was taken, it stopped changing colors, stuck as a garish purple/black. That was the moment Justice knew something was wrong. Within weeks it started to wilt, despite their attempts to keep it alive. Within a year of his disappearance, the flower was completely dead and brown. Within a decade, it faded to dust just like everything else in the Dreaming.
“Justice?” Lucienne asked. They couldn’t bring themself to look at the royal librarian, still transfixed on the dead flower bed. It was overgrown with a dead rosebush as if the vibrant flower had choked the life out of what grew there before dying itself. “Your Majesty, what’s wrong?” They felt hands touch their face, and it was at that moment that Justice noticed the silent tears running down their cheeks.
“Nothing. I…” The denial built in their chest, sticking in their throat as they tried to lie. Tried to assure Lucienne that they were fine when they so clearly were not. “He grew these just for me,” they finally said, gesturing to the ruined garden. “They were my favorites. And his poppy. God, it’s gone, and I was so scared when it wilted. I thought he had died. I did everything I could to save it. It was the only thing I had left of him, and it’s gone.”
“Oh, darling,” Lucienne whispered, brushing her thumb along their cheek to wipe away the tears. “I remember that day,” she said with a smile. “He was so happy you liked the flowers. So happy you like him.” Justice laughed wetly. “I’m serious! People never much liked him, and your sister certainly didn’t have a fondness for him when she was young. He worried about your visit for such a long time. The first time you would see the Dreaming and the first time you would be left alone in his care. He was convinced he would scare you, but not a single thing put you off.”
“How could it? The Dreaming was a beautiful place,” Justice said. “Far less stressful than walking through the Gardens. And he took me through the courtyard and showed me every flower and tree. Showed me the family’s flowerbeds…”
“Blackthorn for your father. Birdsfoot trefoil for your sister. Lilies for Death. Roses for Desire. Cypress vine for Despair. Hellebore for Delirium.”
“You two are one and the same,” Lucienne said. “I have never come across two souls so different yet so similar.”
“One and the same,” Justice repeated softly. “It’s like he took a part of my soul. I don’t know how to live without him.”
Lucienne’s expression saddened. “I know.”
“What are we supposed to do without him?” They asked suddenly, pulling out of Lucienne’s grasp. Justice spun on their heels, taking in everything left dead and decaying. The rotting plants and crumbling walls. The gray sky which threatened rain that would never fall. The realm was drained of life, drained of power, without its ruler to sustain it. “What will humanity do? The world is crumbling under the weight of restless sleep. Nightmares roam free, unchecked. Is this what the mortal plain is doomed to become without dreams?”
“The rest of the Endless will not let humanity fall into disarray,” Lucienne said firmly. She seemed so confident; Justice wished they could share in her belief. Despair and Desire certainly would be content if humanity fell. Their father was sure everything would work itself out without his intervention. Their sister couldn’t care less about how humanity fared. Delirium thrived on the chaos, and Death would not be able to save humanity by herself. “Come now. Let’s get you home.”
Lucienne turned and headed up the stairwell to the castle, leaving Justice to trail after. The oak doors that once sealed the palace had long since rotted away. The great hall was crumbled, and the columns left standing cracked. The roof caved in long ago, baring the sky through a hint of framework left as a ghost of what the room once looked like. The only thing left remotely intact was the dais. Behind it, only the lower half of the beautiful stained glass windows remained untouched, the rest a shattered mess at their feet.
“One day, the Dreaming will be whole again,” Lucienne promised as they led Justice down to the gallery. It was the only room in the palace that remained untouched, held together by the energy of the sigils hanging in ornate picture frames. The center frame was still jarringly empty, but, thankfully, the one to its left was not. Justice and her sister’s frame sat on either end, their golden scales to the left of their father’s book and her sister’s black dagger to the right of Delirium’s ever-changing cloud.
“I hope you’re right, Lucienne,” Justice said, taking their sigil in their hands.
“Come visit me next time instead of moping around the shores,” she said, giving Justice one last reassuring smile. They did their best to return it before they were gone.