Chapter Text
The Chosen One knew, the moment he saw The Dark Lord before him, that this was another dream.
He hadn’t always known, that these were dreams. He’d never been…awake…when he’d experienced them, before. He hadn’t been alive when he’d experienced them, before.
He’d learned, since then, that the dead don’t usually dream.
He’d also learned that these weren’t his dreams.
(Had he ever had a dream, of his own? Deactivation didn’t allow for true slumber, and whenever he slept of his own volition he was roused so easily…)
The dream saw The Dark Lord on the ground, hands braced as if to raise himself from a fall…or to scoot himself backward. He was beset with chains, though not the usual configuration that The Chosen One had come to expect from these dreams; this time The Dark Lord bore the loathsome ball-and-chain that The Chosen One himself had been afflicted with.
He had pulled the chain taut. His breaths came quick and shallow. His arms shook, as they held him up.
The Chosen One stood over him.
“…go on, then,” the lord intoned, meeting his eyes with a deceptive steadiness at odds with the quaver in his voice. “Take your revenge.”
And The Chosen One-
…Chosen turned.
Orange, The Second Coming, his Return, was off to the side. Chosen hadn’t known who he was, before. This was the first dream since he’d learned.
Leaving The Dark Lord behind, he-
“NO!!!”
The word pierced like a missile.
The Chosen One’s left leg was suddenly rendered immobile by an unshakable weight, and he couldn’t tell if the shiver that ran down his spine was real or a part of the dream.
He looked down.
The Dark Lord held him fast, both arms clinging to The Chosen One’s leg for dear life. He must’ve thrown himself forward. He did not look up, all his strength devoted to holding his grip.
“Not him, not him please, I beg! I beg you, spare him your wrath, I’ll take it! I’ll take it all!”
The lord shook, and his breath shook with him. This was…he was sobbing.
“Please, I…I know I’ve already wasted your mercy, but if you have a scrap of it left, please spare him. He’s done nothing to you, your quarrel is with me.”
Chosen…
The Chosen One yanked his leg from the hold, and continued forward without a second look back.
A horrible cry rent through the air, shredding it like paper.
And Chosen was released from the dream.
…Never, was his urgent thought, as he caught his breath. I would never.
But the dream didn’t care.
The dreams had never cared.