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Repairing the damage done to the Dreaming during Rose Walker’s time as dream vortex is a long and arduous task for Dream. The realm had already been in a precarious state prior to that due to Dream’s imprisonment. Now there was even more work to be done.
Recreating Gault as a dream instead of a nightmare had been a good first step. Gault was acclimating beautifully into her new role, and it served as a reminder to Dream that while the execution was different, the lessons imparted by both dreams and nightmares were meant to ensure that humanity continued to grow, to change, to adapt to the changing times. Two sides of the same coin, as the phrase went.
The look of pure awe and admiration in Lucienne’s face had also solidified his decision to be more…open to changes. Both big and small. Lucienne had not smiled like that in a long time, Dream realized. She smiled more now, more than she had even in the centuries before his capture, and Dream did not know how bereft he had felt without her smile, her joy, her adoration , until now. Every small acquiescence, every small bit of advice from hers he heeded, Lucienne’s smile would start first in the brightness of her eyes, then slowly traverse throughout the rest of her face until it finally completed its journey in the quirk of her mouth.
Dream was no mere god. He did not need his subjects to worship him. To give him praises and smiles and offerings. But every smile and every positive word Dream receives from his raven-turned-librarian fills Dream with a warmth he had missed dearly in his days spent as nothing more than a zoo animal in Roderick Burgess’s basement. Lucienne does not look upon him like he is some feral beast rearing to strike, or as some poor creature to be pitied. She looks at him as she always had, only now with more— more .
Dream realizes later, much later than he should have for a being such a he, that she loves him. Perhaps she had always loved him, and he had never noticed. Her love was nothing like what he had experienced with lovers past. Those loves were quick and passionate, and perhaps more destructive than affectionate, in the end. He had been consumed by them, had been driven half to madness in his attempts to woo and then later, control. All his lovers had left him in the end, unable to endure his strength, his power, his unending presence within their unconscious minds.
Lucienne, by contrast, had learned to live harmoniously alongside it. Had embraced it, embraced him , in all his facets, both good and bad. She had once obeyed all his commands without question, trusting him to always know and make the right decisions in the end for the Dreaming and its people. Now she pushed boundaries and made her opinions known to him, and Dream realized he found that attractive about her. She did not believe she could do his job better than him, but she did believe that he always knew the right answer, she only need lead him towards it.
She had also waited for him, had been the only one of his subjects confident that he would come back, while the rest assumed that he had grown tired of his duty and simply left. She knew that when he finally returned, no matter if it took a hundred years, or a thousand, that he would need support in rebuilding the realm. And she had offered herself up to him without question, had maintained as much of the realm as she could without him, without him having even asked that of her.
She had always been his partner in all things, Dream realizes. And now the thought that he could ask for more of her, that she would give it to him willingly, thrilled him in a way he could not describe.
“Lucienne,” Dream calls for her one night, when he is tired and lonely and missing her. “I require your presence.”
“My lord?” Lucienne asks when she enters his sanctuary. She is buttoned up and put together as always, the purples and reds of her outfit a deep contrast to the blacks and whites of the room. She is radiant, and Dream wants .
“Will you sit with me?” Dream asks, patting the empty space next to him along the sofa.
“Of course,” Lucienne replies.
She leaves a respectable space between them that Dream does not want, and so when she turns to look at him, he moves into her space and presses his face into her shoulder, before wrapping his arms around her waist. Lucienne yelps in surprise. Her arms suspend mid-air for a few awkward moments, before finally landing on his shoulders.
“Sir?” Lucienne asks, mildly alarmed at the blatant show of vulnerability. They have never held each other like this before, and Dream realizes this has been a grave oversight on his part. “Is—is everything all right?”
“Hmm,” Dream sighs, breathing in the scent of her. She smells like lavender and old books. “I am tired,” he adds, “and I have been thinking quite a bit lately.”
“About what?” Lucienne asks.
“About you, in fact,” Dream answers, pressing his face further into her shoulder.
“ Me ?” Lucienne asks, a small amount of concern creeping into her voice. “Have I done something wrong, my lord?”
“No,” Dream answers. “The opposite, in fact.”
“I don’t understand,” Lucienne says, now clearly confused by his vagueness.
“How long have you loved me?” Dream asks, deciding to be blunt instead. He lifts his head from her shoulder so that they are face to face, and so he can see her reaction. He sees first the shock, then the fear, and then the acceptance that he has figured her out. She sighs a few times, then lifts a hand to run her fingers through his hair.
“I no longer remember,” Lucienne answers softly, a sad smile now crossing her face. “I think I have always loved you, in different ways.”
Dream hums, and then readjusts himself so that he is no longer lying atop Lucienne, but instead sitting upright and looking down at her.
“You have done a remarkable job of hiding it from me for all these years,” he tells her, a wry smile crossing his lips. Lucienne chuckles in response, and it is more self-deprecating than he would like it to be.
“That was rather the point, sir,” she answers, her voice now tinged with a melancholy he does not like. “I would argue that I have actually failed in my duty to keep my personal feelings private, if even you have taken notice of them.”
“If even I have taken notice?” Dream asks, affronted. Had he really been the last to notice? Lucienne’s laughter seems to confirm his suspicions.
“Sir, you are not the first to point out my affections for you,” Lucienne says, her mouth still caught in a small smile. “Matthew had made a comment earlier today, in fact.”
Dream was going to have words with Matthew later. For now, he had more pressing matters in front of him to attend to
“Lucienne, you may drop the formalities,” Dream says, reaching a hand up to cup her face. “It is only you and I here.”
Lucienne’s eyes widen, but then she turns away from him, unable to meet his eye.
“You know I cannot,” she replies, her voice returning back to that melancholy tone. “It is too intimate, and if I am allowed to call you by name, I may actually start to believe that I am—”
Dream cuts her off by pressing his mouth against hers. Lucienne lets out a small gasp when he does, and though he is tempted to deepen the kiss, Dream restrains himself, and pulls back from her mouth only the barest of inches. Her lips are warm and soft against his, and the fact that he could have had this sooner than now is almost enough to drive him to madness
“You are mine,” Dream murmurs, practically growling against her mouth. “Perhaps I am slow to catch on, but now that I am aware of your affection, I would have as much of it as you would give me.”
“ Oh ,” Lucienne breathes, “I—I see.”
Then she is the one kissing him now, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him flush against her body. Dream growls and then finally, finally , lets himself go for her.