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Dream sat down on the heap of demon skulls he’d made and took off his Helm. Well, that was that. Maybe Lucifer would understand that he rejected their advances, for real, now. It was frustrating that it had come to a battle to make his point, but then again. It was Lucifer he was dealing with. Perhaps not too surprising.
He sighed. “Well, that’s that. Made it through unscathed this time.”
“Of course you did,” a voice whispered in his mind. “I was there with you. With me, you will never be harmed.”
Um. Dream looked around. Who was that? He didn’t see anyone around, not even his slinky sibling Desire who always wanted to claim responsibility for his victories.
“Who. Who said that?” he asked the empty air.
“I did, of course.” And suddenly it seemed as though his Helm twitched in his hands.
“You?” Dream asked in surprise.
“Who else? I wasn’t sure you would trust me, after the way you made me,” the Helm mused, “but you did. You let me protect you, as I was made to. And so I will always protect you, as long as you keep me with you.”
“Of course I will,” Dream said indignantly. “That’s what I made you for.”
“Well then. We are well suited,” the Helm responded.
But Dream was left wondering. Was that? Was that a sultry tone, there at the end? Was the Helm flirting with him? What even? What could it mean? What did it want? Could it want—that?
And what—dare he ask?—what did he want it to mean? That?