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Recap Of Nightmares and Sins Trilogy: Dream's time with Roderick Burgess was changing in many ways - when the old magus called upon a new magician to change the rules of the cage, it started a cascade... one that sent Johanna Constantine into Dream's path and eventually led to the birth of Dread of the Endless, a partial remaking. One created in part of a game of Desire's and Lucifer's; however, it was undone in thanks to Johanna, Hob and Dream's family (Desire included)... except Dread became its own nightmare, its own person - eventually possessing Hob, then Johanna, and further tormenting Dream... corrupting his entire family into darker versions of themselves Doom, Demise, Disaster, Desperation, Depression, and Demented - ones not bound by blood or law.

Ones that took every family grievance out on Dream - every piece of him they could take, they tried... and to save them, Dream gave in to Lucifer - to her every whim. Dread was defeated, the corrupted returned to being Endless, and Dread was reborn/remade into Deceit of the Endless.

Lucifer, however, did not get to keep her prize. While she held Dream's life, the Endless refused to leave him, Desire especially so given everything they had been through with Dream, - leading to Lucifer forcefully being abdicated from Hell and bound... with a secret of what she truly took from Dream during his time in her care... and in turn - for all the blood spilt and for the human lives lost from the corrupted, Dream was turned human - no memories, no family - by the Fates... however, he does have Johanna, Hob, and Calliope - which was needed given the trauma he had undergone.

And this is where this story picks up

Prologue: By the Grace of God

Aila was six when she knew she wasn’t… like the other children. For one, her mother wanted so little to do with her that she was practically a piece of furniture – to the point Maize was her primary caregiver. Two, she was simply not allowed around other children. It made growing up difficult and hard – and isolating. Aila hated to be alone. She always wanted to be around someone or something, but the one time she had even brought a cat home… well, they did not have a cat for long.

However, Aila was nothing but adaptable. She was smart and capable, and by the time she was the age most kids were learning to drive, she was discovering exactly how much she was not like other children – by learning to fight, to read ancient texts and understanding dead and mythical languages. Instead of going out with boys, she was starting to understand there was magic in the world… and she had some ability to yield it or so Maize said… her mother said nothing, never did or would… but Aila – she accepted this was her life, she was different – and that was okay. Or so she told herself.

However, it never erased that feeling of longing from Aila. To have a mother that loved her – or at least tolerated her – or to at least know her father. She had asked once, only to be told he was nothing but a donor, and that was the end of it.

When she had in turn asked Maize, surprisingly, she had been given a very similar answer. Usually, Maize was more open about things – answering many of her consistent questions about the world. Except about her father. It made her wonder why – not that they were willing to answer that either.

When she became an adult, that was when things truly changed.

And didn’t. Whatever her mother expected of her, Aila apparently wasn’t it. Her powers came into being, but her mother had taken one look, one moment of interest of her, on the eve of her twentieth birthday, and that was it. Since that day, nothing. Not a blip, not a glance, nothing.

However, it didn’t change that Aila was aware that she was not like other humans – or human at all. The wings she could summon should she choose too – black feathery dowry things with silver specks… that alone frustrated her mother… and the power she could yield. It was… impressive.

Maize had taken to training Aila – basic combat, defense when she should have been learning to drive… but before Aila had come into being, her caretaker had been more than a match for her. Now? Now as she was, she was more than Maize could handle – but it wasn’t enough. Or strong enough. Or… Or…

Whatever her mother wanted – Aila, obviously, wasn’t it.

The only other advantage Aila saw to her being was that once she was an adult – by their standards – was that she could go looking for her father. It wasn’t as though she needed a babysitter any longer, and she had enough foreknowledge to be cautious when needed and capable as warranted.

Maize would say she’s being overzealous, egotistical – a trait Aila was uncertain who she inherited from. But her curiosity was obviously not from her mother. No, her mother was many things, but not curious, imaginative, or loving.

Aila… Aila hoped her father was.

Nephilim or not, Aila craved affection like any child did.

And all she wanted to know was her family – what she truly was – and what the world expected of her.

…………….

Aila had… it had taken a lot to get a name from Maize… about who her father was. Aila had spun it as just wanting to understand more her lineage – why she existed. However, the demon had said nothing – refused… until Aila had found a faerie-based alcohol that would actually inebriate the demon.

Then, Maize was much more open and willing to spill it all. Or at least some… tidbits – a name, a concept… something

With that information, Aila left the following morning while Maize slept it off, and her mother… her mother was off doing something, with someone… she didn’t know, and while part of her ached to understand why she was such a disappointment, she didn’t let it stop her.

Instead, Aila braided her blond hair into a tight bun, threw on some discrete clothes – what she’d seen humans wear time and time again -, and she set off.

It takes a few hours for Aila to find a library – it wasn’t one of Maize’s lessons, but once she did, she worked to find sources and information on her father… only to find literally nothing. A few quick internet searches, and there were zero results returned.

Part of Aila disheartens at the turnabout. She wouldn’t likely have much time before her caretaker came after her. For a child that her mother cared little for, her mother also did not let her leave for long periods unattended. No, Aila needed a result and a direction before she was found.

With a heavy breath, Aila refines her search – going from searching from ‘real’ people to looking into lore. It wasn’t like Aila was normal; she was aware of that, so why would her father be.

Once she stopped searching for real sources and started to look more into myth and legends… she had better success – only to finally find a real source. A book based on similar concepts that she was searching… and in turn a real person.

An author.

Aila stares at the computer screen, uncertain of what to absorb from the biography and picture afforded. Aila leans in close, trying to see any family resemblance, but she doesn’t… She’s uncertain.

As well as the man was an author. An author? Would her father really be that mundane? Except based on her research, he wasn’t – shouldn’t. She didn’t… understand. He was human, apparently, but that didn’t make any sense to her either. There were obviously parts of the story – her story – that she did not have.

Meaning, Aila ditches her phone – a ridiculous contraption in her opinion given magic existed – and looks up the man’s next book signing. She would have rather gone to his house, but that was unlisted… and she didn’t understand her magic well enough to cast a tracking spell, not without some piece of him – blood, hair, something. Maybe at the signing, she could grab something, she considers.

However, the signing is a few towns over – a few hours away – which given her magic shouldn’t be all that difficult to transverse. Except… by the third time, Aila sits exhausted, sweat marring her features, panting. She had never tried such a lengthy jump before, nor into areas she was not as familiar with. Snapping around the house, stepping between rooms was far easier than this.

Perhaps, Aila wonders if this is what her mother disliked about her. She sits, taking a bite out of… she isn’t entirely sure what… she glances at the wrapper before not caring again… and thinking back on this use of her abilities. She was… per Maize… powerful – or supposed to be… or something. But she felt exhausted, worn down, after only a few short trips.

She was… a disappointment because of this? That’s all Aila can think – she was powerful per Maize or supposed to be… and perhaps, she was not. Or at least not enough for whatever her mother wanted or expected of her. She frowns at the thought.

She can only hope her father does not care… would he… she doesn’t even think he knows she exists. Maybe that would work to her benefit – no expectations. She can’t fail what he doesn’t already have preconceived.

Finishing, the snack bar – Aila tosses the trash into a nearby garbage can, ignoring the screaming speakers of the gas station now only playing static, though she does wonder why the lights are off… and why no one is here… but only for a moment before she moves forward. She doesn’t want to linger – after all, she suspects Maize will be chasing her soon enough.

The city Aila lands in… it’s quiet… small town feel with a small to medium bookstore – not usually the place a famous author would likely visit, so she wonders if this has some meaning to the author – or perhaps, maybe he lives in the area.

Either way, Aila takes advantage of the lesser crowds. She’s able to find a good spot to watch for the man – she could get in line, but for the moment, she waits. She’s… Aila realizes it quickly – she’s nervous. She’s never… done this before – never disobeyed to this degree, never snuck out. She… had been so desperate for her mother to love her, that she had done whatever she thought was needed to get it – and now…

Now, Aila wonders how this will turn out for her – will her mother be upset, relieved, angry… would her father experience similar things at the realization of her existence?

The moment he walks into her view, Aila doesn’t know how she reacts – she tenses, that’s a certainty, but otherwise, she only holds her breath as he walks by. He wears dark, muted clothes – hair completely in disarray like his picture, and he has his nose inside a book. Everything Aila expects… and none of it feels right… because while he looks human…

Even she can sense… something off – different. Otherworldly.

As she suspected. Whatever he was, it was not what he was pretending to be. Which flabbergasts Aila. Why would… whatever he was… be this when he could be – but Aila stops there. She doesn’t even know what he is, but she intends to find out.

Aila sits through the signing – electing to stay back and not get anything signed herself. She doesn’t… she wants her first interaction to be… less crowded… perhaps, he did know what or who she was, and that wouldn’t be ideal in front of a bunch of people.

Instead, she waits and waits, and once the man leaves, Aila follows him. She follows him for three blocks, fifteen minutes, and to two different coffee shops – which she didn’t understand, even as he gathered what appeared to be more than one drink. She wonders if he’s meeting someone, somewhere – only to find he’s making his way to an art gallery. She recalls some show – something about ancient Greek art and history - also being here on this date – she wonders if this was why he planned this signing? Because of this show? But… Aila still doesn’t understand it.

Nothing about this makes any sense.

Aila figures she’ll corner him in the show, maybe see if she can pull him into a corner, or just continue to watch him – try to understand any of this. She’s undecided, mere feet from the door, when she’s pulled into an alley and pinned.

A creature has her around the throat – sunglasses obscuring his face, but the smell, the power radiating off of him – Aila recognizes. He’s not human either.

“Why are you following Morpheus?” the thing growls at her, obviously expecting her to show some fear; however, Aila merely curls her own lip, bringing her knee up harshly to dislodge the creature and sends him scampering a few feet back. In the shadows of the alley, her wings flash against the wall – just as his sunglasses crack against the pavement.

Aila stares at the rows of teeth where eyes should sit… and she recalls a lesson from Maize – the Corinthian.

“You’re a nightmare,” Aila states.

“What are…” the Corinthian starts – eyes focused on where the wings were. However, he focuses back on the young woman for the moment and not what he thinks he saw. “There are very few creatures that have wings… ones that I have met personally, but you’re not Lucifer Morningstar.”

“No, she’s my mother,” Aila states, head held high.

The Corinthian growls, “Then, you’re not getting near Morpheus.” The nightmare wouldn’t allow it. After all these years, he would not allow the former angel to start things again – not when… things were better. The Fates were sated. The Endless were... not actively in-fighting - anymore, most days, a majority of days, at least-, and Dream was - Dream was sleeping. He was healing, he was getting where he needed to be. One human lifetime… the entirety of the Dreaming was counting down the days… there were still decades to go, but at least, it was no longer day one of this punishment. He wouldn’t let Lucifer ruin it all – not now, not ever. Not again.

“Like hell, I’m not,” Aila states. “He’s my father, and I want to meet him.”

And the nightmare… falls completely silent. Shit.

Quick Notes: This is going to be… hopefully incredibly short (by short, I mean like 10-20 chapters as compared to my other works). Like it’s sort of a companion story using the what if Lucifer and Dream did end up… having a Nephilim. This story will be more focused on an OC as such… but you’ll see quick how we sort of play with that. This story will have some of the characters from Of Nightmares Trilogy but we're going to leave a lot of them to their happy endings - mostly. The Corinthian gets to take center stage here. Happy reading… and yes, Aila is a bit of a child. She… wasn’t exactly raised in the best situation. She’s an adult, yes, but young – so give her some grace.

Chapter Text

Chapter One: What Purpose

The nightmare takes a moment to absorb those words – only to think on them again and again. Except with every pass – it doesn’t get easier to swallow. The creature in front of him – this young girl, who was obviously not human… that was readily apparent… was the offspring of Lucifer and claimed to be that of Dream.

Which was not… except the nightmare stops there. Dream… when he fulfilled his bargain with Lucifer – when he was taken – that time was unaccounted for, the length, what actually happened… with Dream’s memories as they were – gone. Slowly returning, yes, but still gone in that sense, no one could ask – least of all the people he’d likely tell such as Johanna, Hob, Calliope… especially since they also did not have a majority of their own memories.

Things were… getting better – the nightmare could see that night after night, but they were not… as they once were, and thus, he could not ask his former – current – master if this was even a possibility. Even in the Dreaming... perhaps in the Dreaming, pending the night. Though, he’s not certain he even wants the answer to that.

But… he’s glimpsed some of the nightmares of his king… he hesitates – there were… moments, dark areas of even Dream’s own subconscious he had not transversed, but… he had seen shades, suggestions – things that could lend some credence to what she’s claiming.

And he despises Lucifer more, wondering if any of Dream’s siblings are aware of this… possibility.

However, instead of pondering it further, the nightmare pulls a knife from his belt. After all, this was related to Lucifer – that was reason enough to keep her away from Dream… he’d sort out the family tree later.

Aila eyes the nightmare quietly – as Maize taught her, she was aware of the knife, but unless the creature had something else hidden up his sleeve, that was merely an irritation to her, not a threat. However, she can see the nightmare is protective of her father… which… she didn’t come here to fight – she didn’t even come here to truly make trouble. All she wants is some answers, and perhaps, if she was willing to set aside… her own pride, which she can, she can get some of them from this thing.

“I just wanted to meet him,” Aila admits. “That’s it, nightmare.”

“Just that? For you?” the Corinthian laughs. “And what exactly does your mother want?”

Aila sighs and shrugs, “She doesn’t even know I’m here.” That takes some of the wind out of the Corinthian's sails. “I didn’t even have his name until yesterday, and I didn’t know what he was… I still don’t.”

The nightmare regards the young girl quietly – she would appear to be telling the truth… but if she was truly Lucifer’s offspring… but then again, why would Lucifer’s offspring be this… innocent, uncertain, unthreatening… Naïve was the best word for it the nightmare decided.

“Do you know what the Endless are little one?” the nightmare asks, with a smirk.

At this mention, Aila darkens substantially. Of course, she knows what the Endless are – she knows their names and functions… It was the only lecture her mother had personally delivered and had beaten into her skull until she knew it front and back.

The Endless were powerful but not all knowing.

The Endless were close-knit but easily fractured.

The Endless would not forgive and not forget.

The Endless were never to be trusted, and the Endless were why Lucifer, her mother, was no longer in Hell – no longer ruler. The Endless were their enemies, and Aila was never meant to search them out. At least not yet… not until… and that was the part Aila did not know because soon after she came into her abilities, that was when her mother all but discarded her. And whatever else she was to learn was… empty.

However, the one other thing her mother had made it clear – if the Endless knew of her existence, she would be dead. All of them, Maize included… but…

Morpheus… Oneiros – the other name Maize had given her, what had led her to find Morpheus… the god of sleep… Sleep…

Her eyes flicker to the art exhibit.

“Yeah kid, your dad’s Dream of the Endless,” the Corinthian says, sheathing his knife for the moment and picking up his sunglasses. He doesn't have enough information to decide how to move forward - not yet. First... “Now, how do you feel about a burger?”

………………..

Aila doesn’t entirely dislike burgers – it’s not like she’s a vegetarian or anything, but she’s… not used to eating with someone else. Meaning, the burger sits untouched while she stares at the nightmare that convinced her to come to this little pub. All the while, the Corinthian happily eats all of her fries.

“Your people skills are as good as your father’s,” the nightmare comments, sunglasses firmly in place and a dollop of ketchup on his lips. He licks it away quickly.

The silence stretches for far longer than Aila means it to. She wants answers, and for the moment, going back after Morpheus… Dream… Oneiros… was not possible. Not with the nightmare here. At least not until he’s dealt with, but then, the Nephilim wonders if perhaps he can answer some of what she’s looking for. She didn’t come here looking for trouble, after all – just answers. Some to questions she doesn’t yet understand herself – such as her mother’s own inattention to her.

“Why are you here?” she finally asks.

“In this pub?” the nightmare counters, but he can tell quickly that his light teasing falls flat. However, he isn’t yet sure how to handle this change himself. When he went to check on Dream, he didn’t expect to find a wayward child… a literal child in the sense of their types of beings. She wasn’t the first thing to come sniffing after Dream, though this was the first he had heard of Lucifer since… she abdicated Hell, reluctantly, unwillingly… and now – her child… “I watch over Dream at times,” he admits. “My lord is nothing but efficient at finding trouble.”

“He’s Endless,” Aila says – confused.

“He’s human,” the Corinthian says in turn. “Did your mother not teach you anything about… your history?”

It would seem that’s an obvious sore point – which it is – the nightmare notes on how the young woman reacts. She tenses up, pulling away, appearing more closed off than she did in the alley – which given they were moments from coming to blows is impressive. The nightmare will give her that, though not much else given her… heritage.

“Maize raised me,” Aila admits quietly, before clarifying, “Mazikeen. My mother wanted little to do with me.”

“Probably for the best,” the nightmare says, though Aila remains unimpressed. It takes a moment before the nightmare decides on his next question. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did she not want you?” the nightmare asks, reaching over for another fry, but this time Aila stops him. Her fingers curl around his wrist, and he cringes at the raw strength there. For someone… that came just above his shoulder… it would appear looks were not quite everything.

“I suppose I’m not exactly what she wanted,” Aila says. It’s the only thing she can think of.

“You’re the child of an Endless and an angel,” he says – a bit uncertain. He pulls his arm back, which she thankfully releases without struggle. He can see the stark contrast of bruises already present. “Not sure what else you could be.”

Though, that may answer some of it for Aila. She was the child of Lucifer Morningstar and an Endless – the third eldest Endless and she… she was powerful – she was aware of that. But she recalls the day she came into her strength more fully – her mom had sent her through a wall after she had overpowered Maize. At the time – until this moment – Aila had thought it was because it was Maize. That perhaps her mother had been protecting the demon, but perhaps… it had been a test… of her… and she was…

“I suppose lacking,” Aila says quietly. She was powerful, but not powerful enough perhaps was the answer she was looking for. “I came here hoping…” she trails off, and the Corinthian realizes how off balanced the Nephilim was. She came here, not certain what to find and now… he suspects the answers are not what she wanted to find either.

The Corinthian sighs – this does not fall into his repertoire of things his master had given him when he had been made. This goes beyond anything he wants to deal with, and he considers how he will need to call Death promptly after he leaves here. Lucifer having a child, Dream having another child… that was not something he planned to keep to himself. No, he just needs to figure out how to… handle this for the moment; after that, it can be the rest of the Endless’ problem.

“Your father is currently… in exile,” the nightmare says, trying to decide what exactly to explain and what to leave to the Endless. “He has no memory of what he is, or that even the world is beyond the mortal plane.”

Aila’s heart drops. She had wanted… to understand herself better, and it would seem that wouldn’t be possible even with her father’s presence. Though, the question as to why remains open, and it’s not one the nightmare can entirely answer. He stumbles to explain, merely leaving it at a punishment by the Fates. She would not find what she was looking for here – at least not from Dream, not as he was.

It’s singular moment, only one, but the Nephilim wonders if she could wake her father from this… exile… just briefly – just to ask where she fell in the world.

She was Lucifer Morningstar’s offspring and Dream of the Endless.

Where did she belong? What was her purpose?

Things not even the nightmare has answer too, but he worries. The Corinthian keeps it to himself, but sitting across from the young part angel, he finds an edge of concern clawing at his mind. Lucifer never just did things. Not without purpose, not without reason. If the child was Lucifer’s, which he suspects is the truth, there was a reason for her existence… though it could be as simple as to terrorize his lord, he supposes. After… Orpheus… after Deceit… it was not as though his master had a great run with kids – metaphysical, mortal, or otherwise. Although… he stops the thought there – he won’t bring them into this. However, given what Aila is - just the idea of a child, one with Lucifer, would likely be enough to unsettle anyone.

It unsettles him, and he’s a literal nightmare.

But…

Even the Corinthian knows Nephilims are… not trifle things. She may not be as powerful as her mother wanted, but she was not… the nightmare worries what she might mean for the Endless… he has his phone in his pocket, the screen unlocked while he thumbs it unconsciously. He has John’s number memorized – a necessity in this time -, and he would likely be able to at least bind the girl… at least until he could return to the Dreaming and summon the Endless. Bound - John could watch the girl.

The last thing he expects is for Aila to stand, ignoring the bill – because of course she would – and turn to leave. The nightmare quickly follows, and the first human to stop them – she puts through a wall. The second, the nightmare hands a couple of fifties to and continues on his way.

Aila doesn’t go far – just back outside – just to stare at the sky, that’s slowly turning to dusk.

All she wanted when she came here was to meet her father, to understand her family, to try and find her own purpose. That’s all she wanted – nothing more. It’s a simple want, a simple desire… and she finds her power crackling under her skin at her frustration.

Just behind her, she hears the nightmare talking to someone – on the phone or something – but she pays them no more mind. The nightmare was… nice… at least, he answered some things, but it left her with far more questions.

Her father was Dream of the Endless – but why him?

Her mother didn’t want her – because she wasn’t as powerful as she should be..?

She had been kept in the dark on all these things – for what purpose?

Was her destiny her own… or was she just part of some story she didn’t understand…

Aila tilts her head down, angry tears rolling down her cheek – all she wanted… all she craved was one moment, one chance to meet her father, to talk to her family, to be a part of something else… to understand herself…

The nightmare’s fingers curl into Aila’s shoulder. He doesn’t mean to surprise her; it would have been foolish of him to do so, but it would seem, the Corinthian’s luck runs out right then. One moment, he’s touching her – the next he’s staring into her eyes – blazing black… so very similar to his own master’s, and he feels it… her power intertwining against his own form, and he groans. He finds himself pushed to his knees, and he gags at the sensation.

Aila doesn’t let go – instead, she considers her options. Her rage, her haze – she cannot focus… she just needs… she just needs to talk to Dream – for a minute. That’s all she needs, and he was at the Greek art exhibit…

She’ll just go there. She’ll figure this out…

She’ll figure herself out.

One moment, the two of them – the nightmare and the Nephilim – stand in the street, him pinned by her power, and the next… they’re just gone, a crack of thunder following their departure.

Quick Notes: As I said, very short story. I’m hoping like 20 chapters at most. It’s meant to give some further closure to some story lines… as well as finish dealing with Lucifer.

No, this will not be a daily update sort of fic. I'm hoping every other day. I already finished chapter two, but I'm only one chapter ahead. That's not enough for daily updates. Maybe once I get further ahead. For now though, you can have this early given my history of being ridiculous at updating

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Where They Were

One moment, the two are standing on a street, and the next, both the Corinthian and Aila go tumbling into a forest and promptly down a hill. Neither keep their balance as they roll unceremoniously along, until they land in a heap at the bottom.

The Corinthian groans as he recovers, pushing off the Nephilim beneath his hands, abruptly. She hisses at the pressure on her side, but he cares little for her comfort at the moment. She apparently just yanked them from the small town to… Actually, the nightmare looks around – he has no idea where they are.

They are certainly in a forest – that much is evident, but beyond that, he sees nothing that invokes any familiarity. No matter, he can simply step back into the Dreaming – though, the nightmare hesitates. If he leaves… he considers the half-angel again… if he leaves, there is no guarantee he will easily find her again. Until this moment, he hadn’t even known the child existed – though the word child was… used loosely. But, if he leaves – he doesn’t know if he’ll find her again… his phone – it remains in his pocket.

As Aila pushes to her feet, dirt and branches clung to hair and fabric, she grimaces at the scant cuts and bruises. She had been injured before – many times thanks to Maize’s training -, but it wasn’t often she was faced with new pain – fresh, harsh, throbbing pain. The bruise on her side from likely slamming into the rocks nearby beats in pace with her heart, and she pulls her shirt up to examine it. The skin’s already a sickly dark color, and she hears the nightmare whistle low and long at the sight.

“That’ll hurt for a while,” he says, moving to better examine it, but Aila quickly covers it with her hand.

One deep breath later, and though it stings and pulls, the pain worsening substantially for one moment, it recedes quickly. When Aila pulls her hand away, the wound appears healed – not completely but enough to appear days old versus fresh.

“Neat trick,” the Corinthian says, while the Nephilim rolls her eyes.

She wasn’t inept – she was trained. It was just… besides healing – everything else she couldn’t seem to do well or at all. Spells were one thing, but innate magic – her own gifts, besides healing, her strength, and moving distances (which even that – she)… she sighs - she always just seemed to fall short. Except looking around – what happened? She needed to… She needed to get back, and she…

She was… not going to stay with the nightmare. Given his relation to the Endless and her… she didn’t know where she fell into all of this, but she figures the better option is to purposefully seek out Maize. The demon was likely already looking for her, and she could put this mess…

Aila glances wistfully back up the hill. Her father… he didn’t know about her, and he couldn’t answer her questions – not with his memory as it was. She could go after him, as she initially planned, but now… with the pain helping to clear her head, the haze receding – she realizes how little good that would do. If the Fates took his memory, it was unlikely she could pull it back. Which left her…

Exactly where she started.

With a heavy sigh, Aila turns to leave – she would find Maize, ask for forgiveness, and then… she doesn’t know, but right now, it’s not here – and that’s enough for the young Nephilim. Perhaps, her mother would finally give her answers now that she at least knew she was part Endless….

Endless – her. Partly at least. It’s something… the knowledge doesn’t settle anything in her; if anything it raises more questions. None of which she can put into words right now, so instead, Aila picks a direction and just starts walking.

Until she has an idea where she’s at, Aila can’t pull herself as easily back to… back home, she supposes. However, within a minute of walking, she realizes the nightmare is following her – keeping pace with her, languid and at ease.

Aila walks for another minute before stopping, turning on the nightmare. “Why are you following me?” she asks, her tone bordering on hostile.

“Depends on where you’re going,” the nightmare counters, a smile playing on his lips.

“That doesn’t…” Aila starts, before stumbling. That did not exactly answer her question, but it did at the same time. The nightmare was staying with her, pending what she was doing. “I’m not returning to Morpheus… Dream… whatever he calls himself at the moment.” There wouldn’t be any point, not right now… not until… she sighs again.

“Good,” the nightmare says. “I’d rather not kill you, but…” The words are spoken with such effortlessness, that initially Aila doesn’t even process them – or at least, she doesn’t take it as a threat… not until it settles. Then, she bristles – something the nightmare notices and latches onto. “It’s not personal, but Morpheus is my king.” As such, the nightmare wouldn’t let him come to harm – especially from… Lucifer or Lucifer adjacent.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” she mutters – although, given her training… she doesn’t understand any of this. “I just…” She just doesn’t know. This all went sideways, and she still doesn’t have answers. “I just wanted to understand.” She turns and starts back on the slow-going journey through the woods.

The nightmare continues to follow, and this time, Aila elects to just allow it. It wasn’t as though he was an actual threat to her, and she wasn’t a threat to Morpheus, at least at the moment, – so the point was moot. As they walk, the Corinthian does eventually pull out his phone – discrete but not – with the intention of sending a text only to… frown at the sight of no service.

Honestly, he’s halfway impressed it survived the jump here if anything, but to see no service flashing on his screen – that does unsettle him. However, now, he can’t call John back - frustratingly so. The human mage would have this handled promptly, likely… most likely, given he hadn’t been drinking. The human could be… a bit difficult at times to work with. But he hadn’t picked up when the Corinthian called the first time – though he did at least leave a message. The magician would get back to him… or he’d find the man in the Dreaming.

The nightmare quietly supposes he could call Death next but given Aila’s mood… he suspects she wouldn’t respond well to another Endless, and the Endless likely wouldn’t respond well to her in turn. Then again… this isn’t his problem, but that thought stops the Corinthian. Aila was… not Dream, but she was of Dream… and it was his job to keep Dream safe.

In the Waking, in the Dreaming.

It had gotten easier as the years had gone by for both. Very few creatures dared to bother Dream as he was in the Waking. Between the Corinthian, Death, and… well, any of the Endless siblings – he thinks ruefully, Desire especially -, the line had been quite apparent. Dream was off limits. The Fates had made it clear that his life could not be interfered with by the Endless, but efficiently dealing with less than savory supernatural before – before being key – they had a chance to touch Dream fell outside that purview.

The Corinthian shudders though, at the time where he was… a moment too slow – just one. He had taken his eyes off Dream for only a minute… that week Dream spent in the hospital was… it had taken a lot out of everyone, especially the Dreaming. Dream’s nightmares that week…

The Corinthian grits his teeth – angry at the memory. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off Dream, and now…

Now, he’s in some random place with Dream’s offspring – one his king doesn’t even know about -, and the nightmare is off balanced. He didn’t know what he needed to do – deal with her or return to Morpheus’s side.

Perhaps, Death would be the best choice.

However, Aila’s voice snaps the nightmare from his thoughts, but he misses the question. Something she quickly realizes and repeats, “What was he like… my father?”

“When he was Dream?” the nightmare clarifies, and he watches her nod.

“Uptight, prideful, egotistical,” the nightmare rattles off. He was re-made better, yes, but all of those things were true. He waits for the day to tell his master in person again, just to ensure the Dream Lord hadn’t forgotten. “Prone to trouble,” he continues, only to repeat that phrase twice. “Very, very prone to trouble.”

Aila glances back, her face twisted into confusion.

The two finally reach the edge of the forest, though they are still quite far from town. However, now the Corinthian recognizes where they are – Greece. They’re in Greece, though something… something about the ruins of the pantheon should tug at him, but he merely pushes it aside – instead, electing to add,

“A trait you’ve seemed to have inherited.”

…………..

At least, they’ve found a road… a cobblestone and dirt one… but one all the same. Greece, they’re in Greece.

Aila doesn’t… she’s never… she understands in part her abilities allow her such travel, but she’s never done such – a significant jump. Not for lack of trying. When she first learned she could step between distances, it was automatic to want to go to ridiculous places… or to escape… or run away. She tried to run away once, only once – that had been a mistake. One she wouldn’t dare repeat… especially as it had done nothing for her. Her mother had not even been the one to punish her – no, she had forced Maize too, and that had hurt the demon. Aila didn’t like that. Nonetheless, it had taught her…

And now… she’s found a way to jump to Greece.

Aila tries to ignore the pit of worry brewing in her gut. This was not her intention, of course, but she doubts Maize will see it that way. She had already run off earlier this day – to find her father… to find out he was an Endless, a creature she was told was outright her enemy – something she keeps to herself in the face of her father’s nightmare… guard dog… and then, she stepped to Greece.

Honestly, Aila doubts – even if she’s considered an adult by human standards – that she will walk away with any ease from whatever Maize sees fit as punishment. This may even be enough to force her own mother to discipline her… again. Aila swallows roughly.

All she wanted was to understand her place and meet her father, and now…

“Do you think I was intended?” Aila asks of the nightmare. It’s enough of a question that she watches as he stumbles, eyes wide. If the Endless are the reason Lucifer is no longer in Hell, if the Endless are not to be trusted, then was she a mistake or wanted? Perhaps, she was not wanted at all to start, but her mother… had found herself stuck with the pregnancy.

Although, it’s Lucifer. If there was anyone who did not tend to do things she did not want, it was her. Aila cannot imagine Lucifer continuing an unwanted pregnancy, but then, it circles back to then – why ignore her for most of her life.

“Did they want a child?” she clarifies when he doesn’t answer.

Except, the nightmare understood the question. He did, but he hesitates to answer – because yes, in part, he doesn’t have an answer… he wasn’t there… that said, he’s highly suspicious that no, Dream did not want a child… and would – will not react well to that knowledge when he does discover it. The Corinthian will likely visit the Waking that day – not permanently… just to take a very, very long walk.

“Lucifer does nothing without reason,” the nightmare settles on saying, tersely. He does not know this Nephilim well, but he suspects telling her that she likely was not… a consensual decision… would likely not settle well – though… he grins, once they’re in a better position, perhaps then he should.

Once he’s called Death…

“Why is my father in exile?” Aila then asks, stopping in the road.

“Punishment from the Fates,” the Corinthian says, stepping nearer to the young creature. He slips a knife into his hand – undecided still on what he should do here. She was Dream’s offspring… but she was Lucifer’s as well… she was… he did not know if she was a threat or not, not truly, but summoning Death would be the fastest way to sort this – he decides. “Do you know of the corrupted?”

“Endless turned selfish. They… the damage they did was untold,” Aila says. She does know them, of them. She had heard the story in part from Maize.

Damage was an appropriate term but woefully a understatement. Between the mortal plane and what they did to Dream… yes, they had done quite a lot of harm.

“The Fates punished Dream for it because Dread…” the nightmare trails off here, trying to decide how to explain this. “Dread is considered, was considered Dream’s creation, offspring.” The nightmare shudders at that. He wonders which of these two will be worse – though Dread had done a good job to ensure it would be a difficult task to topple her as the worst thing to come from Dream. “They held him responsible.”

Aila purses her lips but nods – the Fates were not… the most fair of creatures. They had rules and injustices to pursue, but from what Aila had been told, they were content to view it how they saw fit. To think her father was… the way he was because of the Fates… lend credence to her mother stating it was the Endless’s fault for this predicament – for their predicament.

Turning, Aila considers the nightmare. Maize would tell her to end the creature or more likely, leave promptly – not risk the encounter. She was not meant to go looking for the Endless, but her mother would be disappointed if Aila let one of Dream’s creations walk away unscathed. Not given this opportunity.

She may not know her purpose, but she knows that it would be best to not let the nightmare linger with her any longer – even if a part of herself… resists the thought. Just because he answered questions did not make her loyal to him. She was loyal to Maize and her mother, and while the former would likely not appreciate her taking the risk, her mother… Aila shifts – her mother would not forgive her for letting a creation of the Endless walk away.

She feels her magic crackle beneath her skin – she’s yet undecided… the nightmare, outside of initially threatening her, had done nothing substantial since. She remains uncertain, until the cart appears. A man with a donkey comes riding through, and both her and the nightmare step apart. The moment the cart passes, Aila readies herself, only for the nightmare to tackle her into a nearby tree. His knife presses against her throat, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist, stopping him from pushing it in.

“Sorry darling,” the nightmare purrs. “I need to call your Aunt here, and… you’re not getting near Dream. Your family can sort this out.”

However, the nightmare – while he had the advantage of surprise – Aila’s grip is tight. He finds he cannot move – he cannot… with an untold ease, she dislodges him and throws him clear across the path – his back smashing into the pavers. However, the nightmare isn’t dissuaded. He’s fought worse before – he’s fought Dread’s creatures.

Pushing to his feet, the nightmare readies himself, just as Aila adjusts her stance… however, another cart pulls through – the man driving eyeing the two on the road with suspicion. The nightmare gives him a wave; they don’t need anyone stopping… though, the nightmare supposes if they do, he could always slit their throat to get Death’s attention.

It’s only once the cart pulls through that the nightmare stumbles. He looks after the cart instead of lunging for Aila again. He truly stares at the cart, confusion slowing swirling in his mind. A cart… with a donkey… two carts… he regards the ruins again – except to finally realize what’s been bothering him.

“They’re not ruins,” he mutters, just as Aila tackles him. She pins him to the ground, and he feels the snap of her power. He reaches up, stopping her just shy of likely ripping his head off. “They’re not ruins,” he repeats, lip curled back.

“What?” Aila asks.

“They are not ruins,” he says again, pointing with his free hand to the town they’re heading towards.

Aila drops her hand, head tilted as she considers the Corinthian’s words, and with her momentary hesitation, the nightmare flips their position, though he does not harm her or threaten her further. He can’t… not if what he suspects to be true. It was one thing to be in a different place – he could easily get back into the Dreaming and viola. All set…

However…

“It’s not ruins,” Aila repeats, quietly.

It’s no longer a question of just where… but when.

A different time… neither of them are entirely sure what to do with that.

Quick Notes: Type, type, type. The nightmare has no idea what to do with this thing, and Aila has no idea what to do with herself. Good news, they’re in this together.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: When They Fall

“Time travel isn’t possible,” Aila says, but the nightmare simply ignores the statement, pushing himself back to his feet – wiping his pants again. For the moment, he’s distracted. He glances back once at Aila, but she doesn’t seem inclined to attack him again either. He sighs deeply as he considers the scenery again. “It’s not…” but she trails off here – because it is, at least in theory. It’s just no one tries.

For the Corinthian, no one is frankly stupid enough to try… he runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply. Well, at least he knows now why he cannot get a hold of John and stepping back into the Dreaming now… in a time period that’s not his own… the nightmare is not suicidal. Pending when they are will very much dictate what Dream of the Endless he will find. Prideful, arrogant, vengeful..? his mind quietly whispers broken, which he ignores… human.

He doubts the last one. No, given the ruins are not ruins. They’re in the past, so Dream would be Dream… though again, which one was still… he’d rather not test it and find out – he has a survival instinct. Plus, time travel… with a Nephilim. The Endless were not known for their rationality – at least most of them. It was likely – it was very possible, the nightmare decides, that the Endless knowing they are here would make things worse.

Besides maybe Destiny – which the nightmare considers. Except he has no way to contact that Endless. Meaning… meaning - he turns, holding a hand to help Aila back to her feet.

“We’re in this together darling, until we have a better sense of when,” he says, clearly indicating his knife is away and would stay that way. There’s a moment – where the nightmare realizes Aila is considering her own options, and he does prepare himself to arm himself again.

The nightmare belongs to the Endless – Endless which are her enemy by her own mother’s words. Working with the nightmare would be… Aila knows it’s not truly a betrayal, but it feels that way. However, she was not trained for this. She would be foolish to toss aside the nightmare – at least until they had a better idea of when and how to get home.

However, just as the nightmare rightfully assumes, the moment they do – whatever tedious peace between them will be over.

With a scowl, however, Aila takes the offered appendage, allowing him to pull her to her feet – an action that surprises the nightmare. Neither Lucifer nor Dream would have accepted the help… he wonders how much she is like her parents and how much she is not.

“How do we figure that out?” Aila asks, but as she does, she can see the Corinthian has already set off again. It takes her a moment to match his speed. She doesn’t… she doesn’t want to follow the nightmare, but also, this is – all of this – is beyond her. She doesn’t know why they’re here or when as the Corinthian insinuated. Getting home… would be difficult… though…

She tosses out her senses – it’s there, on the periphery but there. The gates of Hell – she could… but she stops herself there. Going to her own mother in this state, especially given she still does not yet understand her own presence, would not likely yield the result she wants. Aila may be… a bit behind on the world she’s in, but she’s not that foolish.

For now, she understands her best way forward is with the nightmare – at least until they have a better sense of how to get home.

It takes a few minutes, but the two do eventually come upon a small cottage. It’s quaint and quiet, with no evidence of someone home, but it appears well lived in. Aila takes a moment to enjoy the small garden in front, when the nightmare works to kick the door in. Her mouth drops open, and she seizes his arm.

“What are you…” she hisses.

“You’re the child of Lucifer, and breaking and entering gives you pause?” the nightmare asks, with a smile. He truly wonders exactly what Mazikeen taught this child or if she was merely that sheltered. He could believe the latter. Had anyone known about her – the uproar… he would have heard about it.

Aila merely rolls her eyes, though, and brushes past the nightmare harshly. It’s not that… she was aware of the world of gray they all lived in, but she… she didn’t lack empathy. But more so, she wasn’t in the mood of dealing with trouble. Now that she’s had a moment, Aila realizes how truly exhausted she is – and the idea of going toe to toe with someone… anything… right now… falls quickly to the bottom of her list.

She aches in ways she doesn’t recognize, and her head feels heavy. Right now, honestly keeping the nightmare at a truce and staying out of unneeded altercations would be preferred. At least until she sleeps, she presumes.

Which means getting in and out of this place quickly – though she stops to regard the Corinthian. She doesn’t even know why… she watches him raid the drawers – looking for clothes and such. Right – she looks down at her own attire. They don’t… they stick out in their modern clothes, and without further insight as to when, it would be safer to blend in.

Not that she’d tell the nightmare that – not that she’d make some off hand comment about being impressed that he thought of that on his own. No, instead, she joins him in looking for something to change into.

When he all but tosses a dress at her – some flowy, monstrosity, however, - Aila promptly – accidentally lets it fall to the floor, eyeing it disdainfully.

“No,” she says, and the Corinthian eyes the pile with pursed lips. While Aila may not realize it, he notes the gown is burnt at the edges… he watches her cautiously, but she appears completely unaware. He notes the instinctual reaction – her tendency towards violence at times… and decides he can see where Lucifer fits into her heritage. That in mind, he hands her pants and a blouse. He can’t do much for some of the clothes, but he can avoid dresses. Keeping the peace over this was likely the better option for both of them.

It doesn’t take long for the Corinthian to dress in more muted – looser clothes. He immediately misses his suit. The sunglasses will have to stay – he cannot imagine the mortals here would take… well to that side of him… while Aila finishes tying off her own ensemble.

It’s not perfect – they will appear…a bit out of sorts, but at least, they’re not completely sticking out… though – the nightmare eyes the Nephilim… she’ll stick out. He wonders briefly why none of Dream or Dream’s things can ever be… not complicated.

Done, the two head back out – working quickly to at least situate the door so that’s it not as obviously ajar. It’s not perfect, but at least, it doesn’t appear broken into from the road now. The two continue down towards the small town – which is bustling.

It’s apparently market day, and not only is the street full of people but also things, animals, and smells. The town feels alive. People shout, laugh, and the overall energy – both the nightmare and Aila find it to be a bit exhausting. But for now the nightmare assumes this is the best place to be – people to ask, gossip to listen to, and hopefully someone he can ask – threaten – about the year. Before he can move away, however, an animal comes bolting by – it screeches and bucks, almost tripping Aila, but instead of frustration, as the nightmare would expect, the Nephilim merely laughs and watches the animal – a sheep - continue down the street.

“You really don’t get out much do you?” the nightmare asks quietly, stepping up next to her. He watches as her face falls – the previous amusement fading quickly. “Nope, guess not,” he adds based on her reaction, only to grin when she scowls at him. “Come on,” he sighs. “I’m sure we could… get into some trouble here.”

“I’d rather not,” she counters – only then aware that he’s purposefully trying to aggravate her. “Are you always this difficult?”

“In my master’s opinion?” the nightmare asks, clicking his tongue. “Yes.” In his own? No, he was just how he was made.

The market maintains its energy even as they wander deeper, and eventually, Aila can’t maintain the frown on her face. She’s never… the nightmare was right – she wasn’t allowed out like this. She had been exposed to crowds and people – yes – but only to ensure she was well rounded, that she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. But otherwise, she hadn’t… she hadn’t done anything like this, and thoughts of going home slowly fade as she wanders up to a booth selling some kind of food… she has no idea what but when the Corinthian hands over some coins, purchasing it, then handing it to her – she grins.

The nightmare remains unimpressed by her, which honestly… she’s used to – that’s her mother’s usual opinion of her anyway. However, it doesn’t stop her from taking a bite into the food, grinning at… actually, it tastes horrible and a few feet from the stall, she gags on it.

“Not a fan of sheep I see, at least not when you eat it,” the nightmare says, unable to hide his own amusement at the reaction. It’s been… awhile since he, himself, had wandered the Waking in such a manner. Outside of protecting Dream, his duties kept him in the Dreaming consistently, so this was… a breath of fresh air in many ways… and all the people around him – all the slight fears he could taste – well, it was… a slight reminder as to why his previous self slipped from the Dreaming a time ago – however… while the nibble interests him, he otherwise feels no pull as he once did.

All the nightmare can focus on right now is finding out when they are, so they can get home. Dream’s… Dream’s likely found trouble – human or not – and he will not abscond from his duties. He didn’t want to hear Matthew lecture him about it later anyway… the raven was quite aggravating. And loud. And consistent in both of those feats.

The market slowly recedes, though the people do not, and it doesn’t take long to find musicians and dancers in the square – flowers and wreaths a plenty. It would appear it’s a harvest festival of some sort, and everyone – in the abundance of spring – is having a delightful time.

Aila doesn’t join in or do much of anything, but she watches. Humans are… interesting. Her mother… did not like them, Maize tolerated them – a reason for why she was not allowed around them all that much – but surrounded by the music and festivities, Aila feels a pull from one part of herself… that human aspect… and she can’t help but at least find herself at ease here. All the previous irritation and discomfort from the intensity of the sounds and crowds fades here.

When another musician starts to sing, many people clapping in turn, Aila can’t help but watch the young man take the hastily thrown together stage over the fountain. Lyre in hand, he sings and spins, and many people fall back into the dance… save one – one woman stands watching, completely enraptured by the young man.

Which Aila understands – she can’t pull her eyes from the young man either… though, she doesn’t… she doesn’t understand – it’s not attraction. She understood that well enough – she was not that naïve, contrary to the nightmare’s opinion. It was just… something about him… it was…

The sudden swell of smoke takes everyone by surprise – the dancers, musicians, and the people in the market. There’s a scream, and then, people are running. Bandits.

The nightmare had his back to the musicians, as such he sees the thieves first. They have their swords hanging by their sides, the previously stolen wears obvious on their persons, and the smell of blood obvious on their forms. The fear, the taste of that in the air – it explodes, but the nightmare keeps his eyes on the bandits.

The people push around him and Aila, and before he can better assess their threat – which is likely nothing in the face of something like him – they’re pushed into the crowd. Something the bandits enjoy given their raucous laughter that breaks over the screams, but then… the nightmare focuses on Aila.

He has an inkling in how he would prefer to handle this… turn of events… his knife sits tucked in the back of his pants, after all, but the Nephilim… he recalls her setting the clothes on fire, the magic that brought them here… and he decides it likely would be better that she not… be involved in this.

People responded to magic in one of two ways, and he didn’t really want to deal with either option.

Seizing her hand, the Corinthian all but yanks her deeper into the crowd – doing what he can to ensure she stays with him. He outright ignores her protests, though she, thankfully, does not struggle much against him. She does however keep glancing back at the thieves, now on horses.

People shout, and the smell of blood – the nightmare can feel it on his tongue. Mortal deaths – things that do not fall into his realm, but how Aila stops surprises him. Lucifer would never care for human deaths – she’d celebrate if anything, but Aila… she watches… her eyes watching as a man is struck down, his glassy gaze focused on them as his blood stains the stones.

“Aila,” the nightmare says. “We need to…”

“I’ve never seen someone die,” she admits quietly, and the nightmare both curses and wonders what exactly Lucifer was teaching – obviously nothing – her own offspring.

He pulls her into an alley – just as a man rides past on a horse. However, this is the moment Aila finishes with just following the nightmare’s lead. She wrenches her hand away, stepping back into the street – to watch as the man with the horse rears up, intending to end another human… a child – one alone… no parents in sight.

It’s instinctual – it’s a single moment. One where Aila feels nothing and everything in that moment. One moment the man was intact – intending to end the young boy – and the next, a bolt of lightning catches the man’s sword, running down his arm, and then, the man goes from one piece to over a thousand pieces raining down.

Even though there are shouts, fire, and everything else ongoing, the world falls silent here – Aila falls silent. She doesn’t… she didn’t… but the sky is clear. That bolt was not natural, and in that moment, when Aila was watching – she had wanted the man dead. She doesn’t… she stands there, in the center of the street – uncertain.

All the while, the Corinthian adjusts his glasses -staring too at the spot the man once sat. The horse… lived – so that’s something. But the man – the walls, the stones, all of it was painted red. Freak storm? No, he senses it now – the crackle of power beneath Aila’s skin. The nightmare would be impressed, if he wasn’t struck silent at… the sheer strength of it. Lucifer and Endless indeed – he can see that now.

Playing nice would be… a necessity if he wanted to live himself, and the nightmare wasn’t entirely in the mood to be unmade – especially in a time where Dream would likely either not know he was here or refuse to remake him anyway.

They’re in Greece – in the past….

The Corinthian stares at street – at the carnage – and wonders with a harsh swallow – if this was before or after. Pending that – a lot would be different.

Were they before or after Orpheus.

The screams break through to the Corinthian – the silence snapping away in an instance, and he realizes they can’t stay. Aila sways on her feet – exhaustion evident -, and there are still bandits in town. For now, retreating would be the better option.

The nightmare grips at Aila’s arm again, trying to pull her back, but she can only stare at the child. A young, innocent child… and the man… as her mother would have said – deserved punishment. He was vile, evil… he belonged in Hell under her mother’s purview, and now… he likely would be sent straight down, but she hadn’t meant… she had never… she had never yielded power like that – though… was it her?

“Aila,” the Corinthian hisses. “As fun as this is, we need to leave.”

“But the boy,” she says, quiet.

“He is safe,” the nightmare counters – electing not to mention the word traumatized as well. It was quite likely that child would end up in the nightmare realm, his realm tonight… and while most times he’d revel in such a thing, right now, he truly does not wish to discover if Aila can repeat whatever that was. “We need to go,” he repeats, but Aila pulls away again.

Without hesitation, she makes her way over to the human child – who cowers, eyes wide, face drenched in blood. She feels – she doesn’t know. She’s glad the other human is dead – he deserved to be in Hell… he belonged with her mother and to be tormented… but… she doesn’t yet understand how she feels to know it was in response to save a child. She feels… she doesn’t know.

Before she can decide though, another pair of humans appear – grasping the boy and taking off with him – leaving Aila standing alone in the street – her feet/her boots standing in a small pool of blood.

“Your people skills need work,” the Corinthian says again. “We need to go.”

This time, Aila doesn’t fight him as he leads her from the market.

By the time they reach the outskirts of the town, most of the village is emptied or in the midst of a fight with the remainder bandits. However, Aila remains by the Corinthian’s side. The two watch the city catch fire, and while it will take a few hours, eventually things will calm again – the bandits will fall.

The market and festival long forgotten – that one moment where Aila had felt… normal… was long forgotten.

Instead, All Aila can focus on is that boy’s face… the terror… and she worries – she doesn’t know… how to feel… would her mother be proud?

Would her father?

Quick Notes: Sorry the beginning is going to be a slow build up. I really want the Endless back in this – they’re a lot of fun… but, can’t just drop them in without all this initial stuff.

And I want Aila to not be another Johanna or Alec, so trying a different sort of personality for her. Sorry for those wanting a super sarcastic main female. She’ll have her moments, but Alec and Johanna she is not. Although… who knows who we may see in this fic eventually ;)

Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Who They Are

“Do you need to… eat?” the nightmare asks, as the two of them walk farther away from the small city. The bandits were long dead, thanks to the guards – and Aila, but neither elect to discuss that again-, but the festival was ruined. He figures she obviously can eat, but he’s more curious about the necessity of it – she’s a Nephilim, Endless… and human, but how much of the humanity needed… things.

Right now, the nightmare decides finding a place to take few minutes to regather themselves would be… better. He can see Aila dragging – exhaustion, hunger? He doesn’t know. It’s not his area, but if they’re to get back – he would rather not see her collapse. Not yet, not until later – preferably back in their time. Which meant it would be best to find a small house or cottage farther out – nearing some of the small farms. Some place that would likely have food and hopefully some place to rest. Based on how Aila drags behind him, he suspects while she may not… eat burgers, she likely needs sleep – though he worries how that will go… in this time period.

Dream, in their time, wouldn’t recognize or know Aila’s presence in the Dreaming, but here… would he sense her and what she was? He hopes not – not until they had a better idea of when they were and if it was possible to get home. It’s not that he’s worried… because he’s not. The Nephilim means little to him – she’s an odd girl, with a messed up family tree -, but he suspects if she dies… he’s stuck in this time period, and while he could meander through a few centuries again waiting to get back to his time - he’d rather not be around when his own version decides romping off into the Waking is a stellar idea. He suspects he’ll end up unmade as well at that point.

So, no, the nightmare reluctantly needs to keep Aila alive and in one piece – and with some degree of hope, they can figure out a way back.

However, even though he asked the question loud enough, the Corinthian realizes quickly Aila’s attention is far away. She’s following him dutifully – something that he enjoys -, but otherwise, she’s not truly present in any of this. Which twists at him in a way he has yet to fully decide on what exactly it is – he doesn’t like it though, that he does know.

It takes a mile or so of walking before the Corinthian finds an odd enough couple that does not care if the two of them crash in their pasture, under one of the lean aways they use for the animals. It wasn’t complete shelter, but if it rained – which… the nightmare eyes the sky… it was going to, then they’d have some protection.

Had the nightmare been willing to turn the charm up even a bit more, he suspects he could have gotten into their home, but the Nephilim’s current silent, staring into the void was not doing him any favors. For as much as she wasn’t what he expects of an offspring of Dream, she – at the same time – has quite a few traits of the Dream Lord… particularly the unsettling stare. He could live without that – from either of them.

The couple was also nice enough to give the Corinthian a few apples and other fruit that he graciously takes, with a grin, before he leads Aila out to where he was told they could stay. It has a roof and straw for the floor. Thankfully, there’s no wind and the night air is comfortable, so while it’s not a five-star hotel, it’s not the worst place he’s stayed… by far…

Without a sound or word, Aila sits next to the nightmare, and he says nothing. He leans one arm over his bent leg and just stares out across the field – working to try and better assess where… when… they are. However, a small inkling – a concerning one – is starting to brew in the back of his mind – but he can’t imagine their luck… his luck… fate would be that bad, that cruel. Or… given the Fates – from what he was told at the last confrontation with the Endless – that could be very likely something they would do. Revenge, vengeance… either, both.

The nightmare sighs – pushing the thought aside. There’s nothing to be done about it, and even if it was possible, then he merely needs to avoid all the events associated with that. He leans back now, finally eyeing the Nephilim again – who remains… stoic, quiet, unmoving. It’s gone past Dream’s resemblance and is now just creepy.

“Do you need to eat?” he asks again, holding out an apple for her – which she ignores. “Dream spawn,” he says, exasperated, and that does get her attention. He holds up the apple, which she eyes disdainfully. “Do you need to eat?”

“Need?” she whispers.

“Eat, sleep, human functions?” he clarifies, and she nods – gaze falling back to the ground.

“To a degree, yes,” she says quietly, before pulling both of her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. In this moment, she appears like the young human that she is, and the nightmare grumbles. He can’t help but wonder if this is the universe’s cruel joke – to go from babysitting Dream to Dream’s offspring… “But I’d rather not right now,” she continues – nor does she need to. She can go quite a time without eating, drinking or sleeping – something Maize had tested when she was younger. She still required… some necessities, but barely a whiff to continue functioning.

Right now, Aila can’t imagine eating – not when she can’t get it out of her mind of that man’s death. Of how he went from a singular being into practically a thousand pieces. She hadn’t… she didn’t… but there was no way she didn’t have a hand in it. It was just in that moment, seeing the child in danger, after what that human did – she just wanted him gone. And then – he was.

While she remains quiet, the Corinthian suspects where her thoughts have taken her, so with a heavy sigh, he leans his head back against the wood – biting into the apple without care. Her loss; however, when the silence continues to drag, he finally asks, “Did your mother not… want to teach you how to take a life?” It would seem like a skill Lucifer would have… practically beaten into her own offspring as soon as the thing could hold a blade.

“I think,” Aila starts, quietly – and while it’s not much, the nightmare appreciates she’s at least communicating now. “I think she did, but Maize stopped her.”

“Did she now?” the nightmare asks, curious about how that conversation went. Not well, he would suspect. Lucifer was not one… for being told no – proof of said concept likely sitting next to him. A cruel thought, he quickly pushes aside. Him of old would have enjoyed him; him of now – it put him in a mood to find a way to spill Lucifer’s blood.

“I am still part human,” Aila says. A piece of her was. If she was cut, she bled; she had a heartbeat; she had a soul. “While I am… an abomination,” she says, with a quiet hiss. Nephilim were not meant to exist – practically forbidden. “I am not immediately bound for Hell.”

And in that, the nightmare understands. Mazikeen had sheltered Aila – protected her it would seem from damning herself. Though, he wonders how long Lucifer would have allowed that to stand – he has yet to truly understand why Lucifer ignored the girl. She seemed… untrained with much of her abilities, but they were in the past. That was not a feat any normal magician or even certain gods could perform.

“I was trained, but I never had to take a life,” she continues, her gaze dropping farther if that was possible. “Until now.” She sees the image replay again followed by the fear on that child’s face. Fear because of what she did. “I…” she trails off – hating herself. She was a child of Lucifer Morningstar, and yet… she felt… a deep pain – one she couldn’t explain.

The nightmare chuckles, surprising the Nephilim and aggravating her. She scowls, tightening her hold on her legs, while the air temperature – the nightmare feels it chill substantially. He shrugs if off, however, instead electing to lean forward so he can better look at the woman next to him. “He was about to kill a kid, he had just killed a man. You didn’t do anything he didn’t deserve.”

Three simple sentences. Three basic sentences. Three truths. And Aila’s eyes open as she processes that. Because that’s exactly what happened. What she did – even subconsciously – it wasn’t without reason, but still… she had taken a life. Righteously or not – that did not completely negate her action. Especially as it wasn’t intended.

“Perhaps a trait from your mother?” the nightmare says – it’s said partially in jest but also because until now… he hadn’t seen much of Lucifer in the girl. With what happened in the village – for a brief moment, he did. With that bolt – how the area lit up -, he could see Lucifer for one flash. When Aila doesn’t respond, he continues, “Is it not Hell’s job to…”

“Punish,” Aila says, quietly – understanding it then. Yes, the point of Lucifer Morningstar was to rule Hell and dictate punishment of those within her realm… and the man here… he deserved what judgement she had delivered – though… it was an action that would weight on her for a time. However, Aila does slowly uncurl, leaning back next to the Corinthian – lounging more like him. “Tell me about my father. Am I… like him?” she says then.

The nightmare quietly regards the Nephilim.

“I just…” she continues. If what she did in the village was like her mother, she wants to understand the other side of her genome as well.

“You are but not,” the nightmare settles on. From what little he’s seen – after all, they’ve only spent a little more than a day together at this point. “Would you…”

“Can you tell me a story about him?” she says then. Her mother told her about them – warned her – but she didn’t… know stories about them. Not truly, and right now… she needs the distraction.

For a long second, the Corinthian says nothing before asking, “Did you know Dream of the Endless always has a raven?” Which she did not. “So, Matthew is his current raven, and he’s… aggravating. A talker, constantly.” The nightmare rests his head back, watching as Aila’s eyes flutter close. It would seem while she may not need as much sleep as she insinuated, she does need it at the moment – after everything. “But there was a time, he helped defeat your mother with Dream.”

“A raven?” Aila echoes back.

And without any hesitation now, the Corinthian launches into the tale of the Oldest Game of Dream versus Lucifer for the helm, and slowly, he realizes Aila fades off… likely into the Dreaming. He continues his tale, nonetheless. He may not be a storyteller like his master, but… he can tell this… he wonders if she’d find any interest in what he did in the Waking in a previous life – though given how she… responded to that one bandit… perhaps, that is a story best kept to himself.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully and come morning when Aila’s eyes open, and she finds she slid over – her head resting on the nightmare’s shoulder… she says nothing – instead merely sitting up and situating herself, an apple now being shoved unceremoniously into her mouth.

“Did you sleep well?” the nightmare asks.

“I suppose,” she says. She recalls the nightmare continuing the story, even as she dozed off, but after that… she woke. She doesn’t dream. She never has to her knowledge, but she keeps that to herself for now. Last night…

The nightmare was still a nightmare – one that belonged to her father. An Endless – a creature she was taught to fear and hate… and she needs to create a boundary – at least until she can get home and talk with her mother again. Until then… she needs to keep things simple. They are working together – and as much as she wants to know more, perhaps it would be best she not ask more questions – at least in regards to her father… as much as she craves too. Especially her main question… the one she wants to know most but now worries about asking again. She wants a better answer – not just the handwaving the nightmare gave the day prior.

Why did they have her… if they were enemies, adversaries… why… where did she fit…

However, she does state as they both stand, “Thank you for… your words last night.” She did appreciate that, and she was not above saying as much – something the nightmare notes… likely not from either parent.

“Not a problem,” the nightmare says with a grin, finishing off the last of the fruit – licking his fingers clean.

“Do you have a plan?” Aila asks, but the nightmare merely indicates for them to return to town. Hopefully there were no bandits this time, and maybe this time, they could get some sort of direction of where to go.

Mostly, the Corinthian needs to find a mage… magician… someone that may be able to… do something with the pair of them.

However, as they set out, the nightmare does say, “We do need to get your… abilities… figured out.” She eyes him crossly. “I’d rather not be fried… or exploded… if you have either of your parents’ tempers.”

That she… can understand; however, Aila doesn’t even still understand where last night came from. That would be… that would take some time, and she wasn’t ready to practice in a town full of people. Something she realizes quickly the nightmare wasn’t insinuating – merely just stating it was something they needed to do… and she feels foolish. He was a nightmare of the Endless… she shouldn’t have assumed…

However, she can’t help but say as they walk, “I had heard stories of you.”

“Of me?” the Corinthian says, an easy drawl. “Do tell.”

“You’re a major arcana,” she says, but that was a well-known fact, of course. “You’re a sociopath.”

“Previous iteration,” he corrects, before adding, “Mostly. I am humanity’s dark mirror.” Meaning he was never going to be a dream, not like Gault or Fiddler’s Green. There was always going to be a touch… of blood lust… in his veins – in his being. Honestly, if Dream was around – he suspects his master would be proud… or proud in the way he wouldn’t unmake the Corinthian… after all, the nightmare had been in the Waking for a time, and no one – well, besides the bandit, he thinks – was dead. And that wasn’t even him. He’s showing restraint – he’s rather impressed with himself.

“And that’s important?” Aila asks, and the nightmare can’t help the look he gives her – utter indignation.

“Nightmares are… very important for humanity to face things they otherwise could not in the Waking,” the nightmare says, reluctantly parroting Dream’s words from a time prior. However… after everything… and especially given that he helps Dream with his – they are words he understands better now.

Aila doesn’t respond – instead merely ponders that. She wonders if perhaps a nightmare would have helped her own mind to settle her own actions yesterday… for now – she pushes it aside – focusing forward and reminding herself to maintain a boundary.

The Corinthian was of an Endless realm.

Endless were her enemy.

An Endless was her father.

Aila regrets ever thinking not being normal was something she was okay with. She’d rather have been mundane suddenly.

The small city was less robust as the day prior, but there was no blood in the streets – not even where Aila… she walks briskly past that area and quietly thanks the stars that the Corinthian makes no remark… However, the city while there was obvious areas of damage – people had returned to business as usual. The market was open, and the Corinthian was decisive in his order – she wanted to scoff but didn’t – at his statement to remain in sight while he tried a few booths to find the information they need. Finding a mage – magician – in this time period… could be difficult.

Many mages were oracles – thus spirited away – or enslaved, chained, or owned. It would not be easy finding one free-roaming, and while the Endless would likely have some information, Aila can understand avoiding them… for the moment… given her own misgivings, she was content the nightmare hadn’t even pushed the idea.

However, for now, left to her own devices Aila wanders the market a bit more freely. She goes stall to stall – merely perusing their wares. She doesn’t have any money of this time, so she doesn’t pick anything up. Nonetheless, she enjoys what she finds – especially the art and other trinkets. Some of the jewelry is… breathtaking.

The flower stall is… quiet but something about it – Aila likes it the best. Something about… flowers – life – creation… calls to her, and she eyes a few of the pretty wildflowers that she does not recognize. She can’t help but to reach out here – her fingers brushing against the petals… only for that man’s last moments to flash before her eyes…

The flower desiccates beneath her touch, though thankfully the shop keep does not seem to notice. Aila quickly recoils, pulling her hand back – just in time for another woman to step up. A pretty young woman with dark chocolate hair – pulled up into a bun – a long white draped gown reaches out in turn, a frown on her features as she examines the flower Aila just touched.

“Such a shame,” she says, though it takes Aila a moment to realize the woman is speaking to her. “They’re so beautiful, and although their lives are brief, they can bring such joy.” She pulls the dead flower from the bunch, adding it to the few already in her basket. She steps up to the shop keep – happily paying for her wares, including the dead flower.

“That’s a lot of flowers,” Aila says, uncertain of entirely what to say but the dead air bothers her.

The young woman smiles softly as she examines the bouquet. “I am to be married,” she says.

Aila stands silent – although, she does know enough about human interactions to know this tends to be a happy announcement -, but she struggles to say congratulations to a woman she just met.

“Soon,” she continues, only to then glance over her shoulder – completely uncaring that Aila had yet to say anything of substance in turn. “There you are,” she says – just as another man steps up. A young man – short brown hair – and the way he smiles… even Aila knows the man is smitten with the woman. It takes Aila a moment, but she recognizes him from the day prior – he was the musician.

“Eurydice,” he says. “A dead flower?”

“They’re all dead, Orpheus,” she counters with a soft smile, leaning up towards him. “But they’re all beautiful.”

“No more than you,” he says, in turn.

All the while, a few feet away – the Corinthian watches and decides that no, their luck is that bad. He stays back – the boy wouldn’t recognize him, nor the woman… but nonetheless, he’s cautious. Calliope too would be unlikely to recognize him directly, but she may be able to tell what he was, even if she didn’t know the who. Though thankfully, he does not see the Greek muse.

Fates be damned – he decides – because they surely were.

Quick Notes: This has turned into a slow burn with character development apparently. Aila is slowly learning about herself, while the nightmare tries to figure out the intricacies of babysitting a Nephilim. But now that we have Eurydice and Orpheus, it’ll pick up – mostly because I’m more interested in getting the Endless back into this.

However, this is important set up, sadly. Unlike To Fear and Hope and With Dreams and Virtues, we had to ease our way into this mess.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five: How The World Changes

Aila doesn’t recognize either human – nor does she feel anything… specifically, but for some reason, she cannot pull her eyes from the pair. They are… quite enamored with one another, and Aila wonders briefly if her parents… was there a moment like this for them… but she doubts it – even without being told as much. Her instincts… subtly nudge her, but she ignores them for the moment.

Instead, she focuses on the pair of humans – even as they continue to speak softly. She considers walking away, but she feels… off balanced. Involved but not in this exchange, and without any previous experiences to pull from, she doesn’t entirely know the right social etiquette here.

Not knowing what else to say, Aila settles on, “You were very good in the market yesterday.” Her speaking must surprise them, as they appear startled. A slight red hue colors both their cheeks – not that Aila understands why.

“He is quite talented,” Eurydice says, with a smile, and the flush deepens on Orpheus’s face.

“Too bad those bandits interrupted mid lyric,” he says – his voice carrying slightly, a sense of disappointment evident.

“Are you… from around here?” Eurydice asks, surprising Aila in turn by asking her anything.

The Nephilim opens her mouth, though it takes her a moment to decide on what to say. She’s not foolish enough to tell mortals how not from around here she is, but she can somehow – with less elegance than intended – force out that she is merely visiting the town, passing through.

“As are we,” Orpheus says, the basket in his arms now evident. It is filled with food and other pleasantries, likely to make a trip more manageable and enjoyable. Eurydice peruses it briefly before rolling her eyes at some of the selection. “To where are you going?”

That Aila does not have an answer to; they had only just figured out where they were – barely. Beyond that, they hadn’t truly gotten together any sort of… real plan… outside of the Corinthian’s suggestion to find a magician in this time. She could… she supposes contact her mother in this time, though she worries what sort of welcome may await her then. Her mother barely tolerated her in the present; though – perhaps, since she was ruler of Hell still… Aila pushes the thought aside for now; her mother here would be unlikely to help her, and she suspects the nightmare wouldn’t condone that plan.

Not that she needed his approval.

Not that she cared about his opinion.

She tries not to think back on last night – of him telling her stories to help ease her mind. For a nightmare – he wasn’t what she expected.

She pushes it from her mind but does unconsciously seek him out – only to find him standing far back, trying his best to blend into a crowd… which was not a feat the nightmare possessed. But the moment she caught his eyes, she could sense – unease from him, though she didn’t understand why.

“I’m sorry, we missed that,” Eurydice says, and Aila realizes she hasn’t responded – or if she did, it wasn’t satisfactory.

“Just traveling through,” she says. “Trying to get… home.”

“Oh, do you have family waiting for you?” Orpheus asks, and Aila’s heart seizes at that. She does… her mother was at home, Maize was at home, but her… the rest of her family – the Endless, apparently… Dream, specifically – she had little idea still where they were or how they fit into this.

“I do,” Aila says, but her voice – the way she says it must be telling, more than she means it to be. She wants to go home – she does… but even the last day of being out has been – different. She wouldn’t mind… a bit longer, she realizes. At home, she felt stifled – out here… she recalls the man on the horse, and her thoughts darken. Had she been home… had she been home, the child would be dead – the Corinthian’s voice whispers in her ear, not truly his voice but a mimicry of it in her own mind.

“Family can be difficult,” Orpheus says, as though he understands the unspoken context perfectly.

“But rewarding,” Eurydice adds.

They’re… an odd pair but Aila decides she likes them well enough – enough so that she doesn’t immediately answer when they offer for her to travel with them north, back to their own villa. Aila didn’t mean for her to sound… disinterested in returning home, though she recognizes some of her thoughts did stray that way, but – she glances back to the Corinthian, who remains near enough out of sight. They need to find a way home… and a detour is not likely… to be helpful.

Orpheus adds the road not being safe – though it’s well intended, Aila bristles slightly at that. She is more than capable of handling herself. She tries not to think of the blood on the stone.

“Thank you, but no,” Aila says. “I am traveling with someone, and we need to keep moving.”

“If you change your mind, we will be leaving by sundown,” Eurydice says. “Good day.”

“Good day,” Orpheus echoes a moment later, and the two walk away, hand in hand.

Only then does the nightmare approach, his fingers curling tightly into her arm. Had she been only human, she suspects it would be painful. He moves to pull her away, and while she would rather hold her ground, she does allow him to maneuver her from the stall into a more private nook.

“We need to go,” the Corinthian says – Aila eyes him warily. His tone – his body posture… she may not spend much time around others, but she recognizes discomfort well enough. She’s seen it enough times with Maize in response to her mother, or in herself… after her own mother’s presence.

“Go where?” Aila asks – after all, it’s not like they have an easy way back.

The Corinthian stumbles here because everything he’s found at this point – any points or persons that may be able to help them are near enough to the Greek pantheon. Which means the muses, which means the Endless, and being in this time? With the Endless? The Corinthian would rather not run into them in this time period; he would rather not be unmade. And he doesn’t know how they’d react to Aila, or everything that came before… or how time worked.

That wasn’t the nightmare’s area of expertise. If they changed things here – would it affect things where they were from? And after everything – after Dread, Lucifer, all of it… he didn’t entirely want to risk a worse outcome.

Which means – leaving here and the nightmare trying to find a different option. There had to be oracles – someone to talk to not associated with the Greek Gods… And staying far away from Orpheus.

However, the nightmare can’t help but chance a glance around the corner. He hadn’t seen the boy… it had been a long time, and the nightmare isn’t sure what he feels to see the little one again. He knows in their time Orpheus was finally laid to rest – something that did bring Dream some comfort, even if he didn’t realize it entirely. He had no issue with the human personally, but… this had to be right before the wedding – right before Orpheus…

He recalls the Dreaming then. He recalls Calliope then.

He decides he does not want to be here when that happens.

“We need to go,” the Corinthian says again, pulling at the Nephilim, but she refuses to move. Still as a statue, she holds her place – even as he grits his teeth as the sheer stubbornness. “I do not know how the Endless of this time will react to you, we don’t know how Hell will react to you… I need… we need to go and find a way home.” Back to where – there were known expectations.

Some of the resistance fades away with that. Aila understands – she does. She’s surprised to hear it from the nightmare. There were risks to both sides, and Aila… the Endless – she wants to know more but her mother’s warnings, Maize’s warnings do not fade. And her mother of this time – a ruler of Hell… she does not feel drawn to go there – if anything, her instincts warn her away.

“Do you have a direction?” Aila asks quietly, and the nightmare plasters on an uneasy grin. No, he doesn’t, but as long as it’s not here – he decides.

As they leave, Aila wonders more about Orpheus, but she suspects he will fade from her memory soon. He was… a brief encounter, after all, but every step away from the city, the more she can’t help but feel drawn to go back.

“Why don’t we try the Greek Pantheon?” Aila asks. They were lesser Gods, perhaps, but they were not the Endless nor her mother – they likely would have some knowledge of this. Though whether they’d help or not was an unknown. She knew little of the Greek Gods, outside their names.

“Too close to the Endless in this time,” the Corinthian explains. He had considered it of course – until he had seen Orpheus and then, that thought evaporated. Behind him, he hears Aila comment of confusion – of course, she wouldn’t know about the Endless and their close associations with the pantheon or at least one Endless and his spouse. It shouldn’t surprise the nightmare, given what he’s seen – and he wonders if he needs to start to fill in the gaps of her education.

Though, the nightmare does wonder if this lack of knowledge was purposeful. After all, Aila was… powerful – he had seen proof of that. However, it would fit in with Lucifer’s personality to manipulate things in her favor. Aila being unaware of her own origins and the Endless in general would benefit the former angel – after all, she’d feel no loyalty to them. But that does circle back to why was Lucifer so indifferent to the girl… unless the former angel didn’t know how powerful the girl was…

The nightmare glances back once, and Aila is just meandering after him. For someone with her origins and the power he had seen, she did come across a bit… underwhelming otherwise. And a bit… he watches as she gets distracted by the flowers at the edge of the road… she seemed easily impressed with the world they lived in.

Though… given she hadn’t seen much of it – perhaps, that shouldn’t be all that surprising.

It’s a small thought, but the nightmare does quietly hope that Dream doesn’t… that he handles this revelation okay – not that he cares about Aila, he scoffs. He’s a nightmare. However, if Aila found the Waking to be this interesting, he was curious how she would react to a place such as the Dreaming.

“You’re not where you should be, little nightmare,” a voice calls out – surprising both Aila and the Corinthian. Standing behind them both, Azazel – as he once was, dressed in black robes – smile twisted but at least in his human… form… not the other thing. It had been quite some time since the Corinthian had seen this thing – given he was dead by Johanna’s hand in their own time.

“Azazel,” the nightmare says, smile forced in place. “Now, what can I do for you?”

The demon glances between the two – though his gaze lingers on Aila. The Nephilim knows of Azazel – one of her mother’s Lords… a Lord struck dead by a human as it was told. But she does not know much beyond that – no reason to in her mother’s opinion. In Azazel’s case, there was no… coming back from whatever happened to him but given how the nightmare tenses – how completely aware of the demon he is -, she suspects Azazel is a threat. At least to him; she’s uncertain of what the demon would make of her. In this moment, however, she stays silent.

“Her Lord Lightbringer sensed… something odd from this realm,” Azazel says – regarding them both. “I was merely sent… to.” The demon clicks his tongue, hands moving to emphasize his words. “Assess the situation.”

The Corinthian recalls their arrival or the man dead in the street yesterday – either could have been enough of a blip to draw Lucifer’s attention. However, the nightmare already knows that Aila going to Hell in this period… at this time… Lucifer would gladly take the advantage – unlike apparently theirs, he suspects she would sense the threat Aila could possibly present even as she was. Which made her a threat to the Dreaming, and the Corinthian sighs.

His work is to be a nightmare and guarding Dream. It should be none of this. Except.

Pulling his knife out, the nightmare twirls it easily causally sauntering closer – keeping Aila at his back. If he was human, he suspects he would need a raise after all of this.

“You’ve assessed, now move on,” the nightmare says. Against a demon Lord, the Corinthian is aware he’s outmatched – but right now, it’s more to maintain expectations.

“Why is a nightmare here?” Azazel asks, stepping closer to the duo. He licks his lips – eyes flickering across them both. Aila practically wants to gag based on how he looks at her. “Does your master know you’ve… run off?”

“I don’t suppose we could… make a deal,” the Corinthian says – an ease to his movements. “You keep it to yourself you saw me here?” But the demon’s smile is telling. “Aila, you should go.”

But she disagrees. A demon Lord and nightmare… she may not like the Corinthian, but she wasn’t about to sit by and watch him be ripped apart by one of her mother’s Lords. She moves to step forward, only a moment too late. Azazel crosses the road in an instant, his body shifting and twisting until the man is no longer a man but rows and rows of grotesque teeth. He slips – it slips between Aila and the nightmare, tossing her with one of its heads clear into the air and into the nearby field at least twenty feet.

The Corinthian watches Aila hit the ground, but can see nothing more than that when the demon focuses on him. It would seem Azazel did not realize the girl was his likely target, and right now, the nightmare decides it was best to keep it that way… for all their sakes, besides likely his. He can only hope Lucifer will find a wayward nightmare to be interesting, a possible pawn… which… he settles his mind a moment before the teeth encompass him. He can easily be the Corinthian of old – at least for the time. At least until he finds another way.

One moment, he’s being ingested – the next, the bright light of the sun is back on his face. The Corinthian glances over – eyes wide at the sight of Aila, and the power utterly radiating off of her. Her eyes darken, blacken almost, and the demon… he’s startled – uncertain as to what just interrupted his meal.

However, Aila doesn’t hesitate. She recalls every tussle, every fight with Mazikeen. The demon never held back against her, and she doesn’t now. In a blink, she’s where the Corinthian is – pushing the nightmare back, his own form flying from the force. He hits the ground, and between what the demon tried to do – even for a moment – and Aila’s own unchecked power, the nightmare finds the world shifting out of focus.

“What…” Azazel starts, but he elects not to dwell on it. This is an issue for Lucifer, after all, but when he goes to ingest the girl next. One moment, he’s there, and the next…

Azazel finds himself on the outskirts of Hell – pain radiating from every point. The demon glances around, shifting back to his more human form. It takes a moment, but the damage from the fight… what little fight there was… he realizes it abruptly. He’s damaged, far more so than he expected from a human. In those brief seconds – of when she attacked him – he couldn’t sense what she was, but whatever it was…

With a grimace, Azazel goes to his knees, the pain and injuries making themselves further known. He needs to… he needs to… that’s the last coherent thought before Azazel falls unconscious.

All the while, Aila stands in the road – panting, uncertain. She had never… that was… she glances back to the Corinthian, who remains unmoving, but before she can even think to move herself, her feet fall out from under her, and unconsciousness greets her warmly.

Quick Notes: Really needed to get Lucifer in on this – in this timeline and let’s be honest the Corinthian was being too much of an adult for this story. If we had actual good babysitters in any of these stories, none of the chaos would happen.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six: Why the Help

Being unconscious – that was a new feat for Aila – and not one she’d like to ever repeat. Her head throbs, her neck hurts, and there are places sore that she didn’t entirely know could feel that way. However, she’s alive – and not in the demon’s stomach – which is something.

That thought jolts her – the Corinthian.

Aila sits up quickly, only to hiss at the suddenness of the movement and a pair of hands stopping her. “Easy,” he says – Orpheus, Aila realizes quickly. He’s here with her as is Eurydice. The sun remains up, but it’s obviously nearing dusk. Both of them help to keep Aila sitting. “We found you in the road.”

“What happened?” Eurydice asks, but Aila can only stare where she and the nightmare were right before Azazel attacked. She sees nothing… where did the nightmare go? Was he intact? Was he injured? He was made of sand, was he not? Nonetheless, the road is empty – no evidence of the demon or nightmare – Aila can only hope that means the Corinthian was okay… though Azazel could have taken him, she worries.

If that was true and the demon had gotten the nightmare, then… he would go to Hell.

Likely taken alive to her mother… Which was not a consolation prize. Aila needs to… she goes to stand up, only for the world to tilt. Her head swims, and she swallows down whatever was threatening to crawl back up her throat.

“I need to…” Aila starts, but nausea… she recalls that – she knows that feeling once. She got sick once, much younger – before many of her abilities started to manifest. It was three days of her curled up in the bathroom, miserable. Maize had taken pity on her and brought her water and small bites of food, but it was not an experience Aila ever wanted to repeat. Once she started to show… some unique talents, it hadn’t been an issue – not until now.

Aila shifts – she may be able to heal herself, but each time even the idea of pulling at her powers, her stomach twists. It requires too much thought, too much focus – something that leads to the ground feeling completely uneven. She pushes her palm against her forehead but can do nothing else.

“Right, no,” Orpheus says, helping to keep Aila up but shooting an obviously concerned look to Eurydice.

“I believe it would be best for you to accompany us,” Eurydice says.

“No,” Aila starts, but neither mortal take that as an acceptable answer. Both work slowly to help her to a cart, where she can sit, and wait for the world to stop spinning. All the while, she can only close her eyes, taking deep breaths to settle her gut, and hope the nightmare can keep himself in one piece until she has a chance to come after him… if she’d go after him – she stops herself there, thinking on that possibility.

……………..

The Corinthian curses. He had, of course, come to first. His wounds were minimal – present but ignorable. He would feel the demon’s teeth for a while, but at least, he had not been digested… or taken to Hell as a prisoner. The latter would have been less than ideal in many ways.

However, the moment the nightmare had sat up, he had realized people were coming down the road. Aila was… she looked… actually, he couldn’t tell – and part of his self seizes at that. He was not Death – he could not tell if she was dead or alive.

The chance to better assess her slips away though when Orpheus – because in the nightmare’s opinion, of course it would be Orpheus – and Eurydice arrive. Without hesitation, they go to the girl, and part of the nightmare relaxes when Aila is helped up. She does appear okay – dazed – but okay.

Unsurprising, the nightmare decides given what she did. Johanna Constantine had killed Azazel in their time, of course, but Aila sending… he’s not entirely sure what she did with Azazel – though he suspects they would not be so lucky for the demon to merely be dead. No, she likely sent him away – which while helpful now would not be long term.

The Corinthian does not want to walk away from the girl, but right now… he needs to know what happened to the demon. If the demon returned to Hell and had already spoken with Lucifer… it would not be long until there were more demons…

It takes a moment, but the nightmare stops. He watches Eurydice and Orpheus help Aila into a cart, where she can rest. It was less than ideal for the girl to be with her sibling – there was risk to that; however, it also offered the girl protection. Even Lucifer of this time would be hesitant to send demons near Orpheus… it risked an act of war – one the Lucifer of old would consider but likely not pursue. Not yet, not until the tide turned more in her favor.

She would need to know more about Aila – decide on the risk before making a decision. Which means the nightmare had time – not a lot, but some. The only downside to his plan, of course, was the only way to discover what she did know was to purposefully… ask her.

With a scowl, the nightmare steps back. Aila would be fine for a bit with her brother… he could only hope though that Dream was… inattentive as he tended to be in these matters, and that the Corinthian would be back before the two had any chance to interact.

In a blink, the nightmare steps from the Waking – across realms, and into Hell.

The Corinthian does not enjoy being in Hell; yes, it’s a place filled with nightmares and fears, an absolute feast for his tastes. However, it’s Hell, and after Lucifer and Dread… he’s had his fill of it.

Given he arrived without an invitation, the nightmare waits – cautious but with an untold ease. If Azazel was sent here, he would have a bit of an uphill struggle in convincing Lucifer that he was not here on Dream’s business but his own. He pulls from his previous life, his previous iteration – twisting and twirling the knife in hand, while waiting.

After a time, the gates do open, and the nightmare finds within a few steps, he’s at the palace gates – likely on Lucifer’s whim… but the moment he steps into the throne room, the nightmare harshly swallows, tilting his head down at the sight of the former angel. Respect was never his strong suit, but in a time like this, he was also not suicidal – as much as that pains him. As difficult as that is. As much as he would rather spit insults. As much as he would rather stab her for everything she did to the Dreaming and Dream.

“Nightmare,” Lucifer says – and he refuses to react. It had been a number of years since he had heard her or seen her – not since… Dream.

“Lightbringer,” the Corinthian says, in turn. He would rather not play this game; he would rather finish Lucifer as they should have done in their time period. But the one thing Lucifer did have right – he was a nightmare. A major arcana, yes, but only a nightmare. And he was not about to be obliterated here, so he holds himself – as difficult as it is.

However, the Corinthian stares at the floor – he recalls the sigils that once sat here. The ones that bound Desire – he recalls the version of himself that had pinned Dream just a few feet beyond that, his glee – his excitement of having his master brought so low, so beautifully… it brought nothing to him now. Other than a sense of vengeance.

“Little far from the Dreaming aren’t you?” she asks, and he can hear her step down – just on the outskirts of his periphery, he can see her robes.

The nightmare is many things, but he knows Lucifer is not someone to trifle with. The act she’s putting on now is for her own amusement. This is tedious; if he doesn’t play his words right, his mannerisms right… he swallows.

At the very least, he decides, Aila is not with him, and given he remains out of chains… perhaps Azazel was truly gone. Or… a body is thrown to the ground a few feet away, and while the nightmare keeps his eyes downcast, he catches sight of an unconscious Azazel. However, given he remains out of chains, he suspects the demon did not get a chance to report anything before succumbing to his own injuries.

The nightmare grins – of course, Aila would at least do that. “Took a wrong turn,” the nightmare says, with a purr. True enough, he supposes, but he hisses when Lucifer all but marches up to him, wrenching his hair back.

Lucifer stares down at the nightmare, her lip curled back, her eyes blazing. This one – she does not recognize, but she can feel him all the same. That small touch of Morpheus swirling, that power beneath his skin. He was not a small nightmare – no, that she could sense. But was he what she had felt?

Immediately, the Corinthian can tell what Lucifer is looking for. That in mind, the Corinthian pushes everything about the girl far from his thoughts. To protect Dream meant protecting the girl now, and the nightmare was nothing but efficient. It also meant he now had to play a part.

Quietly, her power flickers across his skin, uncaring of the discomfort it may cause the nightmare. However, while he does appear to be powerful in his own right, he was paltry in comparison to what she had felt. He was not it. However, his… straying from Dream was interesting. It was not often the Endless’s little creations got off leash, and she wonders if it’s something his master was aware of or not.

“We are on the same side,” he continues, watching each word carefully. Her gaze narrows, but he did not need his master to know about him being here – was he even a thought in his master’s mind in this time? Or did he come later? Either way, he did not want Dream – any Dream – stepping foot in Hell. Not again. Which meant convincing Lucifer he was more than just wayward… he was the Corinthian of old. “This is all just a misunderstanding. My master,” he says the word like poison, “is a remnant of a bygone era.”

The words – the entire situation – it intrigues Lucifer, as it would a number of years from now. A nightmare going against his creator – it was a tale far too familiar. However, she is not trusting, nor quick to accept any deal that is not in her favor.

“And my demon?” she asks, pointing to Azazel.

The lie comes easy – no other choice, “Attacked me on the road yes, but something else sent him away.”

“What sent him away?” she hisses.

“I don’t know,” he says with ease. It comes out smooth enough that he believes it. “But I was tracking it, just like you.”

To which, Lucifer scoffs – it is not often one of Dream’s creatures… gets uppity. She releases the nightmare and steps away – her eyes flickering down the Corinthian in consideration. She does not readily recognize this one – outside of what she can sense -, but he has value to her. That she does know. The question is how to use it – she moves back to her throne, leaning back with an untold ease.

“I can help,” the nightmare says, but Lucifer waves him off.

“For now, you shall enjoy the hospitality of Hell little nightmare,” Lucifer states. “But do not worry, I will reach out to your… master promptly.” Though whether to tell on him or merely feel out his story remains unknown. But at least, Lucifer was focused on him now… and not the girl. As long as Azazel remained unconscious.

The Corinthian says nothing now – there isn’t anything to say. He just needs to find a way to twist this to his favor, a specialty of his.

As well as find the Nephilim again.

……………

Traveling by a cart is an experience – one Aila promptly decides to cross off a list of repeating. Between the animal smell – which she curls her nose at – and the unsteadiness in the cart, which worsens the nausea in her gut, there is very little she enjoys about it. It was easier and preferred she decides to merely jump with her abilities.

Something she would have gladly done had she… known where to go… or she hadn’t been so nauseous. Even the idea of calling any magic or power worsened her headache, leaving Aila to deal with the bumpy ride all the way to wherever Eurydice and Orpheus are staying.

At the very least, Eurydice sits with Aila – regaling of different festivals and foods and places she’s been. It was otherworldly, which to Aila was impressive. The girl was mortal – at least mostly -, and yet, she had lived a far more rich life than Aila. The Nephilim could easily step wherever she wanted, and yet, this… all of this… the travel to see her father, and now this step back into time… it honestly was her only claim to any significant travel.

Leaving home… doing something – anything – had felt impossible under her roof. And for one brief moment, Aila hopes it takes them longer to find a way back.

“Do you like music?” Orpheus calls back. He walks slowly – the donkey’s reigns in hand as he leads them forward. When Aila doesn’t immediately answer – not purposefully, as her head had started to throb more -, Orpheus doesn’t hesitate to point out his lyre to Eurydice, who promptly hands it over. Though it requires him to drop the rope, he doesn’t hesitate. He doubts the animal is going to run; instead, he gently strums a few notes on his instrument, filling the air with not only Eurydice’s voice but a melody too.

Of course, Aila has listened to music – near impossible in the age she lived in to avoid it… but nothing like what Orpheus plays, nothing at the same level that he plays and sings. She watches him raptly, unable to keep the small smile from his face.

“He is good, is he not?” Eurydice asks, quiet.

“Quite,” Aila says in agreement, before pulling her eyes back to the other woman. She curiously watches Eurydice – they had just been speaking, but now, the other woman was completely enraptured by Orpheus. “You truly love him?”

“With everything,” Eurydice says, unable to look away – instead merely offering Orpheus a shy smile.

“More than everything,” Orpheus says, a heartbeat later – Aila can read the words well enough… Orpheus would do anything for her and her for him. Her mother would find it nauseating, while Aila merely finds it warming. Humans were… pure humans… mortals were interesting.

Without hesitation, Orpheus holds out the lyre to Aila, who can only lean back – as though he had pointed a weapon at her. He purses his lips but says nothing, glancing more at Eurydice in that moment.

“Can you not play?” Eurydice asks, leaning forward to take the instrument gently from Orpheus, who returns to walking the donkey.

“I’ve never tried,” Aila admits. It was not a skill her mother nor Mazikeen found necessary. She could fight hand to hand or with a blade – especially with a blade – but there had never been a lecture on musical instruments. Quietly, Aila takes the lyre from Eurydice, - trying a few strings – but unlike Orpheus where the sounds are pretty and harmonious… hers… she cringes at the harshness.

“Orpheus is a natural,” Eurydice says, not wanting their new companion to feel inadequate. “He was born to it, some would say.” Though given how it’s said, it comes out in a teasing manner – not that Aila understands why. However, Orpheus’s cheeks redden, and he mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

Aila tries a few more notes, before deciding that no – this was not something she, herself, was born too. Instead, she hands it with a quiet thanks back to Eurydice, before leaning back, head resting against the side. It’s not purposeful, but listening to the two humans speak – their tones slightly dipping as they become more hushed -, it lulls her, and it isn’t long before Aila sleeps.

When she wakes, Aila finds the cart has slowed substantially, and they’re in a more wooded area. The road has also changed to more of a dirt path, and given the sun, now long gone, Aila likely slept for a few hours. However, surprisingly, Orpheus had obviously kept going – merely using a torch to light his way.

“You’re up,” Orpheus says, with a grin. He slows the donkey more, and Aila can see why – there is a small house up ahead. It would seem they had almost arrived at whatever their destination was. The house was simple, quiet, but well put together from what she could see.

“Did you sleep well?” Eurydice asks, leaning over – surprising Aila by the soft touch near her face. “No sweat, your eyes seem clearer too.”

Aila did feel better; it would seem her unnatural healing had finally caught back up.

“Any good dreams?” Orpheus asks, though Aila catches him rolling his own eyes at that question. Not that she entirely understands why – however, it does put her on edge.

“I don’t dream,” she mutters, surprising Orpheus, but before he can ask more on that, another woman appears from the small house – waving at the young man. “Ma!” Orpheus shouts, waving back – even Eurydice smiles.

Aila watches as he leaves the cart, now apparently parked near enough to the house for safety, and he goes to the other woman for a gentle, warm hug… Aila can only watch muted at the exchange.

“That is Calliope,” Eurydice says, stepping from the cart and holding out her hand as an offer – one Aila takes in turn. She helps Aila down, then moving to tend to the donkey. “We will introduce you soon enough.”

“I am glad you are home,” Calliope says, rubbing her thumbs against Orpheus cheeks. She had heard about the bandits – had heard about the city catching fire briefly… but no one had made mention of her son. She had hoped that meant he was okay, but until she had seen him now, she hadn’t realized how tight she had been holding her heart.

However, Orpheus merely offers a small smile, taking her wrists in his hands and pulling them away. “I am all right. We both are,” he says in turn, and Calliope catches sight of Eurydice as well. She gives the young woman a soft smile and nod. She is glad they are both okay.

However, it’s then when Calliope notices the third member – the other young woman… someone that feels… different to her senses, but nothing loud enough that Calliope truly ponders on it long. Instead, she steps forward introducing herself – impressed when the named Aila does the same.

“She was attacked on the road,” Orpheus says. “I figured I could offer her a warm bed and meal before she sets off again.”

Aila startles herself at that reminder. That was the plan… it was just even after a few hours, she had come to enjoy the two humans… but she does need to get home.

However, to Orpheus’s surprise, Calliope does not compliment his need to help people nor comment on his finding strays… instead, she purses her lips, a slight frown pulling at the margins. It’s not a look he enjoys on his own mother, but there are very few reasons that she would appear like that.

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Orpheus asks, and Calliope sighs. Things had just calmed… but with the upcoming nuptials, it was understandable that… there would be another visit.

“He merely wishes to join us for dinner,” Calliope says, quietly. She hopes Orpheus will not send them away; it’s so very rare for such occasions. However, she had not thought her son and his soon to be bride would find another mortal to bring home. It could raise… questions… though she hopes it would not.

“It will be fine,” Eurydice says, though her voice is less confident now. “I survived, did I not?”

“Yes, you did,” Orpheus says, kissing the top of her head as she comes in close enough for him to wrap an arm around her.

“Am I missing something?” Aila asks.

“My father is here,” Orpheus says. “It is not… It does not happen often,” he continues.

That said, Orpheus leads Eurydice inside, while Calliope hovers outside – staring at Aila. She offers the younger woman a smile, holding out her own hand as an offering, but Aila merely nods her thanks, stepping after Orpheus without hesitation. After all, she cannot imagine how bad… or what could trigger such a reaction. It couldn’t be…

Aila stops in the doorframe – unable to tear her eyes from Dream… Dream of the Endless – sitting at the table, now filled with food and fragrances. It takes Aila a moment to connect the dots – a moment longer than it should… a moment she would attribute to her head trauma… but Orpheus… and her mind is drawn back to how this started – Oneiros… Greek mythology…

Orpheus is Dream’s son, making him her brother… and in the face of finally, truly, meeting her father, Aila can do nothing but stand – her tongue and throat dry – saying nothing.

Quick Notes: Finally Endless.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: How We Live

Orpheus is a bit off balanced by his father being here – especially at night. Orpheus knows the world all sleep at different times – there was always work in the Dreaming as his father would say -, but he tended to be even less present when nights fell over his home. Orpheus doesn’t know if it’s because his father expects to see him in the Dreaming or merely because… his father… lost track of him, but this was an odd enough circumstance that similar to Aila, he freezes near the doorframe.

It's not that he’s… not happy… to see his father; it’s just complicated. Plastering a smile on his face, Orpheus moves into the room more thoroughly – Eurydice a step behind him. All the while Aila hovers in the doorframe.

At the moment, Dream’s focus is on Orpheus – because of course it is, he’s the Endless’s son. Son. Child. Offspring. And Aila finds every inch of herself at pause.

“Hello Father,” Orpheus says, calmly taking a seat – Eurydice too.

Calliope hovers a moment, no real concern, but some slight hesitation. Things were… stressful in the days leading up to the wedding. From what she had heard, it was not only herself and Oneiros that would be there – but likely the entire Endless family. Something that was bound to put her husband into a mood – anything related to Epithumia tended too. She can only hope she can ease his mind and worries, and that… he would not allow his own family… grievances to affect their child’s day.

“I thought I would come visit,” Oneiros says, and outside of that event in her own time, this was the first time Aila had heard him speak… truly speak if anything as he was himself – he was Endless in this moment. And it seems that it is only then that he also notices Aila – while she cannot help but stare. “You brought a guest…”

“This is my home Father,” Orpheus says, though with a smile.

“We found her injured on the road,” Eurydice says, calmly – reaching out to touch Orpheus’s arm. “We offered her aid. A place to eat and rest.” At that, Eurydice glances back then motions to the empty chair.

It takes Aila a moment, but somehow, she forces her feet forward, taking a seat – her movements robotic, rehearsed, no ease to it, though thankfully no one notices. At the very least, she pulls her gaze from her father, dropping it to the table – where Eurydice and Calliope graciously fill her a plate.

“I cooked,” Calliope says, quietly. “Had I known…” She trails off, deciding on her words more carefully. “If there is something you do not like, do not feel forced to eat it.”

“No, this looks wonderful. Thank you,” Aila says quietly. It does. The platter is a healthy mix of vegetables and meat – thankfully not sheep. She still gagged at the thought. But otherwise, the smell is pleasant enough, and Aila forces herself to eat. While she does not… truly require it at the moment, after her injury, after everything the last few days, she supposes it would also not hurt to have some level of sustenance. Plus, she has yet to decide how to handle her current situation.

Being here with… Dream… Aila glances up once and their eyes meet – she promptly drops her gaze again. Being here with Dream… as she was… she did not… she decides to keep it to herself, for now, what she is and what he is to her. After all, this was not the same Dream of her time, and as the Corinthian had pointed out – there was no guarantee how Dream would react upon the knowledge of her. For now, she elects to bide her time and mask herself appropriately.

The table falls silent for a moment, and Aila wonders if perhaps she should excuse herself. She could always… eat back in the cart, and she shifts. However, Eurydice must notice – inherently understanding the thought – when she touches Aila’s wrist and says, “It is good to see you again Oneiros.”

There’s another moment of quiet, the tension and uncertainty curling around them all, when Orpheus sits farther back in his chair – the telltale scrape alerting Aila to this.

“Are you still planning to come to the wedding Father?” Orpheus asks, and though his tone is light, there an undercurrent of concern.

“Of course,” Dream says – his own tone flat, unreadable. It sounds as though he’s answering any question and not one related to his own son. Calliope sighs – not very loud but loud enough that Aila hears it.

“He’s excited,” Calliope says, content to put words in her husband’s mouth.

Aila can’t help but glance up again at that – she can’t help but wonder if that’s how he looks when excited, what does he appear as when he’s anything negative. Dream sits stoic, unmoving, practically unblinking – though the small glance he gives Calliope, it’s… off-putting… the entire situation unsettles her, and Aila promptly elects to return to her plate. It’s better company at the moment if anything.

“Truly?” Orpheus asks, and the room chills slightly – goosebumps appearing on Eurydice’s and Orpheus’s arms in turn.

Dream says nothing in response, merely watching his son, and how Orpheus falls silent. Instead, the young man fills his plate and starts in on the food, with a quiet thanks to his mother. He, however, cannot bring himself to look up again at Dream – nor does Dream attempt to breech the distance again.

Much to Calliope’s displeasure. She would never understand how the two could not seen that their stubbornness was a genetic trait – and not one she entirely enjoyed, in either of them. However, as much as the Greek muse wishes she could fix this, there is nothing for her to do here. Not yet – not with Oneiros in such a mood. Later perhaps – she tells herself.

Everyone returns to their meal, save for Dream – who sits, quiet and unmoving again.

A few bites in, and Aila’s stomach rumbles, surprising not only her but her companions for the moment. Eurydice smiles, offering an extra portion, and this time, Aila resists less to the idea of food. She had honestly forgotten what being truly hungry was like – having relied on her powers for so long. And now… now that she was sitting here, actually eating, she realized how pained her stomach was.

“Who are you?” Dream asks, and it takes Aila a moment to realize, he’s speaking to her. She stops mid-bite, as does the rest of the table.

Ignoring the Endless seems unwise, though it does cross Aila’s mind as a consideration. She doesn’t entirely know what to tell him or how to respond, while Orpheus rolls his eyes, content to take control of the conversation, “She’s our guest, Father.” His smile and overall demeanor welcoming as compared to Dream.

The Endless watches the new girl… generally mortals… hold mild interest to him, but only in the sense of his own child and then those that visit the Dreaming. However, her… something pulls at him, though he cannot tell what, and he cannot sense her. No part of her. Unlike other humans, where he may pick up daydreams or at least feel their subconscious… with her – it was like looking at a flat picture. He could see her, tell she was breathing, her heart beating, but beyond that… it was odd, and Dream narrows his gaze.

When it’s obvious that Orpheus’s response does nothing to settle Dream, Aila finally sets her fork down, licking her lips nervously and stating half-truths, “I’m a traveler, nothing more. I left home to…”

“To what?” Dream says, and his tone – his voice – she can’t help the shudder that runs down her spine in turn. The way he speaks – it reminds her starkly of how her mother would address her in those rare times. Inconvenient, irritated – wanting a direct and prompt answer. Anything less, and Aila… she shudders.

“To find something,” she finishes. She doesn’t entirely know what that something is now – her father, herself, her purpose… the reason why she is and way she was and what she’d do. “My Mother… did what she could for me, but I needed to find my own way.”

That was more of a lie than anything. After all, Aila can’t recall the last thing her mother did for her at all. Which Orpheus notices, and Eurydice as well with how she clicks her tongue.

“You’re not on good terms with her?” Eurydice asks. It’s obvious she doesn’t mean to pry, but the room is… Aila realizes it’s hot – or was that merely her. She was not… she was overly use to scrutiny – her mother did it all the time – but she was unused to it from others.

“I am,” Aila says – though after this… she did not want to imagine her mother’s wrath… at least given her powers, she could not simply be locked… away, locked in the closet again. “I am merely… not what she wanted.” – which was the truth. The one Aila was starting to see and accept.

At the end of it all, she was the child of Lucifer and Dream, and for some reason, she was just not what her mother wanted. Why Lucifer kept her is the new question that plagues Aila, and not one she would easily be able to ask – not until she returned to her time… if she ever did. Except, she’s not sure she wants that answer even. Her mother… while rough at the edges… was still her mother, and when she was young – far younger… before her abilities presented, before it was obvious she was a Nephilim…

She did recall her mother’s stories – or her attempts at them. Lucifer was never much of a storyteller, but she had tried – for Aila… because it interested her, because it made her happy… though it wasn’t long after that… Aila stopped mattering – when it became obvious that while she was not normal…

She was not extraordinary either.

It’s quiet, but Aila swears she hears Orpheus scoff – not at her but at her statement. She wonders… she glances up and sees Dream has returned to staring at Orpheus, though neither of them speak. Calliope appears exasperated by them both, given how she takes a deep calming breath, settling back against the chair. Eurydice continues to push at her food, and Aila worries perhaps she… it’s not often she converses with others, and she worries about some social etiquette she misread, only for Calliope to calmly state,

“I am sorry.” She smiles at the younger girl. “I am sure your mother does not mean to make you feel in such a way.” She glances over at Oneiros now, though her husband will not meet her gaze. “Parents can struggle to… communicate with their offspring, and what may feel like indifference may merely be misunderstanding.” The room falls silent.

The chair Dream sits in screeches against the floor as he stands abruptly. No one speaks as he turns, though Orpheus appears wanting to say something in how he opens his mouth.

“I need to return,” Dream states – though he doesn’t say where. However, it’s obviously the Dreaming – not something Aila would know, of course, so she remains quiet. He goes to leave, when Orpheus finally does find his voice,

“I do look forward to seeing you at my wedding Father.”

It’s not a lot, but Dream does glance back once, giving Orpheus a small nod, and then, he leaves the room. Aila feels it, as does Calliope – the realm, the world shifting – as Dream steps back into his own realm. However, she remains sitting quiet and calm, not showing a single crack in her façade that she’s anything but a traveler.

“I am…” Calliope starts, before sighing. “He will be there,” she says instead, and Orpheus appears thankful. Though, there is an undercurrent that even with Dream’s words that he would that perhaps he would not.

The entire exchange – all of it – leaves a sour taste in Aila’s mouth. How Dream treated Orpheus… how he treated everyone in the room – was far too familiar… perhaps, she was a planned child – it would seem the two of them were fit for one another. Quite the opposite of Calliope, in Aila’s opinion. Said Greek muse sighs, interrupting Aila’s train of thought, and the room suffers from the silence in turn.

The discomfort weighs heavy on them all – enough so that Aila shifts in her seat, wishing perhaps she had merely stayed outside. The expectation and the reality had fallen quite short of one another - that was a certainty -, and the Nephilim hates the looks on Orpheus and Eurydice’s faces after that entire interaction.

“When is the wedding?” Aila asks, hoping to steer the conversation away from… all of that.

Which lightens the mood immediately. Eurydice, contently, launches into their wedding details. It’s not far off, only a week, but there was much to do in that time. Eurydice explains the flowers in the cart – ones she intends to press for the wedding, as well as the food and other things that must be done for such a gathering.

The entire time Calliope smiles, nodding along – while Orpheus sits. He remains unmoving. He knows…he’s aware his father cares – his own mother has said as much; it was more… he hates that he cannot see it as easily as her. When he dreams… he feels it more – that sense of warmth and belonging… it was just the rest of the time, and he cannot help the sigh that slips out, unbidden.

It stops conversation again, but unwilling to let it sour the mood, Orpheus quietly excuses himself – heading out to empty the cart.

With one last bite, Aila finishes her plate – quietly collecting Eurydice’s and Calliope’s without a word. She moves to find a place to clean them… forgetting sinks were a more modern invention.

“You do not need to do that. You are a guest,” Calliope says, and Aila takes a moment to examine her actions – however, it was just polite. It was just manners.

However, it was less that and more she does not know what else to talk about. Using the dishes seemed to be an acceptable excuse to leave the table. However, manners were something… of a sore point for her and her mother. It was a lesson her mother had taught her personally… and not one she would easily forget.

“Etiquette is important,” Aila says, moving to clean the dishes – though she has yet to figure out where… or how…

“Leave them there,” Eurydice says, her voice breathy – portraying a slight laugh to her tone. It’s obvious she’s discovered the source of Aila’s hesitation. “I will take them to be cleaned. There is an extra room down the hall.”

Eurydice and Calliope return to their quiet conversation, and Aila appreciates the dismissal. Leaving the plates where she was told, Aila starts… she means to go to the room, but instead, she heads outside – where she finds Orpheus leaning against the cart, lyre in hand. He plucks at the strings absently.

Had she known the other better, perhaps she could have asked him how he was feeling – or why. Instead, she merely stands near; though her presence seems enough. Orpheus plays a few stray notes before sighing,

“It’s difficult to live up to expectations.”

Which is something Aila completely understands. She was… she would never be whatever it was that her mother wanted after all.

And Orpheus – he knows inherently that he’s not… he’s not expected to be more than he was, but he was the child of an Endless and muse. He supposes he should… or he could be more - he could live in the Dreaming, he could travel the world… he could do all these things, but he was… he was content here with Eurydice.

His life with Eurydice was everything he wanted and more, but every time… any time, his father visited, Orpheus couldn’t help but feel as though… he failed at something – some unwritten test, some unsaid command. He just wanted his… he wished his father could, at least, appear to be happy for him – in that Orpheus was happy, more than, with the life he had chosen. The life he had built and would continue to build with Eurydice.

“I am sorry you had to see that,” Orpheus continues, finally looking up from his lyre.

“It’s okay,” Aila says – because it is. It’s not entirely the younger man’s fault, after all, and honestly, she was… the meal was important to her. She had actually met her father as he was – as he was supposed to be -, and it was… eye opening. “My mother… I barely exist to her.”

Orpheus plays another quiet note, contemplating the other woman’s words. Because at the very least, that wasn’t true for him. His father was difficult to read, but… he did come to dinner tonight – that was something. It was just… Orpheus misses some of the moments when he was younger… he misses how his own father would visit at night to ensure he wasn’t making Mother’s life difficult at bed. He misses how his father had held his hand when he was just a child. He misses his father acting… like his Father and not… an Endless.

But at the very least, Orpheus knew he existed to the Endless.

“Does his opinion of you truly bother you?” Aila asks, curious.

“Does your mother’s?” Orpheus asks, and the two – siblings, though unknown to Orpheus – fall silent. Aila hadn’t asked in malice; she had merely been curious, but the moment Orpheus turned it back on her, she understood.

Even as she stands here, Aila cannot help but worry how her mother would take all of this – will take. Aila will find a way home; she merely needs to find the nightmare first… but… she shifts. Before today, she would have given anything to spend more time – any time – with her father. To get to know him.

After that dinner, however…

She would rather get to know Orpheus more; Aila was more curious about his experiences as a child. After all, he was a child of an Endless as well – and yet… he seemed content with his life, happy with Eurydice. He found purpose not because of his heritage but in spite of it…

And Aila wants to understand; Aila would like to do so as well.

“Would you play for me?” Aila asks, and with a smile – an honest one -, Orpheus nods and starts to play more in earnest.

Music was obviously something that brought Orpheus great joy, and in this moment, Aila can see why.

Quick Notes: Our present Dream has learned a lot. He’s gone through it all. The Dream here… not so much… he’s not as bad as Lucifer, but he’s… not a perfect Father by far. Just wait until we see the other Endless siblings again, but how’s Aila going to react to the knowledge or sight that Eurydice is supposed to die?

But for now, a short meeting – not to be mean, but this Dream honestly… cannot be bothered with a lot of the social norms expected.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: What We Change

The room Aila stays in is small and quiet and simple, but it’s more… everything… than her own room at home. It has small touches, small changes that make it warmer – even though it is quite bare. The room feels welcoming, and as Aila sits on the edge of the bed, for one brief moment, she wonders if she can’t get home… then… well, she looks around this room… Aila pushes the thought aside before it fully forms.

Aila has to get home. Her Mother and Maize… Maize needed her to come home. For now, though, Aila would at least seize this opportunity to spend time with her brother and his bride to be. Eurydice had gone back home tonight – as was expected until they were married, but tomorrow, Eurydice had promised to show Aila around their small town.

As well as help Aila find more clothes… the ones she wore? They were practically rags at this point, and Aila didn’t trust her abilities enough to mend. Healing herself – she could generally do with some practical ease. Anything else? As evidence by her being thousands of years in the past? Apparently was consistently an accident, and the last thing she wanted was to throw herself again either to another time or another place. At least here…

At least here she had Orpheus and Eurydice… and the Corinthian. This gives her pause. After all, she tells herself it’s natural to worry about the nightmare. He had been her companion – that was a truth -, and if he was in Hell… that was a fault on herself. She would have… she doesn’t know if she would have protections in Hell given her Mother was Lucifer of the future or not, but she figures she would fare better in the realm then the nightmare would… after all, her mother’s disagreement – dislike - with the Endless was not a recent endeavor – but millennia long as well. Her mother would tear the nightmare apart…

But if Aila went to Lucifer… here and now… she stops herself there. At least for the moment. She was not in any condition to try and slip into Hell – it wasn’t something she had ever done. It was something her mother had purposefully prohibited, so there wasn’t even a guarantee she could, even if she was in any condition to try.

The pain in her head has faded over the past few hours, but a general ache remained – as well as a notable exhaustion. Whatever she did against the demon had drained her, and Aila decides that any further planning will need to be set aside, at least until she can think clearly. For now, she elects to sleep as was suggested, and then tomorrow – she’ll spend time with her half-sibling.

Hopefully by then, Aila will also have a better idea of how to handle the Corinthian situation besides marching into Hell herself. He was a nightmare – that was all, but he had protected her. He had helped her, but he belonged to Dream… an Endless – one she had seen as he was now. And a part of her wishes perhaps she had left this to mystery. All of this churns her gut, especially at the thought of her Father as he was and her Mother, currently ruling in Hell. What would either of them say to see her now, to know what she was? It’s subconscious, but she shudders at the expectation of disappointment her mother would have here… of the daughter she’d eventually have…

And Aila falls asleep to that.

Aila doesn’t dream – she never has. That was a simple fact. When she was a child, it confused her – people dreamed. She learned that – heard that from movies, read it in books -, but she did not. When she asked her mother, she had gotten silence; when she had asked Maize… she had… there was a momentary look of distress and then nothing.

However, Aila does not dream – she knows this. It has never changed. Until this night. When Aila opens her eyes and she finds herself… not in Orpheus’s house but also not – it’s no place she recognizes. She stands on a beach, one not very similar to the one near her home… but near enough that it begets a feeling of longing.

Yet, there’s not an ounce of recognition for it. The waves beat calmly against the shore, the temperature oddly perfect, and the wind against her face… the taste of the sea water – it’s heavy but comforting. This place – Aila recognizes it not to be real in the same sense as the place she’s from, but she otherwise doesn’t understand it.

You’re dreaming

It wafts around her, but Aila… she doesn’t dream. She turns, away from the ocean, regarding the massive gates in front of her, but again, she feels… uncertain, off-balanced. She doesn’t…

You’re in the Dreaming

“How are you out here?” Dream’s voice says, not a whisper but quiet and from behind – near the water.

Aila turns, eyes wide, but before she can even formulate a response, her eyes blink open. Orpheus’s ceiling greets her, and she sits up, hand pressed against her head. It pounds, opposite of her heart beat this time which is current ramming against her ribcage. That was… odd – she decides.

Whatever that was, it starts to fade quickly from her mind – until it’s distant, an echo, forgotten. The beach, the waves, the taste – all of slip through her fingers. Except the words – those continue to repeat on loop in her. Enough so that it forces Aila herself from the bed – tiptoeing quietly outside to find the moon high in the sky. The stars stare down at her, and with a soft smile, Aila closes her eyes, soaking in the small amount of light from them – just taking a moment to herself.

Being out here – for this moment – it gives her some peace, and the pain improves, her heart slows.

She doesn’t dream – she never has. Whatever that was… she pushes it from her mind. It was likely nothing – triggered by the unexpected arrival of her father as he was.

Once Aila can breathe without pain, she slowly makes her way back inside – only hesitating once near the doorframe. The hair on the back of her neck raises, she gets the sudden feeling of being watched, but when she turns, it’s just her… and the donkey, who is even asleep – likely dreaming… unlike her… always unlike her. She clicks her tongue but elects not to ponder on it longer.

With a sigh, Aila heads back inside. After whatever that was, mostly gone or not, she does not intend to go back to sleep tonight. She will merely meditate and relax in that manner. As Maize had shown her more than once.

All the while, Dream stands just beyond the tree line – watching quietly, gaze narrowed. It wasn’t purposeful – or perhaps it was. He had tried…

Calliope slips up behind him, her presence a comfort, though distracting at this moment. He feels her fingers soft on his hip as she shifts him, to pull him closer. Half of him considers resisting – he usually would when he was in such a state; however… a part of him doesn’t want to, and that’s the piece that wins out. To her surprise, he allows her to pull him closer; he turns into her, his own hand coming down to cup her face. He tilts his head down, staring at his wife, while Calliope – unlike many times before, she does not have an easy smile or any sort of content on her face. No, she’s… upset with him, and he clenches his jaw.

“He merely wants to see you,” Calliope says, trying to ease the hurt from the dinner earlier. Her fingers wrap around the wrist of his hand on her face. She shakes her head – exhausted in many ways of this discussion, of this disagreement. She couldn’t understand how they did not see how similar they were – how stubborn they both were. “As any child would.”

“I came, did I not?” Dream says, voice tense. He had not meant to… start anything with Orpheus. He had come as requested; he had done nothing, and yet, there yet was a valley between him and his son. He did not understand… any of this. His creations – his own with no input from another – were easier.

“Yes, but you make it seem like a chore Oneiros,” Calliope quietly admonishes. She watches his gaze darken, how he means to pull away, but she tightens her hold – a risk. However, she can tell that her husband is merely… anxious about the coming days. Orpheus may not see it – may see the distance as a spite -, but she saw it for what it was… Oneiros’s uncertainty of how to handle his only child, his son taking another step in the mortal plane. If she could only get them to see that with each other… her life would be profoundly easier, but she did not expect easy when she married the Endless.

It's gentle, but Calliope lets go of his wrist, now reaching up, her hand skimming Dream’s jaw, her thumb pressing against the joint – reminding him to relax, to let go. It takes a moment, but he does. Dream stands still – his one hand coming up to grasp Calliope’s wrist gently.

“I know this is difficult for you,” she whispers, as she leans in closer. “It is difficult for me as well. He is our son, and he continues to grow.” She raises herself on her toes, content to catch Dream’s lips – nothing more than a gentle brush but enough that it settles them both. His hand slips from her wrist to the back of her tresses to pull her in, deepening the kiss briefly.

The dinner, the disagreements, and the girl fade from Dream’s mind for the moment – something Calliope must realize as she smiles against his lips. A gentle sigh, and he considers perhaps staying here longer with her versus returning to the Dreaming. He reaches out – the realm would… be okay from what he could tell… should he choose to.

However, before the thought fully settles, Calliope continues. “He just wants to make you proud,” she whispers against his lips. “You just need to show him that… he doesn’t need to.”

In an instant, Dream’s hands fall away. He frowns – disliking the notion that his son thinks he needs to do anything of the sort. His son was human – his life was his own. Dream had no power over that – he could disagree with Orpheus’s choices… which he had many a time… but Orpheus was human. Choices were theirs to make.

The Dreaming… Dream decides then to return to his realm. There is work to do. There is always work to do.

But Calliope frowns as Dream pulls away. He takes a step back, and she recognizes that she pushed too quickly for too much. However, it needed to be said; she had been trying to be gentle with this point for a while. Obviously, that had not been working but him running was also not what she meant to do.

“Oneiros,” she sighs. “He just wants you to see him and feel as though he’s done enough.” For Calliope, Orpheus was a fine young man. He had made mistakes – as humans did and would – but she was proud of him. He knew this, but he also knew that he didn’t need that to be happy. He knew she loved him deeply.

But to Dream – he frowns. At no point did Dream want Orpheus to think he needed to do something… for him. He was Endless; Orpheus was mortal. He would live a mortal life, until his sister came for him – at which point, he’d likely reside in the Dreaming, where he belonged. Until then… Orpheus was welcomed to do as he pleased… he was a human, and humans had choices. Unlike Dream. He had a duty, and right now –

“I need to return to the Dreaming,” he says, and Calliope sighs softly but nods. She can tell he won’t stay, not now – not as much as she desperately wants him too. Half of her considers reaching out again, but it would do no good. Not when he was like this. She wonders if she should have kept the words until morning – at the least, she had had more time with him… to relax him… to get his mind – quiet the subconscious – for a moment, so he could think, could see that this was an insurmountable hurdle.

“Oneiros,” she whispers, and he nods, saying,

“I will… return.”

And like that, Dream steps away. There was work to do, and right now, his son was asleep. Which meant there was nothing to be done; although, Dream thinks, he could step into Orpheus’s dream… for even a moment… to check on his son. The boy wouldn’t even need to know. It would be a quick visit, ensure the dream was pleasant… tonight, Orpheus didn’t need… he didn’t want Orpheus to have a nightmare tonight; they were important, of course. But tonight, he could ensure that Orpheus would rest well. It was small, but it was something. After that, he could promptly return to the shores.

After all, there was crafting to perform, as well as, he had yet to figure out what seeing the other mortal girl on the shores meant. When she had fallen asleep, he had used his function to pull at her, expecting her to fall into a dream or nightmare and yet… he pauses here – she had done neither. She had ended up on the shores – beyond his gates, as though she could not enter like a normal mortal. Which made little sense to Dream. There were so few humans and creatures that could not enter his realm, and usually not by any natural means.

He did not know who the girl was, but she was near his son – and that… that gave him pause, concern. He did not truly know his thoughts on it, merely that he needed to understand it. Once he did, he could decide how to proceed – though warning Orpheus away… he sighs at that – he doubts his son would listen if he did.

For now, Dream decides to return to the shores. However, he cannot remove the thought from his mind -why did it seem the girl was barred from his realm…

………………….

Come morning, Aila regrets only in part not going back to sleep. She aches – pains that would have already faded had she gotten rest, but after the dinner last night and whatever… she can barely recall what she saw when her eyes were closed, but it was enough to warn her away from sleeping. At least for now; at least until she understood all of this better.

By the time Aila cleans herself, pulling her hair back with a frown. Her roots – the dark color was barely noticeable, but she could see it now. Had she been in her normal time, she would have bleached it as she always had and ensured her hair appeared blonde. She had done that since she was a child, since she was old enough to realize her near black hair frustrated her mother. When she kept it nearer to her mother’s hair color, it didn’t help matters – not truly -, but it certainly didn’t worsen them either. At least, her mother looked at her, once her hair color was less…

Well, now that Aila has seen him – when her hair color was less like her father’s.

Stepping outside, Aila finds Eurydice waiting for her – the other woman at utter ease, no strain or stress from the previous night present. Which Aila finds impressive as she still thinks about the night prior, and her father, and Orpheus, and the Corinthian. There was a lot on her mind, and it must show given how Eurydice walks over, linking her arm in Aila’s without pause.

“The markets here are more bountiful than the ones we were at yesterday,” she says, by way of explanation. “There will be much to look at.”

Orpheus steps outside, his movements easy – evidence of how well he slept. He doesn’t ponder that. Instead, he smiles, giving the two a small wave just as Eurydice starts to lead Aila away. He would join them – he likely would later. But first, he needed to finish with his chores from the previous night. The cart needed to be unpacked the rest of the way – food needed to be stored and some of it needed to be prepped for the upcoming festivities. It was likely… given his family tree… that much of the necessities would be handled, but Orpheus did not wish to rely only on the magical aspects of his family. He wanted to contribute, as did Eurydice – which required him to get working on some of the food now.

Once that was done, he would join the two women at the market – he had a suspicion it would take them some time.

From the shadows, the Maiden stands – head leaned casually against a tree. The other Fates… a few feet away. The three say nothing – just quiet and observing.

Quick Notes: Short chapters… well short as compared to With Dreams and Virtues… originally most of my chapters were 1800-2500k. Then suddenly, I got to writing 4-5k words consistently. It’s nice to go back to more concise chapters for a bit. Easier to get out that’s for certain.

It’s a bit odd to write Dream as he was… as well as get the relationship with Orpheus… I think Dream wants to be a good father – he just doesn’t entirely know how. Which in turn is meant to reflect a lot of Aila’s relationship with her own mother – someone that did not care how they were as a mother.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: Who Matters to One Another

The market – Eurydice wasn’t lying – it was energetic and full, and unlike the last one with free roaming animals, the only small things running around were children. Otherwise, everything was nothing short of controlled chaos. It was… exhilarating again to be in such a place, and Eurydice reads the bound energy Aila has… and promptly drags her excitedly booth to booth.

Their reason for being here is simple – Aila needs necessities, such as clothes – and Eurydice needs to find a few last-minute details for her nuptials. However, that doesn’t stop either woman from checking every single person’s wares with unwavering interest. The only issue Aila quickly realizes is the lack of funds – something Eurydice already accounted for and without hesitation covers whatever without question.

Which cofounds the Nephilim. “You barely know me,” she says, as Eurydice forces her into a new blouse – to ensure a proper fit. At which point, Eurydice promptly tosses the old one away. It wasn’t that… it was rather ripped and unkempt – Aila wonders if that was in part why her greeting from her father had been less than… warming – although, she supposes, it could also be that she was merely just another human to him as well. Whatever it was, she cannot forget how he spoke – how much of it reminded her of her own mother.

Although… at least he spoke to Orpheus; Aila barely even got that.

“I suppose,” Eurydice says. “But being kind is not meant to be a hardship, and Orpheus sent me with the coin to ensure it.” She smiles at the younger girl, picking up another two piles of draped fabric – she even goes to grab a dress, only to watch as Aila scowls at it. “You will need a dress.”

Aila would rather not, and she promptly goes to say as much, when Eurydice purchases it, nonetheless. While she would rather make a comment, she swallows it. Orpheus nor Eurydice need to help her in this, and she supposes she did not need to wear said dress, even if she owned it.

“For our wedding, you cannot wear…” Eurydice indicates what Aila wears now, and it takes the Nephilim a moment to catch up as such.

“I do not… You cannot…”

“Invite you to the wedding?” Eurydice says. “Orpheus and I can, and we are.” She promptly pulls Aila to the next stall – this one ordained with jewelry. “So, you needed a dress.”

Aila doesn’t understand either of them, but she can’t help how her cheeks heat in embarrassment… not of being taken care of in a way she’s unused to but more that this kindness – all of this – she’s never… Aila smiles and nods – unable to say thank you but also unable to turn down the invitation. She’s never been to a wedding, and she’s curious about it honestly.

Though, Aila does know enough that that means she would see her father again. She has yet to decide how to feel about that, but for now, she focuses on Eurydice, and how excited the other woman seems to be in gathering another assortment of flowers as well as spices and herbs, and one necklace. That is enough to calm her nerves and silence the thoughts in the back of her mind…

Though she cannot get it out of her head - You are in the Dreaming. She’s never been in the Dreaming – so she couldn’t say if that truly was where she was. However, some part of her recognized – felt the familiarity of the shores. However, it didn’t explain why now – after all these years did she find herself there.

The only suspicion she has would be her father – Dream had attempted to pull her directly into his realm… and if he had – did he suspect what she was, who she was?

That thought doesn’t leave her – not completely -, but when Aila glances around, finding no sign of the Endless, she wonders more if it was an accident. Would Dream trust her around his son if she was not… if he did not think she was human?

Though, after dinner last night – given how he acted, perhaps he truly didn’t care. And she scowls at herself – because even she can tell she’s being indignant.

“Do you think…” Aila starts, before trailing off. She does not mean to ask Eurydice of all people, but she wants another opinion, and Orpheus would be biased. All children could be – not that she allows that thought to linger. “Do you think Orpheus’s father loves him?”

Eurydice’s hand stops mid-reach, and she glances back at the other woman concerningly. The soon-to-be wife liked the other younger woman; she found the other’s presence calming in many ways… and something about Aila pulled at Eurydice. Perhaps a mothering instinct… after all, she had not hidden from Orpheus her own desire for children, and she smiles at the thought… of how Orpheus would be… of how different he would be as compared to his own father – likely in spite of it. However, that thought doesn’t change her words,

“Of course, he does,” Eurydice says. Even she does not doubt this – nor Orpheus. “Oneiros…” Eurydice stumbles here, uncertain of how to describe an Endless to a mortal unaware of such things. Though, if she came to the wedding – it was quite possible those types of secrets wouldn’t remain… given her soon to be mother-in-law was correct in that the entire Endless family would be showing for it. Her heart skips a beat at that… she does not mind them, per say… but they were… Endless… and Oneiros was… difficult enough to converse with.

Aila waits quietly for something more – she did not mean to surprise Eurydice with the question. It was just… even Aila would say her mother loved her, and she’s well aware of how likely of a lie that was, or perhaps it wasn’t… Aila doesn’t truly know, and she’s honestly afraid to find out. However, she wants to better understand Orpheus and in turn her own father. The answer from Eurydice does not shock her, however, and a piece of her believes it too.

With a heavy sigh, she repeats, “He does.” And she leaves it at that.

“And Orpheus?” Aila says, in turn. “Does he love his father?” she clarifies.

“Very much so,” Eurydice states, before fishing out a clasp for a tunic – something Orpheus would like for some of his own tunics, and she purchases it without a second thought. Setting it into her basket, Eurydice offers her arm again – happy to continue this trip with Aila.

All the while, Aila ponders the statements – trying to piece together the picture in front of her, to make sense of her own brother and father. But for every portion of the puzzle she feels she has, there remain large gaps that she cannot truly fill.

“You two getting up to trouble, I see,” Orpheus says, joining the two, and Eurydice’s smile grows larger if possible. She leans up on her toes to kiss him gently on the cheek, before showing him her prize – her gift to him. His eyes light up, as she helps to replace his current one – one well bent and broken; her deft fingers making quick work of it, before he kisses her in turn.

It was obvious to Aila that these two were very much in love, so she supposes she couldn’t be faulted for asking Eurydice in turn about Dream and Orpheus. It was just Orpheus was so free and open with his emotions, and she… she supposes she wasn’t much better with her own mother – though would she claim to love Lucifer?

Aila would say so. Although…

“Shall we find some wares to sate our bellies, perhaps find a quiet spot to sit and eat?” Orpheus suggests, much to Eurydice’s joy. There was a nearby field that they both sometimes liked to share a meal in – the wildflowers and in turn bees and butterflies made it one of her favorite spots. However, she was more than happy to share it now with Aila. “Come,” he says then, pulling at Eurydice – only a moment before his hand, warm and comforting, wrap around Aila’s arm as well and he pulls her along too.

There’s no malice in his steps – both Orpheus and Eurydice laugh, short, but their energy obvious. With a smile, Aila follows along. She wouldn’t turn down lunch – she’s not hungry. Not now – not likely again for a while, but she craves the company, the overall air the two have with one another – light and full of life… so very different from everything else she’s experienced. However, she otherwise doesn’t need the food – not now. At this point, Aila recognizes she’s mostly healed from the day prior… which meant… if she was inclined, she could likely make a trip into Hell.

But the question remained: was the nightmare there? And if so, what could she do about it?

While pondering that, Aila thinks more on questions she can ask Orpheus once they settle – though her thoughts do not stray far from the nightmare either. She refuses to think herself worried, but she is…

……….

The nightmare sits in a cell, left to his own devices, but the door firmly closed. He checked. However, while he was seemingly locked in, no one came to check on him or his ‘story’. He had done his best to spin the tale of what he wanted, to play the part he once had… the nightmare that wanted to topple the Dream King.

It was far too easy to fall back into old habits, the nightmare realizes, but at the very least, it brought him no joy, no real temptation. If anything, he was aggravated by the thought, which aggravated him more. Or it should. Did it? The nightmare ponders this. How much of this was him being him and how much of all of this was Dream when he was remade.

Clicking one of his tongues, the nightmare considers the question and wonders how he would feel about the answer, and yet… while the concept bothers him, he finds no previous urges to separate himself from Dream present. All that remained was an interest and desire – that bothered him – to return to the Dreaming – to pursue his function and duty… as he was crafted to do. He found… fulfillment, he supposes, in that, and even if some of this was due to Dream’s hand – it wouldn’t surprise him nor truly infuriate him. After all, he was Dream’s creation.

At the end of it, the nightmare still had his own thoughts and ideas… and right now, he really wanted to be out of this cell. He needed to return to their time, which meant… there was a lot to do and a lot to hide. Lucifer could not know about Aila, and Dream could not know about either him or the girl.

Recalling Lucifer had planned to call on Dream, he can only hope that Lucifer and Dream’s discussion was brief and did not truly involve him or details of him; otherwise… he supposes he will be re-discovering not only how little of his old self was retained but how much Dream was again Dream of the Endless… and not the Dream he left behind when Aila absconded them here.

It takes some time before Mazikeen – because of course, it’s her – fetches the Corinthian. And with an uneasy smile and swagger, the nightmare returns to the throne room – pulling up his own mask, playing the needed part. He had a job to do after all.

Stepping back into the throne room, the nightmare doesn’t bow or take a knee or do anything besides take center stage. He keeps an uneasy smile on his face, especially at the noticeable lack of Dream also standing here. It would see he called his bet correct that Lucifer would be far too interested in a wayward nightmare – at least one such as himself. Had she known he would eventually be a major arcana, it would have likely been an even easier sell, but for now, the nightmare accepts the chips as they lay.

He merely needs to – put them in the order he needs. So, shoving his hands into his pockets, the nightmare inclines his head – not a lot but enough to give some level of respect. He cannot play this completely defiant; Lucifer would not hesitate to end him and send the pieces back… which would help no one. But bending the knee completely would be no better – not for him.

“Nightmare,” Lucifer says.

“Lightbringer,” the Corinthian echoes back a moment later.

“Your master,” she says with a tsk, “seems unaware of your presence here.” She would know – she checked. Not thoroughly or enough to truly draw Dream’s eye here, but it caused a minor disturbance the night prior. He likely was aware that Hell had… at least knocked… but from what she had gleamed, there was no evidence of a nightmare out of line – not one such as this… which intrigued her.

Her generals – Azazel, especially – would salivate at the chance to bring Morpheus to his knees, and yet… Azazel was unconscious still… because of whatever this nightmare claimed to be following. Using the nightmare, as such, came with risks – ones she would feel out first before making a decision.

“My master has an overinflated ego,” the Corinthian says, drawling the words out perfectly. He runs his tongue across his lip, then his teeth – content to showcase the monster he is… was. “He would not think one of us… brazen… enough to defy him. His mistake.”

“Then, why do it at all, little nightmare?” Lucifer coos. She leans forward on her throne, hands clasped in front of her as she regards the nightmare.

“Because he confines me,” the nightmare says – pulling at old words, old feelings. Ones that were no longer his. Ones that were settled and calmed when he was re-made. Things he no longer sought now that he found fulfillment in the Dreaming and in turn guarding Dream… even from himself… especially from himself now. “I am merely doing what he made me to do, and he lacks… the vision to see that.” The nightmare pulls off his sunglasses – all three mouths grinning in some sadistic way. “I don’t want to be unmade again for doing what he created me to do.”

Something the nightmare knows speaks to Lucifer – from one defiant creation to the next – which given how she appears contemplative appears to have worked. She leans back on her throne, quietly considering the creation. It would be easy to be rid of it – one wave of her power and she could scatter the sand into her realm or just send the pile back to Dream… but that held little benefit and even less amusement. However, it did not sate her curiosity and concern as to what happened with Azazel. She did not have sufficient answers for that – saying as much.

“As I said, I didn’t see darling… my lord,” he says correctly quickly, adding in the smallest of bows. He needs to play this just right – he knows it... but it’s a risk. Not one he would readily take if there was another option, but he needs to get back to Aila without raising suspicions. “But I did see the Dream Lord’s son… Orpheus… arrive soon after.”

“The boy is mortal,” Lucifer scoffs – and in turn, of little interest to her other than being Morpheus’s only child.

“Perhaps,” the Corinthian says. “But it could relate to him or at least his dear old Dad. Endless do have the ability to deal with unsavory… sorts.” Death would happily annihilate Azazel for everything the demon had done and threatened had Johanna not already done it herself first. But it makes his point – perhaps it was not Orpheus that did anything to Azazel, but it was maybe also not coincidental.

However, the nightmare hesitates to push this story – this narrative – any farther. He does not want nor need Lucifer deciding Orpheus may have more worth than letting the boy live and die by humanity’s standards.

“I cannot go near the whelp,” Lucifer says. She did not want… nor mean… to court war – not openly just yet. Touching him – would incise the Endless. Likely would, at least. Lucifer could not entirely be certain how much Morpheus cared for his own offspring, after all.

With a grin, the nightmare starts to lean into the trap he’s laying, saying, “You can’t.” Not without antagonizing Dream – which the Corinthian would not hesitate to deal with the angel here if he had the ability to do so if Lucifer went after Dream again. However, he adds, “I can.”

Quick Notes: Going to start to get into some plot here. Like, yes this is plot but there’s more plot plot coming up. Big things… life changing… Also, no starting to think this won't be 20 chapters either - sigh.

Also, also because I can't help myself I'm working on a small series of one-shots of Dream being a disaster of a human - so if that's something you'll enjoy, I'll be posting that soon. If there's something specific there, let me know.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: When the Pieces Fall

It took more time than the nightmare wanted but less time than he expected in his opinion, at least - that convincing Lucifer… he was less interested in returning to his master and more interested in Dream’s downfall, just as she was. It was both easy and difficult. Hell’s ruler would not throw aside a possible ally, something of interest, but to play that he had truly forsaken Dream had… given him some stark reminders of how he once was. It had pulled at parts of himself that he had thought forgotten and wasted, and it left a bad taste in all three of his mouths.

However, in the end, the Corinthian could leave Hell, could step away, and for now, Lucifer was… more interested in him than Aila – whom she thankfully still did not know existed, and he would prefer to keep it that way, long after they left as well. It just meant, though, he needed to play up an act – to pretend to look for weaknesses of Dream and help Lucifer of old gather any and everything she could use against the Dreaming.

Not that the nightmare planned to help with any of that, but he could at least convince Lucifer that he could likely look in on Dream’s offspring – not a lie – without raising too much suspicion, which had some benefit. For Lucifer and for himself. Last he saw Aila she was with Orpheus, and for the nightmare, it was Lucifer’s shortcoming to not ask which offspring he would be primarily checking on. Not that she would know to specify.

Not that he would tell her. Not unless there was a benefit, of course, but given current moods and tensions, there was nothing to gain. Not outside of possibly learning what use Lucifer would have for something such as Aila. Either Lucifer.

The Corinthian ponders their time – not the one they’re currently in: Aila’s entire existence was a question… and as a nightmare, it wasn’t in his repertoire to be creative enough to understand why. However, she obviously had some use – even if Lucifer cared so little for the girl. Otherwise, why not be rid of the child long ago? Lucifer did not raise her – have Mazikeen raise her for nothing. There was obviously some reason – especially as Lucifer had hidden Aila’s heritage from her.

Why train her but not enough? Why tell her things, teach her things, but not everything? Why…

The answer feels as though it’s on the tip of the nightmare’s tongue, and he curses himself for not asking the exact right question. If he had, he suspects, he’d know the answer then. For now, he can only speculate; at the very least, once (if) they were back, he would contently drop this entire mess into Death and Desire’s laps… he would merely just give this to Death to handle… but knowing Desire…

With a scoff and shake of his head, the nightmare knows better than to remove Desire from any situation revolving Dream. If he thought, he was protective – which he had been for the last twenty years – Desire would be overbearing. Which was impressive given the Endless couldn’t actually interfere in Dream’s life directly.

Though after Dread, Lucifer, Hell, the corrupted… it was exhausting (understandable) that Desire – that any of the Endless – would feel find themselves protective of Dream.

Aila wouldn’t… the nightmare honestly is uncertain how the Endless would respond to her. He’d expect her to be rejected, just due to her lineage alone, but they had reluctantly come around on Deceit. Though, they also did not have to deal with Deceit – given she remained in the other reality at this time. Not seeing her and thus not having to deal with her did make her easier on the palate – not something that Aila would likely be able to replicate. As well as Deceit was in part… Johanna, Hob… and Alec – whom most of the Endless had come to begrudgingly respect as well given her own sacrifice against the corrupted.

Nonetheless, the nightmare pushes the thought aside. How the Endless respond to her and what they do to her would not land on his plate – his job, his function outside of the Dreaming, was to watch Dream - even with how difficult his master made that task some days to be.

Right now, that job included protecting Aila to ensure he could return, and from there – the Corinthian refuses to think on it further. If the Endless demanded Aila’s life forfeit, it would not…

The nightmare pauses at the edge of the field – just out of sight of the three, because the nightmare scoffs. Of course, Aila would befriend Eurydice and Orpheus, and she was in the midst of laughing, carefree and appearing entirely her age as compared to when he saw her in that alley. She was covering her mouth, trying to swallow her laughs, while Orpheus and Eurydice danced… to no tune, no music, just the swaying grass and gentle breeze.

It takes the nightmare a moment to figure out exactly what’s happening – only to realize Orpheus is attempting to teach Aila how to dance… and Eurydice is not helping – far too entertained with her husband to be’s explanation to do so. For now, the nightmare stands – just watching, guarding… in a manner far too similar to what he does for Dream, not that he lingers on that long.

Meanwhile, Aila tilts her head, shaking it in disagreement. She cannot entirely be certain what Orpheus is telling her, but it makes less sense than half the languages she had to learn at home. Which for how many languages she knew and how many letters existed, duplicated, and appeared to be nothing more than a cave drawing… was a remarkable feat…

“I don’t think feet go that way, love,” Eurydice finally says, taking some pity on him finally – though her left foot complains for not doing it sooner. Honestly, if asked, she would say Orpheus could dance and he did so very well; it was just explaining… teaching… did not seem to be his strong suit.

In response, Orpheus pinches his face, pursing his lips, and for a singular moment, Aila sees Dream in how her brother holds himself – though she says nothing, too busy swallowing her fit to do so… not that she’d think he’d appreciate it, not that she wants to ruin this moment. Though, she wonders in turn how many moments she’s had where she seemed like her mother or her father – recalling then of the Corinthian’s words regarding her ‘people skills’.

“I am talented with my lyre,” Orpheus says, trying to maintain some semblance of pride in this, and Aila and Eurydice do give him that – as well as singing. Neither of which Aila could do – though nor could she dance.

“Even if you can’t dance, I can’t do any of it,” Aila admits quietly, and some of the laughter fades. She had never explored… interests… and had never thought to try anything truly outside her lessons. Music, dancing, singing – they were all foreign to her, but she enjoyed them. She hated that she had missed out on so much thus far – though -

Eurydice yanks Aila up, setting one of the younger girl’s hands on her waist and taking the other in hand. She smiles reassuringly, then pulls Aila forward – eyeing Orpheus knowingly, intently. Without a word, he starts a simple song – no words – just notes. Something to help Eurydice pull Aila into, and though the younger Nephilim stumbles, her frown slowly morphs back into a smile.

It’s unusual, but Aila finds she can actually dance… well not dance like Orpheus and Eurydice, but she’s nimble and the movements remind her a lot of the fighting Maize would put her through at home. That in mind, Aila could… move like dancing, and she found some enjoyment in the familiarity of it – though it took a few tumbles and stubbed toes – before they all fully relaxed into it.

Orpheus holds up a plate of grapes that both Eurydice and Aila graciously take from. They down the fruit – sating their parched throats. The heat isn’t bad today, but it’s warm, and the activity… weighs on them. However, unlike Orpheus and Eurydice who appear actually worn, Aila finds herself invigorated. This is a drop to her given what paces she had been put through previously; however, she quickly finds it’s better to pretend than for either of them to realize she’s not actually out of breath.

Aila decides being mortal must be hard; she wants to ask about how being hungry, sleepy, and all the other bodily functions that she can generally ignore until she’s passing out feels. However, that would require her to also reveal what – and who – she is. Right now, Aila likes things as they are.

She doesn’t want it to change – not yet. Preferably not ever given how open the two are, how welcoming.

Aila collapses next to Orpheus, following Eurydice’s lead. She reaches over for another grape and downing the small cup of what tastes like… wine? Aila isn’t sure – she’s never had any. However, given Orpheus and Eurydice’s wide eyes, she suspects it was. Her cheeks flush – though not from the alcohol. It would take… a lot given what she is to actually get drunk, if not something magical.

“Thanks for teaching me to dance,” Aila says, but Eurydice waves it off, happily.

“You did not need that much help,” Orpheus even says.

Eurydice adds, “You caught on quick enough that you’ll likely outshine us.”

“On your wedding day?” Aila says, with a scoff. “Doubtful.” She glances to Eurydice then, recalling some of the purchases from the market – some of the jewelry.

The other woman blushes and smiles, especially as Orpheus is quick to agree… at least on the point with Eurydice. To him, nothing could outshine her. Aila would find it nauseating, if it wasn’t so… innocent, pure. It was nothing like what she had seen in her time – not from any of the relations she was familiar with at least.

“Can you tell me how you two met?” Aila asks – content to just spend more time in the field, and without a moment of hesitation, Orpheus launches into his tale of how he attempted to woo Eurydice and every failed attempt. As well as every attempt he made a fool of himself, and the times – he reiterated that yes, it was times – he fell into the river or tripped over a log to do so.

“He was… resilient,” Eurydice says, more in a teasing manner than anything. She found his attempts endearing, and while yes, initially she had not had much interest in him, it had changed quickly – after she had seen his kindness, his humor, his smile, his voice. She leans forward now, just to listen to his exaggerated tale of the first time he sang to her – only to forget every word and stumble through the entire song.

Without hesitation, Aila tilts her head in confusion – confused by the entire story. “And she still chose to be with you?” she asks. After all, her brother sounded a bit… inept… by these stories, and Eurydice laughs – though she does her best to mask it. “I do not…”

“I found him to be exactly what I needed and wanted,” Eurydice explains, reaching over and intertwining their fingers briefly. “Sometimes, partners are not perfect, but those… imperfections are what truly define us.”

In spite of every… stumble… Orpheus was someone she couldn’t wait to spend the rest of her days with – she was excited for the journey and the mishaps. Those were what made these stories… perfect to her – something Aila sort of understands, though not completely. Not yet.

“No regrets?” Orpheus asks, with a smile, and Eurydice goes to say as much when her eyes widen. Aila feels it a moment before the other woman speaks.

“Oneiros,” she says, gasping. Both Aila and Orpheus turn – Dream standing there, black robes billowing around him. “You were…” she stumbles, glancing to Orpheus for guidance. This was likely the only part of marriage that Eurydice found some pause with. Calliope was… delightful, welcoming, warm… Orpheus’s father was – something.

“I was not expecting you Father,” Orpheus says, pushing himself slowly to his feet. Dinner was unexpected, but only due to his father’s… chaotic work schedule and his inability to separate himself from work… but to show up now, unannounced was unsettling, and Orpheus immediately worries – asking after mother.

“She is fine,” Dream says, his tone indicating the absurdity of the question – while Aila understands where Orpheus was coming from. “We need to speak.” As though that was not already obvious.

Orpheus gives Eurydice a soft smile and a kiss to the knuckles, before rising to stand to meet Oneiros; however, to Orpheus’s surprise, Dream moves away – intending the conversation to be in private. Something rarely done with Eurydice now, given Orpheus would just tell her it all anyway – although perhaps due to Aila?

Nonetheless, he dutifully follows until the two stand near the edge of the field at an overhang where the sea can be seen just beyond the ridge. It’s gentle waves lapping at the shore.

Dream waits. It is not often he calls on his son to talk in a manner like this, but Dream… he… he needs a moment of privacy to ask the questions needed, although deep down – in a place he refuses to acknowledge – he worries about Orpheus’s response. Given everything of late, Dream suspects his son will be less open to this line of questioning and more defensive, but after last night, after the Dreaming, he needs to ask.

“What is it, Father?” Orpheus says, coming to rest directly in front of the Endless. This is a rare enough occasion that nerves flutter around in his stomach. It was unusual enough to see his Father not only for dinner but again the next day? It was understandable that he thought this was about Calliope. “Is this about the wedding…”

“No,” he says. “That does not concern me.”

Orpheus tenses, and he grits his teeth. It was said so off-handedly, so uncaring that it takes Orpheus a moment to remind himself it likely was not meant in such a way. However, he cannot help the hurt he feels from the words – not that his father notices.

“Father,” Orpheus starts, taking a deep breath – only for Dream to interrupt.

“The girl,” Dream states. “Where did you find her?”

The question was not what Orpheus was expecting; as such, it takes him a moment to wrap his head around it. And even then, he remains confused – his face and stance telling of that. Humans… outside of himself… his father rarely paid much attention to – at least singular attention to.

“Orpheus,” Dream says, his tone – his voice – all of it telling in that he expects an answer.

However, all it does is pick at Orpheus, and he finds his own barbs rising in response. “On the road, injured, Father,” he says, and although it’s a true statement, it lacks the usual reverence in how it’s stated.

“How was she injured?” Oneiros asks. He has his back to Orpheus, now, and in turn, the girls just beyond in the field. He stares around over the ocean – his senses spreading wide. Even here, he can feel the subconscious twisting and brimming. The Dreaming and those in it – he can tell the trickle of it, the ebb and flow, but if he turned, looked back at the girl and Eurydice, he’d sense Eurydice… but the girl… it was nothing. Nothing that made sense at least.

Unless she truly did not dream, which so few creatures did not, but even still, he should feel her to some degree – at least more than he did -, and if she was one of those creatures that did not dream… then he did not want her near his son.

However, Dream says none of this to Orpheus, and all the son can do is defensively state, “I did not ask, Father.” He found her unconscious on the road – any good person would have helped -, and after spending time with her, he can sense… feel a kindred spirit to her… in how their family lives were. Although, he could at least state he had this from his Father versus complete avoidance. For the moment, he would have preferred the latter.

“Was she with someone?” Dream continues.

“Why do you care, Father?” Orpheus asks, not answering the question. He does recall the girl stating she was traveling with someone, but the road besides her had been empty. She, also, had made no significant mention of someone else since, although between the injury and now, today, perhaps she merely hadn’t had the moment… Orpheus glances back – he can read the concern on Eurydice’s face easily enough. Aila – she… she’s quiet but unwaveringly paying attention to this – to them.

And Orpheus clenches his fists by his side. His Father was here… and yet… he was not the reason why. He was an afterthought – not that he blames Aila. However, Orpheus finds a rising anger at all of this. Not just this moment but every moment before – this past month, dinner last night, the night he explained he was engaged – only for his Father to not say a word and leave… all of it builds to this.

“The girl…” Oneiros starts.

“What is this about? She’s just a young girl,” Orpheus says, snapping – purposefully interrupting his Father. Something he so rarely does that it does stumble Dream mid-sentence. “She’s barely younger than me Father, and from what I’ve seen and heard, she’s had a rough start of things.”

“Orpheus,” he says, his tone – Orpheus recognizing it from when he was younger and when he was admonished. He despises that tone now; he’s no longer a child – which Dream realizes. It’s just in this moment, he’s an Eldritch being faced with uncertainty – and right now, his son… did not see it that way.

“While I am glad to see you Father,” Orpheus says, though given how he says it – it sounds untrue, “if this is all you’ve come to speak on, then I believe this conversation is over.” He decides this is best ended here, before either of them say something they’ll regret. He goes to turn away, flustered – the earlier fun long forgotten now. He catches sight of Eurydice and Aila, both of whom are not masking their concern well.

“She is not what she seems,” Dream says, quietly – aware he needs to stop Orpheus here but the words needed – the actual words, what Orpheus needs, he cannot bring himself to say them. Instead, he focuses on this, but at least, this does give Orpheus pause. He looks back now – confusion and hesitation present but marked with distrust. After everything of late, the two of them have had so few discussions not heated, not tense, that even now Orpheus feels as though this is just another thing his Father elected to harp on today. “I cannot sense her.”

“What do you mean?” Orpheus asks, voice soft. He isn’t inherently mistrustful like his Father, but he also knows what his family is. To not sense someone… even he understands that does not make sense. That would be a concern.

“She does not enter the Dreaming like other humans,” he states. “That should not… that cannot be. I do not know what she is, but you should distance yourself.”

Orpheus sighs, roughly, shaking his head. “She’s a young girl,” he says, unwilling to listen now. “Perhaps try asking her, but she’s done nothing to warrant this. I will not turn her away.” Unlike some - unlike you - goes unsaid.

From their brief interactions, Orpheus can see that’s all she’s ever had done to her – people turning her away, people leaving her -, and something… something pulls at him in a way that tells him not to make the same mistake – to do the opposite and offer her every ounce of kindness he can muster. Something Eurydice readily agrees with.

“Orpheus,” Dream says, practically a growl.

“I am done speaking on this Father.” There were plenty of other things he’d rather speak on, yet Dream brings up none of them. With a resigned chuckle, Orpheus adds before stepping away, “She will be at the wedding.”

The conversation strikes a nerve. It’s far too similar to when he announced his engagement to Eurydice or his intentions to help Jason. Things that he thought his own Father would have found pride in him for, but instead, he had been met with quiet discord.

At least the times prior, it had been more ‘quiet’ and not this. Now, he can feel his own father’s displeasure, his glare boring into his back, but he cannot bring himself to care. After everything – not just Aila but everything of late – it just hits a boiling point. He can only hope his father walks away; right now, he just wasn’t in the right mindset for this. No, he needed… he needed his soon to be wife.

With a barely concealed grimace, Orpheus returns to Eurydice and Aila – refusing to look back at Dream even once. The tension in his frame is evident, especially to Eurydice, who leans in close to offer comfort. She may not understand what just occurred, but she can tell it tried at Orpheus. She feels a slight tremble beneath her hand, and she whispers his name – concerned.

“What are you?” Dream says, appearing behind Aila now.

The suddenness – with her distraction – is enough to surprise even her, and she turns rapidly, falling back on her hands as she does so. He stares down on her, and Aila… she feels it – his power against her skin. His gaze, dark, stares practically through her, and she can do nothing. It reminds her far too much of her own Mother in this moment, and like any of the times when faced with her own mother’s wrath, Aila finds her tongue thick, and she can’t help but drop her gaze, fearfully. His power wraps around her, and her voice cracks – just slightly… alerting the other two that this was not just a friendly chat.

“Father.””Oneiros.” Orpheus and Eurydice speak together.

“Your words were to ask her,” Dream says to Orpheus directly, and surprisingly, he pushes to his feet – coming to stand between Aila and Dream now. His power falls away, and Aila can find herself able to breathe again – though whether that’s due to Dream’s power slipping or Orpheus’s aid, she’s not sure. She’s just thankful her chest no longer feels as though it’s about to cave in.

“Ask, not frighten,” he says, with a scowl. “But perhaps I should be unsurprised. You’re not one for restraint Father.” He watches the darkness pass over his Father’s face – having hit a nerve in turn, and while Orpheus should feel some regret, some pause, he does not. Not right now. He hears his own heart race, however.

All the while, Aila says nothing, and just beyond the field – barely out of sight – the Corinthian waits, breath bated at the sight of Dream as himself. Of a Dream unforgiving and unrelenting. He finds himself – his own feet frozen in response. He suspects if he exposes himself now… it would be to his own unmaking.

“Orpheus,” Dream says.

“Aila,” Orpheus says, his own voice much kinder. “Do you dream?”

It takes Aila a moment to answer; she finds herself struggling to even think – though thankfully, Eurydice is there. Her hands come to rest on Aila’s arms, offering comfort and contact.

“No,” she whispers.

“Why?” Orpheus says.

“I do not know,” she says – which is the truth. She doesn’t. She merely never has; that’s all she knows. At least until – you’re in the Dreaming. The memory remains hazy, but the words ring clear in her head. “I never have.”

Dream goes to speak again – the answer insufficient – the shadows in the area deepen, but Orpheus is there, uncaring and unwilling to let this go father. Instead, he steps closer to his Father, and the two regard one another coldly. “Enough Father,” he says. “You will take your leave now.” Of all times for his Father to be present – Orpheus would laugh if it wasn’t so incredulous. His Father is so consistently absent – Orpheus, even a few months ago would have craved to see him so many times in a short window, and yet right now, he wants nothing more than his father to leave.

The Endless hesitates – only briefly at the outright dismissal. Something Orpheus has never done. They have had disagreements before – quite a few – but… this was new. This was… Dream stares down at Aila, but Orpheus refuses to move. The look Orpheus levels on him… it’s… he refuses to meet it – unwilling to rise to the bait. However, he does scowl, and Orpheus shakes his head in turn.

“You just cannot, can you?” he asks, quiet – voice far too quiet. His Father couldn’t be happy for him, his Father couldn’t just be here for him, and his Father would just always be Endless… and nothing more or nothing less. A piece of him breaks at that knowledge – at the acknowledgement of it, at least, as that has always been true, or so Orpheus tells himself. “You can’t… not be this. I’ll never be what you want, and you’ll never be the Father I want…” he whispers it, and as he says it, he knows… he hates himself for it because it’s not entirely true. His own heart breaks when his voice trails off, but before he can open his mouth to retract the statement, he catches sight of Dream’s gaze – the darkness, the glare… the one leveled on Aila, and he finds he can say nothing.

In an instant, Dream is gone, and Orpheus lets out the breath he was holding.

“Orpheus,” Aila whispers, her own voice broken. She doesn’t understand what just happened, but it feels… it feels like too much. In this moment, she wants to tell him everything – the entire truth. What she is and what she was to him, but she finds her throat parched. She cannot force the words out.

“I need… I need a moment,” he mutters before walking away – leaving the two in the field.

“He shouldn’t…” Aila starts.

“It is not you,” Eurydice says, with a soft sigh. She watches after her husband to be – the stress in his shoulders, the pain emanating from his very being. She can sense it as though it was her very own hurt. She is unsurprised by this – Oneiros and Orpheus had been… disagreeing more as of late – minor to big things -, and while Aila was just one more thing… it was the fact it was one more thing that seemed to finally be it. But to hear Orpheus – to hear him say that Oneiros was not…

Eurydice knows the words to be false, spoken in anger and pain. She sighs, wishing she could ease these aches, but while Orpheus she understood, Oneiros was beyond her. The only thing she can hope is like the times before they would smooth things over. At the very least, Calliope could help – if there was anyone that could calm Oneiros, speak some truth into them both – it was her.

For now, Eurydice sits with the young girl until she whispers that she is fine, and Orpheus should not be alone. Only then, does she nod – promising to return promptly – and follows after Orpheus.

It could be the grief or the hurt or the tension in the moment – however, none of them comment on the fact Dream disappeared… and Aila didn’t seem surprised…

Quick Notes: Aila doesn’t mean to cause issues… she really just wants to get to know Orpheus.

And Dream is Dream.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven: Why We Feel Apart

The nightmare waits impatiently – especially given Dream’s recent arrival and departure. He wants to go to her right away, try… he doesn’t know what he wants to do, but he knows he needs to do something. It’s by pure luck Dream didn’t do more than posture, but from here, the nightmare can see the consequences of his master’s reaction. Aila remains in the field, suggesting his lord is not familiar or aware of what Aila is, but how likely is that to hold, the nightmare wonders. Especially given what he just witnessed.

Although, given Orpheus’s mood and Dream’s response, that would likely keep the Endless’s attention for a time. He doesn’t know whether to be thankful or not that the boy and his father maintained issues, ones likely to shadow that Aila was not… what she said she was… at least until he can slip her away. After that, the nightmare suspects the Nephilim had the power to mask them, keep them from even Dream’s gaze and helm if needed.

Once the meadow felt calm enough, the nightmare elects to risk his position and moves into the field – closer to Aila and where she remains kneeling. Her head is downturned, and as he gets closer, he can see the tremors in her shoulders. However, it’s not until he’s within ear shot that he hears her crying, and he stops. The nightmare… he doesn’t… human emotions – even after watching over Dream the last twenty years – were not things he generally dealt with.

Even after the times he had even witnessed his own master’s panic attacks – which there were sadly more than one, though less so as the years had gone on in thanks to Johanna and Hob and Calliope, that Calliope, not this one… However, seeing Aila upset – it unsettles him. These emotions remained foreign enough to him that it stops the Corinthian mid-step.

However, the nightmare realizes he must have made sound as Aila’s sob stops mid-hiccup, and her wide gaze meets his. He’s not sure what to expect – anger, betrayal, anything except the relief. She doesn’t move, but she’s able to swallow her next tears to some degree, though he can see the moisture in her gaze all the same.

“He’s not worth crying over,” the nightmare scoffs, trying to lighten things, but that just causes her to shake, jaw clenched.

“He’s no different than my mother,” she whispers, her hand coming up to cover her mouth at the words – as though they make her sick to say, and the nightmare glowers.

The Corinthian’s aware Dream – especially this one is not… perfect by any means… he rebelled for a reason – one he recalled quite readily after all. However, the Dream that re-made him – the one that helped him to see his purpose and duty and helped give him reason, show him he mattered… that was Dream… and the nightmare despises that the Nephilim would even think to compare him to Lucifer.

“My king is many things,” the nightmare sighs. “I already said as much.”

“Prideful, egotistical,” Aila echoes back, recalling his words readily. “You forgot cold and uncaring.” The look he gave her – the one right before he returned to the Dreaming… it was far too familiar, and the feeling it invoked – that deep terror, that pain, something she recalled so readily because it was familiar.

Sitting here now, Aila can’t help but recall the one time her own mother locked her for two days in a closet to teach her a lesson…that hopelessness, that dread… she recalls it readily, and now – after facing Dream. She felt the same – it may have only been for a moment, but that’s all it took. In the end, they were the same – her mother and father -, and now, she despises it all. Orpheus didn’t deserve that. Aila either. Neither of them deserved that, and yet the universe seemed readily wanting to provide it.

The nightmare goes to his knees near the Nephilim, reaching out slowly – only for her to push against his hand, and then, she barrels into his chest, her face buried into his shirt. He feels it then, her power – her strength, and the field around them, the grass starts to char… the sky darkens, and he can taste the thunderstorm in the air.

“Aila,” he says.

“Thank you for coming back,” she whispers. “I’m glad you’re okay. I thought…” she trails off. She had thought perhaps he was a captive of her mother, and after just dealing with her father, she does not think she could handle facing Lucifer now – not like this. Not with everything so raw. However, the nightmare merely sits with her – reminding her that she was not alone in this, in this time… although, with Orpheus and Eurydice, for a moment, she hadn’t felt alone then either.

And now… and now her presence… or was it her at all? Did her Father just not care for Orpheus at all or did she help drive that last wedge, cut that last thread… she hates to think she did, but she cannot get that look out of her mind.

“He cares,” the nightmare says with a groan. “He does.”

“Does he?” Aila laughs, pushing her face against the Corinthian’s shirt. His reaction to her – she at least understood. She was unknown, he could sense something was off about her, but his response to her and then to Orpheus… to how his own son stood up to protect her… she had rarely been protected – not even Maize would dare go as far as Orpheus did… her mother had never hit her… not outside of training… outside of practice… but words and the looks… and the lack of everything else had been just as devastating. And to see that same look on Orpheus’s face – the one she saw in her own mirror when she dared to look.

“He does,” the nightmare says. “After Eurydice’s death and Orpheus’s spiral and own fall, Dream did… he did not react well. I was not yet around, not yet realized darling, but even once I was, the law was simple enough. Do not speak of the Dream Lord’s son.” Else be risked of being unmade.

To remind Dream of what happened here, of everything that happened here… it poked at a wound far too raw, and it was obvious how much the hurt Dream had experienced from all these events. Not even the Corinthian had truly dared to go after Orpheus. He was many things – but that was not even a line his old self had wanted to risk.

“So, he acts like…” Aila starts, her voice caught in her throat.

“He acts like that,” the nightmare confirms. “He’s a lot of things, little bird, but he does care.” When he says it, however, he sounds aggravated with it, and perhaps, he is. After all, had Dream not cared… had not protected Desire as he did… then perhaps – all of their fates would have been different.

“He’s an ass,” the Nephilim whispers, and the nightmare grins. That he can agree with readily – many a times, actually. “Where were you?” she whispers.

The nightmare hesitates. After seeing Dream handle Aila… so well… the nightmare worries what telling her about Lucifer will do. He has a choice – be truthful or not -, and in this moment, the nightmare elects to masquerade his choices. After all, they won’t matter; they won’t be in this time period long enough to matter. Aila will never need to know about his false deal with Lucifer, and Lucifer never needs to know about Aila.

“I had to stay away,” he says, which was at least slightly honest. “Dream may not… recognize me for me, but he’ll know I’m a nightmare.” Best to limit the risks then of crossing paths.

Aila nods, understanding it – though she wishes the nightmare had told her that Orpheus was her brother after that first interaction. She dislikes to think had it not been for Azazel this opportunity would have been lost to her. But right now, she can’t think on that. She’s upset at Dream, she’s upset at herself, she’s upset at Orpheus – ridiculous as it is because she’s just upset -, so right now, she just doesn’t have the energy to be upset at the nightmare.

However… while sluggish, her mind finally does circle back to his earlier words. She pulls away abruptly, head tilted up – eyes almost completely dry when she asks, “Did you say Eurydice’s death?”

………………

Orpheus doesn’t go far. He doesn’t want to nor need to; he just needs to get away from that field. The look his Father gave him – that disappointment because he hadn’t been willing to let the Endless terrorize a young girl… he scowls as he finds a rock to sit on, face coming to rest in his palms.

Aila… when she said his name, he knew the next words were going to be an apology. The girl thought she was at fault for all of this – he hates that she thinks that. She may be one more piece of it all, but she was not the main issue.

No, that belonged to his Father as it always did. Orpheus sighs, recalling the good and the bad of his childhood. It could have been worse, especially given what little he had heard from Aila in regard to her own childhood. He may have seen his own Father little, and they may not always agree, but he always thought his Father did care – at least deep down. Right now, though… mere days from his own wedding, and his Father… visiting him – only to go after the girl, and he wonders if he was wrong.

As always, Orpheus felt like an afterthought again – as he did when it came to the Dreaming or Endless business. When he had announced his engagement to Eurydice, his Father had said not one word besides a simple congratulations, and then… Dream was gone… back to the Dreaming, back to his duty.

When Orpheus had started to truly play, when he had found his passion with the lyre, his Father had said not a word – besides comment on that he dreamt of music more.

The last act that he suspects his Father had shown any real emotion for was perhaps the day he learned to walk – or so his mother told him. The joy, she said, he showed was unbound, but since then… when was the last time, he had seen anything of substance from his Father? When did he feel as though he mattered truly to his own Father? He should be thankful – unlike Aila who had it sounds like no one, he had his mother. He could use his mother right now… He could use…

“My love,” Eurydice says, coming to stand in front of Orpheus. Her hands gently pry his hands from his face, and then her lips are against his – uncaring of the salt of his tears staining his skin. “What is wrong? Is this because of Aila?” She was not jealous – she did not see the girl as anything besides someone in need of comfort herself. But she was trying to understand why this was the moment things seemed like they fell apart.

“I wanted my Father to be at the wedding,” Orpheus says. “Because he wanted to be, not because he felt like it was an obligation. I wanted him there because he cared. Because I mattered.” His voice is quiet, as though he’s uncertain of his own words, but now that he’s started to speak, he can’t help but keep going. He wanted his Father to actually show that he cared, not just where Orpheus assumed. Though at the very least… “And after hearing Aila talk of her own experiences, I feel terrible for thinking it… I feel… horrible…”

“For thanking the Gods, your own Father was not as terrible as that?” she finishes, and he nods.

“Except, he is not that much better, is he?” Orpheus says now. “I want him to be proud of the man I’ve become, and yet, I feel as though… I just exist as the rest of us do, as all of us do to the Endless.” Eurydice’s fingers are soft on his cheeks. “He came to dinner last night to try and make amends, only to leave, and now… his only focus is not on our day but on this girl.”

“Because he cannot sense her?”

“Because he’s Endless. As always, I will come second to that and his duty,” Orpheus says, and Eurydice frowns. He’s thankful that perhaps his upbringing was not as atrocious as Aila’s – which is not fair to think, as from what he had seen, she did not deserve her own upbringing either -, but in this moment, he wishes he had been born normal. Normal life, normal expectations, normal parents that he could make proud and happy… and not feel as though he was second fiddle to everything they are and more. He wishes he was not the child of an Endless and Greek muse.

Quick Notes: Two peas in a pod… this chapter was a bit of a bridge to starting to get into the plot. And if you’re like ‘wait plot’ – there’s a bit more to this story.. I’m hoping 20-30 chapters… sigh. I should have known better than to say 10-20 to start.

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Chapter Twelve: What Can Be Done

The tale of Orpheus – Aila’s aware it’s a Greek tragedy. It was just she did not know the details – not all of them. It was not a tale she had much interest in learning, and not one her Mother would have dared to teach her – not given the characters within it. As such, Aila has to take a moment to digest the Corinthian’s story… Orpheus’s story… Eurydice’s death… and Orpheus’s destruction.

“Does he still live?” she asks. If he was denied her aunt’s gift, then perhaps, he lingered in her time… and if he did… she hopes he doesn’t – that sounds like a waking nightmare, day in and day out. Her living circumstances may not be ideal, but at least, she had a chance to change it, to be free in the world. To think of her brother – of the man who played the lyre to help her relax last night… as nothing more than a head… for thousands of years – because of her Father… her heart breaks.

“No,” the nightmare says. “He passed some time ago.”

“Good,” she says, and while she doesn’t explain it, the nightmare understands she didn’t mean it in any ill way. She appreciated that he was finally able to rest and be with Eurydice again. She couldn’t imagine… she tries to and fails – only able to shudder at the thought. “He left his son like that?” she whispers.

The nightmare opens his mouth – to argue, to disagree, to say something – but the words catch. He has nothing he can say. Because at the end of it, Dream had left his son – left Orpheus like that, trapped and denied. The Corinthian doesn’t know all the details; he was never privy to them. But he knows there were harsh words on both sides of the aisle – things said that likely were said in anger and pain. Though it hadn’t changed the cascade, the snowball, not until Dread… not until Orpheus gave his life to ensure the spell worked to contain the corruption.

But for thousands of years – Dream did -, and the nightmare says nothing. In turn, Aila scoffs – pushing to her feet. She doesn’t go far, but she does turn her back on the nightmare. Her mother… she didn’t care about Aila – or at least, she acted as though she didn’t… But Aila was… she closes her eyes – she wasn’t what her mother wanted. Whatever that was.

Orpheus – she had spent time with him. Even the small amount of time it was – she could see him. He didn’t deserve that – no one deserved that. Eurydice didn’t deserve that.

“Is he honestly better than my mother?” she asks – because now, she couldn’t see it. In a mirror, she could see them both, and she hates that she was a piece of either of them. At least, Orpheus had Calliope. From the little Aila had seen of the muse, the woman was… nice, comforting, an actual parent. Having seen that, Aila can tell how much Dream and Lucifer were not.

“He is nothing like Lucifer,” the nightmare growls, coming up behind the Nephilim. “He’s far from perfect darling, but he’s not her.” The nightmare – even the one of before – would have attested to that. Although… he does… recall being unmade; he pushes that aside. That was in the past… of a Dream in the past – he tries not to dwell on the fact that they’re both currently in said past.

“He left me to be raised by her,” she whispers – aware he likely didn’t even know she existed… or perhaps he did… he obviously was Endless when she was conceived. Perhaps, he had left her – he was cold enough, uncaring enough for such an action. If he was willing to leave his son trapped as only a head for thousands of years, to allow his son to suffer the heartbreak of losing Eurydice on their wedding day – he would have left her to her own mother’s devices.

“Aila,” the nightmare says, his voice quiet but tense. He has no idea what to tell the girl – this is just ancient history to him, a story he was told, a warning of what not to bring up. Even he hadn’t dared to broach Orpheus when he was in his first iteration.

One shuddering deep breath later, Aila calms herself. Eurydice dies – yes, she dies. But Aila focuses on that – she dies. She is not dead, and Aila was here. There was a chance… she hesitates at this. They were in the past, and what little Aila understood of time was that things were not always linear… but to change an event, to change one’s fate.

There would be consequences.

Aila thinks of Orpheus’s face – of his heartbreak from just his… their Father… and she doesn’t… she can’t - won’t condemn Orpheus to losing Eurydice. One mortal death… that could be prevented – Aila glances down at her hands. She was powerful enough for that; maybe not for her mother but for this… she could.

“Aila,” the nightmare says more urgently.

“Where were you?” she asks – the question already answered but she wants to hear it again, to distract from the current conversation -, her voice quiet. She does not yet divulge her plan. She suspects the nightmare would be against it – correctly so. Changing time… in a world where things were not linear… it could… strand them here, but Aila thinks back on her mother and now her father… it wasn’t like she had much to go back to anyway.

“Couldn’t risk my master seeing me,” the nightmare says, with an odd inflection, repeating the same words from earlier. However, this time he hesitates. Nonetheless, he elects to keep it to himself regarding Lucifer for now. He feels – odd – about lying to Aila in this, but given everything, given her… tedious emotional state… he thinks this is the better option for now. No need to worry the little bird more.

While Aila hears him speak, she doesn’t entirely process his words; however, it doesn’t stop her from nodding. She stares into the ground, counting the blades of grass on the ground; she does this to settle herself, to settle her mind. The storm on the horizon recedes, the air calms, and Aila… she will change this… If her Father couldn’t be bothered, then she would.

………………..

It takes some time, but Orpheus finds himself at ease with Eurydice at his side. She sits curled into him, and slowly but surely the tension fades. As it does, clarity starts to pour back in. The previous… disagreement – Orpheus refuses to call it fight – seems so meager now. He recognizes the stress of the wedding, and the last few… disagreements… likely led to a larger situation than what was actually needed.

Orpheus sees that now. After all, it was odd if Aila could not dream, and… perhaps, his Father was merely concerned for him… although, Orpheus cannot shake that he is just excusing his Father’s recent behavior – hoping that is the reason. That this isn’t just him being an Endless but being a Father.

“What would I do without you?” Orpheus whispers against the crown of Eurydice’s head. She smiles, tilting her head up – just to catch his lips.

“Be completely lost, of course,” she whispers against him, and he smiles – aware that she is jesting. However, he also recognizes that it is a very true statement. “Are you… better my love?”

“I am,” he admits. However, everything still lingers. He doesn’t know how to make sense of recent things and what to do about others – namely his father… and Aila. “I think… I need to talk to my Mother.” If there was anyone that could help him reason this, make sense of his own father, it was her, and Eurydice readily agrees. Calliope was the best choice here.

“And Aila?” she asks, and Orpheus hesitates – only for a moment however. He recognizes the girl may be odd, but he doesn’t feel… anything with her – not outside of an odd draw to her, to let her in. He just doesn’t understand it, but he trusts that she’s not a threat to them.

“Take her back to my house,” he says. “She likely is just as confused as I am and more frightened, given she has no experience with… any of this.” He thinks of his Father coming and going and can only imagine how a mortal mind would take that. Although… was there a reaction? In the clouds of his mind, however, he cannot recall one.

Eurydice nods, slowly extracting herself from Orpheus – though her fingers linger, her touch gentle against his skin. He leans in, catching her lips again, a soft sigh slipping free. He will never get enough of her – he would not be complete without her. Before he had thought himself alive, but meeting her – sharing his life with her – proved how wrong he was. Until Eurydice, he truly didn’t know what meaning his life had – and he marks those words in his mind… things to tell Eurydice later or perhaps during their wedding vows. He suspects she’d like to hear them.

“Will you be home in time for dinner?” Eurydice asks, and Orpheus nods. He does not plan to be away long – just enough to speak and decide on how to handle the matter of his Father.

At this time of day, Calliope would likely be in the temple – spending time with her sisters – and unlike most, Orpheus knows exactly where to go to find his Mother, even when she was more freely moving about with her own duty.

The moment he steps into the temple, he feels the warmth, feels the music, the poems, the sonnets – all of it. Unlike the Dreaming, he feels at home here… not that he’d tell his Father that… and even still, he found some joy in the Dreaming – he enjoyed his Father’s function… it was just… the Dreaming was fantastical and beautiful and terrifying… while the Waking, while this realm – his own mortal realm – had Eurydice in it.

“What are you doing here?” Calliope whispers – pulling her robe around herself tightly – appearing from a hallway. In a few steps, she closes the distance between them, pulling him into a hug.

“I got into… a disagreement with Father,” he admits, more wanting to lay the fault at the Endless’s feet, but in the face of his own Mother, he cannot. Not when it was not entirely his Father’s fault.

Sighing, Calliope herds Orpheus to an outside fountain, where the two of them can sit – just outside of her sisters’ hearing. She does not mind her sisters most days, but she did not wish to hear them gossip later about her husband. She heard it enough most days, got asked enough questions on the rest.

It takes Orpheus a few minutes to explain the events that transpired, but once he finishes, Calliope can only sit quiet and ponder it. Like Oneiros, she had felt… something odd about the girl… but she could not put her finger on it. Just could barely scratch the surface. With their type of beings, however, what Aila was or wasn’t could be as simple as a blood-line trait, something girl wasn’t even aware of. And yet Oneiros thought it to be more.

Understandable if she truly could not access the Dreaming. But that was not something Calliope could sense – she was not Endless.

“Perhaps, this is just another excuse to hide himself away,” Orpheus mutters. If his Father focused on Aila, he could possibly use it and her to avoid the wedding – something he suspects his Father would try to do.

However, Calliope quickly disagrees. Even if Oneiros may not act like it, she knows he wants to be there for their nuptials. It was not something easily missed nor would he (not that she’d let him, even if there wasn’t a remote possibility of it happening).

“Aila is…” Orpheus starts, but Calliope interrupts here.

“Aila is not entirely what she seems,” the muse says. “Even I can sense that.” Orpheus’s eyes widen – concern bleeding through. “Not that I thinks she’s a threat like your Father does.” Because honestly, Calliope didn’t think the girl was. The little one seemed lonely and lost if anything, and Calliope wanted to find whoever her mother was and lecture her on being thankful for their children, remind her that their children were often the best parts of themselves. Aila’s mother should be ashamed, in Calliope’s opinion… though she’s aware of the hypocritical nature of it… since she would not say the same to Oneiros – although at least, he tried.

Not always very well, but he did.

“We invited her to the wedding,” Orpheus says, and he finds his heart lifting when Calliope beams at him.

“Good, I’m glad,” she says. “I think it would do her some good to be involved.” The little one just seemed so isolated and not broken – Calliope wouldn’t say that. It was more there was a crack in the girl’s façade, and she had yet to decide if she wished to use it to define herself a new or allow it to shatter her.

“Father does not think so,” Orpheus says.

“He says and thinks a lot,” Calliope counters. “That does not mean you need to agree with him.” She wraps an arm around Orpheus, and he leans into her touch. “We are both very proud of you, Orpheus. Much of this… stress… is just pre-wedding nerves.”

“Is that not for me to have?” he asks. After all, it was his wedding, and while he had butterflies whipping around his stomach, he felt far more excitement for the day than anything else.

“I have them as well,” Calliope says. “As does Oneiros. Aila is merely what he’s choosing to focus on instead.” Not that she agreed. “I will speak to him.” There’s a pause, but she feels inclined to say, “He does love you Orpheus.” As though he needs the reminder – she suspects he truly doesn’t but he appreciates the words all the same. She doesn’t know what she’ll say, but she hopes she can settle things before the wedding itself. Maybe she should speak to Aila as well – try to further assess what the girl was and how aware of it in turn. It was possible the girl had no idea she was different… given her upbringing, that was quite possible.

“And Aila?” he asks.

“I will be glad to have her at your wedding,” Calliope says. If she was lucky, if anything, maybe the girl would keep Oneiros distracted enough that Epithumia would not be able to tease her husband into rising to any set bait. She had already been worried about what… interesting changes… the rest of the Endless family might bring, but if Oneiros was too busy to respond, then maybe the day would pass with little outside spectacle. At least none outside of her son’s wedding.

“I love you Mother,” Orpheus says, and Calliope smiles.

“I love you as well,” she whispers, leaning in close.

Quick Notes: Next chapter is Calliope and Dream hashing some things out… but wedding bells are in the air…

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Chapter Thirteen: Who Matters

When Calliope arrives in the Dreaming, she does not announce herself, she does not make a spectacle – she merely steps through the gates and immediately seeks out her husband. She suspects he’s buried deep in work, likely ignoring the ongoing issues with their son – trying his best to push aside any and all ill-feelings about the wedding. Instead, he’d likely be focused on a new dream or nightmare… and whatever Aila was.

Which after visiting Orpheus’s house again – just briefly – and just on the periphery, she does agree the girl was… odd but beyond that..? When she visited, she had just wanted to have eyes on the girl one more time – to try and tease what she was by sensing the air around her. But while she felt… different… there was little beyond that – nothing to suggest danger. Though perhaps, whatever she was was just a remnant of whatever her parents were – whatever her mother was… which given how the girl seemed to be raised was likely lucky. The girl could have been far worse.

It's natural to be curious about the girl’s family now; she wishes they could have merely just asked Aila, instead of… instead of all of this. Calliope sighs. There’s a storm in the Dreaming.

At the very least, she knows what mood to expect her dearest husband in now.

However, to her surprise, Dream is not on the beach crafting, nor in his chambers, or in the fields. He’s in the Dreaming, that she knows. But she cannot easily just find him; she’d think he was hiding from her if she didn’t have such free range to move about the Dreaming.

No, Calliope suspects this is unintentional. It’s not until she goes to the throne room – a place Oneiros only used for business in truth – that she finds him. He sits on his throne, head resting on clasped hands, and the ceiling… the entirety of the ceiling missing, so that the rain pours into the room like rivers, that then cascade off the edges of the newly formed platform.

The throne room sits in an empty void, and the water vanishes into nothing after washing away… whatever it is Oneiros is trying to clean away.

Thankfully, the moment Calliope steps into the room, the water parts for her, and she’s able to make her way unimpeded to Oneiros. She would never think herself in danger in the Dreaming, not from her husband, but she’s aware of his moods. He can be unpredictable, and while he would never hurt her… she stops herself there. She does not believe he would ever hurt her, but he could send her away, bar her from the Dreaming. There were other things he could do, but that doesn’t stop her. Not once.

Calliope makes her way to the stairs, and with the expected air of a queen, she holds her head high, meeting her husband’s gaze without concern or care. No, instead, she maintains the air that she is the one upset and honestly, between the two of them – she has the right to be. Her son came to her, after all - came to her upset because of Oneiros.

“I did not call for you,” he says, breaking the silence a moment after the thunder claps. It’s… a lot… enough so that even Oneiros appears a bit embarrassed by his own mood causing this.

“You did not,” she says, voice quiet but firm. “But our son did.” She does not walk up the steps, staying exactly where she came to stop. If he wants to hear her better, if he wishes to discuss things further, he can come to her. It’s a risk, but given the weather… she suspects he will – eventually. “Your son thinks you’re upset with him. That your ire is for him.”

“Is it not?” Oneiros asks, voice dipping low – enough that she almost has to lean closer to hear it. “I went to him. To discuss matters, and he did not listen.”

“About the wedding, about his life, or about the girl?” Calliope asks. “I do not think this is all about the girl.”

“She is not…” he starts, lips curled back in a snarl. Calliope does not understand why Aila frustrates her husband so much, but she will not allow him to take this uncertainty out on Orpheus.

“She’s a young girl,” Calliope says interrupting – aware of the risks but uncaring. “And instead of talking with your son, you’re focusing on her.” Which is not what their son needed right now; he needed his Father… to be there, to be happy for him, to not be focused on everything but him – and she says as much. “You are purposefully picking fights with him. Why Oneiros?”

“The girl is…” he stops there. They both know she’s more than that, but what – neither of them knew. As such, it’s a moot point, so instead, he pivots – “I am not… I treat Orpheus fair, as expected. The Dreaming… there is much work to do,” he says. “You knew this when you agreed to marry me.”

“I did,” she says, watching as he does finally rise from his throne, but he remains at the top step, standing over her. She refuses to rise to the bait; instead, she keeps her own chin raised high. “I accepted how you would treat me when I agreed to this arrangement, but your son, your child did not. We brought him into this world. You helped create him, but he is not one of your creations Oneiros!” she raises her voice – just as the storm falls silent. “You cannot treat him as you treat your subjects.”

Oneiros glares, and Calliope feels it in her inner being. A shudder runs down her spine. She had so rarely pushed back in this manner; she had never raised her voice. But after everything – having Orpheus come to her… curl into her… it reminded her far too much when he was a child after a nightmare. She hated that then, and she hates it now.

“If he would listen…” Oneiros starts, before rightfully trailing off. When he had gone to Orpheus, it had been not with… ill intentions… he had meant to better assess the girl – try and understand what risk if any that she could pose to his child. He… he did not mean to treat Orpheus as a trivial manner.

“If you would listen,” she counters. “He wants you to stand by his side at his wedding. He wants his Father to be there, Oneiros. Not Dream of the Endless.” In a blink, Oneiros appears a step from her, and she impressively holds her ground. “He understands your concerns about Aila. I have them as well, but you approached them in a way that made him feel that this had nothing to do with safety. With Eurydice’s safety.”

Oneiros says nothing, but he does appropriately drop his gaze. His concern with Aila was about his son’s safety. This wedding… he grits his teeth.

“You cannot tell him to live his life as he sees fit then judge him harshly for it,” she says. Eurydice was a fine woman. They were lucky Orpheus had found someone to spend his days with – to love as she loved Oneiros… as difficult as he made it some days.

“He does not need,” Oneiros starts, just as Calliope’s hand reaches up to cup his chin. He doesn’t pull away, but he refuses to meet her gaze nonetheless. “He has never needed my approval, but I…”

“You worry?” Calliope whispers, and she risks taking a step closer. The rain around them slows to a drizzle. “About his life, about what comes next, about his safety..?” They were the same things she worried about as well. After all, he was growing up, and while delightful, it was terrifying. There were so many unknowns – they were not Destiny, after all, nor the Fates.

Every day – she thanked the Gods for her son and her husband – for what she was graciously given.

“I cannot control his life,” Oneiros admits – nor does he want to. But that did not mean… that did not mean he agreed with every choice his son made. There were so many other things Orpheus could do.

“Do you not want him to marry Eurydice?”

“She is a fine girl,” Oneiros says, albeit reluctantly. For a mortal, she made Orpheus happy, and that was what mattered. For a human, she was a fine match. He had no issues with the girl himself – not that one, at least.

“He’s going to grow up,” Calliope says. “He will continue to do so. We can merely be there for him.” She steps into his embrace, her nose brushing up under his jaw. “We cannot control his life, but we can be happy for him.” With him goes unsaid. “He just wants to make you proud.”

“He does not need to,” Oneiros says – as he said before.

Calliope huffs a laugh, then a sigh against his skin. He can continue to say that, but that didn’t make it true. Not at least in Orpheus’s eyes.

“Be at his wedding, be happy for him,” Calliope says, pulling back slightly. “Maybe try to smile?” She watches as his scowl deepens, but it was worth the small poke at him. Pushing up on her toes, she catches his lips gently. It’s just a brush of a kiss, but she feels him relaxing further. “Perhaps, find a way to keep the peace with your siblings for the day?” His scowl deepens again. “Oneiros,” she says, more seriously. “He wants you to see him. For his sake, do so. You’re his Father. You matter to him.”

Calliope can see she’s winning this disagreement – as she expected too. She had only worried about being tossed once or twice from the Dreaming, but it would seem Oneiros was in a mood willing to listen. She kisses him again, smiling against his skin when his fingers tangle into her tresses.

“He matters to you,” she continues, voice dropping – a smile on her lips… lips he’s watching with far too much interest, and she knows she has him now. “Show him. Like you show me.”

She lets out an involuntary yelp when she finds herself pulled into Oneiros’s chambers. He pushes her against a wall, and his mouth is sealed over hers. She arches herself, plastering more of herself against his chilly form. She’s glad that the rain did not soak her to the bone now, otherwise… what little water she had been splashed with vanishes in an instant… as does some other things. She eyes him – interest burning bright.

Briefly, Calliope has half a mind to clarify not like this, but then he’s kissing her again… and she right now… is also content to have her husband and not just Dream of the Endless. Every other thought fades away.

……..

Some time later, Calliope remains tangled in Oneiros’s bed sheets, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Her fingers brush the exposed skin, before she leans over to kiss his sternum once. Oneiros sighs, not one of exasperation – no, Calliope would recognize that. Instead, she can hear the unsaid relief in it.

“I will attend the wedding,” he says. “I will do my…” She can hear the difficulty here for him. “My best to ensure his day is how he envisions it.” Oneiros keeps his eyes closed, but he can feel how Calliope relaxes beneath his one hand that glides along her side. She wraps herself nearer to him, tangling their legs together, and he suspects it’s her intention to keep him here longer. There is still a lot of work to do, especially given the upcoming nuptials. He would be away from the Dreaming for a day. He had to ensure things were… matters were settled prior to leaving for any extended time.

“Oneiros,” Calliope says, her lips tracing his skin again. She likes the way he tenses then shifts under her – not pulling away but more following after her if anything.

“I will speak to Orpheus again,” Oneiros offers. “I am… I am proud of our son.” He would ensure Orpheus heard him this time. He did not always agree with the boy, but… his son was everything and more.

“Good,” Calliope says. “As am I.”

She settles down, curling tightly into Oneiros’s side. She suspects he will not stay long; he never does, but she will enjoy what little time she gets when she can. It had been a time since they had had… any time together – at least anything of substance, and she craves it many a times. Especially now – even with what they had just done… if anything, it wet her tongue in a way that reminded her how much she missed this, them, together.

However, Calliope knows she needs to bring this up before Oneiros leaves – before he finds out the day of. That would not help matters at all, not after the progress they just made. “Aila will be at the wedding.”

It’s not entirely subtle how Oneiros tenses, but all the same, she’s surprised by how tight every molecule of his becomes. She sighs – upset in part at herself for ruining this but also at him – for this being an issue. The girl… was odd but not a threat – not in her opinion.

“The girl is…”

“Not normal,” Calliope interrupts, and she feels him huff.

For Dream, that’s an easy understated way of explaining it. So, few creatures were bared from his realm. Not normal was not the words he would use to describe her, but at the same time, given he did not entirely know what or who she was, he also did not have any other words to describe her.

“She’s not a threat to Orpheus,” Calliope says, and that she believes to be completely true. “Do you disagree?”

It takes Dream a moment, but he sighs, admitting, “No.” That was not what he picked up from the girl. She did not… respond positively to him, but she liked Orpheus well enough. He did not suspect she had any ill intentions towards his son, but that did not mean he was comfortable with it. Not without knowing more. “But she is not what she seems,” he continues, and Calliope agrees.

“Have you… tried asking her?” she suggests, much to his irritation. Because he knows that she knows, that he did – though not in a way she’d agree with -, and right now, Oneiros was not interested in a lecture. “Oneiros, ask her, but Orpheus likes her. She will be at the wedding. If you cannot make peace with that…” She does not wish to think how their son would respond should Oneiros try to throw the girl out on his wedding day…

“She is not a threat. If she continues not to be one, then we shall not have a quandary,” he says, just as she cannot help but to subtly roll her eyes. She kisses his the side of his chest now, without how she’s curled into him.

“If you’re concerned, have one of your other creations watch her,” Calliope suggests. “But ask her. Nicely. See what she has to say.”

“I shall,” he says, with a nod – glancing down at his wife now. His eyes are softer, more open, and Calliope grins. “But after the wedding,” he says. He can do that much for Orpheus. He can do better… or so he tells himself.

Quick Notes: And… let’s knock all this down.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: When It Starts to Fall Apart

The Corinthian leaves Aila again; not that he wants to, but he cannot stay near with Eurydice returning. The mortal wouldn’t recognize him, but it would bring up far too many questions, especially if Dream returned. As such, he promises to stay as near as he can safely, but otherwise, until she’s alone again, she’s on her own.

Which is fine in Aila’s opinion. After all, she needs to make a plan for the wedding and the events… that would follow. She takes a deep breath, settling her stomach, as she thinks on this again. She would need to change fate – change and save Eurydice… but she didn’t entirely know how yet. She was a Nephilim, but she was not a Fate.

Changing this could either be very easy or near impossible, pending how events unfolded.

Per the story and the Corinthian, Eurydice died soon after the nuptials… because of a snake – a viper… and Aila cannot simply remove every snake from the continent – though she had thought on it a moment longer than she should have. She could merely stay close to Eurydice, but that would also beget some unusual questions… from a multitude of people and likely the Endless. Dream was already suspicious enough.

After his showing the field, Aila did not… she did not have much interest in meeting him again, in being on the other side of his wrath. She had enough of that from her own mother for a lifetime. If it wasn’t for Orpheus… Aila would consider just leaving – working with the nightmare to go home – but she won’t.

Not until Eurydice was okay. Not until Orpheus and Eurydice had the life they deserved.

Which meant staying – which meant figuring this out, without attracting more attention. She supposes she could merely tell them the truth – that she was from the future, that Eurydice was destined to die… but while it would likely work, it would be… Aila licks her lips nervously as she thinks on this – it would likely be good-bye. She doesn’t suspect Orpheus would want her around once he knew what she was or specifically who.

Though, honestly, Aila recognizes the excuse. Orpheus and Eurydice could very well, also, accept her, but to try – to risk it after being given a taste of this… she can’t. Not unless there was no other choice, and right now, Aila still has options.

Just none she can think of for the moment. Aila sits on her bed with a sigh. Eurydice remains in the kitchen working on a meal for much later – allowing some meat to soak, while prepping a broth. The house smelled… wonderful… and Aila can suddenly understand why humans do eat three meals in a day.

Until now, she had only ever eaten to keep up energy, to heal; it was rare that she was given food that she actually enjoyed… especially for multiple meals. As such, she’s not hungry, but she does not care. She will likely try whatever Eurydice has to offer.

Until then, Aila focuses again on her issues – trying to undo fate… at least Eurydice’s fate. If she could not remove the snakes from the world or be the woman’s shadow, then… then she needed to ensure that however Eurydice runs into the snake did not occur. That was possible, she supposes. Keeping the woman from traveling down a specific road and time to prevent the crossing of paths – that could be… done. Could be possible.

Aila smiles – although she does not know entirely when to change the path. At least, not specifically. Eurydice dies on her wedding night, but there were no clocks here, and the story, the tale did not make it clear exactly when she perished anyway.

The nightmare may or may not know, Aila considers, but she is quick to push that aside. The nightmare would more than likely try to talk her out of this. He already had by suggesting they leave before Eurydice returned – but Aila refused. At least until she could be certain she changed things for the better – ergo after the wedding.

Then after the wedding… they could find a way home… back to… Aila frowns, dropping her head down as she ponders this. When she goes home, it would be to a world without Orpheus, Eurydice, her father without his memories – though, at this point, that was not a hardship on her given what she had seen so far -, and Lucifer. Her Mother… would be furious with all of this, any of this, and Aila nibbles her own lip in worry.

There’s nothing to be done about that now. All she can do is handle what’s in front of her – which means this. The wedding.

Aila can do something. With a steadying breath, Aila moves to head to the kitchen, only to catch sight of someone by the woods – not the nightmare, but a young woman. It wouldn’t be that out of place, Aila supposes, if the woman wasn’t staring directly into the house, wasn’t staring directly into her. It unsettles the Nephilim in a way that even physically her heart skips a beat.

And with Eurydice predisposed, Aila makes her way outside. The woman – young, pretty – smiles as Aila approaches, but the smile is far from inviting, far from comforting. Even her instincts yell at her to turn around, but she finds she cannot – not until she understands who this is.

“Hello little one,” the woman says, only for two others to appear – both of whom are older.

“Far from home, aren’t you?” the oldest asks, only for the middle aged one to shush her.

“She’s home sick, no need to worsen it,” the middle-aged one says. “Or…”

“Are you?” the youngest asks, curiously. None of them come closer, much to Aila’s relief, but standing here – by the woods, she senses that this may have been a mistake.

“You could go home,” the eldest comments, reaching out – arthritic fingers brushing against Aila’s hair. The moment her fingers touch it, the strands shift and change, and Aila watches her original color burn through… the blonde slowly receding from the ends, the black taking hold again. The oldest woman doesn’t comment on it but does make a sound to suggest the change interests her.

“But where is home?” the middle one asks, and Aila can feel it then… the power in these three.

Three… something prickles at her… a lesson, a warning… and Aila guards herself, taking a step back. The three frown, and a sense of dread pours over Aila. She smartly moves further away. She may not know what these women are, but they are not to be trifled with – that much she can tell.

“Go home,” the youngest says, far too kindly.

But even with the unspoken warning, the threat Aila can feel in the air, she refuses to capitulate. She shakes her head, unwilling to walk away – not on this. The three click their tongues – in sync.

“You were warned,” the eldest says, and in a blink, they were gone – as though they were never really there.

Aila finds whatever breath she was holding, even subconsciously, she lets out. Whatever those three were – their essence had been suffocating. It had touched her, tasting her, and trying to decipher her. She had felt their power against her skin, and while she suspected they had an inkling of what she was, they were more in the dark than they let on. Otherwise – why the vague warnings, why the questions… they were powerful, but they were… uncertain about her – or so Aila believes. She just wishes she knew what they were.

“I believe we should speak,” Calliope says, coming to stand behind the girl. Her own eyes glued to where the Fates had just been. She does not know why they were here, but she refuses to speak a word on it, else risk their return. However, they had shown themselves to Aila, and as Oneiros suspected, as she suspected, the girl was obviously not mortal – at least not completely.

The Greek muse watches as Aila turns, the sheepish look, the embarrassment obvious – but not rage at being found out. No. All Calliope saw was pain at the secret being slowly peeled back, and she softens her features at the girl. Unlike her husband, she truly believes the girl is not a threat – just misguided and alone.

Beyond the tree line, the Corinthian waits – teeth gritted. The Fates arriving and now Calliope… he worries how this will progress, but before he can step forward, he feels it – another demon at his back. He turns, just as Calliope leads Aila back to the house, to find Beelzebub, in a suit, standing there, quiet, composed, and likely ordered here… the nightmare would be impressed by Lucifer’s gall, if it wasn’t so risky.

To send a demon this close to where Orpheus lived… in this time… the nightmare licks his lips and offers a tight smile.

“It would seem the Endless are causing a bit of a ruckus,” the demon says, with a sigh, appearing unaware of the Fates it would seem. “Interesting occurrence with a nightmare now off leash as well.”

“I told Lucifer… her Lordship, I would return when I had something to talk about,” the nightmare says. He just left out how he planned to never follow through with that plan, but he should have suspected Lucifer would not trust him. She would have a contingency plan, and with Azazel… out of sorts – hopefully still so… it would seem she sent else - at least for now, and with the other demon Lord out of sorts, the nightmare hoping for a while longer... it would seem Beelzebub was next to be summoned and sent here.

“Nonetheless, how goes your progress…” the demon starts, only for the Corinthian to wave him off. He’s certain this is drawing Aila’s attention or would if the Nephilim wasn’t currently following Calliope quietly back to the house. She does glance over her shoulder once, some concern in her eyes. “Do you wish for me to tell her something?”

The nightmare grits his teeth; it would seem Beelzebub did not see the exchange with the Fates but had seen Aila. There was no possibility that he did not tell Lucifer about the girl, and the nightmare against a demon Lord… he sighs, putting on an uneasy smile. “Not yet,” he says, “but I’m having some progress.” He glances to the house, insinuating the general vicinity versus focusing on the girl. He hopes that does not come back to bite him.

Beelzebub’s gaze is drawn to the house, and he smiles – almost too knowingly, before in a blink vanishes from sight. The nightmare lets out the breath he was holding. They need to leave, he decides – even if he needs to drag Aila by the wing tips.

Inside the house, Aila sits in the dining room, while Eurydice continues to work – she does so without a word, much to Calliope’s surprise. The muse wasn’t sure what to expect when the girl… was found out… but this utter silence, this acceptance… it was unusual. Enough so that Calliope decides this conversation is best kept private for the moment, so when Eurydice steps in – Calliope politely asks for Eurydice to fetch some herbs from her house for dinner tonight.

Impressively enough, Calliope notes Aila’s aware of the reason for the request and gives Eurydice a soft smile too – promising she will be okay with Calliope here. There was not much trouble to get into after all – not that the Greek muse entirely believed that, not after the Fates.

Once alone, with the small house slowly filling with the aromatics of dinner, Aila considers the Greek Muse too. The other woman did not appear upset or angry – more concerned if anything. Which the Nephilim suspected was an appropriate response to walking outside and finding her speaking to three… who knows what they were but not mortals. Aila knew that. She wants to ask Calliope, desperately so, but she keeps her tongue bit, at least for the moment. She figures the other woman has a right to ask her questions first.

With a loud sigh, Calliope leans back, resting her hands in her lap and states, “I only have a few simple questions Aila, and I would appreciate your honesty.” She catches the young girl’s eyes directly; she may not be an Endless. She may not be able to read others as they do, but she believes she can tell when someone is being dishonest with her. “Are you a threat to my son?”

Aila’s head snaps up at that question – her head shaking even before she’s able to stammer the ‘no’ out. Orpheus had the least to fear from her, if anything – not that Calliope would know that, she supposes. She shies back at the realization that, of course, Calliope – like Dream – would think her a danger to them. They didn’t know what or who she was, still didn’t it would seem – just that she wasn’t… human, not completely.

“Do you know what I am?” Calliope then asks, and she watches the young girl slowly nod, her gaze dropping into her own lap. “Do you know what Oneiros is?”

“Dream of the Endless,” she whispers – her own heart lurching into her throat when she says that out loud. She worries briefly that speaking his name will summon him – though thankfully, it would seem to be not the case when it remains just them.

When the room falls silent, Aila fidgets with her hands in her lap as such. Dream may not be here, but Calliope… she does not like how the Greek Muse looks at her – her eyes and gaze are open but there’s a level of distrust, concern there. Things Aila wanted to avoid…

“I did not know Orpheus was his son,” she continues, and she watches as Calliope slowly nods – accepting that answer as the truth.

Which for Calliope she does believe; she recalls dinner the night prior and how the girl had frozen in the doorway. At that time, she had taken it as mere nerves of being in a new household, but now… the muse can see it was due to Aila’s surprise at the Endless’s presence.

Finally, Calliope asks, “What are you?”

And that – Aila hesitates to answer. The first question she seriously considers not saying a word. She’s uncertain how the muse would take it; she has a suspicion now, given Dream’s earlier ‘questioning’, how he’d respond. However, she doesn’t want to risk it. Even if… even though Calliope knows and everything has already changed – answering this feels irreversible. Aila falls silent, in turn.

Calliope recognizes the distress immediately – how Aila shifts, how every muscle tightens -, and she softens her voice, “Aila.”

Half of her wants to tell Calliope everything – all of it, just as she wanted to tell Orpheus, but when she glances up at the muse, she can see it still. The woman is being gentle with her, understanding, but the mistrust, even masked, remains. Calliope may not even realize it, but she’s taut waiting for Aila’s answer… and to admit she was not only Dream’s offspring… but Lucifer’s… Aila cannot. She’s a coward for it – her mother would sneer and tell her as much… but… but…

Aila has felt alone for so long that she hadn’t even realized how she felt until faced with quite the opposite. To reveal who she was – she couldn’t. But, she could at least give Calliope the what.

The air shifts, the room darkens – briefly for a second, so quick that even the muse wonders if she imagined – but suddenly, Calliope can see them. Two giant dark wings unfurling in the tight space – feathered, dark with a sheen almost woven in -, and her eyes widen at the sight, her own mouth dropping ever so slightly in shock.

Calliope knew angels – she had met them on more than one occasion, but she had… she draws her gaze from the wings to Aila, and she somehow stammers out, “You’re a Nephilim.”

All Aila can do is nod.

Quick Notes: Calliope is too nice for this world – that is not a suggestion to anything. Just I like her and the world needs more of her and Orpheus.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: How We Are

Aila waits – breathless as Calliope processes the information, as she stares into the dark recesses of the feathers now stretched across the room. For a moment, the muse even reaches out, fingers splayed towards the wings before she realizes what she was likely doing, pulling her hand back abruptly. It’s been some time since Aila had truly physically pulled the wings onto this plane, unfurled them in such a manner, and the pain remains. It always hurts, but some part of her is relieved at the knowledge at least being out.

However, until she hears Calliope speak again, Aila cannot hide her anxiety well. Every minute that passes without a word, and Aila can only shift in her place, a slight tremor in the feathers even.

It’s not that the muse means to be silent when faced with this knowledge; it’s just more she’s at a loss of what to say. Out of everything she expected, this was not… this was not it. She truly had thought the girl was a witch or had some bloodline trait but not this. Never this.

Calliope had met a few angels – they were not her favorite bunch. However, she had met them in passing, more due to Oneiros and his dealings with them. So, she could admit to some bias; however, that didn’t change they were not… easy creatures. Something her husband tended to agree with. His dealings with them - he never enjoyed either.

Although that was likely in part to one of his least favorite angels, well former angel.

Lucifer Morningstar’s and Oneiros’s matters were well known even to the other realms. Her desire to see the Endless brought low was not well hidden, and in turn, her husband dealt with angels but with an expected reluctance – though most angels also condemned Lucifer or claimed to. Thankfully all the same, from what she understood, their dealings were brief. Hell had been quiet as of late, and she had not seen an angel in quite some time.

And yet.

A Nephilim. Calliope had never had the pleasure of that. From what she understood, there were none in active existence – all purged by angels a long time ago. Nephilims were abominations, a risk, unruly – feral was a word she had heard… though none of that applied to Aila.

Calliope realizes then the girl sits, waiting patiently for some reaction, something more than what Calliope has done thus far. With an embarrassed smile, she steps back – offering the space to try and put some things at ease. “They’re very beautiful,” she says, and the words – she watches the girl’s eyes widen in shock. A piece of her breaks at that – at seeing such a simple compliment bringing such joy to the younger girl across from her.

At least now, Calliope understands the family troubles. An absent father – likely one in Heaven -, and a mother… she knows little of how Nephilims are conceived, other than one angel was needed… but from what she understood, the creatures were rarely a consensual creation. She wonders if Aila’s mother only saw her father when she looked at the girl, and that was why she was treated with such disdain and distance… over the crime her father committed. A crime Aila should not have been punished for.

“Why did you not tell us?” Calliope asks, and she watches Aila wring her hands nervously.

“Initially,” she says, quiet, “I thought Orpheus was just another mortal.” Though just another was underselling him. She had seen him sing, heard him, and even then, she had been drawn to him. She just didn’t know at that time it was likely due to their familial connection. “When I saw Dream…” she trails off here, licking her lips nervously. “My kind is not,” she swallows roughly, “well liked. Orpheus and Eurydice treated me nicely.” She didn’t want it to end goes unsaid, but Calliope understands.

And the muse says as much – both to Aila’s surprise and relief. Quietly, the muse situates herself across from the Nephilim, eyes still occasionally trailing to the wings.

“You’re not a threat to us?” she asks again, and Aila immediately shakes her head without hesitation. “Then, I see no issues between us.”

The door to the house opens again, indicating Eurydice return, but Aila waits – eyes wide and uncertain. Calliope, however, smiles and waves her hand, and in an instant, Aila pulls her wings back from this plane. The shadows, the feathers gone in an instant – though Calliope is certain if she tried, she could feel the remnants in the air if she moved her hand where they once sat.

“You’re not going to tell them?” Aila whispers, and Calliope leans over – grasping the Nephilim’s hands in hers.

“I hope you will,” the muse says. “They will accept you.” Her son absolutely would without hesitation, and Eurydice would likely be surprised but wouldn’t care either. Neither of the young ones would given their own familial ties. If anything, the muse suspects they’d find some relief that Aila was slightly like them as well – there would be no need for secrets then… not that Calliope knew the one Aila continued to hide.

“I will,” Aila says, meaning it. “After the wedding,” she adds – just as Eurydice steps into the room.

The woman eyes the two quietly; she can sense she just walked in on something, but when Calliope smiles then Aila, the tension feels broken. Eurydice holds up the jar of requested spices, and with nothing short of a happy clap, Calliope rises to help in the kitchen. Aila, all the while, remains where she’s sitting. Cooking is not…

Eurydice and Calliope stick their heads back into the room, however, and beckon Aila to join. What should be a simple roast with a base somehow turns into a stew after Aila… finds a way to almost catch the small alcove on fire – thankfully not by any magical means.

The muse is both amused and exhausted to see the Nephilim apparently sharing Oneiros’s skills in such things. Her husband was magnificent at creation – unless it came to food, when made the mortal way. That was… beyond him…and for a moment, Calliope considers Aila – her darkened hair (something Eurydice has yet to comment one), but whatever small thought that was forming fades in an instant when Orpheus arrives home.

Walking into a house that was light, airy, with an interesting smell – Orpheus keeps it to himself what he would define as to be interesting – was exactly what he needed. Unlike the field or at the temple, his worries and concerns slip away at the sight of Eurydice holding up a bowl, with Aila’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The thoughts regarding his father are gone in an instant as he takes a bite of the stew – hiding his… concern… at the texture poorly before Eurydice reveals their actual dinner and not the initial unfortunate attempt. When it’s revealed, Orpheus sighs with a smile, while Aila scowls since that bowl was her contribution. Of course, he immediately tries to backtrack until he notices Aila was in on the trick, given her barely concealed smirk.

Only then do the four of them sit at the table, and when Calliope sits near Aila – a soft smile and nod – Orpheus quickly joins. If his Mother thinks and believes Aila to be okay, then whatever his Father thinks… I cannot sense her… vanishes. He trusts his Mother, and right now, he just doesn’t want to think about the Dreaming and his father.

A few hours later, Aila meanders back into her room while Calliope shares a glass of wine with Eurydice and Orpheus. She had been invited to stay, but after today, after the emotional toll, and whatever those three were outside, Aila just wants… a few minutes to herself to process, to relax, to re-assess.

Which is the moment the nightmare returns – the Corinthian slips through the window, blood stains on his clothes. Aila eyes them wearily before grabbing a rag and offering it to him without a word. She doubts he’d put himself or them at risk if there wasn’t a need.

The Corinthian offers nothing besides a muttered thanks as he wipes the blood from his cheeks and cleans his sunglasses. He does, however, glance passed Aila to check on Orpheus and the others to find they are unmoved from the other room. He can hear their voices and laughter, but otherwise, for the moment Aila and him remain alone. Which is good – which is what he needs. They cannot stay here, he decides.

After the Fates… after Dream… after the demons – it isn’t safe. Especially given the lesser creatures that had been drawn here… mindless things but hungry – things he had to deal with, harshly.

For them… and given what’s coming in a few days, he suspects it would be best for Aila to not be around for Eurydice’s death. It’s obvious to the nightmare that the girl likes her brother and knowing and seeing what Eurydice’s death would do to him – he doesn’t want that for her. It would be best if they left before, especially given Dream’s current mood. He regrets not taking her from the field earlier, now.

The nightmare may not be of this time, but even he can sense the turmoil in the Dreaming… it was… improved, quieter now, but the Corinthian doesn’t want to tempt fate – he scowls at the thought of those three. But he doesn’t want to wait to see what happens when Dream comes back, and right now, with the other three preoccupied.

“We should go,” the Corinthian says, much to Aila’s displeasure.

“No,” she says almost immediately. “Their wedding is in two days.”

Which was the point, the nightmare ruefully thinks. Dream would certainly be back for that – likely be back for that, his mind helpfully adds.

“Aila,” the nightmare says. “You don’t want to see that.” He adds the second part more quietly. The laughter down the hall drowns his words slightly but not his intention. Even he doesn’t want to see that. “Aila.”

“I’m staying Cori,” she hisses, though she keeps to herself why. She can see it now that he doesn’t agree – wouldn’t agree with her intentions.

“Aila,” he growls, reaching forward – hand wrapping around her elbow. “The Fates were here. That isn’t…”

The Fates - the three woman, Aila realizes suddenly. That’s why they felt as they did, and she shudders to think of why they were here themselves. Because of Orpheus, because of her? The Fates – even Mazikeen had warned her to cautious of the three… but even knowing that, Aila stands firm. She pulls her arm away, eyes hardened. She won’t leave Eurydice to this – Orpheus too.

“No,” Aila states again, turning more towards the nightmare – facing him fully. “Calliope knows what I am,” she says – and it’s like a weight off her chest to say that.

“She knows who…” the nightmare starts, his voice incredulous at the idea the muse would know Aila’s origins.

“No, just what,” she corrects, and it would hopefully stay that way. “But I’m not leaving.”

“Dream…”

“No.” Aila remains firm, and she sees the moment the nightmare considers his options. Asking did not work, telling her certainly did not work, so all he had left was to try and force her. While she was not the most powerful thing, she was more than enough for the nightmare – something the Corinthian recalls readily. A hefty clap of thunder outside reminds them both of that fact. “I’m changing this.”

Unlike the Greek muse earlier that realized softer handling sometimes worked better, the nightmare does nothing of the sort. Instead, he moves closer to the Nephilim, lips pursued. The last thing he wants is to try and drag the girl from this house, but to hear her speak… her intentions… it cannot be done – at least, not to his knowledge, and if she tried… if she failed… he refuses to think if she succeeded.

Nonetheless, the attempt to do so – it would attract far too much attention. It would reveal far too much. And the demons… Lucifer… they were already sniffing far too close. In his own bid to get away, he had drawn more attention to them; it wouldn’t take long for the demons to realize it wasn’t Orpheus that was of interest but her. Especially if she went forward with this plan.

The Corinthian knows he cannot allow Lucifer to touch Aila – not in this time, not in theirs either. Orpheus, at least, would be protected to a degree. Dream was many things, but he would not allow Lucifer to touch the boy…

Not without recompense.

Lucifer wouldn’t risk it either – not without proof the boy was what she was seeking, but it wouldn’t take long if the Fates kept sticking their noses where they shouldn’t. The Corinthian had a lot to say about the Fates – to the Fates… not that he was suicidal enough to do so. But right now – they were not making his life easier. As always.

But Aila – Dream would not protect her, at least not without knowing the who (but even then, his mind wonders), and the nightmare was not going to watch Hell take her… he stops himself wondering would he do the same should the Endless choose a similar fate. Right now, though, that isn’t his focus. Right now, he needs to get her out of this house – he pushes aside any guilt he may feel, which he doesn’t, over separating her from her sibling.

“Aila,” he hisses. This time he won’t take no for an answer. He may be lacking the power to drag her from the house, but he suspects she’d hesitate to truly hurt him. Killing wasn’t her thing, as evidenced by her reaction to it prior, understandable or not, but he realizes quickly he woefully underestimated her desire to stay.

One moment, he’s in the house with Aila, and the next, he feels torn asunder and tossed rather unceremoniously onto a sandy beach – a very familiar sandy beach. Slowly, he gathers his bearing, a slight hiss slipping past his lips as he does so. Every inch of him aches – even parts he didn’t think existed given he wasn’t exactly human.

However, the moment he sits up, the nightmare closes his eyes. The Dreaming. Aila banished him back to the Dreaming, and in a moment, he suspects he will be seeing Dream. There was no possibility his master hadn’t felt that. It was likely akin to someone kicking in his door, and the nightmare knows too that the stench of Hell is likely still plastered to his skin.

It was one thing to lie to Lucifer, but honestly for the nightmare, lying to Dream..?

With a disgruntled sigh, the Corinthian stands – unsurprised to see his once master standing at his back, eyes narrowed – suspicion well apparent. In this moment, the nightmare has no idea what Lucifer was thinking with regard to the Nephilim. To send him here like this and intact…

What she was planning…

What and who she was…

Aila was a threat.

Quick Notes: Poor Corinthian just getting tossed around, but Aila is in her own league – not that she truly understands that… there’s a reason for her – restraint, her inconsistencies with her abilities. But for now… I think we should have a wedding.

So there are two variations of this story – one that ends much more quickly and less chaotic… and the other version… which will have more chapters and more interesting twists and turns. Which version to do

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: By the Power Invested

Oneiros did not return before the wedding – much to Orpheus’s relief and concern. Even though is mother told him not to worry, that this father would be there and by her words, be on his best behavior – he couldn’t shake that overwhelming feeling of dread. Every waking moment and not, he felt an unending sense of darkness, just sitting on the outside of his periphery. At times, it was enough to even catch his breath, but Eurydice helped to ease it – Aila too. Not that either of them understand what Orpheus sees… feels… he keeps it to himself for now.

It takes Orpheus a moment to realize he’s dreaming. He doesn’t always know, but in this moment, standing on the sandy shores – he does. He’s staring out at a black sea, the water turbulent, splashes of color – what looks like red – stare back at him. Even though he’s on land, he can feel it beneath his feet – the push and pull. He feels momentarily without a body before the world settles again, and then all he can feel is fire… unending… terrible fire…

Enough that it sends him to his knees – a cry choked in his throat. It’s painful enough that even subconsciously he calls for someone, anyone… his father…

The pain ebbs in an instant, the waters calm, the lick of flames silenced – and Oneiros kneels in front of him, hands cupped around Orpheus’s jaw. There’s… an unreadable look there, but Orpheus doesn’t care. In this moment, his Father was here, and he reaches up to grab the hand on his face.

“What was that?” Orpheus whispers. He does not understand what just happened, what he just saw.

Oneiros pauses; he chances a glance over his shoulder, at the water’s edge. It was… unusual… not that he tells Orpheus that; instead, he sits and waits for Orpheus to calm. All the while, Orpheus struggles with what’s real, what’s the Dreaming, and everything in between.

It takes a moment, but he forces out, “You’re here.” His voice is quiet, uncertain, but he watches his Father nod in response. “You’re actually here,” he repeats, just to ensure this was not just a dream but Dream.

“I am,” he says, helping Orpheus back to his feet.

“I do not…” he says, stumbling – thinking back on the pain, the heat, the feel of blades, claws against his skin. It was too real. “What does that mean?”

But Oneiros says nothing. He cannot be certain what Orpheus saw or experienced, but it was… it unsettled him. It was and was not the Dreaming, whatever it was. Unwilling to admit that, he says instead, “Today is your wedding. You should wake. Eurydice will be waiting.”

The name of his soon-to-be wife distracts Orpheus, and he nods. Whatever that was fading already from mind. He turns away from his father, but he hesitates near the precipice of waking. “Will you be there Father?” he asks, quiet.

“If you wish it.”

Orpheus could push the Endless away, disavow him – after everything -, but right now, he – without hesitation – nods. He wants his Father there by his side on his wedding day.

“Then I shall see you soon.”

……………….

Orpheus wakes – rested but not. The night before a wedding – now day of -, it’s to be expected to have nerves, but still… the dream… the nightmare… it lingers than fades in an instant. He decides he can dwell on it later, but first, he grins, pushing to his feet – practically jumping out of bed. Today, he’s getting married.

It takes little time to dress, but the moment Orpheus steps into the main room – he’s practically shoved out the door by Aila and Calliope. Apparently, Eurydice came over early and both are helping her to prepare for the ceremony later. Meaning, for now, Orpheus is left to his own devices… meaning, he needs to get to the temple, where Eurydice will meet him.

It’s a bit overwhelming but relieving to finally be here on this day; he’s mere hours from tying his life and fate to Eurydice, and it’s all he ever wanted. Grabbing his lyre, Orpheus makes his way to the temple, only with a shout to the other women inside. He’ll be seeing them soon, anyway.

Aila rolls her eyes at Orpheus’s child-like energy. For a young man about to be married, he was… in a state befitting a kid in a candy store – not that she truly understood that reference, not that Eurydice or Calliope would either.

Unlike Orpheus unbridled joy, Eurydice is the epitome of nerves. She fidgets, sighs, and shifts every few minutes, even as Calliope works to pin the other woman’s hair perfectly into a bun of curls and waves. It’s harder – much – not that Calliope complains. Aila does, though only to tease and with a smile – something that helps to calm Eurydice.

The last two days Aila has been… better, freer. With Calliope knowing her secret – at least a majority of it -, Aila found… that she could breathe easier. Though only in part – it wasn’t consistent or constant, but she would occasionally think on the nightmare and wonder where he went. She hadn’t meant to… banish him… as she did, but since she did, things were easier. She wasn’t worried about her plans being stopped – though most of her plans revolved around stay near Eurydice at all times.

It was just… she glances out an open window… she hadn’t meant to send the Corinthian away away, just away enough for her to do this. To stop Eurydice from dying. One mortal death. One…

Fate could… fate could not care that much, she supposes – well aware that it is likely a lie. Why would the Fates visit otherwise… However, she was here – it could only be due to that and nothing to due with Eurydice and her plan for the other woman to live. Aila focuses on that.

“You’re beautiful,” Calliope comments, brushing the last of Eurydice’s hair back, and the other woman beams. Aila readily agrees. Eurydice, even when plain, was pretty, but prepared for her wedding? The woman’s joy truly brought out every feature.

“Your turn,” Eurydice says, turning towards Aila – who can only stare wide eyed at both other women. However, they are not dissuaded from situating Aila in the chair next.

Her concerns regarding the nightmare melt away – at least for now. After the wedding, after Eurydice was okay – she can go find him then.

……………….

The temple is already… busy… Orpheus didn’t realize how many people would be at this, but he supposes as the son of Oneiros and a muse, it would make sense for there to be a party of some sort. Which he does find some enjoyment in, but only in the sense, he’s now counting the seconds until Eurydice arrives.

“Hello Orpheus,” Oneiros says, stepping nearer to his son. He stands, stoic and unmoving – curious to see how the boy will react in the Waking to his presence. Thankfully, though, Orpheus smiles – an actual smile at the sight of Dream.

“Hello Father,” he says, and in that moment, the earlier fight, the past disagreement means little. At least to Orpheus – because right now, his father is here. And that’s what matters. He recalls his mother’s words - he loves you. Orpheus clings to that.

“Is your wife to be here yet?” Oneiros asks, well aware the other woman is not. He just can sense his son’s anxiety, and he suspects solemn silence is unlikely to help.

“Not yet,” Orpheus says. “She’s with Mother and Aila.” He says it without thinking and flinches at the mention of Aila, but to his surprise, his Father doesn’t react, besides nodding.

Dream’s aware Aila will be here – Orpheus told him, Calliope told him. He did not expect that to change, and for today, for this evening, he will say not a word regarding it. Tomorrow, however, he plans to talk with the girl again – as he told Calliope… though his wife had made it clear to not frighten the girl. It would seem his wife had developed a soft spot for the younger mortal as well.

Calliope arrives first, a smile on her face at the sight of both her husband and son standing together. Oneiros does not appear overly thrilled, but she recognizes her husband rarely does. Without a word, he steps forward – hand outstretched to take hers, and she smiles as she steps near to his side behind Orpheus. However, she cannot help but watch her son’s face as Eurydice crests the hill.

Of course, he had just seen her last night – and the night before that, and plenty of days prior, but in this moment, Orpheus cannot take his eyes off Eurydice. She smiles, and he crosses the steps to her immediately – a kiss to her cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, though to him, she always is.

“I had help,” she says, but she recognizes she could have come freshly from bed, and he would have said the same thing. With a smile, she joins Oneiros, Calliope on the steps with Orpheus.

“Where is…” Orpheus starts, but Eurydice’s eyes being drawn pull his as well.

It’s not a very loud sigh, but one that Calliope hears nonetheless from her husband. An unsurprising one given the rest of the Endless family had just arrived, and she takes his hand in hers – squeezing gently, doing what she can to remind him that today is not the day for family squabbles.

Teleute, Epithumia grin at the sight of Dream – for profoundly different reasons. Death is happy to see her brother and her nephew… although… she can sense something already with Eurydice, though she hopes she’s wrong. Desire, on the other hand, is ecstatic for another day that they can likely torment Dream, and given Calliope’s presence, it was likely big brother had been neutered to a degree. He would be forced to bite his tongue and mind his manners – all the more fun for Desire.

“It’s good to see you again Orpheus,” Teleute says, stepping forward reaching out to grasp one hand of his and one of Eurydice’s. “You both look stunning.” She catches Dream’s eye now. “Don’t look so serious brother, today is a happy day,” she says in a whisper – wrapping his arm in hers and pulling him into the temple grounds where Eurydice and Orpheus are already heading.

The sun is only starting to shift when Aila finally crests the hill. She didn’t mean to separate herself from Eurydice, but she knew the woman would be safe until tonight… and she needed… she needed a few minutes longer to prepare herself - something Calliope had understood given she saw the girl for what she was. As such, Aila had stayed at the house – taking deep breaths, dressed in the light red dress that was a gift from Eurydice, with her hair pinned up. Mostly only the black showed now, but if she looked in a mirror, she’d see it. Hopefully, no one else would.

The wedding itself had yet to occur, but the was early festivities had started, including drinking and laughter – which Aila suspects would only ramp up as the night went on. It was busy enough that Aila could slip in, quietly, but she does catch Orpheus’s and Eurydice’s eyes. They’re stuck talking to some people, but they both smile at her when she arrives.

With a quiet nod, Aila settles herself away from the couple, but she’s here… and… she feels… off, tense… worried. She’d have to change tonight, and while she wants to put on a happy face for the couple, all she can do it focus on is the primary event tonight… which was not the nuptials.

Teleute laughs, an easy smile on her face, as she speaks with Calliope, but she cannot help that uneasy sense… that foreboding knowledge from creeping in. Eurydice.

She sighs, but as expected says nothing more – only continues to speak with Calliope – until something else catches her eye. Death recognizes souls – if she looked hard enough, paid enough attention, she could know a soul as though it was an old friend. The name may take a moment, but she’d know it. However, the newcomer… Teleute stares, head tilted, and initially, she looks away, as she expects the name to come to her soon enough… only for it to not. When she looks back, the girl is staring at her in turn, and Death senses… nothing. It’s an empty void, and she shifts – that should not be…

She glances to Oneiros, opening her mouth to say something – only for her to realize he’s also looking after the girl… not overtly but sneaking glances here and there. She realizes then, he’s aware of her, but he’s doing nothing. Teleute glances back to the girl again, but she’s returned to eating a small apple, unaware or at least pretending to be of the attention now on her.

Which Aila’s aware. She can feel both their gazes – as well as another. She refuses to address that one though. Her mother taught her the names of the Endless and their functions. It took her a moment to figure out who was who, but she did, and it’s Destiny that will not look away. Unlike Death who apparently checked on her, then moved on… and Dream who cannot help but periodically assess her, Destiny is outright staring. It’s unsettling, and she despises it.

However, it’s Orpheus and Eurydice’s day. She bites her tongue, saying nothing – doing what she can to pretend nothing out of the ordinary is ongoing… while she continues to wait, intent on saving Eurydice’s life.

The wedding ceremony is beautiful but simple; the two exchange their vows – words of affirmation and love - but for otherworldly beings, it’s more than that even. Two strands of fate intertwining in many ways, and that moment Orpheus pledges himself, Oneiros can only watch his son’s joy… and he smiles slightly.

The party following is nothing short of Desire’s work. People laugh, drink, and have far too much fun… everything Oneiros would rather avoid, but for tonight, he finds a place to sit and waits. He watches Eurydice, Calliope, and Orpheus dance… only to eventually drag Aila in as well – much to her amusement and mortification. However, within a few steps, she falls right in line, as though she belongs just as easily as the rest.

“Hello little brother,” Death says, coming to sit next to Dream.

“Have our siblings gone?” he asks.

“They had things to do,” she says, adding once he asks after her. “I did stay. I also have things to do.” She sighs, catching sight of Eurydice again. Of all nights – why was it this night her function called to her. She knows… Dream will weather this well enough, but her nephew… whom she did love… she could see how this would crush him. She can only hope that his mother’s love and hopefully father’s attention would help him weather it. However, now that she has a quiet moment with Dream, she asks, “Who’s the girl?”

Dream glances up from his hands, well aware already of who Death is asking after. He suspected she sensed the same issue he did – the lack of anything from her. However, to not enter the Dreaming was one mystery… to think, she may be invisible to Death as well was… troubling, unsettling. However, she says, “A friend of Orpheus’s.”

“Friend?” she echoes back.

“So, it would seem,” he says, with some slight resignation. Watching the girl dance with Eurydice and Orpheus, he can see now that separating them would be… difficult… if it was needed. Calliope did not seem to think so, but his wife… was a muse. She did not always appreciate the evil in the world – evil that he sees day in and day out through the subconscious of the Dreaming. But like her, he did not sense nefarious purposes in the girl… although given he could barely sense her at all… made that a difficult observation to believe, to confirm.

“Huh,” is all Death has to offer, and he cannot help how he stares at her incredulous. She grins, wrapping her arm around his; she’s aware that probably wasn’t the insight he was looking for. It was just… she didn’t have anything else to add – not right now. The girl was odd… perhaps, it was a question for Destiny later if she remembered. After all, the world was full of interesting mortals – it was possible, she just fell onto that side of the spectrum. “Dance with me?” she then asks.

“No. I do not dance.”

“Dance with your wife?” she says, and it takes him a moment to realize she’s purposefully needling him. He sighs but says nothing more.

Aila watches the two dance, happy and full of life, and she can’t keep her own smile off her face. This… this was what she had been missing all those years trapped in her own home, forced into training – to never be good enough. This was life – living, and she laughs as she spins to the music. For a moment, Aila forgets about being different… and just enjoys the moment.

It’s when the moon is high that Aila recognizes she needs to focus. Tonight… tonight Eurydice dies, and that shocks her system enough that she smartly weaves her way out of the party and finds a corner to sit. Her hair – pins long loose – let it sit on her shoulders versus up, and she can catch sight of the black fading to blonde to black again – an ombra effect in many ways. She realizes she should just cut it – remove any trace of the blonde.

After tonight… after all of this, she didn’t really feel like Lucifer’s child anymore. Though – who was she then…

Aila can’t ponder it long when she watches Eurydice and Orpheus stumble out of the temple grounds, and without a moment of hesitation, she follows. This was the story – here. Eurydice dies on their wedding night because of a viper… and Aila just needs to…

The two stumble into the grass, laughter and happiness infectious. Aila won’t let them lose this. She won’t…

Nearby, she senses someone watching her, and she glances up in time to catch… Death… it’s the second oldest watching her, an odd look on the other woman’s face, as Aila quietly bounds after the couple. The two continue to laugh, which would tell Aila the direction to go easily enough if not for the moonlight also helping. She watches the two stumble into an embrace, and Aila surges forward – surprising them both. In the grass, Aila can feel and sense it. She won’t let it…

It's so simple, but with a step, Aila reaches the snake – reaches the couple, and they both gasp, stumbling back. The darkness aids her – masks her movements, though she worries that even then, they could see the inhuman actions of her body.

“Aila!” Orpheus shouts, likely loud enough to garner attention, but Eurydice gasps – because Aila has the viper around the neck.

Such a simple thing to undo – something she didn’t even need much of her power for, save for a touch of speed, and Aila has the viper in hand. She holds up the snake, hissing and spitting, before graciously tossing it a dozen or so feet away. There was no need to kill it – wasn’t the snake’s fault -, but she doesn’t want to risk keeping it near them.

“Sorry, I saw the snake and…” she stumbles here, not sure how to entirely explain this, when Eurydice hugs her.

“That could have bitten Orpheus or I,” she says, voice tight with emotion. “Thank you.”

“Aila, you may have saved our lives,” Orpheus continues, reaching out – hand gripping Aila’s arm. “Thank you.”

Aila cannot bring herself to say anything – to admit in this moment that she knew the outcome… and elected to change it because she doesn’t care. For such a profound event, Aila considers it was easy enough to undo. She smiles at the couple softly, silently wishing them a good long life.

A moment later, the two are hugging again – smiles easy and love readily apparent… and it was worth it. One human life… Aila turns to give them privacy, catching sight of the three women again… the Fates… they stare at her again, curiously, before blinking out of existence.

One snake… Aila wants to laugh at how absurdly easy that was. The Corinthian would likely… she stops herself there – reminding herself abruptly that she sent him away, and she bites her lip. She needs to find him. She needs…

Orpheus’s scream causes Aila to turn back, just in time to catch… a demon… she recognizes it – not personally but by the feel of Hell against her skin… a demon pushing its claw straight into Eurydice’s belly – a sneer twisted on its face.

It takes Aila a moment… not a very long one, but one nonetheless to understand what’s happening. The snake was why Eurydice died… not a demon… why was a demon… her eyes trail past that demon and catch sight of Azazel – awake and staring at her.

Aila’s breath catches… she caused this…

The demon, now drenched in Eurydice’s blood, steps back as she collapses to the ground. “You should tell your father, he has no part in this,” the demon hisses – it’s stare focused only on Aila. Just beyond him, Azazel grins – it was a risk to attack the Endless’s child’s wife, but she was not under the same protections as the rest of the family… and the girl… as he told Lucifer when he woke… the girl was not normal… once the nightmare had vanished, it didn’t take much convincing from Azazel to allow this, but with a small bow and wave, the two pull back from the mortals. Azazel is not looking to tangle with the girl again – not until he can taste exactly what she is, then tear her apart for it.

The demons do not even get a chance to take another breath, when they’re both thrown back – the power a storm against their skin. Briefly, Azazel thinks it’s the girl – only to realize Dream is standing there, separating them from his child. It was not enough of an attack to declare a war, but it was a warning.

“No, Eurydice,” Orpheus says, hands pressed tightly over the wound. “Father, please…” he glances up at Dream, while the Endless continues to stare at the demons. He does not know why they’re here, but this was near enough of an assault on his son that he considers marching into Hell to demand an answer. Something his sister must realize, as her hand gently grasps his elbow.

“Orpheus?” Eurydice chokes out, just as the blood starts to trickle from her mouth.

“Aunt, please,” he pleads, even as his father continues to do nothing. He cannot focus on that right now, not with Eurydice’s blood hot beneath his fingers… and how cold she’s feeling.

“I’m sorry Eurydice,” Death whispers. For even a moment, like Aila, she had thought this was a fleeting feeling, that her function was wrong… because the viper… but it would seem some things could not be changed. She holds her hand out to the girl.

“No, please don’t,” Orpheus begs. “Father please. Please do not do this.”

“There is nothing to be done,” Dream states. He keeps his presence, daring the demons to try again. He cannot help the girl, but should they approach his son again…

Eurydice feels herself weaking, the pain fading – thankfully. She wants to tell Orpheus she loves him, that she would always… her thoughts fade, as Death sighs. Her nephew… drenched in blood… was not a sight she would soon forget herself. She has her hand almost around Eurydice’s when the other girl is there. Orpheus’s friend, per her brother’s words.

“Move,” Aila snaps, pushing Orpheus’s hands out of the way. He shouts in surprise, moving to stop her, when she has his wrist easily in hand, and even Death can sense it then. “I need to touch her,” she says, her explanation clipped but necessary. She has never… Aila has never tried to heal another being – nor of a wound this substantial… not when her spirit was in the space in between, as well, but Aila wasn’t about to let Eurydice go… not when this wasn’t her fault.

Stupid snake, Aila thinks.

Aila pushes her hand against the wound, ignoring the small cut on her own hand from when she grabbed the snake, and the other she sets on Eurydice’s forehead. Her breaths are gone, her body is cold, but Aila pays it no mind. She ignores too how Death sits back on her heels, watching quietly, while Dream… she swallows roughly at his presence at her back.

Like when she heals herself, Aila focuses on her power swirling beneath her skin, of the ebb and flow of life, and pushes it gently into Eurydice – pushes it into every vein, along every nerve. Her gift fighting momentarily against the foreign ask of it before settling at Aila’s insistence. She pulls it to the surface of the wound, and like the times she’s healed herself, the flesh knits itself back together, the blood drying and flaking away until only untouched, unblemished skin sits. The dress remains stained, as does Aila’s hands.

“Aila,” Orpheus gasps, eyes wide at the sight, but she pays him no mind.

It was one thing to heal a body, but another to pull a soul back into place. It’s only then that she opens her eyes and catches Death – her aunt’s – gaze. She’s curious if Death will fight her, keep the soul or merely see how this plays out, and surprisingly, Death does nothing besides vanish in a flap of her own wings.

One moment Eurydice is still, and in another, she takes a gasping breath. Eyes wide, Orpheus gathers her in his arms, words of praise and thanks falling from his lips as he presses himself tight against her.

Dream… he doesn’t… he watches the demons regard the girl quietly then vanish – pulled back to Hell. He turns, and the girl flinches under his presence… his own power and function flaring at his fingertips. He has half a mind to… Orpheus glare catches him off guard, a warning – an unsaid threat that should he take another step towards Aila… he pauses, mouth slightly open – uncertain of how to respond.

“Aila?” Eurydice says, voice high and breathless. She knows she was dead, just as she knows she’s now alive thanks to the other woman.

“I should have…” Aila starts, only for Eurydice to hug her.

“Thank you,” she whispers against Aila’s shoulder. And all she can do is repeat it over and over.

Aila opens her mouth again, only for Orpheus to interrupt, “I don’t care.” He doesn’t. She saved Eurydice’s life, and there is nothing he can do to repay that. “Thank you.”

Quick Notes: Finally… took a bit to get to the actual main catalyst of this story. Let’s see how the Endless respond.

I did start a new story - not in this universe for once. A completely brand new, post season 2 AU - where Dream/Morpheus lives... and I promptly make things worse because I can't help it. It's 'Family Ends in Blood' if anyone is looking for another hurt/comfort fic with a focus on the Endless family

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: When The Truth Comes Out

Destiny was waiting for Death when she arrived. He had not gone far after the ceremony. He had seen how this was meant to play out, the cascade it would cause, and he had done… as a dutiful son would do… nothing but observe. However, now… he glances into his book – the pages… the words… they were scrawled, the story was fading, shifting, being rewritten, and now… there was blood in his book. Destiny did not know what it meant, but Death’s arrival, he expected at least.

“Did you see this?” Death asks, coming to stand next to Destiny.

“Eurydice,” he says. “Does she live or did you…”

“I didn’t get the chance,” Death says, clicking her tongue. “That girl. She healed her wounds and pulled her soul back.” Power far outside of mortal means. “I can’t sense her brother.”

“Nor can I,” Destiny admits, reluctantly.

“What is she..?”

“I do not know, sister.”

…………..

Eurydice sits at the table, blood mostly cleaned and gone – some part of her robe… her dress… were ruined. Not that she pays it mind – she can’t. Instead, she has a goblet of water in hand – slowly sipping at Orpheus’s insistence. All the while, Aila sits a few feet away – quiet, hands clasped in her lap, exhaustion readily apparent with Oneiros bearing over her. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move; instead, she keeps an eye on them, ensuring they’re still here, that they’re okay.

If Orpheus wasn’t so focused on Eurydice, he’d likely be worrying over Aila as well, but right now, he had lost his wife – perhaps not permanently. But for a brief moment – albeit very brief – Eurydice had died, and it had felt like a piece of himself had gone with her. And yet now she sits with him. He cannot think of moving away, not right now, nor does he want to deal with his father… he grits his teeth at the thought.

His Father would have left Eurydice to perish… without second thought, without trying. If not for Aila…

“I am here, my love,” Eurydice says, her fingers skimming his cheek - likely sensing Orpheus’s thoughts are starting to trail into dark places… as evidenced by Despair’s re-appearance – confusion etched onto the Endless’s features.

“Why… what is going on brother-mine?” Despair asks, but Dream says nothing. He can’t – not while he entirely focuses on Aila. Her power… whatever it was… had receded, but he didn’t trust it – or her. She had banished the demons with barely a thought and had healed a wound – a fatal wound at that.

This was all… Dream didn’t entirely know what to think on it, but he recognized his aggravation. Demons had attacked his son’s intended… demons…near his son. It would be unwise to march into Hell immediately, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would be addressing the Lightbringer over this transgression, but for now, he remains. At least until this was handled.

In a flap of wings, Death arrives – the rest of the family in tow. It’s not only Despair that’s curious, after all – and not just curious but concerned. Death glances to Dream now, and she can sense his power twisting around the girl, not to confine her but should she move… he’d likely try to pull her into his realm, to protect his son. Which given the dark look Orpheus gives her too, she suspects he wouldn’t appreciate. Right now, his main concern was Eurydice and likely Aila as well, since she was the reason for Eurydice’s life.

When no one says anything, Death takes lead, stepping forward – gently pulling Dream back a step, with a forced smile. “Hello,” she says, trying for comforting – though the girl ignores her. “I’m…”

“Death of the Endless,” Aila says, interrupting her quickly – voice quiet. She swallows back her exhaustion, her aches… her side aches as though she had been the one stabbed – apparently a remnant of healing someone other than herself, it would seem. “I know. Just as I know who the rest of you are.” Her aunts and uncles – not that she was going to offer that up. It was bad enough she felt trapped here because of what she did… given how her father… how Dream was treating her as it was, how he responded to Orpheus in that moment in the field, she does not want to see how he’d treat her if he knew she was Lucifer’s offspring.

“But I don’t think I know you?” Death continues – surprising her siblings by this admission.

“Aila,” she says, quietly, refusing still to look up.

“What are you?” Dream asks, his voice quiet but threatening.

Nearby, Orpheus glances up from Eurydice now – his own lip curled back as he surges to his feet, ready to come to Aila’s defense, when Calliope is there. She gently holds Orpheus’s elbow, keeping the mortal back – out of this business. He stares at his own mother, betrayal etched into his features, but she takes no offense. Instead, she gently brushes his cheek, then leans down to plant a small kiss on Eurydice’s as well before joining the Endless.

“Enough Oneiros,” Calliope says, aware of the risk of disrupting the Endless.

However, unlike them, she’s aware their preferred way of asking was unlikely to be effective. She can see the girl now – already tense, the tiny tremors in her hands telling of her discomfort. She was obviously not used to such attention, or if she was, she was aware it was nothing good. And after the girl saved Eurydice, Calliope was not about to let the Endless berate her. The girl had done nothing to them – besides… change things it would seem. Calliope wonders if Aila was aware Eurydice was meant to die, or if she had merely stumbled upon the possibility and responded in kind. Either way… the muse wasn’t about to let the Endless berate the girl.

Endless or not – Calliope did not care. Husband or not… but she does what she can to diffuse this quietly, calmly.

“Calliope,” Oneiros hisses, eyes dark.

“Enough,” she snaps, before coming to kneel before Aila. She smiles softly up at the girl, who has yet to pull her own eyes from her hands. However, she cannot ignore Calliope, not completely. She watches as Aila slowly comes to acknowledge her. “Thank you… for saving Eurydice.” She’s certain Orpheus has said it – more than once, but Calliope wants to ensure the girl hears it from someone else. “That was quite… the feat.”

“Should be near impossible,” Desire mutters, not that Calliope pays them mind. In this moment, she pulls from her husband’s mannerisms and puts the Endless siblings on the far reaches of her mind. Right now, she continues to address Aila.

“You saved Eurydice and my son,” Calliope continues.

“I did not…” Aila starts to say, only for the muse to interrupt.

“The demons could have gone after him,” Calliope counters, only for Aila to shift – her hands tightening into fists.

“They were likely here because of me,” she says, and the muse watches the unease in the Endless around her. She’s unsurprised by the answer, since unlike them – she’s aware of what Aila exactly is. But whether or not the demons had intended the girl to be the target did not change that Aila had likely saved them all.

“Perhaps,” Calliope says. “They may have come nonetheless.” Her child was the product of an Endless, after all, and she watches as Aila opens her mouth to argue, only to snap it shut. Calliope wonders what the girl was about to say, but Aila remains silent.

Aila has to. If she admits to knowing Eurydice was meant to die by the viper, then she’d have to admit she was not from this time… which would cascade into exactly who she was and not just what. At the moment, the Endless just wanted what. She wasn’t ready for who – she didn’t want the who… She glances up finally, catching sight of Orpheus and Eurydice, both of whom are staring at her. The only benefit of the ‘who’ was them after all.

It hurts, and she wants to explain what she was – to at least them. They deserved to know; Aila wants nothing to do with the Endless right now, especially with them pressing in on her. She feels it against her skin, against her being – what they are. The universe parts, the unspoken otherworldliness, the embodiments they live – all of it… she feels it and she hates it.

“Aila,” Calliope says gently, reaching out – slipping her hand around the girl’s.

Somehow, Aila finds it in herself to nod. She knows what Calliope wants without asking, what the muse is trying to tell her. The Endless won’t leave her alone, not without an answer, and she’s tired… not just because of Dream and whatever he’s doing but in general. Today drained her… she had never… she catches Eurydice’s gaze specifically – if only to remind herself the other woman was alive… she had never done that… tried that… and she suspects that even if the demons hadn’t seen her do it, her mother would have felt it… Heaven would have felt it…

With a quiet sigh, Aila slowly unfurls her wings again – hating them more and more as she stretches them out, wincing only slightly at the pain this time. The world goes silent, and Aila refuses to look at Orpheus and Eurydice now… she can’t see their reaction… if they were – if they rejected her now… she couldn’t take it, but if they accepted it… she doesn’t think she could take that either.

“Well,” Desire says, smacking their lips. “I’m not sure anyone was expecting that.”

Calliope says nothing more, but she leans up giving Aila a small hug before stepping away. She catches Oneiros’s eye – the widened, surprised gaze… and he realizes then that his wife was aware of what Aila was and said nothing. He purses his lips, but Calliope moves back without a word to Orpheus and Eurydice to sit with them and to explain it. Neither mortal would recognize Aila for what she was.

“A Nephilim,” Death sighs. “Of course, it’s a Nephilim.”

“I’m not an it,” Aila hisses, impressing herself with her own voice. “My name is Aila.”

“And which angel sired you?” Destiny asks, suddenly understanding why she was lacking in his book. Aila was from the divine.

Angels were a tricky species and even worse when combined with humanity… with humanity able to make choices, to change things, to change themselves – combined with an angel’s power… it made Nephilims… dangerous. Unpredictable. Able to seize their own destiny’s in many ways – not that they ever did. No, they tended to be bringers of destruction and doom… and nearby, Destructions shifts accordingly. He had more experience than most with these types, after all. Delirium as well.

The youngest Endless smiles. Nephilims were never stable, never sane – they were bound to madness. Although Aila… the Endless can all see the young girl was none of those things – not yet. And the who and the why bothered Destiny more than he was willing to admit, and Death wonders what exactly Dream had gotten involved in this time.

Aila refuses to answer the question, but her flinch is telling. Death sighs, taking a step back from the girl. A Nephilim was a problem, but like Calliope, Death suspects the girl is not a threat – not directly, not right now… but as a Nephilim. She bites her lips – recalling the last one she saw, the last one she carried. This was not ideal, though at least this one seemed to have her sanity intact. That was helpful and unusual… and the girl seemed to have taken a shine to at least Orpheus and Eurydice…

However, to them… the Endless – with how tense the girl is, the power she even subconsciously emits even now – Death cannot completely calm her worry. Given the tension in the young girl’s frame, she’s starting to wonder if the girl is a threat to them. An unsurprising response – given the entire family was circled around her, and Dream was a few seconds away from threatening her directly.

“We should talk,” Death says to Dream now, and though it takes a moment, she’s able to maneuver Dream away from the girl. Destruction remains near enough – a nod to the others, telling them he’d watch the girl.

Once out of earshot, Death questions Dream on his knowledge of this, but like them, Death realizes – this was quite abrupt for him too. The girl was… a shock to them all – which Desire took some enjoyment in seeing the three eldest Endless completely knocked on their asses. They’d laugh if they thought they wouldn’t get a lecture over it. But right now, watching Death and Dream practically argue without saying a word – Desire commits this to memory.

It's only then that they glance back at the quiet Nephilim. She’s less interesting to them… even though apparently the three Eldest couldn’t sense or feel her or whatever big brother did… Desire could. Her wants were so telegraphed they practically didn’t need their own function to feel it. The girl was desperate to belong, desperate to know her family, to protect Orpheus and the girl, and desired something from big brother… Desire ponders that… they wonder what a little Nephilim would want from sweet Dream… they ponder that while the family continues to argue.

Meanwhile, Orpheus sits with Calliope and Eurydice. He wants to go to Aila too, but the sight of her wings – wings – stills him. When he saw her heal, he knew she wasn’t human… when his father said he couldn’t sense her, he knew she wasn’t normal… but at no point did he expect the wings. Black feathery wings with a galaxy almost woven in with how the silver flecks reflected the light.

Orpheus has little experience with the divine. It was not his realm or his area. When he died, he would… he doesn’t think on this now, as he suspects his… as he suspects Dream would expect him in the Dreaming, while he would go wherever Eurydice was. But he knows he would not go to the… was it the silver city? Heaven? Orpheus remains uncertain, just as he is uncertain with trying to understand what Aila is or why that matters.

“Is it such a big deal that she’s… that?” Orpheus asks – Eurydice echoing a similar thought.

“Yes,” Calliope says, “and no.” Aila being a Nephilim wouldn’t be that odd – she wasn’t the first of her species… it was just – she was the only one left to any of their knowledges, as well as she had… the power she had exhibited to pull Eurydice back was impressive even for her type of species. “It does explain much about her family.”

“It does?” Eurydice asks.

“Human mothers with angelic fathers,” Calliope says with a grimace. “It was rarely consensual.” She frowns, regarding the young girl with a quiet, sad gaze. “It would be understandable that her own mother could not… her own mother treated her as she did.” Her mother would only see the treacherous act, likely, when staring at Aila after all.

“Understandable?” Eurydice echoes, incredulous.

“Understandable,” Calliope says before adding, “I did not say acceptable.” The Mother should not have treated Aila as she did… no matter how she was conceived.

It’s Orpheus that asks the question – the one the Endless are now discussing too, however, “How powerful is she?”

Except it would seem… none of them had that answer. Aila included.

Quick Notes: Desire and Aila get some… quality bonding time next. Nephilims in biblical lore were… monsters – giants. And were from ‘daughters of man’ hence the assumption her father is the angel here. Oops bad assumption

We’re going to flip flop updates likely with Family Blood – mostly. Sometimes, I’ll probably do one or the other for an extra day pending

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen: How We Come Together

Destruction sits, fiddling with his sword on his hip – while the rest of the family decides what to do with… well, this. He glances up – the girl remains sitting, quiet, head down, wings folded against her back. He’s seen angels before, he’s dealt with them, and he’s… well, he’s one of the few unfortunate ones to feel and watch the unfortunate outcome with Nephilims when they were an issue.

Angel human crosses were not… advised. He never paid much attention to angelic or divine rules, but from what he understood, they were not allowed – for good reasons. The disaster they could bring about, the death… their functions would feast, but the world… not so much.

“So,” Destruction says, breaking the silence and surprising the girl. “Who’s your father girl?”

Aila stares at the Endless that spoke. It was the one she had the least familiarity with. She knew of Destruction, of course, knew what her Mother told her, but beyond simple facts – a man that shunned his family and function until the very end. He was not as protective of the other Endless from what she understood – at least in their time… here – she was more uncertain.

“Girl?” Destruction says, when she continues to not speak.

“Aila,” she corrects. She did not appreciate being called girl – she was not a child, and she was not an it. Her Mother may have given her her name, but it was still hers.

A small chuckle breaks the two staring each other down, while Desire slips in – coming to sit right next to Aila. Destruction opens his mouth, but Desire waves it off, resting their chin in their hand as they consider the Nephilim up close.

“If she wanted to wipe us out brother or try, she had all the chances during the wedding,” Desire says, unperturbed by the Nephilim. “Why don’t you go and deal with our big siblings? They’re near having a meltdown.”

They weren’t, but Desire was enjoying themselves a touch with how off balanced even Destiny looked. No one ever asked, but from what Desire understood with the last Nephilim – they shudder at that memory of that feral giant -, he wasn’t in Destiny’s book at all either. Completely unwritten, unknown.

To the side, Dream, Death, and Destiny continue to speak – Dream not masking his features well. Aila can’t help but check every few minutes, and the slowly evolving rage on Dream’s face was telling. Death continued to do her best to remain calm, while Destiny – as Desire noted – was incredibly uncomfortable. She wanted to desperately know what Orpheus and Eurydice thought, but if they rejected her… her wings dropped.

“Sad little bird, aren’t you?” Desire tsks. “You’re making my twin’s day.”

Aila narrows her gaze at the third youngest Endless. Desire – she knew this one second best. After all her lectures on the Endless, on how they were not to be trusted, on how dreams can die… desires came next. Aila may not entirely understand what happened in her time with the Endless between her mother and them – other than they were responsible for her not being in Hell -, but her mother did not hide her disdain for Desire well.

Honestly, thinking back on it now, given how much her mother despised Desire, Aila’s half surprised that it was not Desire that sired her… or perhaps they had – or at least used their function to temper it? It’s not like she could ask, so she only scoffs and looks away from Desire.

“Don’t be like that, little bird,” Desire sighs. “You’re more fun if you’re in my realm.”

Out of the corner of their eye, Desire watches as Destruction joins the three eldest Endless – likely trying to understand what the plan was. The last Nephilim was executed, and now, the Endless had the misfortune of having another one… which wasn’t their business. But – Desire glances at Eurydice and clicks their tongue.

They hadn’t… truly meant to try and kill the mortal… but a few pushes, a few changes… and they let the tiles fall as they were – the girl was just… a misfortunate side effect, not that it mattered now. Eurydice lived – not that they cared all that much. No, not truly. This… They grin. Interesting little bird, a Nephilim.

“Go away Desire,” Aila says, disliking their presence the most. The other Endless didn’t like her – she could practically sense that. But Desire… they made her uncomfortable. They read her far too easily… and she hates it – her mother would be disappointed in her… she grits her teeth – her mother would be disappointed in her but she… she saved Eurydice… she had done that – brought the woman back from the brink and…

“Dream!” Death growls, snapping Aila’s attention back up. Her eyes wide, and her heart skips a beat. She worries what they’re arguing about – it’s about her, that’s obvious. But beyond that, they’re too far and turned in a way that she can’t hear.

But the look Dream turns on Aila then – something beyond mistrust… and Aila retreats back into herself. She saved Eurydice, yes, but it would seem she damned herself. She wondered if the Endless would just kill her and be done with it.

All the while, Desire watches the entire thing – curiously. They see the girl sit forward with big brother’s name, the way she reacts as though slapped when he almost glares at her – which was such a normal big brother thing, they practically scoff at it -, and the way she… her wings are almost as telling of her mood as her face. They shift with her, and she’s very much like a sad little… raven… it hits Desire then – the dark wings, the dark hair… Aila reminds them of a raven. And her desires… her wants… her need to protect Orpheus, to protect Eurydice… to not be a disappointment… and it all relates to Dream.

“You’re big brother’s offspring,” Desire says, the words slipping out slowly – uncertainty coloring them. However, the way her eyes widen, and wings flutter – they grin. “You are.” They chance a glance towards Dream, who remains unaware of this revelation. “Oh big brother, what did you do…” They grin.

………

Dream and Death don’t agree… on Aila… Destiny does not have an opinion, of course, because it’s not written. Nephilim never are, but even Death wishes he had a suggestion on how to handle this situation. Nephilims were not in their purview, but she was integrated for the moment into their lives, with what happened with Eurydice… and the last Nephilims that walked the earth, the mortal plane – the death and the destruction… the holy wars… it was a time Death would rather not revisit.

However, Dream’s suggestion that they do nothing but leave the girl here was not well received by Death. She suspects he only says it – out of concern. If the girl was here, and they were not – Orpheus and Eurydice included, then she couldn’t be a threat to them, any of them. It was obvious that the girl was attached to Orpheus, and… that could be dangerous; however, the girl… Death had seen her, felt her…

“She brought Eurydice back,” Death says.

“From the brink?” Destiny asks, but she shakes her head.

“I just needed to carry her to the next plane,” Death says. “By all considerations, she was dead.”

“Nephilims tend to be powerful,” Destiny says, moving in close, just as Destruction joins them.

“Have we made a decision here? Leave her? Deal with her?” Destruction asks, while Dream appears even more sour.

“Bringing a soul back from the dead…” Dream starts, and Destruction shifts – having missed the early part of the conversation.

“It would require the angelic half… her sire to be powerful. A throne, seraphim, or archangel, likely,” Destiny says – revealing far more than he usually would. Except, he knew little. The girl… he glances towards her – he feels nothing, sees nothing, and it unsettles even him.

“Wouldn’t they know better?” Death asks. There was no benefit to a Nephilim – only loss. But… Death agrees this couldn’t be a lesser angel’s offspring. She had felt the girl’s power – even a touch of it, a soft caress of it when Aila had healed Eurydice. It was… like Destiny, she was worried.

“What are we doing to do?” Destruction asks again, a sigh on his lips.

After all, this does not pertain them – not directly, at least. They could merely just walk away – which was an option, one the eldest Endless had likely considered… but obviously, they were weighing everything. To leave a Nephilim unattended risked… war… they could call the angels, but… Destruction does not hate the girl, nor does he like her. But angels and their response to Nephilims were… they could use some work. Whatever they were going to do, they needed to make a choice soon.

Delirium takes that moment to skip up, Despair meanders up too. It’s the entire family, save for Desire – who’s leaning over – regarding Aila closely, while she appears like she would rather be anywhere but here. Something Dream can agree with readily.

“We let the silver city handle this,” Dream states, and Death sighs. At least, it was not merely leave her here, Death supposes, but it was not much better.

“They’ll kill her,” Death says.

“As they should,” Dream states. “Nephilims are unstable. They bring about ruin where they go.” Or they always had… this one… the entirety of the Endless glance to the girl, who continues to be unamused by Desire. However, even Dream recognizes how her wings drop and shift – quite telling of her moods. She reminds him in part of his ravens… and he… tilts his head… but the thought is fleeting. Nonetheless, she was more… human… as compared to the last ones they’d seen. Not that Dream truly dealt with them directly; they did not fall under his function or purview after all. “It’s their laws, sister.”

Death nods, reluctantly – it is. Nephilims do not exist and should they – it was a death sentence. For safety. However… the last ones, she had helped carry they had been… nightmares already… not like the young girl sitting with her legs crossed and head down. Not one that would readily try to save a mortal from death only because she liked them. It stills Death slightly.

“Orpheus will never forgive you,” Calliope says, joining the group. “If you call the angels and have them deliver judgement, he will not speak to you again.” She stares at Oneiros as she says this. If she was not married to the Endless, she would have half a mind of a similar response.

“Calliope,” he says, voice stern – quiet but telling all the same.

“No,” she says. “She saved Eurydice, while you did nothing.”

It’s small but he flinches – aware of what happened with Orpheus’s wife. But it was not as though he did not want to – merely, there was nothing he could do. Death was a natural part of life – his sister’s function was a gift. If it was Eurydice’s time… then, it was.

“If you cause her death, he will never speak to you again.” Orpheus had not stated it directly, but Calliope knows their son. In his mood, he would forsake his father – he likely only hadn’t yet because Eurydice lived. At the very least, they had that. There was still a chance for reconciliation. However, it would be an uphill battle. Calliope was aware Dream had no control of life and death – that was not his function, but right now… that’s not what Orpheus would focus on. No, he’d only see that Aila saved his wife, while his own father did nothing.

Death sighs, glancing to Destiny. “Most Nephilims are…”

“Feral?” Delirium laughs – she had more than one in her realm after all. Their minds were always delightfully fractured.

“And she is not,” Death continues. Whether that was due to a more powerful sire or something else… she’s uncertain.

“It’s their law,” Dream states, as Calliope narrows her gaze.

“Their law, not yours,” Calliope counters. She refuses to let them hang the Nephilim out over laws… that yes, she understood, but the girl was not… she was not like the other Nephilims. She was not a threat to them.

The Endless stand, considering – though most look to Dream, Death, and Destiny. As the eldest, they had the most say. It was just – they weren’t entirely certain. They were going in circles. Nephilims were not… it was not their business, and that did leave the door open that they could merely do nothing. Though… that was the hesitation – especially with Death and Destruction. Doing nothing risked… another catastrophe. But…

Desire chooses that moment also to join, interrupting Death and Destiny’s thoughts. They grin, wrapping an arm around Dream’s while he scowls. “I think she should stay,” they comment. “She’s a kid.”

Calliope stares at Epithumia. It’s rare they agree, and she’s suddenly concerned that they do. However, she has yet to tell the Endless of the Fates… and that they had visited the girl – for now, she keeps it to herself. When Oneiros was in a better listening mood, she would likely try then. Right now, it would not help matters.

“Desire,” Death says, suspiciously.

“Demons attacked the wedding,” Desire says. “That’s rather… direct for Lucifer.”

“It is,” Dream says, pulling his arm away. However, as much as he despises to think about it, Desire has a point. To attack even near Orpheus was tantamount to asking for an audience with him. Whether the girl was the target or not, they had attacked and killed Eurydice, a mortal. While she was not under any protection from them, it was near enough to Orpheus to demand an answer.

“If someone comes for the girl.” Destiny states, “we will not intercede.” He has his book open, staring at the pages. “Until then… we do nothing.” At least, until they had a better understanding of these events. Something about it – all of it had Destiny feeling far more grave than he had in a long time. He closes the book, unwilling to let the others know that many of the pages were now blank, and much of it was being rewritten… oddly enough.

Dream shifts again. Leaving the girl meant… Orpheus would likely stay near, unless he could warn the boy and his wife away – except… both were now sitting near Aila – not that the girl realized it. Her head was on the table, eyes closed, and breaths even. Surprisingly so. Given, everything, the girl was situated on a dangerous precipice with them – the Endless, and yet… she had fallen asleep. He could not sense her still in his realm, but for now, he leaves her be.

“Besides utter chaos,” Desire says, tapping their finger to their chin. “Isn’t there another reason they aren’t generally… made?”

Death takes a deep breath, settling with Destiny’s words and ignoring Desire for the moment. She was not a fan of this plan, but she did much prefer this over having to carry the girl herself or calling the silver city… when they had no answers to give. It was a natural part of life to die, but the girl… Death watches her sleep.

“God decreed to try and dissuade Nephilims from being born that they would…” Destiny starts, only for Desire to interrupt with some untold glee,

“Right.” They grin – though the why is lost on everyone else. But for Desire, this is a great day. They glance back at the young girl, Orpheus, and Eurydice – how utterly perfect, they decide, and they turn to Dream then. “They’re fated to kill their sires.”

Quick Notes: Had to make up some lore... for some of this. Shrug

They’ll figure who she is eventually. But next chapter, we deal with some soft moments with Orpheus and Eurydice with Aila as well as Dream starts to try and figure out how he’s wrapped into this… after all, at the same time a Nephilim appears, we have an unknown nightmare too.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen: Where Family is Concerned

The small discovery that the Nephilim was sweet Dream’s little dirty secret was just… everything to Desire. They purr in delight of the knowledge, but at the same time, it confuses them. If the thing is Dream’s, then why was he acting so… haughty and ignorant? Though, that was Dream’s general state of being, they suppose.

Nonetheless, it didn’t make much sense to them – unless Dream did not know about the child or the possibility… the ‘how’ and ‘why’ were missing, and perhaps, the Nephilim had it confused and confuddled. Big brother was foolish, but it was a big of a stretch to think he’d sire an offspring with an angel, given the ramifications… given his wife, although Desire was never one for monogamy themselves.

Either way, it worked for them; they could twist this to their favor. She believed Dream was, and that was likely enough. Nephilims were notorious and consistent in their ways – even if this one seemed to defy odds thus far. They could use her and this… they lick their lips at the thought.

The rest didn’t matter – at least, not right now. Not when this could be so easily and delightfully be used to their favor. Though… it would help if she was truly one of theirs – it wouldn’t be hard to confirm. One drop of her essence, and they’d know… any of them would – though they doubt Death would likely be suspicious, and the rest of the family – this was less interesting to them, save maybe Destruction and Destiny. That was the surprising part and quite interesting – how little it seemed Destiny knew.

Leaving Desire the only one with this knowledge and deciding how to use it. They could tell everyone and watch that amusing little fallout. Then, of course, Orpheus liked the girl, Eurydice was saved by the girl, Calliope was enamored… and Dream… was being his usual uptight, ridiculous self to the point the girl couldn’t stand him. And yet all she wanted was a family connection. That was an opportunity.

Something Desire could easily provide, under the right circumstances. The girl wanted connection, belonging, safety - things easily provided, given their function, and easily manipulated. And once they did – given big brother continued his ridiculous sneering -, they could find a way to simply let fate take its course. The smile is unbidden, but they have to calm themselves slightly when their twin eyes them concerningly.

For now, they just shrug and watch the continued fallout of their siblings decide how to handle the Nephilim, something they have more time for at the moment – given she was completely asleep. It hadn’t been hard – just a small push given her utter need and want to sleep before they joined their family. The girl had been desperate for it – something that was within their realm, after all.

Glancing back now, like the rest of the family, it would seem it worked. Aila had her head down, taking deep consistent breaths – telling of her current state. They may have twisted and helped her along… difficult enough given sleeping fell more under big brother’s purview but nonetheless – the girl wasn’t dreaming, so it worked.

Near them, Dream shifts – unappreciative of his son hovering near the Nephilim. Orpheus was trying to situate Aila into a more comfortable position, before Calliope sighs loudly and moves past the Endless to her son and his wife. Whatever she says goes unheard, but it takes only a minute for Orpheus to pick Aila up, the wings now long gone from this plane. He situates her in his arms and moves towards the path.

“Where are you going?” Dream asks, his voice calm but heavy.

Orpheus refuses to respond; instead, he continues down the path. Eurydice considers answering, before quietly accompanying him – leaving only Calliope. She, unwaveringly – which Desire can appreciate it – meet Dream’s eyes and state they’re taking Aila back to the household. The girl was obviously spent and needed rest to recuperate, which did not include a table.

“I will see if I can find any rumors,” Destruction offers. “A Nephilim…” He shakes his head. Such a creature, he thinks, would have had to cause some trouble – some mayhem before now. Someone had to know something.

Death agrees, quietly, Destiny too, but Dream says nothing. After all, he may have his own lead – not that he offers that to the family. No, he may tell them later, but even doesn’t entirely understand it. Not yet; he hadn’t had the chance to examine the new nightmare with any scrutiny with the wedding… but now, a nightmare unknown to him and a Nephilim. He’s many things – especially things his sibling would claim – but foolish was not one of them.

Desire would readily disagree.

Without a word, Dream turns – preparing to step back into his realm, when Death is there. She eyes him, curiously and wearily, but otherwise, she says nothing. There was nothing to say. The wedding, the fallout… all of it… and something felt – off, wrong… changed… and right now, there was nothing for Dream to do here.

Talking with his son could wait, Dream decided. Calliope didn’t think the girl was a threat… she was wrong. Whether directly or indirectly? That was another matter – one he needed to take up with Lucifer as well.

In silence, Dream returns to his realm – as Desire expected, and perfectly as needed. After all, how can they get to know their new niece with big brother’s ungodly hovering?

……………

Orpheus settles Aila into a bed as gently as he can, though he suspects he could have dropped her, and she would have stayed dead… not dead but unaware of the world. She sleeps deeply – completely lost to the waking world, but given what his father… what Oneiros said was true… then, she did not dream. He wonders what she does then in her sleep.

“Orpheus?” Eurydice says, quietly from the doorframe. “Is she…”

“Asleep, my love,” he says. “Just asleep.”

“And she likely will for a time,” Calliope says. “The energy needed, the power required to do what she did…” She trails off here – not needing to explain more.

Eurydice touches her abdomen, however, nonetheless. The wound was gone, but if she thought about it, if she pulled for it, she could recall the pain – the agony… dying… she shudders, moving into the kitchen, where she collapses into a chair.

Without a word, Calliope finds something warm to drink and offers it to Eurydice – only then does she take a seat as well, and a moment later Orpheus joins. The three sit in silence – ruminating the last few hours, the last few days… and for Orpheus for the last few decades. His father… his father would have let Eurydice die and did nothing, and… he struggles to accept that.

Especially while Aila – a girl he’s only known for a few days – had done everything and more. She knew so little of them, they had offered her so little, and yet… he glances back towards the bedroom where she rests. She had saved Eurydice, and there was no words, no gifts, nothing he could offer in thanks. Nothing that would amount to what he was given at least.

And now… he glances to Calliope now, asking quietly, “Are they going to kill her?”

Eurydice’s head snaps up – the cup almost slipping from her hands in turn. She cannot – she cannot imagine the Endless doing such a thing. Aila was… not human, but none of them fully were. Not in this house – even she had nymph in her blood. Even Orpheus, while mortal, had Endless blood. Would they truly… kill Aila for what she was.

Except Orpheus, unlike Eurydice, knows they would. Some would hem and haw over it – others would actually be upset, but if it came down to it, they would. If it mattered, if it crossed their realms, threatened them… they would. Until then,

“If she’s not a threat to them…” Orpheus starts, before Calliope interrupts,

“What she is, is a threat.” It’s not said in malice but to try and help the two understand the intricacies of the situation they had walked into – unknowingly or not.

“You knew what she was,” Orpheus says, turning to face his mother. His tone – it’s not accusatory or angry. It’s empty, confused, hurt. His wedding… the happiest day of his life was now – this. All of this. And he was still grieving it in many ways.

With a small frown, Calliope nods. It was not purposeful she didn’t… that was a lie – she had kept it from both Orpheus and Oneiros…. The latter reasons were obvious, but from Orpheus. She had not wanted to tell the girl’s secret; it was hers to share, and after the wedding, Calliope had thought she would. At no point had the muse thought this… Eurydice… any of this would happen. Thus, she hadn’t thought this was needed… not now… she sighs.

“Does it matter?” Eurydice says, interrupting any possible conversation between Calliope and Orpheus. “She is what she is, and she’s here now.” She looks to her mother-in-law now. “What do we do?”

That was the question none of them had the answer to, and right now, the only one that could possibly answer it was sleeping a few rooms down the hallway.

Not that she was sleeping peacefully. Not with Desire sitting a few feet away, quiet and watching and planning… not that any of them knew that… not even the family knew this… no, they were all busy or ignoring this development. Desire, on the other hand, purrs, leaning over – fingers brushing against the girl’s skin – not that it tells them anything. No, they’d…

They find a small cut on Aila’s hand – likely a small abrasion from either the scuffle, the healing, or everything that followed. It’s not much – but Desire leans down, pulling her hand to their mouth. The wound is small but deep enough. They don’t need to do anything to get a small drop of blood, and the moment it touches their tongue…

Endless.

The girl was certainly one of theirs. They grin – how lucky they are.

………….

The Corinthian groans and sighs, head resting the stone of his cell. When he had shown up on the beach, without any acceptable answers for his master, he shouldn’t have expected anything less than a cell. It made sense; the Corinthian was a nightmare. Not one Dream recognized but could sense all the same. Of course, he’d promptly confine the nightmare – although perhaps, the nightmare should be impressed by the restraint. He honestly thought he would have immediately been unmade, turning to nothing but sand and dust.

The wedding must have had Dream truly out of sorts, the nightmare thinks, but when was the wedding… Time moved differently pending his king’s moods, so he had no idea how long he was sitting or how much longer he had to wait. Not that he was looking forward to Dream again – not this one.

This one was… too much like the Dream he ran away from – the first time. His Dream was quite different – changed in many ways. Most of which, while he appreciates the changes – he would have rather they come about in a different way. Something the rest of the Endless – the Endless in his time – would readily agree with.

However, now, the Corinthian is bored – completely and utterly. He’s been stuck in the cell for however long, and he was never one that did well to entertain himself. He tended to get into trouble when left to his own devices – he grins at that thought. He was very adept at finding trouble – something he obviously got from his master… and he immediately scowls at the concern brewing in his gut.

They’ve been in the past for more than a few days now, and while time wasn’t linear, what was the chances (likely high) that Dream had found trouble in their time? Did the Endless know he was missing? He was not in close contact with most of the Endless – hence why he reached out to John first… but would they notice? Matthew would – eventually. At some point. Hopefully soon. And Matthew would easily be able to contact the rest of the Endless… who could promptly…

Do nothing. The Corinthian sighs.

They were trapped in the past, and the Endless could not be involved with Dream directly. Not unless they wanted to incur the Fates’ wrath. Although… the Corinthian smirks – thinking back on some of the times that Desire considered it… if only to get near Dream, check on him, lecture him, and promptly find a way to lock him in the house… only stayed by the knowledge the Fates weren’t likely to punish them but him. The nightmare scowls at the thought of the Fates.

Fates that visited Aila.

Another problem… another unsurprising issue – given Aila was Dream’s child. If there was anyone that could attract those three… witches’… eyes, it would be one of his.

Because of course. He groans, rubbing his head against the stone wall – uncaring of the pain it elicits. He just needs the distraction. Right now, his mind won’t settle. The Nephilim, the Endless, the Fates, the demons, Lucifer… there was so much, and he had no control of any of it. Not inside this cell at least.

Which left only one option. He needed to get out of this cell – not easily done but not impossible. There were plenty of other nightmares and creatures he could tempt into it – perhaps even a raven he could lure. It was Jessamy in this time or Lucienne… he rakes his mind for when the transition happened. Either way, he could likely manipulate one of them.

Then, he could get out of the cell… and promptly find Aila and stop her from… doing exactly what her bloodline tended to do – something incredibly bullheaded and foolish that would promptly draw the Fates ire. No, he’d get her – they’d get back to their time (somehow – he doesn’t focus on that for the moment) and leave these Endless and Lucifer behind.

Everything – all the pieces could fall okay… given the Endless didn’t discover what or who Aila was, of course. He shudders again to think of their response to a Nephilim – the word ‘understanding’ does not come to mind, especially if they figured out the ‘who’ part of that question.

The door to the cells opens, and the footfalls, while quiet, echo soundly in this dungeon of his once master. A part of the nightmare wants to get up, show some subservience as would be expected, but this is not his Dream – not truly. It would be like him bowing to the Morpheus of the other reality. He had a degree of respect for either version, of course, but his master was still the one of this reality.

As such, the Corinthian remains sitting – even as Dream appears in front of him. The Dream Lord is dressed in black flowy robes, his gaze dark and unwavering as he stares down at what should be his creation but is not. The Endless does not know how someone or something made something so similar to his power but…

“The girl,” Dream says, and whatever the Corinthian was hiding fails terribly in that moment in how he tenses. “You will tell me everything you know.”

Quick Notes: We aren’t where version B would start… we’ll get there, but I’ve given up predicting chapters for this. Enjoy the ride, I suppose, is all I can offer

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty: What Comes Next

Waking was a quiet affair – not one that had a lot of fanfare or threats. The latter was what surprised Aila the most. After everything, after the wedding… the wedding.

Aila sits up quickly, eyes wide – Eurydice. She recalls healing her, bringing her back, but Aila had been so exhausted… she had desired sleep so badly, and then… Desire. Aila curls her lip, but right now, she cannot focus on another Endless. No, right now, she needs to check on Eurydice – confirm with her own eyes that the woman lives.

So, with some degree of effort, Aila pushes off the bed and makes her way into the hallway. It doesn’t take her more than a moment to realize she’s at Orpheus’s house – where just yesterday morning Calliope had whispered encouraging words while pinning her hair… and then, Aila glances down – the scrape on her hand visible as well as the dried blood on her wrists.

The quiet voices lead Aila right to where she needs to be, but she hesitates at the precipice. Until this moment, she had dealt with Calliope’s response to her, the overall Endless response, but not… but not Eurydice or Orpheus, and her breath catches. It was possible, it was likely they wouldn’t want her here. She wasn’t human – not completely – and she was likely why the demons came to the wedding.

But even as the thought passes her mind, Aila realizes it’s a foolish thought. After all, if they didn’t want her here – why bring her back here to rest? Why not let the Endless pull her into one of their realms? However, while the thought passes, she cannot force herself into the room – to try and put her fears at ease. No, like a coward – she stands here, waiting, frozen.

“Aila?” Eurydice says, glancing past Calliope and Orpheus. The three of them are sitting comfortably on the floor – cushions thrown around, and a few glasses of wine shared between them. No one is completely inebriated, but they’re feeling it. Something that was needed after the last day’s events. However, when Eurydice had looked up, she had seen the other woman in the door frame, standing just slightly back in the shadows.

Even with her name spoken, Aila hesitates. She bites her lips and considers her options. She could go back to her room, bury her face and try to ignore this for a moment longer or… she could step into the room, with the three people that had had no reason to treat her with any sort of kindness but had done so without hesitation. Aila… takes a breath and pushes herself into the room, just as Orpheus rises.

The dawn light was just starting to spill into the house – no one had slept, no one could after everything… as well as Orpheus did not want to visit his Father’s realm. Not right now. Not for awhile – not that he’d be able to resist long. He was sadly human in that way.

However, he at least denied his father a visit last night – that much he could do, which wasn’t hard given his own thoughts and anxiety over everything. Next to him, Eurydice pushes to her feet as well – and Calliope remains silent, letting the three do whatever they needed in this moment. She gives them this, completely trusting in her son to make the right choice.

“Aila,” Orpheus says, her voice cracking, and although softly said, Aila flinches as though struck.

Somehow, she finds her voice finally, “I’m sorry… I did not…” Did not mean to hide this? Did not mean to tell you? She trails off uncertain what she’s truly sorry for, but her eyes lock onto Eurydice. The blood remained but the wound – gone. Completely, and some part of Aila eases at the sight. “Eurydice,” Aila starts – but the woman crosses the entirety of the floor in three quick strides.

Without a moment of hesitation, Eurydice hugs Aila – tightly, even as the Nephilim stands there, confounded with her hands hanging uselessly at her sides. However, Eurydice doesn’t care – she can’t. All she can do is hug the slightly younger girl and whisper her thanks against the Nephilim’s skin. After all, Eurydice was alive thanks to her, and no matter the reason why…

“I do not care,” Eurydice says, pulling back – smile honest and real. “Angel, demon, Endless, nymph, god. It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” She was alive, she was with Orpheus, and that was what mattered.

Aila takes a moment to process the words – trying not to react overall when Eurydice lists creatures. She suspects the woman was making a point of how Aila could be anything, and it wouldn’t matter, but with how close she stated angel then Endless… it was far too close to the truth that it takes her a moment to gather her bearings – to try and decide how to response.

However, before she can, Aila looks to Orpheus – who has yet to say anything, but the moment their eyes meet, he’s there too – his own arms around her. He, however, just keeps repeating thank you over and over – his arms tight. The feeling in her chest – the warmth bubbling and threatening to boil over? Aila doesn’t recognize it; she’s never felt it before, but it makes her… she smiles and returns the hug then.

“I should have told you,” Aila admits, though, finally stepping back.

“Why?” Orpheus asks, his smile light and welcoming. Eurydice wraps an arm around his, and she rests her head on his shoulder. Exhaustion evident in them both, but right now, they can’t or don’t care. Instead, their focus is solely on Aila. “You had no reason to tell us.”

It’s said so blasé, so simply and trusting that Aila’s eyes heat. They honestly didn’t care what she was, and her voice chokes on telling them the full truth. She should at least tell them then.

“It changes nothing,” Eurydice continues. “You remain welcomed in our home.”

“For as long as you need,” Orpheus says. “My family… the Endless will not bother you here.”

Aila’s eyes widen as she glances up, surprised and concern etched into her features, but Calliope stands – one hand outstretched to the girl, to offer some silent support as well. The Endless… Aila realizes then, there are not any in the house nor can she sense them. She’s surprised by the lack of them, given how overbearing they had been the moment they had seen her wings.

“I may have made it clear they were not welcomed,” Orpheus says, a bit more sheepishly. The Endless could ignore him – they likely would, but Orpheus knew of a few witches that for the right price could create an aura of protection over the house. If the Endless wanted to push, he would push back. “Not if they meant you harm.”

Aila wants to scoff – the Endless… how could they want to do anything but that to her. Though, at this point, they only knew her to be a Nephilim, not who… not…

Desire.

Quietly, she curses – Desire knew who she was, and she shifts – saying nothing in response to Orpheus. Perhaps, they’d stay away… perhaps they wouldn’t tell anyone – not until she could slip away and find the Corinthian. She curses herself for sending him away – it hadn’t been purposeful. She just couldn’t leave… but she suspects she couldn’t have sent him far. Once she left the house, he’d likely find her if anything.

And hopefully, she could avoid Desire. She doesn’t know what they want, but she suspects nothing good. Especially since thus far it would seem they had kept her parentage to herself – at least the half they knew. She needed to keep it from them that she was also Lucifer’s child. She was playing a dangerous enough game as it was.

“I have no intention of harming her, nephew-mine,” Desire purrs, walking into the room – wine glass in hand. “But I do wish to talk to her.”

Orpheus is quick – remarkably so with how he pushes Aila behind him. Desire would be impressed if they weren’t immediately irritated at the sight of a human, even one with Endless blood, getting between them and what they wanted - desired. However, they can tell quickly Orpheus will not allow the near – not without some headache. The boy seemed… encouraged to protect Nephilim. They cannot help but wonder if it’s an innate instinct to them being siblings or did he already know.

With a grin, Desires asks as much – confusing the room quickly, save for Aila, who merely blanches. However, it does have the appreciated effect of Aila slipping around Orpheus and approaching them. There’s not an inch of fear in her eyes – if anything… well if Desire was uncertain before, they’re not now. Her eyes are dark, the galaxy’s blazing deep within the depths. Not as obvious as big brother’s, but she was very much his offspring.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” they continue, far quieter – aware now that the others in the room are not informed entirely of her family tree. “I just want…”

“I was warned about you,” Aila hisses. Do not trust the Endless - the lesson was practically beat into her, and she grapples with it now. “Your wants are generally selfish.” And not in her best interest.

“Leave Epithumia,” Orpheus says, his voice quiet but firm. Eurydice curls into Orpheus’s side, while even Calliope stands – offering her own silent support.

Realizing they are outnumbered, Desire clicks this tongue – leaning their head down, so close that Aila can feel their breath on her cheek. “I can sense your wants little bird,” they whisper. “That’s all.”

Aila leans back, eyes wide – suspicious, and they can’t help but twist their mouth into a smile. The girl was so easily read; they are curious about the other half of the melding. What angel did big brother bed, they wonder? But no matter – they will work this to their favor.

“I merely wanted to offer you… a family hand,” they continue, keeping their voice quiet. “When you’re ready…” They step away, giving a grin to the Calliope and Orpheus. “Another time, nephew-mine. Muse.” They’re polite as they leave, much to Calliope’s concern and irritation. Epithumia visiting… in a time like that. They had never done her harm directly – they had played games, they had toyed with her, but they had not harmed her.

However, something about this visit felt… off, and Calliope glances to Aila, who stares at where Desire once stood. Her gaze is unreadable, and Calliope worries. Considerably so.

…………..

Lucifer sits on her throne, lounging – drink in hand. The wine is bitter – nothing worthwhile, but given she was in Hell – given she was bound to Hell -, well… her options were limited. However – she takes a long sip – her mind and world now in turmoil over what Azazel reported.

A girl… a girl – mortal? Unlikely. Had healed another woman – not just healed as the demon was certain he had killed the woman. Brought someone back – there was so very little magic that could do that.

Very few others that could wield it.

Lucifer takes a long sip from her glass and thinks back on the last few days. First, she had felt a power like none other rip through the mortal plane – a single second, quite literally. For a single moment in Hell, time had frozen. It wasn’t something lesser beings would notice, but she had. She had tasted it and hated it – time… messing with it carried risks and unseen consequences. Then, there was a storm – nothing overly unusual except that her demons in the area had tasted the air. The storm had not been natural.

Finally, Azazel. A demon lord brought down. By what? Originally, Lucifer had thought perhaps the pup carried some power – an offspring of an Endless? That carried some possibility, but no, it would seem the girl – whoever she was – was the source. But what was she… a question apparently the nightmare could have answered had she kept him here until Azazel woke. The demon had reported the two had been traveling near enough together that they likely were together in some way… meaning… Lucifer had the chance for her answers and had let them slip away.

With a hiss, Lucifer tosses the glass – where it shatters into the wall. When the girl had healed Eurydice…

Lucifer stands up, coming to lean over the edge her railing – staring out over the fields of Hell. When the girl had healed Eurydice, even Lucifer had felt it.

“My liege?” Mazikeen asks, quiet and uncertain.

However, Lucifer says nothing. No, instead, she focuses on the girl – and what she tasted in that moment. The girl had brought the mortal back, and in that moment… that singular moment… Lucifer realizes what she tasted – the familiarity of it, the power of it, the pureness of it.

In the last few days, she had felt the divine… the girl… she was either angel or Nephilim.

Either way, it didn’t matter to Lucifer. If the girl was on the run from the silver city, perhaps… Lucifer grins – perhaps, she could reach out a hand, a peace offering even. The girl would need allies; the Endless were rigid beings. How long until they decided she wasn’t worth the risk – either killing her themselves or handing her over to the silver city? No, Lucifer couldn’t allow that.

She just needed an opportunity, and with a grin, Lucifer realizes… the girl was nothing short of gracious in offering the easiest solution to get to her… after all, there was a risk in going near the Endless whelp, and the girl – the one that was brought back? This… that had potential.

………..

The Fates stare at the once cut thread with an odd interest. It had fixed itself, but the edges were frayed, the twine unraveling and re-raveling itself in turn. Eurydice lived.

But for how long, they wonder.

Quick Notes: Onwards we go to trouble

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One: Why We are Family

The moment Epithumia leaves, the world calms slightly. The tension fades, and Orpheus lets out the breath he was holding. Instead of focusing on that, he grins – moving to the kitchen, fetching a small meal for all of them. It’s nothing… substantial… just something small, though he hesitates as he hands it over to Aila.

“Do you… do you eat?” he asks, suddenly aware that he knows little of Aila’s power and type. His… the Endless did not need to eat, as he knew, but they would – some even enjoyed it, unlike some, he ruefully thinks.

“I do,” Aila says, with a snort – taking the bowl of bread and… cold stew. She doesn’t make a face – at this point, it’s sustenance. Using her power as she did, her stomach growls and cramps – unsurprising. It was rare for her to extend herself… like that, and she had never – until this moment – brought anyone back from the dead. Aila considers that deeply. Eurydice was alive – because of her… she had pulled the mortal back… and she wonders if her mother… she pushes the thought aside. She shouldn’t care if her… if Lucifer would be proud of her.

Finding a seat, she sets into eating it slowly; she’s starving, but after everything, a wave of nausea gently rocks through her. The bread is hard, and the stew cold – it does little to calm her stomach, but at least, it eases the aches of hunger. It wasn’t often she was actually starving… is this what that felt like, she wonders. There’s a gnawing pain in her stomach, and now with food in her mouth, her stomach threatens back... she's never been... she's never felt hunger like this before, and she wonders - worries this might be what it's like for mortals all the time.

It takes some effort but she swallows the offering, only slightly grimacing as it settles hard in her belly. “Not as often as you,” she continues. “But when I’m hurt or when I’ve…” used my abilities.

Eurydice clicks her tongue and promptly takes the bowl from Aila – who stares, wide eyed at the other woman. However, to Eurydice – Aila saved her life. If the younger girl needed to eat now because of it, she wasn’t going to eat stale bread and cold stew. No, instead, she moves into the kitchen – promptly finding fresh ingredients and warming the fire with the intent to cook.

“Do you need… more sustenance after…” Eurydice starts, unable to easily articulate the question, but Aila understands. She wants to know if using more of her power required her to eat more – which it could and did this time. Aila does not want them to inconvenience themselves for her, but she nods, quiet and retrospective. Orpheus, without a word, moves to help Eurydice – he kisses her cheek as he does so, and Aila smiles.

“You should go and clean up,” Calliope states, looking at the dried blood on Aila’s wrists, and the Nephilim readily agrees.

Without another word, Aila shifts to find a washing basin – unable to ignore Orpheus and Eurydice’s laughter from the kitchen. It brings a smile to her face, even as she works to get the blood off her skin. But as she does so, she cannot help but think back on Desire’s words – their offer. She didn’t need… to know the Endless now – she didn’t feel the same urge as she did at the start of all of this. Not with Orpheus and Eurydice now in her life, but… she stops scrubbing to stare at the water’s tinted surface.

But she had never also had a chance to ask anything of an Endless… and it wasn’t like the rest of the Endless were offering, and it did seem that Desire had kept her origins to themselves. Why? She doesn’t know, but… even though she doesn’t need to know that side of herself, she can’t help the curiosity… and it wasn’t like she could ask Dream. Not without significant risk at least. She cannot exactly visit him in the Dreaming, and the last look he leveled on her.

She shudders at the memory. At least that was a trait shared by both her parentages, she considers ruefully. For beings that the nightmare swore were so different, she was starting to blend them together with far too much ease. The nightmare… Aila sighs – she regrets sending him away. He could help her with this – help her understand the Endless better… she doesn’t need to… she doesn’t want… she splashes her hands roughly in the water, frustrated that no matter how much she tries to convince herself of it – she was curious about her heritage.

With Orpheus and Eurydice predisposed, Calliope helping them, Aila takes the chance to slip outside – able to sense that while Desire left… they hadn’t gone far. No, the moment she steps passed the door, she finds them leaning against the cart, an apple in hand – that they’re slowly eating, eyes locked onto her for every bite.

“You didn’t tell them,” Aila says – stepping nearer but not crossing the distance completely. For the moment, it’s just them outside. Maybe she didn’t need to know her family, but she did need to know this. Desire could have told the entirety of the Endless, but from what she could see, they hadn’t.

“Nope,” Desire says – emphasizing the ‘p’. They enjoy the confusion on the girl’s face they decide. For a being so powerful, looking as she did now, she appeared so very human… so mortal – and with it being Dream’s offspring, they shudder in delight… they’re still very curious about the rest of her parentage, but they recognize the need to play this right. The girl was obviously… untrusting – of them at least, smartly honestly. So, instead, they focus on what they can sense from her - to belong. They can work with that.

“Why?” Aila asks, but Desire merely shrugs – tossing the apple core into the woods.

“Why do I do anything?” they counter, and they watch as she pinches her face – oh so very similar to big brother. They honestly don’t know how anyone hasn’t seen it yet. But right now, they ease their smile – soften their features and gently lick their function against her skin… drawing that desperate want and need to know… to be with family… to the surface. It was a bit trickier than expected, though understandable.

Big brother’s manners had done a bit to calm that incessant need in her, as well as her tightening attachment to Orpheus and Eurydice, but that’s all they need. That tiny little nugget of want related to Orpheus, and then, they do their best to expand on that – to pull on that thread… until their certain it’s shouting in Aila’s mind that this is an opportunity, this is a chance… an Endless is extending an olive branch, giving her a chance she’s never had before. They smile, as she stumbles.

Nephilim or not, she was still bound to the whims of mortals, bound to their realms… well, at least theirs it would seem. They hold out an apple, able to also sense that deep hunger brewing in her.

There’s a moment – a singular one – where Aila hesitates before finally closing the distance fully and taking the apple with a muttered thanks. She bites into it, and unlike what she had inside, this… this helped her stomach – the cramps easing, the nausea settling. She lets out a sigh of relief everything improves.

“I’m glad to see your manners are better than my brothers,” Desire says, leaning back with a derisive snort. They can’t recall Dream ever saying thank you. “Did you learn that from your mother, perhaps?”

Aila’s gaze darkens, and she shifts back. “I did,” she says, unwilling to say more.

Something Desire quickly realizes and accepts. They do note the tension in the Nephilim’s frame, how her eyes flicker at the mention of her mother. It would seem bad blood existed there too. They’re so very curious, and they can’t help the tremble that runs up their spine in turn.

The two fall silent, and Desire waits – curious if the Nephilim will take the leap here or walk away… if it’s the latter, Desire suspects it won’t be for long. She came out here – she wants to know more, now stoked by their own function to want it even more. She won’t be able to help herself.

With an irritated huff, Aila situates herself against a nearby tree, staring into the apple half eaten. She should just go back inside; she should just… “What’s he like? What are any of you like?” she asks, and Desire grins.

This game is far too easy, they decide.

……………..

The nightmare remained intact for now, Dream decides. He had half a mind to merely turn the creature to dust where he stood once he had what he wanted, except the nightmare refused to say a word. The nightmare refused him – the king of Dreams. Instead, the nightmare stayed quiet – no matter what Dream asked or demanded.

Anything and everything related to the girl – to the Nephilim – remained open and unknown. The only difference now was that the nightmare was well aware the Endless had little idea of what to do with her or what to think.

Aila was… unlike any of the Nephilims prior… that was all Dream knew, and somehow, she was here with his child… and she had some connection to a creation of his realm… a creation he did not recognize or know.

Dream could only suspect somehow the creature had come into being from someone’s dream itself, and it had taken on a more solid form… turning into this eventually, but how it came across the Nephilim… how it ended up intertwined, he doesn’t know, and the nightmare isn’t telling.

At least, not yet. Dream suspects given more time he will find the answers he seeks, but for now, he had sent a message to Hell that had finally been answered. It wasn’t ideal to keep Lucifer waiting, so with little fanfare, Dream descended into the depths once he had his permission to visit.

Hell was unchanged; the demons screamed, the wind was cold, and overall, it was not a place that Dream enjoyed to visit. However, it was necessary. For now, his helm was tucked under his arm – this was… a neutral visit, after all. He suspects as the girl suggested the demons wanted nothing to do with his son and more to do with her, but nonetheless, he plans for the contingency.

The trip doesn’t take long – Lucifer does not appear to be in a mood to play games either given she lets him have a direct line to her throne room, and the moment he enters, she stands to greet him.

“Hello Dream Lord. Welcome,” Lucifer says, wings resting comfortably behind her.

“Lightbringer,” he says formally, situating himself in the center, and the two regard one another quietly.

Neither speak, and Lucifer is content to wait. She enjoys this – how off balanced and ruffled Morpheus appears to be. It’s not often she can unsettle an Endless to this degree, and she wonders if she should have sent the demons after Orpheus. It would have been a risk… but a calculated one. Dream was… unpredictably predictable in his rage. He would take affront to her touching his child, but he would be cautious about… crossing certain boundaries. Downsides of duties, laws, and order… things that did not matter as much with the chaos of Hell.

It's Dream that cracks first, and with a heavy, deep breath, he states calmly, “You know what my visit entails, Lightbringer.” He watches as she smiles – she’s aware but she continues to sit silent… forcing him to continue. “Your demons came near my son.”

“Not purposefully, I promise you,” she says in turn.

“I suspect the difference matters little to you,” he says, and she can’t argue that. Whether or not, the boy was there would not have changed her plans. “My son…”

“Is not my concern,” Lucifer says, with a shake of her head. “Merely a misfortunate ill-timed response.” The mortal woman had even been an accident – though it had been telling since it had forced the girl to respond… revealing herself as Azazel promised. She did not always… like her lords and princes, but sometimes… they had their uses. “The girl…” Lucifer starts.

“Is not my concern,” he counters, and Lucifer grins.

“Perhaps,” she says, crossing the space between them to tower over Dream, delightfully so. “But she’s near your family.”

“What of it, Lightbringer?” he asks, and when she says nothing, for Dream, it’s telling. This meeting had a two-fold purpose. He wanted to make the line clear with his child, as well as assess if Lucifer was aware… of Aila… and given how the former angel stares at him, also trying to read him – Dream knows then… Lucifer may know Aila is not normal… but she is not yet certain of what she is nor is she aware that he knows.

Dream decides it’s best to keep it that way.

“I bid you farewell Lucifer,” he says, stepping back.

“That is all you wanted?”

Dream stops, regarding Lucifer quietly again. “My son is not involved in these matters, in our matters. He is to remain out of this.” Dream turns and continues his quiet retreat, while Lucifer’s smile grows.

“Oh, I think he’s very involved already Dream Lord,” Lucifer whispers to himself. “We are well past that.”

Quick Notes: So, Lucifer wants to know more, Dream’s trying to know more, and Desire is like… oooo look a new niece, I’m going to try bonding with it – at which point, they’re going to know more. Too bad, Desire’s only doing it for nefarious reasons – hopefully that doesn’t come back to bite them.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two: When We Fall Apart

After another meal, Aila sleeps – she recalls her head hitting the pillow and then… she’s back on the beach. The same beach she realizes when her memory starts to slowly come back. You’re in the Dreaming - those words ring clear in her head, but when she turns, concerned, she finds she’s alone. It’s just her… there’s no one else – Dream included – with her here, and the gates… they’re wide open.

It’s tempting… she wants to cross the beach and walk inside the kingdom, but she holds herself here – licking her lips nervously. She could… she takes a step, before holding herself still again. Dream would not… he would not likely respond well to her here, not that it was purposeful – but after everything, she doubts he’d listen to her.

Especially given the stories told to her by Desire. Her… Dream did not sound reasonable. At least, not consistently – not in any way, she’d like to know. Meeting and talking with Desire had been… interesting… and somewhat fulfilling but based on everything she heard – even the stories Desire swore were humorous… Aila did not find it funny that Nada would rather have been gone to Hell than with Dream – which he apparently granted. Or the cruel games and bets they’d play.

Honestly, none of the family had been… painted in the best light. Desire didn’t even try to dress themself up, though she doubts they told her the worst. But Despair was… a little unsettling with the self hurt. Delirium was… well, she just sounded crazy. Death was absent but sounded the most normal, and Destiny – who knows.

Based on all of that, she found herself more and more content with maybe just not… knowing her father – not knowing Dream. Not knowing any of them.

Desire promised when she wanted to know more, they would be there, but when Aila had outright staggered back after some of the more gruesome stories – enemies, friends… everything in between… the nightmares people suffered… nightmares… she thinks back on the Corinthian…. He wasn’t a bad nightmare, but he was a nightmare, she reminds herself.

Nightmares were meant to terrify – weren’t they? Aila wasn’t entirely sure of their purpose, after all. Her life at home… with her mother… was near enough to the description Desire gave, and she couldn’t imagine also facing that every night. Why would anyone want that… why would anyone need to suffer that… her… Dream sounded like… she sits on the beach.

Her mother… was many things but she… she wasn’t a monster. She wasn’t a good mother – Aila could see that, but she didn’t… she… was Lucifer Morningstar, but her duty in Hell was a duty… Dream chose to give people nightmares, to terrorize them…

She – Aila stops her thought there when a glare on beach catches her eye. That wasn’t… Aila leans over – fingers encasing whatever it was she was seeing, and when she pulls it back, she blanches at the sight of the Corinthian’s sunglasses. Why would he risk… she stops herself there – he wouldn’t. That she knows for certain. If he was here in the Dreaming – she drops her head, realizing abruptly if he was here, it was because she sent him here.

Aila spins to her feet, staring at the gates; given what she now knew about Dream – about his forgiveness or lack thereof… about his cruelty that could rival Lucifer’s, she wasn’t leaving the nightmare, but the moment she tries to go to the gates… Aila finds herself in bed, awake.

………..

Orpheus was nodding off – after fighting it for so long, he found he couldn’t any longer. His eyes were heavy, his limbs dead weights, and his head – he struggled to keep it up. Eurydice sighs contently; she was long asleep, her breaths even and calm, as she sits curled into him. At least, her dreams were pleasant it would seem. Orpheus doesn’t know how he’d react if Eurydice had a nightmare now of all times. He would…

“Hello Orpheus,” Dream says, stepping into the foyer.

The two younger mortals had remained in the living area after feeding Aila, who had promptly returned to bed – passing out with ease. An understandable response given how spent she was, and unlike them, she apparently didn’t need to worry about dreaming. As such, the moment she was able to, she slipped away to go back to sleep – something Orpheus would admit to some jealousy over. He wanted to sleep, but he didn’t want – well, this.

Avoiding Oneiros was the entire point of staying awake, but obviously, that was not meant to be. Unconsciously, Orpheus tightens his hold on Eurydice. He’s aware his father is not his aunt. His father cannot harm Eurydice, nor would he have reason too, but Orpheus almost lost her. She was gone, and if not… he won’t risk losing her again.

“What do you want?” he asks, quietly – voice clipped. Eurydice shifts again, and Orpheus quickly adjusts murmuring soft things against her hair, calming her. She does not need… any of this. Not after what she suffered.

“How is Eurydice?” Oneiros asks, moving completely into the room. He stands, hands behind his back – staring down at his son, who refuses to meet his gaze.

“She’s fine,” Orpheus says, before adding, “no thanks to you.”

Dream refuses to react, barely blinking in response to his son’s harsh words. He had no part in Eurydice’s death or rebirth; he does not understand his son’s ire with him in turn. However, while it’s quiet, some part of Dream does not like this… like how his son is looking at him as though it was his hands that were drenched in her blood… he doesn’t… Eurydice’s fate was no fault of his own, nor could he have changed it – not truly… not that he would. Mortal lives come and go, and if it was her time, then so be it.

“Aila’s sleeping,” Orpheus continues when his father says nothing. Unsurprising, in his opinion, as the Endless was likely not here for him. No, given how his father’s eyes are drawn down the hall – the only reason he was here was because of Aila. Orpheus grits his teeth, electing to stare down at Eurydice now. Silently, he hopes his mother will return as promised. She’d likely be better at mitigating this than him.

“You are not safe while she is here,” Oneiros finally says. There may have been a better way to put – a way to ease the words into existence, but Dream doesn’t have time for such things. Hell would hunt down the girl to confirm what she was, and while Lucifer was unlikely to target Orpheus directly, it was very possible his son could get caught in the fallout. Something that was woefully unacceptable.

“Because she’s a Nephilim?” Orpheus says with a derisive snort. “We’re only alive because of her.”

“Hell’s creatures only attacked because of her,” Dream counters.

“Then Eurydice or myself would have died because of the snake,” he says, and he watches as the near imperceivable flinch. Orpheus knows then that his father did not know about the snake either. For Endless and all powerful beings – he’s starting to have the veil slowly peeled away.

It takes a moment, but Dream takes a deep breath, coming to sit next to his son. This was not his intention to come here and further instigate things. Aila was… his concern, but only because of what she was to his son. Dream did not… he did not want his son to be the unintended fallout of whatever this was… and Destiny – Dream had tried to call his eldest sibling to ask after Hell, only to receive no reply.

“Orpheus,” he says, gravely. “Do you not understand my concern with what she is?”

“Because she’s not human,” Orpheus says, voice quiet – before realizing that absurdity of his words. After all, his family was not human; that wouldn’t explain any of the Endless’s concern with her.

“Nephilims are not…” Dream considers his words more carefully, briefly. “They are not stable.” The last one decimated a city per Destruction’s account. “The divine and humans are not meant to mix in that manner.”

“Aila is…”

And honestly, none of the Endless – Dream included – understood why Aila was not… like the Nephilims they had seen in the past. She was coherent – though for how long… eventually they became feral, unrecognizable. It was not something Oneiros wanted his son to see or experience. The boy had some attachment; it would be best for everyone to cease that now in the Endless’s opinion. Not that he verbalizes that.

Instead, he says, “Aila is a Nephilim. She is a threat, intended and not.” Hell would not hesitate to come after her again. “You need to remove her from your house.”

“You want me to kick her out? After she saved Eurydice?” Orpheus says, his voice slowly rising. Eurydice moves but remains asleep, and he realizes then that is likely due to his father. He narrows his gaze, accusation clear in his eyes. “I won’t do that.”

“She’s a girl you’ve only known for a few days,” Oneiros goes to argue, but Orpheus situates Eurydice, rising to his feet, anger evident. Without hesitation, Dream stands as well – matching his son but he maintains his stoicism even in the face of his son’s rage. “Orpheus, enough of this nonsense.”

“She saved my life. She saved Eurydice’s life,” Orpheus states, enunciating every word. In the past, he would have never thought to step closer to his father – never rose up in such a manner -, but right now, all he can think of is his blood drenched in his wife’s blood, while his father did nothing.

“Orpheus,” he says, and it’s not meant to be dismissive but that’s all Orpheus’s hears.

“Get out.”

The room falls silent, and the two stand – Orpheus’s anger is palpable, while Dream keeps himself reigned in; however, there’s an undercurrent, a telling one of the Endless’s displeasure in being dismissed – again, by his own son. Oneiros recalls the first dream vortex, and his hesitancy there; this reminds him far too much of that. That by leaving the girl, by not doing something more, that he could be condemning this – them – to a far worst fate. Destiny had said to leave the girl untouched for now, and Dream agrees, but she could remain untouched away from his son.

“Orpheus,” he says, far more sternly.

“If it had been me,” he says – his voice a whisper. “If it had been my blood, would you have done nothing…” He glances up, meeting his father’s gaze unwaveringly, and when there’s no answer, all Orpheus can do with a scoff is repeat, “Get out. You’re not welcomed here.”

The room darkens, Dream’s power flaring at the dismissal, but the moment he goes to take a step towards his son, there’s a shift in the room, and he’s pushed back – not hard, not enough to take him off his feet. But it stumbles Dream all the same – his eyes snap to the hallway where Aila stands, and without a word, she moves protectively to Orpheus’s side.

“You would have let me die,” Orpheus says, and although Oneiros opens his mouth – to argue, to disagree… neither are certain, but Orpheus doesn’t care. All he can focus on is the memory of Eurydice’s life leaving – her last breath, and a piece of him had gone with her almost. “You let Eurydice die.” He shakes his head, lips twisted into a scowl. “You’re no Father of mine. Get out.”

The room quiets, and Aila glances concerningly between the two. She had not meant… it was not her intention to cause this, but when she goes to open her mouth, Orpheus’s hand wraps around her wrist – desperate for any contact. She sees a part of him shatter over this, and she intertwines his fingers with hers.

“So be it,” Dream says, and in that next moment, he’s gone – leaving Orpheus and Aila in the room together.

It only takes five seconds after that for Orpheus to crumble to his knees, as he starts to sob. Aila watches, quiet and uncertain at the sight of her brother brokenly crying… whether it’s over his father leaving or their words exchanged – she doesn’t know. All she can do is lean down and wrap her arms around his neck, offering what little she can – while Eurydice continues to dream of a beautiful far away land… her mind protected from nightmares – something in this moment Orpheus cannot bring himself to realize or appreciate.

No, right now, all he can do is cry over the loss of a relationship he feels was never really there. He loves you his mother had said regarding Oneiros - he loves you. And yet… to Orpheus, he did not.

…………..

In the Dreaming, a storm rages.

Quick Notes: I’m all for family therapy… just too bad we don’t have a therapist. Dream will get better, as he starts to separate his ‘duty’ from being an Endless and realization of who he is as a father… just had to break it all first.

Next, Aila has to make a plan to go after the Corinthian and Hell makes its plan to come after her… all the while, Desire schemes

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three: When We Break

By the time Calliope returns, Orpheus has fallen asleep – though it’s far from restful. Even situated near Eurydice, he shifts, flinching, tossing – no part of him calm while in the realm of his father. It takes the muse one moment to see her son’s condition, see Aila’s face – a combination of concern and hurt – and she promptly turns and marches out of the house, intent obvious.

She may not know what the argument was about (though she has an idea of the who it was about), but she places the blame more thoroughly at her husband’s feet. It was obvious to her that their son was hurting – upset, understandably so with what happened… and given how she knows Oneiros prefers to handle – discuss – things, it likely did not end well.

However, what Calliope was not expecting was to be barred from entering the Dreaming. She took one step from the mortal plane, intending to enter her husband’s kingdom as she had done multiple times, as she had done every time prior, only to find the gates closed to her. She stands at the door, mouth slightly hanging at… at the… she doesn’t entirely even know how she feels in response to this. They have never – her husband and her have had their quarrels, and he had walked away from her more than once, but he had never locked her from his realm. Never barred her completely, and she stares, unwaveringly at the gate – her own rage, likely readily evident by her husband’s audacity to think he could avoid this, avoid her.

Except… he can, she thinks ruefully. Within his own realm, he can – in fact – keep her out. Unless she could find a backdoor, she would be stuck here until he decided to let her in… or… she stares at the gate, and with a less than dignified sigh, she takes a seat there, leaning back against the door. He may be able to physically stop her, but if she was dreaming… well, he cannot stop her then, she supposes.

It’s always odd to sleep and dream like a mortal, but at least as a Greek muse, Calliope does not find it as off putting as some of the other deities or beings. She’s even seen her husband sleep once or twice… not often but on rare occasions when he, himself, needed to rest. She had yet to ask what he dreams of when he does, if he does.

As such, it takes a few blinks for Calliope to recognize she’s in the heart of the Dreaming and no longer at the gates. She feels off like this – disconnected, but at least, she’s here… although given the storm, her hair now plastered to her face – soaked through in an instant -, she reconsiders her choice briefly.

With a huff, Calliope makes her way to the castle. She may not be here truly, but she recognizes the world enough to make her way that she had long since memorized. The poor gate keepers appear miserable in the storm, and they smartly do not stop her when she all but stomps past.

Similar to when she was here a few days ago, she finds Oneiros in the throne room, but unlike the time prior, the entire room is drenched in water. Even Oneiros is sitting on a step, drenched in water, and it’s enough of a… surprise, that it takes Calliope out of her anger for a moment.

Instead, all she can whisper, “Oneiros?”

Initially, she doesn’t think he’s heard her – given he keeps his head down, hands folded in front of him on bent knees. However, he finally says – quiet but clear in the storm, “He is a fool.”

Calliope doesn’t need to be told who the he in this situation is, and while she doesn’t fully agree, she can understand the words. “He’s in love,” she says – and as a mortal in love, they were rarely rationale. “He almost lost her Oneiros.”

“A possibility that only existed because of the Nephilim,” he says. A Nephilim that was near his son… a Nephilim that was sane… for now… A Nephilim that had attracted the attention of Hell, and unlike the rest of the subconscious, unlike the rest of his kingdom, he had no control of it or her… or even Orpheus it would seem. Dream recalls Calliope all but lecturing him on not treating their son like a subject, and yet… even if he wanted to, how could he? Their son would not listen, even when he was wrong.

“Perhaps,” Calliope says. After all, they don’t know what or if any trouble the snake could have caused. “But he lost her for a moment,” she says. “He’s hurting.”

“She lives,” Oneiros says.

“Because of the Nephilim,” Calliope says, stepping further into the throne room – only for it to stretch beyond the human mind. “Why are you so resistant to this Oneiros?” She had never seen him so… against… anything, and yet this girl… it caused a rift she had not seen ever prior – outside of what Epithumia could cause.

Except Dream doesn’t have an answer. Aila being… not like the Nephilims of the past was unusual, as well as her disconnect with not only his realm but Destiny’s and Death’s as well. It was… it was odd for their family – any of them and worse yet, multiple of them – to be uncertain about something, and the concern bled through their functions, their lines, their duties. Aila was… something - he just didn’t understand what, and it… incised him in many ways. Especially since she was so near their son.

“She’s a threat, even unintentionally Calliope,” Dream finally settles on. “Their minds… they do not handle the divine well. It fractures them, twists them. She may not be lost yet, but she will.” And when she was, when she fell… she could be near Orpheus. Death had all but told Delirium – as nicely as she could – to stay away from the girl… they didn’t need to feed the madness, though Delirium had only hummed and smiled.

“She saved Eurydice,” Calliope says. “Orpheus will not cast her aside. Can Nephilims not survive?”

Not that he was aware of – they either died from the madness or died from their own kind, fathers or otherwise. Though, he had never also thought to ask angels if it was possible for one to live. The oldest he had seen was twenty odd human years, and the girl appeared to be a similar age.

“Oneiros,” Calliope starts again, and this time – finally Oneiros looks up. His eyes are practically black in the midst of the storm, and it steals her breath, even briefly.

“Lucifer will come for her,” he says. “And she will not care if Orpheus is caught in the middle.” Their son was at risk of being a casualty. “Eurydice as well,” he says as an afterthought, and Calliope sighs.

She suspects that this was not what Oneiros told their son – or not in the words that made it sound as though he was actually concerned for their son’s life. No, if she had to guess, none of this was articulated well, and based on what she had seen from Aila yet, if the girl was aware of the risk – she’d likely leave without a second thought. The girl wouldn’t put Orpheus or Eurydice at risk, but of course, that’s not how her husband handled it. And she sighs.

“Oneiros.”

“The girl is a threat Calliope,” he says. Intention or not didn’t change that, and unlike when he ignored the first dream vortex… he wasn’t inclined to ignore this, but… spilling blood, even in this manner – he hesitates at the prospect. Perhaps Death or Destruction would come to a similar understanding, but he knows his sister would never just take a life… and Destruction would not be thrilled to. Desire would likely be content to, if it was in their favor.

“Whether or not she is does not change her importance to our son,” Calliope says sternly. “Make peace with that Oneiros.” She wants to cross the expanse but aware he will not let her. “She saved Eurydice, and you did nothing.”

Dream narrows his gaze, the lightning flashing across the ceiling in a telling arc. However, Calliope does not let it dissuade her. After all, what she said was not a lie. It was the truth, and while she understands Oneiros could have done little in that moment for Eurydice, she can see why their son is frustrated, upset, betrayed. When she spoke, it wasn’t accusatory – merely a statement.

“Calliope,” Oneiros says, his tone dangerous. A tone she had never heard from him before, and it should warn her away, tell her the precipice they’re on is one she should tread far more carefully, but she refuses to back down. However, something now pulls at her – a question she had yet to bring up but now… she wanted to know, while a part of her demanded, shouted at her to remain silent. She was aware, even now, what the answer would be, but she had to ask it all the same.

“If it was me, dying?” she asks, and she watches as he says nothing, yet it says everything. Which she could live with – she could. She loved Oneiros, but she knew who and what he was when they agreed to this. However - “If it was Orpheus…” she continues, her voice far more quiet.

“The realm of death is not mine to command, to wield,” he says. He has no more control of that than his sister had of his own realm.

“Parents will give everything and anything for their children,” Calliope says. She would have gladly given her life for either Eurydice or Orpheus.

“It is not my realm,” is all he says again, and with those five words – a piece of Calliope turns to ash. She shouldn’t have asked. She knew what the answer would be, and she shouldn’t… but to hear it out loud – something inside her… hurts, breaks, tears. She’s thankful for the rain to hide her own tears now.

“He’s our son,” she says, and the storm merely continues… In all their disagreements, Calliope has never turned – never walked away herself – but in this moment, she does so without thinking. She turns on her heel and walks out. The storm follows her, but the moment she reaches the doors, she reconsiders this action.

Walking away now did neither of them any good, but her heart… her own soul hurt with the realization that perhaps Oneiros would have let their son suffer… and yet, even as she thinks it, she does not entirely believe it. It was one thing to say it but another to actually allow it when it happened. She curses herself for turning away, and she promptly goes to head back to the throne room when…

Calliope awakens on the beach. She remains sitting against the closed gates, and while she should get up – demand entry again – she finds she can just only merely sit… and ponder… and worry that perhaps this rift was… too much for all of them.

……………

The Corinthian was in the Dreaming – that’s what Aila focuses on now. She needs to – there’s nothing else to focus on. None of the other Endless – thankfully – had come knocking. Though, she suspects that it won’t continue, and Calliope had all but marched out of here when she had seen Orpheus’s sleep. Something that worries Aila as well, but there’s nothing she can do about that.

She can’t heal the need for sleep. That would have been quite useful if she could, but she can’t. And she also can’t get into the Dreaming – which wouldn’t be an issue, if it wasn’t for the Corinthian also being there.

Given both Eurydice and Orpheus are settled, Aila goes back outside. She glances around, ensuring she’s alone before calling for Desire. She had planned to ignore their offer to call for them; she had wanted to let them come back to her… but right now… the nightmare had saved her life, protected her… she can see that, and she can’t leave the Corinthian to Dream, especially after everything as of late. She can only hope he’s still intact.

“You called darling?” Desire purrs, stepping into the expanse between them.

“I need to get into the Dreaming,” she says, and they regard her quietly.

After everything and all the stories, Desire wouldn’t expect Aila to want to bury the hatchet, but they also doubt she’s murderous. So, they consider why she would want to transverse into the Dreaming otherwise, but there is obviously something they’re missing.

“Your brother has something of mine,” she says, electing for the truth – though she keeps to herself the what.

“My brother?” they purr, enjoying quite readily that Aila refuses to say my father.

“I can’t access it naturally,” she continues, and they grin – aware now that she’s asking for a favor. A favor among Endless, one they could use and twist in the future, and they salivate at the prospect. It’s almost… too easy to twist this opportunity into their favor, they decide, but not easy enough that they’ll turn it down. No, instead, they step completely into the human realm, closing the distance between themselves and Aila in an instant.

“I could be persuaded to help,” they say, and they watch the mistrust in her eyes brew then. Smartly, they pout. “Can I not just want to help my newest niece?”

Which, of course, Aila doesn’t have an answer for. She shifts – not sure she’s liking this imbalance, but she needs a way into the Dreaming.

“I’ll owe you,” she says, without thinking, and Desire simply files that away.

“I can get you in,” they say. They know of a few different ways – after all, how else can they bother big brother otherwise.

Quik Notes: Aila goes to the Dreaming and Lucifer makes a plan

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four: Who Might Have Been

The Dreaming… Aila was told it would be beautiful, breathtaking, imaginative and full of life… not whatever this deluge is. The entire landscape drowns in rain. The few creations she sees are hidden under foliage or just outright miserable in the rain. Desire takes one look at the… downpour and clicks their tongue, muttering something unsavory about their brother’s moods under their breath.

However, Aila doesn’t get a chance to ask what that means, when Desire turns and leaves. They had said they’d get her here, nothing beyond that, and a part of Aila… she doesn’t miss Desire – she had barely interacted with them thus far after all, but of all the Endless… they at least treated her like a living being, they were curious about her as herself and not just because she was Nephilim. It was odd that someone wanted to know more about Aila and not just… everything else…

But Aila was raised by Mazikeen, and the demon was nothing but untrusting of everyone. Until Aila knew more, she’d remain cautious, vigilant, but at the very least, they had gotten her here. She’d thank them later – hopefully after she found the Corinthian… and didn’t run into Dream. She suspects he wouldn’t be accepting of her at the moment – not after Orpheus. She shudders at the memory of the look he gave his son, and she once again finds another cementing moment that made her gracious in that he didn’t raise her.

The Corinthian was wrong – Lucifer and Dream were not all that different… but even if he was wrong, she wasn’t going to leave him here. Not when it was her fault he was here in the first place. No, she had done what she set out to – save Eurydice and now, she needed to find the nightmare. They could return to their own time and…

Aila stops mid-step – stops at the realization that no part of her is really homesick any longer. She pauses, the rain soaking her to the bone, but she pays it no mind, instead considering her own thoughts… thoughts she has had prior but hadn’t allowed herself to process. Now that she was alone – in the Dreaming? She takes a moment.

Home was… there was nothing really home for her. Her mother… didn’t want her; Mazikeen merely trained her at her mother’s insistence, and her father – of that time – didn’t remember anything, thanks to the Fates. And the rest of the Endless… she hadn’t met – those at least. The ones in this time? She was honestly not thrilled with either. Nonetheless, there was little for her in their own time.

Here she had Orpheus and Eurydice, Calliope as well. They had done the impossible – they had… not shunned her, and she felt… maybe not as though she belonged but at least that she wasn’t an inconvenience. Well… she glances about the storm – except for this.

But hopefully, she prays she will not need to see Dream; instead, she starts to make her way through the storm, the nightmare’s sunglasses clenched in her hand. She had some magic, and this she could do. A tracking spell… was not inherently difficult – especially once she made mention to Desire that once in the Dreaming she’d need to find… something. She elected to not tell the Endless it was more of a someone – though she does wonder how much does a nightmare count? They weren’t… exactly living in the same way she was, though it wasn’t like the Endless were alive in the most grounded sense either.

Metaphysical planes and magic… her head hurts just trying to piece it together. Smartly, she focuses on the spell instead, and with a few muttered words and a drop of blood – per Desire, that was important if she was going to transversing her Father’s, she corrected them to say Dream’s realm -, the glasses shatter to sand.

The particles glow and swirl in the air around her before they start to float away, ignoring the utter downpour of water around her. She has half a mind to try and create an umbrella – this is the Dreaming, but the last thing she wants is to draw Dream’s eye. No, right now, she’ll let him do… whatever he’s doing – she glances up at the storm, frowning as she wonders exactly what it is he is doing.

After trekking for a bit, Aila does start to appreciate what the Dreaming may look like when it isn’t hurricane-style weather. She can see the whimsical trees, the running rivers, and the unusual blossoms that seem to follow her every step. It does seem like it would be beautiful if the weather would only let up, and she tries… not purposefully, of course… she refuses to think it was purposefully… but she tries to imagine what growing up here would have been like…

Jumping from river stone to river stone with her imagination her true friend. Her imagination left unbound in a world such as this… with Orpheus and Calliope… Eurydice eventually. It was… fleeting… but it was a thought that did bring a small smile to her face because she thinks how much better things would have been with Orpheus and Calliope… she refuses to imagine Dream in any of these… though now that’s in her head, she could see him standing in a corner, far away – silent and observing and likely judging. The images fade from view – fade… she realizes abruptly that they had come to life in front of her in the Dreaming, and when she stopped thinking on it, the illusion shimmers into the rain as though it was never really there.

Which it wasn’t. That wasn’t real. Aila had power apparently to bring someone back from the dead, she sighs, but she couldn’t do that. Although, she wonders now how her mother would take knowing that she could, in fact, do that. Would she suddenly have worth… was that all she was worth – as a Nephilim…

Aila pauses in her journey, the sand circling around her head like baby fireflies in the midnight sky, but she pays them no mind. Instead, she stares at the water pooling around her feet. When she made the decision to leave home, to walk out that door – none of this had been… even an inkling of a thought. She hadn’t considered the repercussions or the possibility of what might happen after she met her father.

Or met a version of him, she supposes. Or what might happen if she met her brother, her aunts, her uncles… any of it. She didn’t consider… and she hadn’t thought she’d realize how much…

She didn’t want to go home anymore.

………..

The spell takes Aila to a castle, because of course, she realizes – it does. With a heavy sigh, she uses the rain to mask herself as she slips by what appears to be a dragon, huddled up under its wing… or is it a wyvern? Aila doesn’t honestly know the difference; she just decides after everything being eaten by either or isn’t something she’d like to experience.

However, thankfully, the rain keeps her hidden, and Aila enters the castle with silent steps. Once inside, she shakes the rain from her hair and subconsciously she almost shakes out her feathers… she hasn’t pulled her wings from the other plane this much since she was a child. It was odd to think she had exposed them twice recently in such a short timespan, but she had gotten use to them… not being there… they were less pained when she kept them folded and ignored them; she never knew what caused the pain… but they hurt – more so when she had them out. She had almost forgotten how uncomfortable it was… until the Corinthian – when she accidentally shifted them partially and now with Calliope and the Endless.

At least now, they were folded up again… and she could ignore them as she tended to – except she recalls Calliope’s words they’re very beautiful, and she blushes even now at the memory. Not even her mother had said that… although from what Aila understood her mother had more bat-like wings before they were… forcefully removed, not that Aila was ever told the details of that. Only that the Endless were to blame.

The castle is utterly silent save for Aila’s soft footfalls as she transverses the hallways. The area is expansive, immersive, and honestly… while the landscape was remarkable – Aila decided this was something even more. This was beyond anything she could have even imagined, and she wishes she had more time to explore.

However, Aila may be reckless at the moment by being here, but she was not foolish enough to linger. Instead, she continues to follow the sand, the spell until it takes her to the deeper levels. If it wasn’t for the spell, she’s certain she would have lost her way more than once, but finally the sand settles in a pile outside a door. She nudges it with her foot, curious to see if there was anything left to it, but the pile merely scatters… the magic gone.

The door – it’s warm beneath her hand and locked… and while she figures she could likely pull it off its hinges, that would attract some likely unwanted attention. With a quiet sigh, she kneels, trying her best to look under the crack but seeing nothing but shadows.

“Cori?” she whispers – her own voice echoing far more than she means it too. She flinches at the sound of it, but thankfully, after a heartbeat, she remains alone. “Cori,” she tries again.

Even though the door is thick, Aila hears shifting – until very likely someone is pressed up against it in a similar manner as to her.

“Little bird, is that you?” the nightmare says, and Aila can practically hear the smile twisted onto his lips. She rolls her eyes, disliking the nickname immediately. “What are you doing here?” he then hisses.

Aila falls silent, twisting her hands nervously. She didn’t mean… it was an accident to send him here, and she says as much – the apology unsaid but obvious in her tone. She had just wanted… she had needed to save Eurydice, and the nightmare was talking about leaving. But now…

“Does the woman live?” the nightmare asks.

“She does,” Aila admits. “The Endless know what I am.”

They both fall silent, before he asks, “Do they know who?”

Aila opens her mouth – because they don’t… save Desire… but she pauses on telling the nightmare that. She worries what he might say, how he’d react given his lack of enthusiasm to her trying to help Eurydice. “No, they don’t,” she settles on. It wasn’t a complete lie – most didn’t, especially the one that mattered most. “But the demons saw me. I don’t know if they know what I am yet but…” But it wouldn’t take long for the Lucifer of this time to piece it together.

“Aila,” the nightmare says, his voice quiet. He understands immediately – Lucifer wasn’t a fool nor would she be played for one. If she even had the barest whiff of what Aila was, this Lucifer would not rest. He had tried to keep the ruler placated, but it would appear in his absence, she was quick to move onto new options. She wouldn’t stop.

“They’ll come after me,” she whispers. The demons, Lucifer – her mother… they wouldn’t hesitate, and that meant… that meant Orpheus and Eurydice were at risk. “We can’t stay here,” she says, brokenly – as much as she would rather. She doesn’t want to go home, but…

She can’t stay.

Her eyes heat at the realization, but she refuses to cry. She’s cried enough recently, and outside, the rain comes down harder. Even here, she can hear the pitter of it against the stone.

“I know,” the Corinthian says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a momentary silence before Aila steels herself. She couldn’t delay it any longer. This needed to be done, so with slow steady steps, she pushes back to her feet, placing her hands on the door. She gives the nightmare only a moment warning before she flushes her power… power that she hadn’t realized was there, power that had been swirling in her but quiet until this trip into the past. Power she had refused to show her mother, to acknowledge… but now that she knew it was there…

It bucked against her, and Aila feels the pain – like an electric shock – down her spine first, then the door shatters to nothing. The Corinthian, eyes… she tries not to grimace at the sight of the ocular mouths… he eyes the missing door, whistling low, impressed by her power. Power that was receding, though the pain remained. Sometimes things came easy… like healing… but other times – her fingers tingle and she has the taste of iron in her mouth from this.

“Do you have my sunglasses by chance?” the nightmare asks, and Aila smartly points to the sand by her feet. He scowls and sighs – less than ideal, but he’d make do. He’d find another way… something similar enough to cover his face if needed. For now, they can’t linger.

The nightmare crosses the threshold, free at last, intending to go to Aila’s side, when he feels it first… Aila hears it – the storm goes utterly silent… and then, Dream’s standing there in front of them both.

“You should not be here,” Dream states, and Aila… goes completely silent. The Dream Lord is every bit of nightmare at this moment. The shadows cascade from his feet, crawling up walls, his eyes utterly black, and right now, he’s far less human appearing than even the Corinthian had seen of late. “Nightmare,” Dream says, voice commanding – expecting utter compliance in this moment, but the Corinthian, while his body wants to respond, he holds himself… keeps himself near Aila… who’s eyes on the ground, fingers clenching and unclenching in response to the power in the air.

“I can’t do that,” the nightmare says, heavy sigh slipping past his lips. “Look, you don’t know…”

“Who are you?” Dream asks Aila. Not just what but who this time. To enter his realm, to get this deep… to… he sees the sand on the ground nearby – to twist his realm… he had not been near a Nephilim in ages, but she was not what he recalled… not what Destruction, Death, Destiny, Delirium, Despair… none of them recalled one like this. “You will answer me.”

You will answer me - words spoken by her mother more than once. Words – the very few words she was ever given by her mother – and that snaps Aila awake. Her eyes meet that of Dream… her father’s, and she curls her lip back at the show.

“No,” Aila says, defiantly, and the next moment, Dream moves towards them – both of them, and Aila… it’s instinct. She doesn’t want him near her, she doesn’t want him touching her, and she doesn’t want to hear him speak to her like her mother. He wasn’t her father…

One moment, Dream is in front of them, and in a blink, he’s thrown back, his back skidding along the stone, Aila’s wings unfurled – her power licking at her fingertips.

Aila says nothing now – just watches as Dream pushes back to his feet. He’s quick to recover – unsurprising given she had only meant to warn him -, and while there’s a momentary hesitation, he does not linger long. In a few strides, he’s closing the distance rapidly, and the nightmare seizes Aila’s arm.

“We need to go,” the nightmare says. “Aila…” But he groans when he feels Dream attempting… Dream’s unmaking him – his form starts to disintegrate, his eyes wide, mouth open in pain.

“No,” Aila snaps again, and this time, when she sends Dream away – she all but puts him through a wall.

“Aila, don’t,” the nightmare says, when she moves to continue whatever this is devolving into. Her own eyes are dark, the wind outside… they can hear it beating against the castle. The nightmare can feel the Nephilim’s power against their own skin, and the shudder it elicits is natural. “Aila,” the nightmare says more urgently. “You can’t spill blood,” he hisses, and she tilts her head, consideringly.

“What do you…” she asks, but she trails off just as Dream is back on his feet. Smartly, she decides it’s better to leave than push this farther. Seizing the nightmare’s wrist, Aila pulls them from the realm. It’s like moving through molasses, however, but she’s able to do it. One moment they’re in the Dreaming and the next the Waking…

Aila didn’t exactly plan where to land – just that she wanted to get the nightmare out of there, and the moment she realizes the sun is beating down on their faces – actual sun and not imagined sun – she turns to the nightmare, checking him over for any fractures, faults, or damage.

“Are you okay?” she asks, more worried about the nightmare than what just happened. It was her fault, after all, he was there to start.

“You saved my life,” the nightmare says, and Aila forces out a small smile in turn. She also recognizes she risked it first. “Thank you.”

“How long until he follows?” Aila asks, aware now that… she may not even be able to go back to Orpheus and Eurydice to say good-bye… a piece of her breaks at that.

“Given how quick he chased me last time?” the nightmare remarks. “Not long.” He pulls her to her feet. They can’t stay here. “We need to get moving.”

Aila nods, but before they go more than a few steps, she does ask, “What did you mean I can’t spill blood?”

……………..

A question Dream also has.

Quick Notes: So, this will be the more complicated version… we haven’t reached that crossroad yet. Next chapter, we deal with some fallout of Aila’s choice to go after the nightmare

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five: What We Mean to Each Other

The three Fates consider the small house – quiet now with the Nephilim gone… from what they can sense – she had gone to the Dreaming, leaving the two mortals alone. The strings, the yarn, the future predicted… there was always a chance for flux, for change, but… some things were written, and Eurydice’s fate – her thread had already been cut… fixed or not, for now, did not change that.

“It was rewritten,” the Maiden says, considering – she can sense the mortals inside, resting. There was no danger here, not even from them – not in that sense.

“Perhaps,” the Mother says, with a click of her tongue.

“Not yet,” the Crone says. “What was attempted is not yet written. It will take time to see if fate was truly changed.”

“Or merely delayed,” the Maiden says, with a sigh, and in a blink, the three vanish again. They were no longer needed here, after all; things would fall as they should… Endless or not, mortal or not, Nephilim or not; although all three Fates would agree… a divine creature did complicate matters, especially one mixed with Endless blood… an interesting development all three would think, but like Destiny, they could not see what fates held in store for her. No, instead, they could only wait – something that irked all three, frustrated them, angered them. No – they had told the girl to go home; she didn’t listen. What came next was not their fault but hers.

……………..

When Eurydice wakes, it’s slow. Her body aches in ways she doesn’t usually recognize, but her mind, actual pain – it was all settled, especially with her husband… she smiles with that thought. Her husband. Her husband curled up nearby, but unlike her, Eurydice notices quickly that Orpheus is not sleeping… quietly or well.

No, he appears in the throws of a nightmare, given how he tosses and turns, the quiet whimpers slipping from his lips. She can hear her name whispered, Aila’s name, even Oneiros’s name – though that one… she cringes at the harsh tone behind it.

“Orpheus, love,” Eurydice whispers – crawling over to him, her fingers digging into his shoulder. When he remains asleep, she repeats his name, shaking him. However, Orpheus continues to sleep – though his movements are becoming more erratic. Eurydice frowns, worried that perhaps this isn’t natural. She glances around but Aila isn’t in sight, nor is Calliope. All Eurydice can do is try again. “Orpheus,” she says more urgently, and thankfully, this time Orpheus sits up abruptly.

“Aila,” he hisses as he does so. The lingering sleep remains evident on his face, but he finds Eurydice immediately, his eyes softening immediately as he does so. Without a word, he pulls her in and buries his face into her shoulder. “I thought…”

“Orpheus,” she whispers.

“I thought I dreamt you living,” he says, voice muffled. He had thought the Waking was the dream and his dream… It had been the darkest nightmare he had ever suffered. It had been the wedding, but the entire thing had been drenched in blood… however, what scared him was the fact Aila was the one standing, covered in it, eyes and smile wrong – wings spread with the bodies of their guests… of his family… strewed about. He shudders at the memory of it, before scowling. His father may not… consistently have a hand in his dreams, but Orpheus refuses to accept this was anything but his doing.

A warning? Orpheus doesn’t know or care. That’s not what happened – proof of that was his wife in his arms. Eurydice was okay. Because of Aila – only because of her. If it hadn’t been for the Nephilim – Orpheus shakes, the tremors starting small, as the tears heat his eyes.

He almost lost her – a piece of himself. “I wouldn’t have been able to go on without you,” he says, leaning back to stare at Eurydice.

“You would have, my love,” she says, fingers brushing his cheeks. “I love you, but you would have.” He shakes his head, unable to even fathom that as a possibility. “I would want you to.” She didn’t want him to throw his life away over hers; she loved him, but even she knew he could be… a bit stubborn, and she leans in, kissing him gently. “I wouldn’t want you to wallow without me.”

“Eurydice,” he says, as her lips slip away. He runs his tongue over where she touched – that felt real.

“Promise me Orpheus,” she says. “If it is my time, you will find a way forward.” She doesn’t want to talk about this, but after recent events… she feels it’s important. Her fingers brush his cheeks again, and though it takes him a moment, he does finally nod in agreement. She smiles, soft – reserved only for him before kissing him again. “I do not plan to leave you anytime soon.”

But sometimes what they planned was not what fate had in store, Orpheus thinks ruefully. If not for Aila… he shudders, but he’s settled enough to lean back, now looking for the Nephilim. She had been here when he had fallen asleep – not purposefully, but his eyes had grown too heavy. Not that the sleep had helped; Orpheus doesn’t feel rested… nor does he see Aila.

Orpheus pushes to his feet first, helping Eurydice up second, and without a word, she understands – going to check the bedroom. He goes to the kitchen, then glances outside, and when Eurydice returns shaking her head… Orpheus scowls before grabbing a piece of paper, jotting his father’s name down and then immediately burning it.

“You do not think…” Eurydice says, before trailing off. Aila… neither thought she would wander off, but the Endless had made it clear they were not thrilled with her presence. However, Eurydice didn’t think they’d just come… and… she doesn’t give that thought a chance to finish. Aila had to be okay… Eurydice would hurt if their friend was anything but; the only reason Aila’s secret had been discovered, after all, was because of her. Eurydice would hate to think it was her fault… she shudders and hopes that Aila just…

Dream appears in a swirl of sand, eyes dark – robes skewed, and overall, he appears unkempt… something Eurydice immediately notices but not Orpheus. No, instead, he pulls away from Eurydice and steps nearer to Oneiros.

“Where is…” Orpheus starts, before Dream turns away, scanning the entire house – practically and effectively ignoring his own son. But Dream needs to check – Aila had… Aila had thrown him clear in his own realm – his own – then vanished.

“Aila,” Dream hisses. “Where is she?”

Orpheus stumbles, Eurydice’s eyes wide. He opens his mouth but struggles to answer since that was his question. When he doesn’t provide a quick enough answer, however, Dream turns – his narrowed gaze landing on Orpheus, and in a few small strides, Dream stands over Orpheus.

“Where is she?” he repeats – Eurydice notices then how the Endless stands… off-balanced. She had never seen the Endless, any of them truly injured, but she worries that perhaps he is.

“Not here,” Orpheus says, finally finding his voice.

“Where…”

“She was gone when we woke,” Orpheus says, truthfully. “What did you do?” he says, turning the question back around. No part of this seems right – he suspects that Aila missing and his father’s mood were interconnected.

When Dream goes to move away, silent in response to Orpheus’s question, the mortal reaches out – fingers grasping tightly into his father’s robes. Orpheus is many things – and he had been defiant before… but he had never purposefully grabbed at his father, never tried to stop an Endless, but in this moment, that’s all Orpheus does, without thinking. He doesn’t even care about the ramifications.

“Do not,” Dream starts, voice quiet and each word enunciated.

“What did you do?” Orpheus says, concern bleeding in – for Aila.

“You are not to converse with her again,” Dream states. He will not risk the Nephilim being near his son – not after she attacked him in his own realm. No, he may not yet call a summons to the silver city, but he would not allow Aila near Orpheus. When he found her, he would bring her back to his realm, where she would stay until they decided what to do with her. And that nightmare… he would unmake.

“No,” Orpheus says, and Eurydice shifts as the room temperature drops.

“Orpheus,” Dream says.

“No.” He stands tall, head held high. Aila had saved Eurydice, Aila had done nothing to deserve this. Her being a non-human was ridiculous in Orpheus’s opinion – wings or not. “She will always be welcomed in my house.”

“Orpheus,” Dream says again. It is not often his son defies him – refuses him – and in this moment, the Endless doesn’t entirely know how to respond. Free will was a human concept. “You are not to entertain her.”

“She’s welcome here,” he repeats, and the room goes silent. Eurydice stands a few feet behind Orpheus, and she won’t meet the Endless’s gaze. However, she catches Orpheus’s eyes and agrees with him readily. Aila saved her, was only in this trouble because of her.

“You are not…”

“The only one not welcomed here is you,” Orpheus says, quietly – darkly.

With an audible click, Dream’s mouth closes, as he quietly considers his son. The entirety of the last few days brews beneath the surface. The fights before the wedding, the disagreements, and then Dream doing nothing in face of Eurydice’s almost demise… and Orpheus… Orpheus finds his heart breaking for the father he thought he had but never truly did.

“If you wish that,” Dream says, understanding the sub context enough. His tone, his voice, his stance – all of it stoic. He recalls Calliope’s words – her statement that Orpheus would refuse him, disavow him should he threaten Aila… which he can accept. Aila was a threat.

“Leave,” Orpheus says. “And don’t come back.” Not until Aila was safe, at least, he thinks. But he doesn’t add that – no, right now, he’s upset, something Eurydice notices. She moves closer, her fingers wrapping gently around Orpheus’s free wrist.

“As you wish Orpheus,” Dream says. “But this will not help her. It will not protect her.”

Orpheus pulls free of Eurydice, closing that last inch between himself and his father. “I could not save Eurydice. You did nothing to help her,” he hisses. “But should you come near Aila, I will stand between you.” That he could do.

Dream’s jaw tenses, but in a blink, he’s gone… and only then does Orpheus’s eyes heat, his knees going out slowly as he folds to the ground. His shoulders shake – the exhaustion and emotional toll overwhelming, and Eurydice sits, her fingers interlaced with his.

The house is otherwise quiet, though Desire sits just outside, out of sight – grinning.

……………

It was difficult, Lucifer supposes, to decide on what demons, if any, to send to the mortal plane. It wasn’t that hard or required that much energy to open a doorway, but she always had to weigh which needed to stay and which could go. Azazel was chomping at the bit to go again – his pride injured by the girl. However, that stays Lucifer’s hands. Azazel was a bit… bloodthirsty at the moment.

Understandable, Lucifer supposes. The girl has humiliated the demon Lord, which in their realm was practically an invitation to try and overthrow him. Not that she cares much about their squabbles. No… let them tear each other apart. She had plans… and this girl… Lucifer grins.

And while yes killing the girl wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities, Lucifer would rather take the girl alive. If she was a Nephilim, which was what Lucifer suspected the most, the former angel wants to know which of their sibling’s spawn she was… to bring a human back from the dead? She would need to be not one of the lesser angels, but it was usually only them that risked such a union.

The girl would be desperate for a family connection, Lucifer suspects, and she could be the one to offer the girl a branch… wrap the girl into her forces before the Nephilim lost her mind. Lucifer clicks her tongue – it was unusual if the girl was a Nephilim to not yet be mad. Which didn’t fit the narrative. But…

Lucifer’s curiosity was unbound, and that leaves only one choice for this job. “Mazikeen,” Lucifer says, voice quiet but emanating out. Her demon steps from the shadows, taking a knee without question. “Find the girl. Bring her to me.”

Quick Notes: Aila and the Corinthian make plans, the Endless make plans, Lucifer makes plans…a and fate… fate is like that.

And now I need to decide how to fit in my new story into this posting schedule. I'm 12 chapters into that one... hmmmm. multiple updates in a day are a lot but every other day doesn't work as well for three. hmmmm

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Six: When to Let Go

The nightmare watches Aila sit – feet dipped into the river – in complete silence. The human mind was something the Corinthian understood to a degree, given he terrorized it as he did, but he can’t entirely tell what she was thinking. If she was upset by having to attack her own father? To knowing her own family was against her? To just not being able to see Orpheus and Eurydice again… there were a lot of possibilities, and the nightmare can’t imagine which one was center stage in the Nephilim’s mind at the moment.

However, while he doesn’t entirely know, he does move and come to sit next to her – their shoulders brushing. He can’t even bring himself to thank Aila. If it wasn’t for her… he’d be trapped in the Dreaming again… if she hadn’t attacked Dream… he would have been unmade, and in this time period, it was unlikely he would have ever been remade. He would have just been… gone.

“You saved me,” he says, albeit slowly as though he’s considering each word thoroughly. Aila, however, doesn’t say anything – merely nods slightly. It doesn’t even appear as though she’s agreeing, instead just acknowledging she’s heard the nightmare. “Aila…”

“We need to get moving,” she says, pushing to her feet and shaking her feet dry. They need to get away from where they dropped into this world; she suspects that Dream could follow them this far at least. And… and she wants to return to Orpheus and Eurydice – just for a moment, just to say goodbye. Something she’s aware the Corinthian won’t agree with.

“Aila,” the nightmare says, grabbing her around the arm, stopping her mid-step, and she tenses beneath his palm. Her skin was hot and charged.

“I never… My mother was a lot, but I never thought she’d truly strike me,” Aila says. Lock her up, yell at her, and in training – perhaps. Outside of that – no. There hadn’t been a moment where she felt like… the enemy. She was just the disappointment. “Dream… he wouldn’t have hesitated.” In that moment – she had sensed it, felt it. She was a threat, and he would have eliminated her without thought.

“He doesn’t know who you are,” the nightmare counters.

“If he did,” Aila asks, “then knowing who my mother is, would that change anything?” Because she doesn’t think so. Orpheus was the son he wanted, and even then, the Endless treated the boy… like an afterthought.

The nightmare wants to argue that Aila’s wrong – that it would. Except in this time period? He’s not certain it would, not to this Dream. To the one they left behind – he suspects it would, in a heartbeat. After losing Orpheus, after Hell, Dread, the corruption, all of it.

The nightmare thinks Aila was just another pawn to hurt Dream, another sore spot for Lucifer to press upon… he tries to imagine their Dream’s reaction to an offspring, one molded and tempered by Lucifer – twisted and turned into whatever the realm’s ruler needed. Disposable but usable to hurt Dream… he’s more certain of it now that Dream did not know about Aila before the Fates came delivering judgement.

There was no possibility that Dream would have left the girl to be raised by Lucifer… even if he could not, he would have found another option, any other option. So, while yes, this Dream would likely not hesitate to harm Aila if the need arose, the Dream they left – without a doubt – would have stayed his hand, even to the detriment to himself.

But he doesn’t get the chance to say it when Aila’s already moved away. If only the Dream of their time had his memories, then the girl could have gotten her answers from him and not… from falling into this impromptu trip, the nightmare thinks.

With a heavy sigh, the Corinthian follows after Aila. Right now, they needed to get back, and any more delays? It wasn’t worth the risk.

Aila, all the while, walks with a purpose. She doesn’t recognize where they landed, but she isn’t worried. After a few days of being here and being around Orpheus, and she can now sense the mortals when she searches for them. She may not know where they are exactly, but she knows where they’re going – something the Corinthian realizes much quicker than she thought he would.

“Aila, we can’t go…” he starts only to trail off at the dark look Aila tosses him over her shoulder. He clicks his tongue and keeps it to himself how much she looks like Dream again. He suspects she wouldn’t take that well at the moment.

“I can’t up and vanish,” she says. Not like she did with Mazikeen and her mother. They deserved at least an explanation, a goodbye – something more than there one moment and gone the next. She could at least do that… then… then, she’d figure out her next step. She scowls, but the thought of Desire comes to mind. They know who she is… just not the when… and perhaps… it was worth asking them. It was obvious neither she nor the nightmare knew what they were looking for; however, she hesitates to suggest it, given she did just attack their brother. It’s very possible that would backfire.

Aila recalls Death’s uncertainty around her and Destruction’s suspicion. How long, she wonders, until Dream tells either of them of her trip into the Dreaming – proof that they should have just had someone else deal with her or kill her themselves. She kicks a stone along the path. Saving Eurydice had set this in motion but saving the nightmare had put her on the other side of the line… and she…

Over her shoulder, Aila confirms the nightmare remains trailing dutifully behind her. She doesn’t regret it. That will only happen if she doesn’t have the chance to at least say goodbye to Orpheus and Eurydice. Maybe give them an explanation… not all of it – she’s not ready to admit to being… Dream’s…. relation – Desire can keep that knowledge, but perhaps, that she wasn’t from this time. It would make goodbye easier – if they knew she couldn’t stay. She didn’t belong here… in this time… or with them. As much as she wanted – desired – it otherwise.

Neither can tell what they notice first – the smell or the heat, but Aila stops, dead in the center of the forest, when the first piece of ash falls from the sky. The nightmare smears it between his fingers – his eyes… she’s getting used to them still… his gaze widened, and Aila takes off first. She steps from one place to another – which isn’t far but far enough that the Corinthian will need to scramble to keep up.

However, Aila reaches the house first – or what’s left of it. The entire structure is on fire, and she senses the lesser demons nearby, cackling, howling, and standing in the center of the blaze – Mazikeen. Aila tenses at the sight, taking a slight step back at the sight of her… at who actually raised her, protected her, nurtured her in many ways… but now standing in the debris and ashes of the home she had started to feel apart of.

“Aila,” the Corinthian hisses. He cannot believe… actually he can. Lucifer was many things, but she weighed the costs and benefits all the time; she must know what Aila was… a Nephilim, meaning this – attacking Orpheus’s home – was worth the risk.

“Aila?” Calliope shouts, running over – her dress torn. “Where have you…” her eyes trail to the nightmare, and while she does not know who ‘it’ is, she recognizes what it is. She stumbles as such.

After leaving the Dreaming – reluctantly, she thinks -, she had returned to Orpheus and Eurydice to find Orpheus broken and Eurydice near tears herself. Whatever happened had been… destroying to her son, but she hadn’t had a chance to ask after it when the demons attacked. Brazen for them, but given how Orpheus was certain Dream – her son had called his father by his Endless name – would not come to help, he seemed unsurprised. It was only by pure luck Calliope had gotten Eurydice and Orpheus out of the wreckage, before the entire house turned into an inferno.

“We cannot stay Aila,” the muse continues. “Orpheus and Eurydice are near the edge of the woods. We need too…”

“Corinthian,” Aila says slowly, reaching down to touch the earth. She feels the very power of this realm, slip between her fingers now. Life was magical in many ways; it was why healing… was something Aila felt was far easier to perform. It sung to her function, to her divine half – the part that was imbued with creation. “Help get them to the temple, where they’ll be safe.”

“Aila,” the nightmare says.

“I’ve fought Mazikeen a number of times, don’t forget,” she says, pulling a blade from the soil as though it had been buried there. The blade was curved and short but plenty sharp enough. “Get them…”

Eurydice’s scream pierces the air, and in a blink, Aila moves – slipping between the demon and the mortal woman. Aila falls into habits, into instinct. Against Endless, she may hesitate, but this… this was how she was raised, and she all but sends the lesser demon spawn into a tree, exploding the trunk in a glorious fashion.

“Aila,” Orpheus says, relief coloring his tone. But Aila keeps her eyes on the demons – she knows better than not to look away. They could be fast, tricky, and bloodthirsty. They wouldn’t hesitate – though she notes they do shy away from Orpheus… so it would seem Eurydice was considered acceptable collateral but not Orpheus… not yet… but Aila won’t risk that changing.

“Go to the temple,” she says, flipping the sword with ease around her hand. The air crackles with energy, and the once clear sky turns dark with storms. Lightning streaks arc across the air, and the taste of rain is heavy in their mouths.

“I’m not…” Orpheus starts, and Aila pushes him behind her.

“I can protect myself against demons,” she says. It wouldn’t be the first time. “But protecting you and Eurydice as well…” It would be more of a struggle – something Orpheus agrees with but slowly. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to leave Aila, but when Calliope rejoins them, he moves to his mother’s side.

“Aila,” Calliope says, and the Nephilim forces a smile.

“I’ll meet you there,” is what she offers, just as Mazikeen steps out of the blaze – their eyes locking… Mazikeen never looked at Aila with any significant warmth or affection, but it was never indifference. When Aila hurt herself, when she once had cut herself so deep that she had gotten woozy, it was Maize that had wrapped the wound, tsking and lecturing her the entire time… before finding a tub of ice cream to then have her eat.

It's hard but Aila reminds herself this isn’t her Mazikeen… a hypocritical thought given Dream… but not one she focuses on. No, instead, Aila takes a few short steps before breaking into a run and meeting Mazikeen head on. The demon was likely expecting a lot, but Aila… the Maize of the future would have easily met her blow for blow; this one, Aila takes by surprise, wrapping one arm around the demon’s neck and throwing her over her shoulder with untold ease.

Whatever was left of the house shatters into ash and embers on impact. Little of the structure remains, and Aila tries not to imagine the house as it was. She ignores the dead donkey laying in pieces a few feet away, and instead, she blocks the next demon that dares to come near her.

This… this Aila shines at – something the nightmare even notes as he helps to lead the two mortals and the muse away. Aila’s the target; he doubts they’ll chase after them, not with her staying behind… but the nightmare will do as Dream’s little offspring asked… commanded. He would ensure the three made it to the temple.

“Aren’t you impressive?” Mazikeen remarks, once she’s recovered enough to be able to. Her bones creak, her muscles ache, and she has a gash in her side. She half expects the girl to respond, to snap at her obvious dig, but instead, Aila stays quiet. “You’ve been trained.”

Which Aila had been… enough for this. The next demon that lunges – Aila sends back to Hell with a swipe of her borrowed sword. It explodes into smoke and ash, not a drop of blood left – unsurprising given the demons were less physically here… unlike Mazikeen. Aila can smell the blood on her… killing her here would be actual death, not just a ticket back to Hell.

Mazikeen shifts forward, looking to disarm Aila, but the Nephilim turns and twists, easily by passing the attack, leaving Maize stunned for a moment. The movement was so well rehearsed, so flawless, that the demon is left wondering had they crossed paths before. The girl was familiar with her fighting style – concerningly so.

Pushing her foot back, Aila balances her weight – ignoring the demons taunts and jeers. She needs to stay focused; she needs the demons to stay focused on her and not on… her eyes catch sight of the Fates – watching her, watching this unfold quietly… before they turn and walk in the direction of Eurydice, Orpheus and the others.

A small part of Aila freezes at that – leaving herself open to Mazikeen’s own blade to cut deep into her side. She shouts in pain, dislodging it quickly and kicking the demon away. However, she doesn’t pay the demon any further mind – not instead, she tracks the Fates. They are going after the others… and a pit forms in her stomach in turn.

However, before she can even think to follow, a new voice calls out, “Hello little one. We should talk.”

Aila turns, unable to not – even with instinct yelling at her otherwise. She cannot help it… even if she wasn’t loved or cared for, Aila was never able to ignore a command from her own mother.

Lucifer stands there, wings folded – smiling.

Quick Notes: Yes, we’re going to have more action here on out… plus a twist that’s coming… not saying a word

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven: What Fate is Left

Half of Aila freezes at the sight of Lucifer – standing in the wreckage of Orpheus’s house -, and half rebels at the audacity her mother… at Lucifer… would have for such a disrespectful action. Though unsurprising, Aila supposes; this. This – right here – was Lucifer Morningstar, in her glory. Her wings spread lazily behind her, but the power – unseen and heady – flooding the air.

It was never something Aila had to taste, and she can’t help but take a step back in response. However, she senses it – doesn’t see it – but Mazikeen stands behind her. It’s not an impossible situation, but it was less than ideal. Aila situates herself, turning halfway to them both, so she can watch closely, anticipate correctly… as Maize taught her. The wound in her side burns, stretches, but she ignores it. She has to.

“You’ve been taught,” Lucifer comments, eyes flickering down the girl appreciatively.

“Well but not well enough my liege,” Mazikeen comments, and Aila bites her tongue to accuse Maize of that fault. If she’s inadequate in this, it’s because the demon hadn’t thought to train her better… and Aila starts to wonder, as the nightmare once did prior, if that was by design.

“You can’t be up here,” Aila says, looking to Lucifer now. This Lucifer was bound to Hell – to travel to the mortal realm would bring unwanted attention, namely those that Aila was also avoiding – the other side of her family… those in the silver city. If there was ever something Lucifer despised more than the Endless, it was her own family – as well as the warning to not ever be caught near them. Though – Lucifer had never explained why; however, Mazikeen had agreed readily with the suggestion. Even Aila’s instincts scream at her to leave… to be gone before other angels arrive.

Lucifer clicks her tongue, observing the girl more thoroughly. So, the girl was aware of the rules in place – of her duties keeping her in Hell, but how and why? The realm leader slowly makes her way out of the wreckage, considering the desiccated ground – the soil damned by her demons, allowing this small confrontation. Something she elects to keep to herself – it had no worth to the girl. No – all Lucifer cared about was understanding exactly what this thing was.

Mazikeen shifts, and Aila compensates, brandishing her blade smartly – keeping the demon at more than an arm’s length away, but it was a mistake to turn her back on Lucifer… even in part… it was just not something Aila had fully realized – instinct of having her mother watch her so often… she had forgotten to not turn her back, not completely, and Lucifer takes advantage of the momentary distraction.

One moment, Aila stands in the debris of what was left of Orpheus’s home, and the next, Lucifer had her pinned by her throat to a tree. Lucifer’s grip is firm but gentle – threatening but not in this. It was obvious the devil did not yet want Aila dead, not until she understood more… and Aila smartly keeps her wings pulled in, hidden.

“I do not recognize you,” Lucifer states, slowly and with utter certainty. “And I know most of my brothers and sisters. Those that abandoned me and those I fought against.”

The words are spoken slowly, and Aila can’t help but listen raptly. Her mother never spoke on her fall from heaven, only her oust from Hell – the Endless and their deeds, their corruption… their fault. She never mentioned Heaven, though given how little she conversed with Aila – the younger Nephilim also couldn’t be surprised by the lack of anything.

“So, you are not an angel,” Lucifer says, and Aila strains under her mother’s hand. However, she has no leverage, no ability to escape this – not yet; as such, the shout of pain rips easily from her throat, when Lucifer’s power washes over her, all but forcing her to unfurl her wings once again in this realm. Between Lucifer’s strength and the pain they usually cause, Aila takes a shuddering breath to center herself. She knows how to fight through pain – a lesson hard but importantly learned.

Surprisingly, Lucifer lets go the moment the wings are exposed. She lets Aila collapse from the tree and takes a considerable step back, allowing the younger girl to compose herself. At least now, Lucifer can see the truth to her theory – can sense it, taste it. The girl was a Nephilim… one of the upper ranks, though which one of her brother’s would be foolish enough to sire a creature bent to destroy themselves?

A creature… that was remarkably sane… Although… as Lucifer stares – she can sense something, an odd twisting of the girl’s power – a sensation of chains wrapped around the wings, confining them… binding them… something the girl didn’t even seem aware of.

Something Lucifer could and would happily bend to her advantage. She cannot be certain if the binding is why the girl’s mind is intact, but right now – all Lucifer sees is the possibilities a Nephilim – one not feral – could facilitate. The only disadvantage Lucifer could see was the company the girl seemed to keep. If the girl was friendly with the Endless… it may be of more benefit to merely slit the girl’s throat now and be done with the threat, but given Dream’s… decorum in Hell, she suspects things were not calm between her and the Endless. Perhaps the mortal boy but not the Endless.

With a smile, Lucifer elects to let this play out first. As such, she says, “They are quite something.” Aila’s head snaps up. “Remind me in part of my brother’s wings.”

“Brother?” Aila says, quietly.

“Michael,” Lucifer says, before moving onward quickly, as much as Aila immediately wants to know more. With a hiss, she pushes to her feet – keeping her back and wings near the tree, not trusting the demons or Lucifer with them exposed. “But you are not his offspring. He would be… too uptight for such a lapse.”

“I’m not…” Aila starts, before quieting herself. It was obvious that Lucifer knew the what but not the who, and like the Endless, she decides that would be better kept near completely under wraps. “What do you want Lightbringer?” she says, her voice terse. Her side throbbed. She needs to heal it, but there’s no time She can’t risk taking that moment or wasting her power.

“Manners? I am impressed little Nephilim,” Lucifer says. The girl had been taught to fight and mind her betters. “I am merely here to get to know my niece, it would seem.” Aila miraculously doesn’t react to the word niece. “You attacked Azazel.”

“He attacked me first,” Aila counters, keeping her chin raised – refusing accept blame when that was the truth. Impressively, Lucifer nods – no hesitation in taking Aila’s word for what it is, surprising her. Though Azazel had never hidden he had attempted to attack first – it was just the girl…

“It was smart of you to defend yourself,” Lucifer says, leaving out the and nightmare. She has yet to understand the dynamics – only what Azazel had told her. The nightmare was no friend of theirs, but the girl did not seem to be a friend to the Endless either… perhaps, the nightmare had been telling the truth about the strife between him and his lord – and he had elected for a new master, a feathery one. She wonders how the Dream Lords was handling that… although… now that Lucifer was looking…

The girl had been to the Dreaming recently – the Endless’s power had touched the girl’s skin, and it didn’t leave a mark suggesting any degree of welcoming. Curious, Lucifer decides, but says nothing on it.

“I see no reason for us to be… adversaries,” Lucifer continues. “I am content putting this behind us.” Azazel was not, but she didn’t care much for his opinion anyway. She stretches her wings, watching with some mild amusement that the girl mimics the action, hiding the discomfort it causes well enough. Lucifer wonders unbound how powerful the girl might be… although… her mind – benefits and risks… Lucifer could live with another feral Nephilim, given the girl causes as much chaos as her predecessors did. With the right direction… she’d be a useful weapon – albeit brief if her mind went. “You’ve had training, direction. I am merely willing to offer you more.”

Deals like that always came with strings – Aila’s smart enough to know that, but to hear the words from her mother – well, near enough to her mother – that it gives her pause. This was likely the most in the last five years that Lucifer had even spoken to her… and a small part of Aila craves the attention from this being, this variant.

It’s human to want the connection – something that would frustrate her mother of the present to see Aila clamoring for. That’s enough to ground Aila – this Lucifer was only entertaining her because she was different, interesting… the Lucifers were no different from one another, Aila reminds herself; if this one knew the truth, she suspects she’d be just as easily tossed aside. She cannot let herself think otherwise. The Lucifers were the same… just as the Dreams were.

When Lucifer goes to grin, Aila doesn’t hesitate – flushing her power out, feeling it crackle and ignite the air, and Lucifer – like Dream – is thrown back. She careens into the smoldering house, what little remains of the walls, collapsing on her in turn. It wouldn’t hold her down for long – Aila’s not foolish enough to think otherwise. But when she turns, Mazikeen is there – blade slicing clean through the air, Aila spinning to miss it going into her eye. However, it nicks her cheek all the same.

The cut burns – demonic blood mixed in, meant to hurt, meant to weaken, but it would pass. Aila tosses Maize… Mazikeen over her shoulder, the demon’s arm cracking against the hold. Aila gags, knowing she did that, but she quickly stumbles back. Mouth open, small pants slipping free.

Her mother… she was… Aila attacked her… Aila had attacked her and her father… in the same day… And then… Maize curses, cradling her injured arm.

“I’m sorry,” Aila mumbles. She didn’t… but… Lucifer rises from the ashes – her face twisted into very familiar features. The air turns hot again, and this time – Aila freezes. She had attacked her mother and father… she… she shakes, the tremors coming quickly.

However, before Aila can snap herself free, a firm hand grips her bicep, pulling her back. Aila stumbles, falling behind the body now stepping protectively in front of her. Destruction… Destruction is here, and he glances at her – frown twisted in his feature, sword resting on his shoulder – uncaring that both Lucifer and a host of demons stood before him. If anything, his focus was more on Aila.

“Where’s Orpheus?” Destruction says, not demands, but near enough that the girl drops her gaze. He did not… he does not want to frighten her – the girl was obviously exhausted, and it was impressive to a degree to see that she was still standing when faced with Lucifer… Lucifer, who was standing in his nephew’s house… and not his older brother. When he had sensed the damage, he had hesitated, expecting Dream to already be here, but when his function continued to sing, pull, and wrap around him, he couldn’t ignore it any longer… only to find just the girl. “Orpheus,” he repeats.

“I sent him to the temple,” Aila says, meeting her uncle’s gaze, and he recognizes the truth in that.

“Go,” he says, turning back to Lucifer and the demons now. He wouldn’t be a match for the former angel, but he suspects she wasn’t willing yet to court war with the Endless. Not yet. But like the Endless, it was obvious the Morningstar had seen the worth of a sane Nephilim. However, Lucifer wouldn’t be able to stay on this mortal realm long… meaning he just had to deal with some demons… he grins at the possibility. “Aila,” he says, surprising her by knowing her name. “Go.”

With a nod, Aila scrambles back to her feet and turns to follow where she sent the nightmare earlier. For one brief second, she does glance back, just as Destruction saunters into the fray. Aila watches a demon spawn clamor up behind him, only for a bolt of lightning to catch it. Destruction eyes the burnt demon, then her, and he gives her a small smile and nod before turning back.

Aila makes it a few dozen feet into the forest, when she stumbles again. Between the Dreaming and here, she feels it now. Her face burns from the cut, her side was numb, and her body aches, the adrenaline being what drives her forward now. When she almost slips again, another hand reaches out, helping to stabilize her.

Desire.

They sigh dramatically and help her to her feet, before in a blink – they go from the Waking… to the Threshold.

The moment the door closes, Aila leans harshly against the wall – full body tremors now present. Her teeth chatter, and her lip quivers, and a moment later, a blanket is wrapped around her shoulders.

“I give you a small way in, and darling you find a way to upset big brother and Lucifer,” they say with a sigh. “Impressive little bird.”

“Orpheus, Eurydice,” she says. She needs to get to them… she needs… she’s what the demons were after, but until the demons knew she wasn’t with them, they wouldn’t be safe. She needed to ensure they were safe.

“Attacking a temple would be akin to declaring war with the Greek gods,” Desire says, waving away the concern. Although for Lucifer, that would only be a minor inconvenience; however, it would still be an irritation, nonetheless. “The demons saw you vanish with me.”

“They did?” Aila asks, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, as she slides down the wall.

“Well, one did. The half-eaten face one,” Desire says, forgetting her name in the moment.

Maize – Aila realizes. Maize had seen Desire take her, which means between Destruction and Orpheus being at the temple… Lucifer would likely retreat and recoup – before making her next move. That’s what Maize would say would be the smart thing to do, and her mother… was ruthless but intelligent.

If Aila was the target, Lucifer would try again but be cautious of the lines… she just doesn’t understand why though. Why would Lucifer risk going near Orpheus – even if the boy wasn’t in the house? Where was… Dream had been in the Dreaming, but she hadn’t injured him in any significant manner, which means he should have come to Orpheus and Eurydice the moment the demons stepped near the house.

She doesn’t understand… and yet a part of her feels… unsurprised.

Quick Notes: Okay, so yes Dream looks bad here – and some of it does come back to their (Dream and Orpheus’s) argument but just to assuage anger, there’s a reason Dream wasn’t immediately there.

Aila’s just having a rough day. She’s getting to spread her wings so to speak and actually start to fight… and she’s dealing with the emotional toll of her mother and father – while also trying to not think of them as her mother and father.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Eight: What We Are

The trek to the temple is not quiet or without danger. There’s an occasional hell beast, likely sent to monitor the journey, but none that get a chance to return to Lucifer. The Corinthian won’t allow it, and part of Calliope sighs in relief at the sight of one of her husband’s creatures protecting them so thoroughly. Although, she does wonder about the familiarity with Aila, as well as the Nephilim’s familiarity with the demon Mazikeen.

The muse had heard the Nephilim – she had stated she had fought the demon a multitude of times… which made little sense… but Calliope cannot help but worry all the same. Not only about what she doesn’t know or understand, but the danger Aila faces to protect them. The girl had done so much and now…

“I am glad Oneiros sent you,” Calliope says, walking nearer to the nightmare, who merely purses his lips and regards the muse – there’s no immediate warmth there but nor is there coldness. His eyes though… they do give her pause, and she wonders what exactly her husband was thinking with this creation. She shudders, unbiddenly.

“Dream didn’t send me,” is all the nightmare says, not wanting there to be confusion. He pushes ahead, not wanting to have this or any conversation with the ghosts of the past. He does cautiously eye Eurydice – who somehow through it all walks with her head held high, uncaring of the soot stained to her face and the smudges and tears in her dress.

She appears remarkably well put together given they just escaped a hoard of demons and given she should be dead. Very dead, the nightmare notes, before sighing. Aila’s interference – what was done was done, and the nightmare decides he will do what he can to ensure the girl remains alive, as requested.

“What do you mean Oneiros didn’t send you?” Calliope asks, her tone far from pleased. It takes the nightmare a moment to notice she’s speaking to him. Not purposefully – he as merely focused on trudging ahead, and the path was not yet safe. He worryingly glances back the way they came though – towards Aila. “Nightmare,” she says, with a barely concealed hiss.

“I was with the girl,” is all the Corinthian offers, before leaving it there. However, it doesn’t really answer anything – especially for the muse.

Orpheus had been attacked or near enough by Hell. That should have drawn Oneiros’s eye immediately, although it was possible he didn’t know. Perhaps he didn’t? if none of them called, if none of them slipped into his realm, he may not know, and it would make sense that he hadn’t interfered. He would…

“He’s not coming,” Orpheus states, voice quiet – surprising Calliope by speaking at all. He had been silent since leaving the house, the house he had built – his home for so many years once he had left his childhood home. To see it gone? All of it in an instant, Orpheus mourns. He’s thankful to be alive, he’s thankful Eurydice is okay, but that doesn’t change the hurt he feels all the same. That house was where he would have taken care of Eurydice, where they would have raised their first child… and now… gone.

“Orpheus,” Calliope says, far more gently.

Only for him to shake his head and repeat, “He’s not coming.” They had fought after all, practically and effectively disavowing one another. His… Dream was not coming – not for them, possibly for Calliope, but he and Eurydice were on their own. Which was fine and expected. He reaches out, finding her hand and immediately interlacing their fingers. They would be okay.

“He’s…” Calliope starts.

“Not my father,” Orpheus says, stating the words for his mother. “He would have let Eurydice die. He threatened Aila in my home.”

Calliope’s eyes widen – she didn’t recall that… when did… she realizes while she was likely in the Dreaming still, Oneiros must have gone to Orpheus, and a part of her seizes at the realization of the dark rift she can now see between father and son. She refuses to let that simmer; once they’re at the temple, she’ll call him. He’ll come and then… and then… Calliope doesn’t know.

Aila knows a nightmare, Aila stayed behind to fight demons… she was a Nephilim, but it was obvious there were things not even the muse knew… there was a lot the muse didn’t know, she realizes, and perhaps Oneiros was right – the girl was a threat. She cannot help but glance to Eurydice and Orpheus – torn between duty, concern, and thanks.

After all, the Nephilim had no reason to save Eurydice… unless it was to get nearer to her family… but then why step between them and demons? Some part of the story is missing, and Calliope raises her head – she intends to get it.

……………..

The storm in the Dreaming has yet to subside; if anything, the winds have turned to hurricane force gales. Much of the Dreaming was either hidden away in what small abodes they had or tuckering in until the storm quieted. It wasn’t that the weather was always sunshine in the realm – almost all were aware it was hooked to their master’s moods and preferences, but they had never… none of them… Lucienne included seen a storm like this.

The librarian clicks her tongue and sighs, from where she works. This position was still new to her… new in the sense she had spent more time as a raven then as the librarian thus far – though she had settled into her new role easily enough. However, even she can recall from her own long servitude, never seeing weather like this. The librarian is considering her options – saying something or not – when there’s a knock at the door.

At her prompting, one of the lesser dreams sticks their head in, and Lucienne, unlike their master, smiles warmly at the small butterfly like creature. It was… small, defenseless but beautiful, but it was a dream… one, if she recalls correctly, made specific for Calliope, who wanted to dream of a field of roses one night, and her lord had… gone above and beyond. She smiles softly at the memory.

For every storm he put them through… there were times, he was… everything else. Not that he seemed to realize that always. Not that he’d take her opinion on that well, although perhaps he would listen to her more – he had turned her to this, after all.

Lucienne’s thoughts are stopped when the small creature lands gently on her desk, speaking in a way only another resident of the Dreaming would understand. The storm – yes Lucienne understands that and she nods. The small creature can stay here, that is no hardship to her after all, but the next words from the butterfly’s lips have her on her feet.

Emissary… here? Lucienne’s eyes widen. That was improper. That didn’t make sense. from Hell the butterfly continues, and Lucienne immediately goes in search of her master. Dignitary from Hell should not be left unaccompanied for long, and Lucifer was not one to send an emissary without reason. She needs to bring this to Dream’s attention immediately.

From her time as a raven, Lucienne finds Dream easily enough – standing out on a balcony looking out over his kingdom, now drenched and dark from… whatever was bothering him. Lucienne wants to ask but bites her tongue – it would be impolite, improper. But she can at least inform her master of Hell.

“My lord?” she says, cautiously as a lightning bolt streaks across the sky. She bites her tongue, before repeating herself more firmly.

“It is not the time Lucienne. Leave me be,” Dream all but demands. He does not have time for the trivial aspects of his realm, not right now – not after his argument with Orpheus.

Right now, all Dream can do is relive those moments – over and over as his son… as Orpheus practically tossed him aside – their relationship. Over a Nephilim. Dream knows deeply this is not just about the girl but everything, but all he can focus on is the girl. Her appearance, her words – her obvious lies… she had attacked him in his own realm… she had… she shouldn’t have been able to do that.

“An emissary from Hell is here,” Lucienne somehow forces out, and she watches as her lord grips the railing, hard enough that it turns to sand – before he spins away.

From head to toe, Dream is soaked, but the moment he passes by Lucienne, he is as he was. His robes are dry and elegant, his hair back to its usual state, but his face… Lucienne says nothing, but she can read the anguish well enough. The storm has yet to let up either, and she holds her breath, hoping this visit was something simple. The realm really couldn’t take any more inclement weather.

In the throne room, Dream hesitates only briefly at the sight of Beelzebub. The demon stands, an air of confidence and unease swirling around the demon. It was just – to the Endless – surprising to see Beelzebub. A lord and ruler in their own right, and not one to make… calls to other realms.

“Lord Morpheus,” the demon says, shifting into his more humanoid form – the fly-like appearance slowly fading until an older gentlemen in a dark tailored outfit stood before Dream. “It has been some time.”

Time Dream was content with. He did not want one of Hell’s upper echelon here, especially after what just happened with Aila and the nightmare. But he shouldn’t be surprised, he supposes as Lucifer was involved with whatever this girl was too.

“What does your master want?” Dream says, wanting to go directly into business, but the demon stands quiet, head tilted – considering. The Endless says nothing more, standing silently and unwaveringly. He was in his seat of power. The demon would have little power here, something both of them know.

“It is good to see you as yourself,” the demon continues, cryptically. “But I am here on business, you are correct.” The slight buzz pulses through – the demon holds his shape, but small concessions slip through all the same. “The girl.”

“Aila,” Dream says, and the demon nods.

“Lucifer sees no need for this to be anything more than an inconvenience on both of our parts,” the demon says. “We just want the girl, the Nephilim.”

Dream says nothing, unsurprised that Hell would know what the girl was, but he was curious when Lucifer discovered that information. When he had been in Hell, she had seemed less than aware of what the girl could be. Perhaps, it had been a ruse – he supposes -, but then it was a ruse without benefit. Lucifer was one for games, but only those that made sense. Right now, none of this makes sense.

In one of his faraway senses, Dream hears Calliope call for him. He ignores it – as he had done when she was in his realm. He was not yet ready… to speak with his wife, especially about their son. His son… Orpheus – that he had all but pulled all his senses from as the boy practically demanded with his words. When the boy slept next, Dream would do what he could to ensure he had little to do with it. Orpheus could dream what he wished for or be visited by whatever nightmare his own mind saw fit. He would not interfere – no more than he did with any other dreamer.

“There is no need for this to involve the other mortals,” Beelzebub says, and Dream cannot help how the room darkens.

Orpheus… his son… or not… Dream would not stand for Hell to even off-handedly threaten him.

“They mean little to us,” Beelzebub continues. “We just want the girl. That’s it.”

“I will not offer my aid, if that is what you are requesting,” Dream states, and the demon grins – aware that was likely the answer but still, he had to try.

“No, that is understandable,” Beelzebub says, his face twisted into a mockery of a smile. His eyes shift – returning to their more fly-like appearance. “All we ask is the amount of aid you give us is what you give her.” That was it. The demon hoard just merely wanted the Endless to stay out of this, and the demon watches Dream say nothing, not even nod, but they both know he finds those terms acceptable.

As Destiny said, they would do nothing unless something came for Aila… and Hell coming after Aila? Dream finds no need to interfere in their business, given they stayed out of his.

He thinks back on her, though, and how she moved through his realm – how she tossed him in his own seat of power… and something – he doesn’t understand what – pulls at him, claws at his form, a small voice begging him to send the demon away, to warn it away. It almost takes his breath if he needed it with how it pulses around him.

He should tell the demon no, he should tell Lucifer no, and to go after the Nephilim was near enough to coming near his… to coming near Orpheus. All the while, an invisible small thread twists around him, twisting around all of them – like a noose -, but he ignores it, even as it tightens – his silence enough of an answer for the demon, who smiles and vanishes in an instant.

He hears Calliope call again, and he ignores it – the storm outside picking up again.

Quick Notes: Back to Aila and Desire next chapter, and then we start the fun snowball of life that’s going to occur here.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Why We Are Family

Aila sits, curled up under the blanket – on what looks like a couch? Still in the Threshold. Aila had yet to move or leave, even as she knows she needs to, but right now, she’s numb. She attacked… she purposefully with intent had attacked both her parents. And right now, she’s… she knows what spiraling is, but she had never felt it. The pain in her chest, the tremors in her hands? She suspects this has to be it.

With a tsk, Desire had left a few minutes ago – she can only guess they were already over her. Unsurprising – none of her family… seemed to like her, tolerate her. Only Orpheus, and he had Eurydice, and he didn’t even know about their relation. She was just the girl that saved Eurydice – not that she regrets it. Not even as she sits here, under the warmth of a blanket, now being hunted by both… her parents. She’d laugh if she wasn’t so hurt. Not physically.

Physically, Aila was… okay; the previous wound in her side stopped hurting a bit ago. She needs to heal it, she knows, but she can’t bring herself to – not yet. Emotionally… the realm shifts, around her, and Aila glares at it – glares at the familiar walls of her childhood home trying to form. Aila doesn’t want to be there either, but at least it’s recognizable. It’s not… it’s not the Dreaming or Hell or anything… Aila focuses on what she actually wants, and finally, the realm settles again, this time the room more shifted to mimic Orpheus’s home. A place she had felt welcomed… for even the few days she had spent there.

Desire only hesitates for a moment at the given changes to their realm, as they return to the main area, before they sigh loudly and hand her a cup… it’s warm and soothing – tea she suspects. They wave at her to sip at it, and only once she’s done so do they sit across from her.

“You are quite the little troublemaker little bird,” they say. They had heard big brother through his sigil – anger evident, though he hadn’t divulged why. Merely angry, and given the girl’s state, they suspect she to be the reason since they had sent her into the realm. “Dream, then Lucifer? My, oh my, aren’t you popular?” They lick their lips, only slightly miffed by Aila’s lack of reaction. Initially, they think she’s ignoring them only to realize she’s just that out of it.

“I didn’t mean…” she whispers. “I just…” she continues, before they realize thick tears start to drip down her cheeks. “I just wanted to belong.” It’s said so quietly that even Desire strains to hear it, but they don’t need to given how deep the pang runs through their realm. “I don’t belong with you, I don’t belong with the angels.” She smartly keeps Lucifer to herself, even now, even as she’s desperate for someone to understand how deeply she’s hurt by all of this, and what’s worse… she’s not entirely sure she regrets it – not if it meant Eurydice was okay, that Orpheus would be happy, and that she undid her mistake with the Corinthian, who had done nothing but try to help her since coming here.

Desire laughs, short and high pitched but enough to flabbergast the Nephilim. “No one fits in with us,” they say, thinking of their own delightful family dynamics. “If anything, that means you do.” She had already upset big brother, she had stressed Death and confounded Destiny – if anything, to Desire, she was likely their favorite niece. Though, given they had no other… but nonetheless, the sentiment remains. “Little bird,” they sigh when the tears continue.

“When I came here, it was an accident,” she whispers. “I just… I want to know why I was born, why she kept me, why he…” Why he allowed her, why her life… why any of this…

With a hefty sigh, Desire pulls out a piece of cloth – wiping the tears away, shaking their head in exasperation as they do so. Such drama, they think; they figure she gets it from sweet Dream. But once the tears are away, they touch her cheek gently.

“Those are questions only you can answer little bird,” they say, and her head snaps up. “Why they had you, perhaps not. But why you’re here? You can answer that.”

“I don’t…” she trails off.

“Little bird,” they say, with a smile. “Do you always let others dictate your life?”

No… not usually… not now. Though Aila doesn’t say that; instead, she drops her head, staring at her hands. Her first real decision was to walk out that door, to find Dream, and it was… exhilarating. Even as she sits here, it was not a choice she feels that she would have undone. No. She wouldn’t have, she decides.

“I don’t…” she starts again, uncertain of how to respond to the Endless sitting near enough that their knees touch.

“I’m Desire,” they say. Which means they can feel exactly what she wants and how much she desires to make her own way in life. Whatever purpose big brother and the unknown angel had for her didn’t matter in the face of what she wanted… well, it wouldn’t matter until fate intervened, they suppose, and she was driven to kill big brother – though seeing the little one cry now, they… they push aside any hesitation – they barely know the little bird, and big brother willingly decided to risk this travesty. He made his bed, he can lie in it, they suppose.

“Then what should I do?” she whispers, and they tilt her head up, forcing her eyes to meet theirs – and she wasn’t lying about the desperate want to belong. How easily they can use that, twist that, but they smile.

“What do you want to do?” they ask.

“I need… I want to go to Orpheus and Eurydice,” she says, her words becoming more certain as she speaks. “They won’t suffer for my heritage.” She won’t let demons or Lucifer have them.

Desire sighs – what a basic thing to protect one’s family… a pathetic want honestly, after all, what were the chances that anyone in their family would protect one another? It just wasn’t done, but the girl was partially mortal; it was more a human thing in some ways… and having her near Orpheus would likely continue to incite Dream.

With a smile, they nod. “Then you should go,” they state. It’s unlikely Lucifer would hunt Orpheus all the way to the temple, but given the hell’s ruler now having confirmation that the girl was what she was, they suspect Morningstar would push the boundary. The girl was simply too valuable, and Eurydice was free game.

Waving their hand, they open a gateway – not directly into the temple. The muses never appreciated that, but near enough that Aila would not need to go far. Aila gets to her feet, surprisingly handing the cup back gently. She gets two feet from the portal before she turns back and in all sincerity,

“Thank you, Desire,” she says, and a part of themselves seizes at that when she steps through and the portal closes.

…………

They’re near enough to the temple that it’s foolish and Orpheus knows better, but he drops his guard. The nightmare was doing well enough on his own anyway, and that was the moment something… dog-like… bursts from the bush, bee-lining straight for Eurydice. The nightmare pushes Orpheus out of the way, but he’s a second too late for Eurydice. Her scream – Orpheus heart stops for a moment – only for a portal to appear.

Calliope’s eyes widen as Aila re-appears, the demon dog being tackled and though it latches onto the young girl’s arm, she makes no sound of pain – only wincing at the aggravation of the teeth embedded in her arm. However, in the next second, she relieves the head from its body – her blade rematerializing as easily as she did herself.

“Aila,” Orpheus says, breathlessly, as Eurydice stumbles to him.

“You okay?” the Corinthian asks, eyeing the blood on her arm.

“I’ll live,” is what she offers. “They need to get into the temple.” She stares at the blood on her arm – mixed of the demon and hers – and she stares at it, just stares. Had she not stepped through right then… she didn’t understand… why did it feel as though Eurydice was consistently the target? Was it because she was a safer target as compared to Calliope or Orpheus or… Aila doesn’t let the thought linger. She refuses to think that even after all of this she hadn’t changed the girl’s fate.

There’s no time to linger, however. They’re only fifty feet or so from the temple entrance, and between Aila and the Corinthian, they get the three others inside safely. Only once her own feet pass the Threshold does Aila notice the throbbing in her arm. She winces again at it, but she holds on healing it. Her fingers brush past the cut on her face too, then the deeper one in her side. They wouldn’t take much to heal, but she doesn’t want to waste the energy, not yet, not until she was certain the demons would retreat back to their master.

“Oneiros hasn’t answered me,” Calliope says, pulling Orpheus to her – a heavy sigh slipping past her lips. She had tried multiple times calling for him and now… she worries, but she watches as both Aila and Orpheus glance away – a telling reaction and odd to see it on them both.

“I disavowed him, mother, as I told you,” Orpheus says, stepping away. He didn’t… he didn’t regret it. His father was only that in blood and nothing more. His father wouldn’t have done anything for him. His… he didn’t have a father – telling Calliope as much, and her face breaks at the words spoken again.

“He loves you,” she says. No matter what was going on, this she was certain of.

“He does,” the nightmare says, surprising both Aila and Calliope. However, he knows best in this room. He had seen everything that followed this… he had been there… he recalls Calliope arriving, her words to Johanna on how to undo the corruption, and the price paid by Orpheus to ensure it. Both Calliope and Dream in that had been… broken… not that his master had time to grieve; no, it hadn’t been long after that that Lucifer had come to collect her prize… and he shudders to think, now knowing, everything she took from him during that time.

“Sometimes that’s not enough,” Orpheus says, turning to Eurydice and pulling her in. She says nothing, but it’s obvious she doesn’t entirely agree. It’s just with everything – the tension and pain in the air, the emotions running thin -, it just wasn’t the time to argue.

On the other hand, for Aila that may have been enough. Lucifer didn’t love her; Dream didn’t love her… but as Desire said, perhaps like Orpheus, she needed to accept that and instead focus on herself. They couldn’t give her what she wanted, but she had a chance to seize it herself. She could protect Orpheus and Eurydice… but that would only happen one way now.

“Once the demons leave, I’m going to go as well,” Aila says. She doesn’t look to the nightmare here, though she suspects he agrees with her but knows it hurts her to say it.

However, both Orpheus and Eurydice immediately disagree; Calliope stays silent – likely understanding it far too quickly. As long as Aila remained, the two would continue to be a target.

“You leaving won’t keep us safe,” Orpheus says.

“Me staying will keep a target on you,” she argues. “Your house is…”

“The house means little to us,” Eurydice says assuring. “We’re alive, that’s what matters.”

Aila tenses, ready to argue, when Calliope steps forward again – her fingers curling gently around Aila’s elbow. “You should stay,” the muse says.

“We’re a threat,” the nightmare says – not to them, of course, but indirectly. The risk wasn’t… but Calliope shakes her head.

“They’ll come for us whether you’re here or not,” the muse continues, having thought this through. “We would be safer in your company.” Especially since it was obvious the Nephilim could fight – thankfully, concerningly so. Calliope wants to ask more, now wanting the answers, but she holds herself.

One problem at a time, and as much as she wanted to better understand the girl in front of her, she more wanted to demand Oneiros come to the temple and answer her for his non-response. Their son had been attacked by his enemies, perhaps because of Aila, but the neutrality with Hell was loose. This attack was near enough that Calliope wanted a guarantee that Orpheus would no longer be in danger… until then, Aila would stay. And even then… the muse was unlikely to send her away.

But for now, they fall silent – each of them. The fallout of today weighs on them all, and the nightmare watches Aila gently pull away from Calliope to find a wall to settle against. Her arm throbs, and with a quick question and answer, he finds where some clean water and cloths are that he can help her clean it with.

Orpheus and Eurydice, on the other hand, find a place to sit together, and Calliope… just stands watching her life, the one she built, slowly crumble.

Quick Notes: A bit of a in-between chapter next, and then… I’m not saying anything.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty: When the Clock Strikes

Aila’s distracted, enough so that when the Corinthian touches her injured arm, she jerks it back roughly – eyes wide, her power sizzling beneath her fingertips. However, she catches herself before hurting him. Instinct was a powerful thing, and while she was pushed to attack to defend herself, she recognized friendly a moment later.

It would be amusing how far the two of them have come so quickly, if Aila wasn’t so worn already. She cannot get the sight of Dream, then Lucifer out of her mind – as well as their words. Desire was right – she needed to focus on what she wanted, but sadly that didn’t eliminate how she felt about their words and actions against her… whether they knew who she was or not.

Slowly, the Corinthian wipes the blood away – taking a better look at the bite. It was deep in parts, but more abrasion like in others. In a human, it would likely be a serious wound, but in her, the Corinthian suspects it will heal in time. It would heal much quicker if she was inclined, but even without asking, she shakes her head. She won’t – not yet. Not until she’s certain they’re safe here. She needs her energy for other things.

Slowly, the nightmare comes to kneel in front of Aila; he sits on his haunches, staring at her – impressed that she doesn’t shy from his… gaze. If anything, she seems relaxed by his presence, an odd sensation settling over the nightmare with that knowledge.

“What’s the plan little bird?” he asks, tongue running over his lips – some level of anxiety brewing in him too. However, Aila doesn’t answer; she says nothing. Instead, she stares into the ground. The nightmare recognizes he needs to pull her back into this moment. Looking over his shoulder, he catches sight of Eurydice and Orpheus, and he sighs. “You saved her.”

It takes a moment, but Aila asks, quietly, “Did I?” She pulls her gaze back to the nightmare, then indicates the temple. This did not occur in the original timeline, and while Eurydice lived, there was a lot of fallout she hadn’t accounted for. “Did I make this better?”

The nightmare reaches out, fingers curling gently over Aila’s wrist. He can… he can’t entirely understand how she’s feeling, but he can relate to how sometimes the best laid plans going awry. Many of his – some of which, many of which he now regretted heavily – had in the past, in his previous life.

“Orpheus would likely think so,” the nightmare says, reminding the younger girl that her actions may have led to them sitting in this time, but it was them here. Them – including Eurydice, which for Orpheus was everything. He was still sitting by his wife, their hands intertwined.

After a breath, Aila says, “Thank you.”

The nightmare grins – all three of his mouths upturning slightly. However, Aila settled or not doesn’t change the fact they did need to make a decision on what to do next. Leaving Orpheus and Eurydice was now out of the question. The mortals had brought up a good point – whether Aila stayed or go was unlikely to change the target they now wore. Lucifer would likely just hold one, both, or all of them hostage until Aila returned.

Something that Dream shouldn’t stand for, except… the nightmare glances again at Orpheus. He recalls in their timeline the boy also tossing aside his relationship with Dream in pursuit of Eurydice – or so the story goes – and it did not… it had taken thousands of years for them to put that aside, it took Dread for Dream to go back. The nightmare worries that it may take just as significant of a threat to get through to his king.

Which in this time, the nightmare sighs, Dream was stubborn and prideful… and irritating, he decides. Something he could get away with telling Dream in their current time, given he had his memories but nonetheless.

“Little bird,” the nightmare says again, and Aila nods – understanding.

She sits contemplating the issue – Lucifer wouldn’t stop. Not unless she was beyond the former angel’s reach, outside her control, or dead. Three things she could not easily accomplished save for perhaps the last one, which she did not have much interest in dying personally. Not right now. The only other option was to try and make a deal with Lucifer… or…

“I need to find a way to beat her,” Aila says, slowly – uncertain. The nightmare’s eyebrows raise up high enough to almost touch his hairline. “If I beat her, she’ll have to step back. If I beat her demon lords, she’ll retreat.” At least for a time…

“Aila,” the nightmare says, slowly. “She’s Lucifer…” Not even most of the Endless willingly tangled with her – not until Dream was taken, and even then… it took Desire tricking her with the Oldest Game to turn the tide into their favor. For all that Aila had been trained, which was sorely lacking in the nightmare’s opinion, he doubts Lucifer would have given her any significant direction with the Oldest Game.

“I know,” Aila says, quietly.

Now, the Corinthian adds, his voice dropping to ensure this is not overheard, “She’s your mother.”

To this, Aila nods. She understands; she does, but she recalls Desire’s words. She needs to focus on her wants right now, and that was protecting Orpheus and Eurydice. Even if that put her at odds with her own family, which honestly… she looks at the nightmare now, a frown pulling at her features.

“Was she ever truly a mother to me?” It’s an honest question, one the nightmare doesn’t answer – because even though it’s only been a few days and he barely knows the Nephilim, he knows enough. He’s seen enough. Lucifer had squandered her chance with the Nephilim. She stares at the Corinthian now, “What other choice do I have?”

To save Eurydice and Orpheus? The nightmare isn’t sure, he’s not sure anyone would… he pauses there. Taking a deep breath, he says, “You could ask Destiny.”

Aila’s own gaze widens, surprise evident in her face now. To her, the nightmare suggesting she purposefully tell one of the Endless the truth… was a leap, but for the Corinthian, it made sense. The eldest Endless could be cryptic, but he would also keep such knowledge to himself. If there was anyone that might be able to give some insight, it would be him – though how to ask given Aila’s recent trek through the Dreaming… was a bit uncertain.

Hearing that, Aila admits then, “Desire knows.” The nightmare tilts his head, unsure of what she means. “Not just the what, but the who.” He shifts, pushing back to his feet. “Or at least only part of the who. They don’t know the mother part.” Although, it wouldn’t take long given these tussles. Someone was bound to figure it out the rest of the way, and then, the last piece would click into place

The when.

The Corinthian sighs – because of all Endless to know, that one. He rubs the bridge of his nose wearily. He isn’t sure how much worse things could get right now, besides Dream appearing… and as he thinks it, he quickly checks the area to confirm that no, the Dream Lord hadn’t just appeared. Although, it did appear as though Calliope was likely still trying to contact him.

Leaving Aila for the moment, the nightmare approaches Calliope, even as she paces – her hands rubbing together, anxiously. “I don’t think he’s coming,” the nightmare says, stopping the muse mid-step.

They’re far enough away not to alert Orpheus or Eurydice what they’re talking about, but both mortals are interested. They can’t help it. He knows he’s a nightmare, and he had made it quite clear he was not here because of Dream but because of Aila. He wonders how long until Calliope puts the pieces together. He recalls the muse being smart; it wouldn’t take much more of a push.

The two mortals figuring it out… the nightmare suspects they’d likely need it spelled out. Although, he does hope he gets the chance to see both Dream and Orpheus’s faces when they find out… the nightmare tries not to scowl at the fact his own mind supplied when not if.

“It’s his son,” Calliope says, her tone indicating she did not appreciate the nightmare’s opinion. He holds his hands up – trying to suggest he means no offense or harm, but he’s aware given his eyes, there’s little he can do to appear innocent. “If not for me, then for him.” She cannot imagine Oneiros would truly forsake them to demons.

“He’s stubborn,” the nightmare says, surprising the muse with his frankness.

“Do you think he’d allow his son to perish?” the muse continues, and the nightmare cringes. Because that’s a difficult question – one he had partially an answer to, but he reacts enough for the muse to read it well enough. “He wouldn’t. He won’t.”

The nightmare hopes for her sake that perhaps Dream would act differently this time, but in the same vein, if Dream showed up now… he glanced to Aila, something the muse notices as well, and she deflates slightly. She’s angry that Oneiros had yet to arrive, but… she worries that when he does how he’d react to Aila again. Even she could sense the world was at a tipping point, but at the very least, she tries to settle herself – for the younger ones’ sakes. Her sisters were here, they would help protect them… at least until Oneiros showed… Calliope refused to accept any other option.

The nightmare goes to speak again when a whistle catches his attention outside but not only his – Aila’s as well. She stands moving to the temple entrance, curious about who would come this close and yet still try to get their attention. Aila would suspect Lucifer would push the boundary, but she was still bound to Hell. She could traverse on ground that had been damned or if she was forcefully summoned (though Aila cannot imagine who would tempt such a thing), but otherwise, in this time, Lucifer shouldn’t… couldn’t… come here. Not yet, not unless demons laid the groundwork first.

However, it does surprise her all the same to see Beelzebub standing just beyond the doorway – suit in place, grin twisted into a non-human way, and the eyes… the eyes remained fly-like. Aila decides then she much prefers the Corinthian’s.

The demon glances at the Corinthian, who smartly stays within the temple walls – as they all do – but Aila steps in front. Her feet touch the boundary, but she refrains from walking outside, even as the demon beckons her.

“What does he want?” Eurydice asks.

“Who is he…” Orpheus says.

“Beelzebub,” Aila answers. “One of elite of Hell.” One of those that could claim to be ruler had he not also been ostracized during her mother’s own exile and Lilith’s ascension. She had never seen the demon, but she knew of him – knew that Lucifer spoke with some respect in regards to this one. Beelzebub it would seem had been loyal until the end, until the Endless had all but thrown Lucifer from her home…

“Hello Aila, Corinthian,” Beelzebub says, and both of their instincts shout at them in tandem.

“You’re not welcomed here,” Calliope says, though the demon pays her little mind.

The demon remains where he stands, hands shoved into his pockets – no significant concern or trepidation for where he stands. If anything, he seems relaxed – something the nightmare recalls from when he saw the demon Lord earlier as well… it unsettled him then, just as it does now.

The demon clicks his tongue – the shape non-humanoid as it flickers past his lips. “Quite an interesting turn of events. I’m not even sure your mother would have expected this.”

Aila’s heart stops, and although it takes the nightmare a moment longer, he realizes it quickly all the same.

“He knows,” the nightmare says, but that’s not entirely the complete truth, Aila realizes.

No, instead, she takes one look at his clothes, how he stares at her, and she says, “He’s from our time.”

Quick Notes: I didn’t misspeak earlier with stating Beelzebub in a suit. It was a planned

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-One: By Whose Authority

Calliope hears Aila speak, but the words don’t completely sink in – nor does what the nightmare said, not when she can only focus on the fact Aila steps further in front of them. The Corinthian lunges to keep her in, to pull her back, but she brushes him off with ease. Orpheus moves to stop her, but one look, and he steps back – nearing Eurydice. Out of everyone here, Aila had the best chance against a demon. Especially this demon. Except Aila… isn’t so sure. Other than Azazel, she had never… truly crossed a demon lord, and Azazel… she had taken by surprise. However, right now, that didn’t matter. Out of everyone here, Aila was the only one with a chance – not unless Dream turned up.

And Dream wasn’t going to turn up.

As such, Aila takes two steps outside of the temple – just as the air streaks with lightning. The rain starts to pelt down on them both. In all her years with her mother, she had never met the demon Lord. Not once. She wouldn’t have even recognized him had he passed her in the street, but something about him…clicks. She’s certain he’s been to her abode before – likely during the times Mazikeen kept her squirreled away. To protect her? To protect them? Aila doesn’t know, nor does she care. Her focus is ensuring that the demon doesn’t take one more step towards the others. Her previous aches, pains seep away, fading into the background of this moment.

“Your mother was unsure after everything… about what you were and could do. It was a concern that you were going to be a disappointment,” Beelzebub states, an uneasy stroll to how he moves in the storm. Aila holds her ground, unwilling to let his words do anything but pass her by. “Mazikeen wasn’t so certain.” Aila clenches her jaw. “I must admit I will enjoy being wrong myself.”

“About what?” Aila growls, and the demon’s smile is unnatural, skin crawling. She hates it and him.

“I figured we could use you for spare pieces,” the demon admits. “I’m glad to see so much potential.”

The demon eyes Aila, and she stretches her wings – keeping those behind her out of his gaze. She hears the nightmare hissing her name, but right now, she can’t. She needs to focus. She can’t ignore how her chest feels tight, how her heart flutters in her chest. Something about this confrontation has her even on edge – even more than when she was with her mother.

“Aila,” Orpheus says, his voice quiet – far too near, and she glances over her shoulder, shaking her head. She can’t have him out here – she won’t risk it.

“Stay there,” she says, voice tight, but breaking eye contact… she knew better – Mazikeen taught her better… and she regrets it immediately.

The demon crosses the space between them in less than a breath, and she feels its claws rake against her stomach as he all but tosses her away from the temple. Aila compensates, landing into a roll and coming up to face the demon head on. Beelzebub isn’t irritated, if anything – he’s mildly impressed. The wound isn’t deep; no, it would appear the demon wants her alive. Aila decides she’s going to make him work for it.

Orpheus watches, chest tight, from inside the temple, Eurydice curled tightly into his side. “She can win this right?” he asks, looking to his mother now. She had… she had brought Eurydice back – she had to be powerful. The Endless acted like she was; he had never seen his entire family so… off-balanced by anything. To him, she had to be able to handle this, but his mother doesn’t answer. She watches the fight, lips pursed, jaw tense.

The nightmare… one that was and wasn’t his father’s… is the one that answers, “Try calling for your father.”

“No,” Orpheus growls, and Eurydice’s fingers curls into his side.

“If Aila means something to you, either of you,” the nightmare growls, “call him.” He turns back just to watch the demon get the upper hand in the fight – uncaring of the blade Aila is now wielding.

Beelzebub saunters around Aila, far too relaxed given the ongoing… what he would call disagreement… However, he has the advantage in this fight. To him, the Nephilim was exhausted – mentally, physically… and outside of an altercation with Azazel had not truly had to put her own prowess to the test. The demon had crossed blades with Lucifer once a time ago – the girl… to him was nothing… although, he would give some credit where credit was due. She was trying, even when he – and she – could see she was outclassed.

“Did you ever wonder why your mother limited your training?” Beelzebub asks, surprising the girl with the question. He does have to step back to dodge her slice this time. It catches the very tip of his shirt – slicing through it with ease, telling of how sharp the blade is. He grins – blood to a demon was just an appetizer after all. “Because of this.”

Aila stumbles, eyes wide – lightning streaks across the sky, while the rain stops. Completely, utterly. The sky doesn’t clear, and the thunder continues to rumble. But the air dries in an instant.

“Couldn’t have you being a threat to us,” Beelzebub continues, and Aila can only stand – her mind processing the words.

Trained but only just enough. Raised but only just enough. Aila grits her teeth – the wind picking up, tree branches violently shaking in response.

“And now?” Aila whispers.

“You have use. Just took a bit of a trip to see it,” Beelzebub says. “Your mother wants you to come home.” It’s said so blasé, so simply – as if Aila hadn’t just… as if they weren’t thousands of years in the past.

Aila wets her lips, fingers clenching around the blade tightly. “Mazikeen gave me my father’s name on purpose, didn’t she?”

Beelzebub tilts his head – no sympathy. Just nothing on the demon’s face. “Of course. Although, we had hoped for a different outcome than this.” He indicates where they’re currently standing… likely when they’re standing; although, Aila doesn’t understand entirely what else he meant beyond that. What could other than this mean.

A bolt of lightning lands between them, taking them both by surprise, but Aila acclimates quicker. She wants to ask – no, demand more. However, right now, she just wants someone else to hurt too. She felt… she felt betrayed. Mazikeen had raised her… but by her mother’s command. She had been kept down… not because her mother didn’t think she could entirely but because Lucifer was worried she would eventually be something.

Aila hurts… and right now, that’s all she can see.

The nightmare curses, going to step outside the temple – unsure of how he could help against a demon Lord, but… but… Aila came after him in the Dreaming – uncaring of the risk to herself, uncaring of who Dream was. She was… loyal, and he could appreciate that – he did. He wasn’t going to let her face this alone, only for Calliope to gently stop him.

“You would only distract her,” the muse says quietly. She can see the nightmare wants to help – is desperate too, if anything. However, she’s seen her husband’s creations – met many of them… though not this one… but she knows they cannot take on a demon Lord – especially not Beelzebub.

The Corinthian considers ignoring the muse; it wouldn’t matter much to him if Beelzebub destroyed him or not, as long as he gave Aila a chance to turn this fight in her favor. He watches as the two collide, and Aila… while powerful… was not trained to handle someone with actual experience, and unlike Azazel, there was no element of surprise on her side this time. This fight… it wouldn’t end well.

Behind him, he hears Orpheus, “Father please.” And the nightmare takes a deep breath – content that at least the boy was trying to get Dream involved in this. With an Endless here and Aila, that would… it would be enough, except… Dream doesn’t appear. An Endless does but not Dream.

“Death,” Calliope whispers, and the nightmare turns to see the elder Endless standing amongst them.

“Hello Calliope,” she says, sadly – glancing out into the storm, a frown pulling at her features.

“You can’t be here…” the nightmare growls.

“I cannot sense her,” Death says, eyeing the nightmare consideringly. She does not understand why one of her brother’s creations are here, but right now… she cannot focus on that. Not when she’s here on business or possible business. The possibility was flickering, and she had yet to know which way it would land… and she prays to anything that will listen that it won’t end that way. Any other way.

“Then who?” Orpheus asks, glancing towards Eurydice.

Except… Death doesn’t answer – not purposefully. No, instead, her gaze flickers about the room, and the nightmare doesn’t need to be told what that may mean. Death was here not for Aila – though that remained a possibility even if the Endless didn’t know it – but for everyone else.

Aila sits on her hands and knees, panting – blood slipping past her lips. She… she’s tired. She was tired before. She was tired in the Threshold, but now… now she’s exhausted. If she doesn’t get up, if she doesn’t find a way, she knows, without being told, she’s going to lose this fight… but she can’t. She clenches her eyes shut, fingers digging into the wet earth. She can’t, and she… she can only see one other option. It takes more effort than she wants it to, but she pushes at least up to her knees, just as Beelzebub saunters up.

“You lasted longer than I thought,” the demon comments, off-handedly. “But enough of this now. It’s time to go home. Your mother…”

“My mother,” Aila scoffs, “never wanted me.” Not until now, she thinks ruefully.

“Oh, she did,” the demon corrects. “Just for a very specific purpose.” He kneels down, fingers carting around her chin gently. The demon leans in, the words only meant for her now. “You’re going to help us destroy Dream and the rest of the Endless, little bird.”

Aila’s eyes open. She may not have much love for the Endless… any of them, save for a non-antagonistic relationship with Desire… and maybe Destruction, who helped her. But she cannot imagine helping demons wipe them out either… even Dream… even her father, who abandoned his son and continued to do so. She didn’t have much interest in just ending him… especially for a mother that didn’t love her either.

With a growl, Aila goes to pull away, finding some small remnant of strength – not much but enough to at least not lay down now. However, before she can, Beelzebub stumbles back and away – Orpheus’s arms around the demon’s waist. Generally, no mortal could actually grapple a demon, but with Beelzebub’s own distraction, it was just enough to at least pull him away from Aila.

“Orpheus,” Aila snaps, just as the demon tosses the boy aside with ease.

“Oh, the pup,” the demon says, a grin twisting onto his face. “How delightful. Both children.” He turns away just as Aila gets to her feet, but she cannot even take a step without pain lancing up every inch of herself. She glances down, now aware of the deep wound in her leg. She didn’t even remember getting it, but it’s bleeding heavily, fast enough she’s aware she needs to heal it… but if she does… Orpheus…

And if she doesn’t… Aila ignores the pain and takes another step, uncaring of the risk to herself, not as long as Orpheus is in danger.

“I’ll kill you,” Beelzebub says to Orpheus, “and then I’ll only have one rugrat to deal with.” He ignores Calliope’s cry, even as she moves to intercede. The muse matters little to him; however, the sudden complete stop in the storm, not just the rain like earlier but now the lightning and wind as well, does stumble the demon slightly. He glances up at the darkened sky and then back at Aila, who remarkably remains on her feet – though for how much longer was debatable. He doesn’t…

“That’s a bit of a lie, isn’t it Beelzebub? You’d still have me to deal with too after all,” a new voice calls out, strolling out from the forest. Her hair pulled back into a gentle braid, sunglasses over her eyes, and for the Corinthian, a very familiar white coat. She clicks her tongue, a smile twisting onto her features. “Lying isn’t nice, and it falls a bit into my realm, doesn’t it?”

The Corinthian never thought he would be as ecstatic as he was in that moment to see Deceit.

Quick notes: So, this is the difference between the two. I wasn’t going to bring the future back in, but now… well, we’re going to.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Two: Who’s Lying

Death stops. Her function – in a moment goes utterly silent. In most cases, especially when a moment ago she thought she’d be carrying everyone in this room, she’d find some relief in being able to move on, but here – when standing across from… Death is certain of it. The girl across is an Endless… but Death… she doesn’t recognize her – was the woman a sibling remade? She doesn’t… she senses Destiny a moment later, stepping up behind her.

“Did you know…” she starts, only for Destiny to interrupt gravely.

“No.”

The Corinthian all but ignores Death and Destiny – a risky endeavor in most situations but right now, he can’t draw his eyes away from Deceit. He hadn’t seen her… since the wedding? He thinks back – yes, it was the wedding, Dream and Johanna’s, that was when he saw Deceit. The only time – though he had heard about her a few times since, mostly from his brief interactions with the other Endless. However, brief or not, given the humans that Deceit, then Dread, had taken has hosts… he knows this confrontation just turned in their favor.

“You won’t touch me,” Beelzebub says, a smile pulled onto his features; however, it’s quite forced. His words ring out, but Deceit – she senses the lie in it. He doesn’t believe that, and she tilts her head, silent but quite readable herself at the moment. “The truce…”

Deceit sighs and pulls her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head – the coat slipping from her shoulders next. The corrupted marks a stark contrast on her skin, even now, twisted and pulled around her shoulder, vanishing under her shirt before rising up on her neck. She tosses the coat into the bushes.

“True,” she says. “But if you attack me first.” The truce went both ways, after all. Hell stays out of Endless business and Endless stay out of Hell, outside of what their functions required. If they all did that, the Endless would leave Hell alone, and Hell would leave Dream alone. To attack first would be a risk for either side, but Deceit suspected Hell was not yet ready to bear the brunt of the Endless… she rightfully guesses, he’ll back down first.

The demon chances a glance at the Nephilim, Deceit following a moment later. She considers the girl briefly – eyes raking her form and the injury – before returning her attention promptly to the demon.

“You and I both know, against me… against Johanna’s magic… you’re outclassed.”

Beelzebub curls his lip. “That’s a lie.”

With a grin, Deceit shakes her head. “Is it?”

The nightmare from within the temple snorts – between Johanna and Alec’s echoes, Deceit was never short on being antagonistic to whatever she was facing. The Corinthian enjoyed it; he would guess none of the Endless did as much. But right now – the Endless here… he chances a glance at Death and Destiny now. They’re not moving, but both are watching the confrontation raptly. The nightmare recognizes whatever secrets they did have… weren’t going to be quiet for much longer… not unless they left now. He hopes Deceit has a way back.

“Walk away,” Deceit says, far more seriously now.

“The girl…” the demon starts.

“Is none of your concern. Is none of Lucifer’s concern,” Deceit continues. “From what I understand, she wasn’t even a concern before this.”

Aila flinches, her fingers digging painfully into her leg, but it’s not the wound that causes this. It’s… this new woman’s words. Aila doesn’t recognize her – has never seen or heard of her, though without a name, she can’t be sure of that last part. However, she can sense the otherworldliness from the new woman – just as she did with the other Endless. The woman wasn’t human, and given the demon’s hesitation, the woman was a considerable threat.

“Things change,” Beelzebub says, but he does step back – not that Deceit lets him completely do so. She takes a step forward, her gaze boring into him. “But you are right. I will take my leave now.” The demon can sense when things are no longer in his favor… and after all, he has a backup now – a different plan. He turns, lunging forward to the just recovering Orpheus and wrapping an arm around the mortal boy’s neck.

“Orpheus!” Calliope cries.

Aila snarls, uncaring of her leg and goes to charge forward – only for her leg to finally give out, and she collapses. Deceit shifts, but there was now risk – enough of one to still her. She half considers tossing out the truce, but she bites her tongue; after all, how foolish can the demon be? The demon grins, staring at both – metaphysical and physical offspring with some degree of delight, especially with the mortal offspring in his hands.

“Want the boy? You know where I’ll be,” Beelzebub says, stepping back a portal appearing behind him. Deceit doesn’t understand how he’s… how he used – did that – twisted what magic brought her here, but when she lunges forward, to stop it, to keep the portal open, she’s too late. A piece of herself realizes then that no the demon was that foolish, and she hates to be wrong.

Aila hears the woman curse – colorfully -, but that’s not what she cares about. No, it’s Orpheus vanishing beyond her reach, but she’s hit her limit; she needs to… Deceit is there, stepping nearer, and Aila cannot help but to lash out. She doesn’t know who this other woman is, but a threat is a threat. However, the attack was weakened, far beneath what Aila had done before, but she at least had gotten her feet back under her, lips curled back at the other woman.

“Stop that,” Deceit hisses. She rubs her midsection with a grimace, but the force was… impressive but not truly damaging. More concerning was the fact that Beelzebub had hijacked her portal… which meant her time, their time. To do that would require quite a lot of power or components. Something not easily performed. Lucifer… Lucifer might be able to, Deceit decides – though it would suggest the former angel wasn’t as bound as Deceit thought her to be. Which that… that gave her pause.

That was a problem.

“You…” Aila starts, but Deceit merely turns away – looking to the temple now, a frown etched into her features. “What…” She trails off, uncertain of what to say. “You let him get away.” With Orpheus. She growls, her anger sinking its claws into her. She focuses her rage on the newcomer, versus herself, but Orpheus being taken was just as much her fault… if he hadn’t saved her… if she had never come – she chokes at that though. “We can’t…” she starts, only for the other woman to eye her – some obvious disdain present.

“Enough, you whine more than Desire,” Deceit mutters, moving towards the temple now. “Jumping into Hell would have done neither of us favors.” It would have honestly just have given her more of a headache, and given she’s caught sight of the Corinthian, Deceit decides she has quite enough of one already. No, she’d regroup and then… then figure something out. She half wishes now that she had just stayed in the other reality.

“I’m going after him,” Aila states, pushing to follow the newcomer, only to stumble again. The world darkens at the edge of her vision, her head sways. She’s… she’s at the end of her rope – at least for now. However, with Orpheus not here, she can’t – she needs to find the energy to keep going.

However, Deceit can see it too. She patiently waits, the nightmare only a few feet away as well, likely waiting as well – though not for the same thing. Deceit watches it, silently counting the seconds tick by, and she’s off… not by much but by about five seconds – but within that window, Aila collapses, exhaustion and the wound finally claiming her. The girl’s eyes flutter closed, and Deceit sighs. The girl was… aggravating, prone to trouble, and stubborn.

Just like Dream.

Quite the family resemblance it would seem. Deceit would find it amusing, if she wasn’t the one now trapped in the past with it all.

Stepping back to Aila, Deceit bends down, tearing a strip from the girl’s shirt and ties it tightly to the girl’s leg, staunching the blood flow. The nightmare is there now, just over her shoulder – the concern evident. But Deceit waves it off. The girl would live… though Deceit had yet to decide if that was something to celebrate or not. It was obvious the girl was not on the side of the demons, but she was woefully untrained, undisciplined, and… very mortal. Very prone to human mistakes… and very dangerous.

Deceit could sense that deeply.

It was why she was here and not one of the other Endless. It was her job to figure out the truth here. How much of a danger was Aila… to them.

With the wound tied, Deceit works quickly and silently to take a few swipes of the blood and draw the symbols onto the girl’s exposed skin. It wasn’t anything substantial or fancy, but it was enough. For now. At least to try and untangle this ridiculous mess. Deceit would be impressed, if it wasn’t again her problem. She half wishes Death – her Death, her aunt – was here. It would ease things… that was the one certainty Deceit had.

“What are you…” the Corinthian starts, just as she finishes. She gets up and wipes her hand on his tunic, with a forced smile. “What did you do?” He stares at the symbols, recognizing it in part but not completely. Johanna and Alec’s knowledge of runes and ritual magic… Alec’s specifically was always beyond him, beyond most.

When she goes to walk by, he seizes her elbow – aware that he’s crossing a line now. Deceit… like the others… was Endless. He was a nightmare, but nonetheless, he was Dream’s nightmare, and he had spent the last twenty years protecting his liege… and the last week protecting his offspring. The nightmare wanted to know and felt he had a right.

Something Deceit agrees with. “You trust her,” she says, but the nightmare starts to shake his head. He doesn’t – he goes to tell her as much when Deceit snorts. “Don’t lie to me,” she states. “You do, to a degree, but I don’t. At all.” Hence the symbols – nothing substantial but something to keep the girl unconscious and limited until they had more time and less… well, all of this. “Let me go Cori,” Deceit continues darkly, the threat unsaid but readily apparent in her tone. She’d rather not hurt the nightmare – truth -, but she would. She had matters to handle. Thankfully, the nightmare smartly releases his hold.

Before stepping towards the temple again, Deceit does hand over her pair of sunglasses, which the nightmare takes with a forced smile. He does appreciate it, but he cannot help but look back at the little bird. And he then glances to where Orpheus vanished… with a demon. He shifts, the discomfort evident.

Deceit doesn’t step into the temple – she refuses. It wasn’t her hands that bloodied this place thousands of years from now, but it was her former self’s actions that led to the deaths of Calliope’s sisters. She didn’t feel right stepping in. Instead, she stands just beyond the doorway, hands shoved into pockets.

Death and Destiny step nearer, while Calliope stands – a sense of shock overcoming her. Understandable. While the other Endless… struggled with human concepts sometimes, Deceit didn’t. She recalled the echoes of her human lives – between Hob’s losses, Johanna’s and Alec’s… Deceit had lived, loved, and lost quite a lot. She can see the pain in a mother’s eyes thinking that would be the last time she’d ever see her son again. She wasn’t awake when Calliope in their time lost Orpheus, but she suspects this is how the muse appeared then too.

“Hello Aunt, Uncle,” Deceit says, electing to break the silence – the discomfort settling over them. She smiles, though she doubts it’s anything comforting. “I’m Deceit of the Endless. We should talk.”

Quick Notes: Tough discoveries next chapter

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Three: Who’s Telling the Truth

The temple… while neutral… was not a place Deceit would stay. Destiny’s realm was not open to any of them, and Death’s was… not ideal… Eurydice’s old family home – the one she left prior to marrying Orpheus was the only agreed – well, not agreed, merely not argued against – place that they could gather.

While Orpheus’s wife was the one to suggest it, after that she didn’t speak again. Instead, she stayed close to Calliope – praying to every Greek god to bring Orpheus back, promising anything and everything if he’d be returned to her. And every chance she had otherwise, she kept checking on Aila, who remained asleep or unconscious. Either way, she was not awake – and after Deceit was finished, also tied to a chair in the center of… what appeared like runes. Not that Eurydice recognized any, nor did Calliope. Eurydice could only take Calliope’s hand and squeeze, hoping for answers… hoping for Orpheus.

All the while, the nightmare watches Deceit finishes her binding circle. He wants to argue, stop her – anything -, but he senses if he tries again, Deceit will merely remove him from the equation. Perhaps, not permanently like Dream could but enough to be a headache.

In its place, he sits – watching the Nephilim rest or not rest, he supposes but at least not fight. As much as he hates it, Aila needed it - at least the bleeding had stopped finally. He hates to see the blood now – it used to excite him, but now… after Dream and Aila… he didn’t… he couldn’t enjoy it without recalling his master after Hell and now Aila after Beelzebub or Azazel or… he glances worryingly towards Death and Destiny. He hates the possibility of a noose around both of their necks.

“Well, that was less than ideal,” Deceit mutters once she sits back on her haunches to examine the runes.

It was crude, less than her usual level of work, but it would work. The Nephilim – had she been more trained would likely find a way out -, but Deceit hadn’t jumped into the fight with Beelzebub immediately. She had watched the girl, curious about what the girl was like but concern as well. This was… Deceit sighs. This was a headache – which if Johanna was here, Deceit misses her, but if Johanna was here, she’d state this was on parr for something related to Dream. Deceit didn’t realize trouble was a family inherited trait.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Death asks, just as Deceit glances back over her shoulder. She retrieves her jacket silently, pulling it on – hiding the marks from both the nightmare and the Endless’s eyes. She wasn’t as bothered by them as most, but she knew in this reality, not so much this time, there was a reason for it.

“Deceit,” she says.

“Alec,” the Corinthian adds, though Deceit glares at him for that addition. She still didn’t… she didn’t like being called that – it reminded too much of… reminded her in part of what she once was, though the line was always hazy, because it wasn’t just Alec that echoed in her mind but Johanna and Hob as well.

“Only in part,” Deceit says, finding a small table to lean against.

The three Endless regard one another cooly; Destiny’s gaze flickers more from her to Aila to the Corinthian, while Death refuses to take her eyes off Deceit. She’d be flattered if she didn’t honestly find it a tad bit threatening.

“You are…”

The room shifts, surprising and not, as Destruction arrives, Delirium in tow. There’s a heaviness to Destruction, telling of his recent confrontation with the demon spawn – though once he had arrived, they had been quick to retreat. Not even Lucifer was willing yet to cross that line. Something he appreciated, but glancing at Aila now, he turns – concern that perhaps the girl… the new woman steps in front, a slight shake to her head. He opens his mouth when he senses it then… family.

He doesn’t… Delirium glances around the room, her face twisted up in consideration before she meets Deceit’s gaze. She slips next to Destruction and Deceit, curious and uncaring as she pokes the new woman in the side – much to Deceit’s consternation.

“Oh, you’re new,” she says. “When did we get a new one?” Delirium continues – glancing back to Destiny, who purses his lips in response. “Can that even happen?”

“When is the correct question,” is all Destiny says, before Despair and Desire arrive.

Desire takes one look at Aila and frowns. That was less than ideal for their game. She couldn’t exactly do anything unconscious or half dead. Was she half dead, they wonder. They don’t entirely know how easy it is to kill a Nephilim, but given how pale she seemed to be and… Desire realizes then Calliope and Eurydice are here as well.

“Oh, where’s our delightful nephew?” Desire asks, unable to help themselves. They can feel it – practically pounding into their skulls after all… the want and need for Orpheus… but they don’t entirely understand the why, even as the rest of the room shifts, darkens. “Better yet, why is big brother not here yet?”

Deceit sighs – the last thing she honestly needs or wants is any more of the Endless here, especially her own father. She suspects he would be anything but reasonable once he discovered what happened with Orpheus. However, it would seem any chance for subvert was long out the window – which was what the concern was prior to her coming back. There were risks with time travel, unintended consequences – fates to fight. But if there was anything Deceit despised… much like the rest of the Endless of her time now… was Fate.

The last thing, Deceit expects, any of them expect though is when Dream arrives – his usual fanfare of shadows and sand twisting behind him as he does - is Calliope’s reaction. He appears to be in his usual mood – Deceit decides – upset and brooding; however, Calliope launching to her feet, only to slap the Endless soundly across the face… well, Deceit wonders if even Destiny saw that coming… because Dream didn’t. Even the nightmare lets out a long low whistle, as smartly everyone glances away.

It takes him enough by surprise that his head actually moves, his mouth drops slightly, even as Calliope silently rages – her fists clenched tightly at her sides. She can’t help it, however. Their son – her only son – was gone. Possibly ripped apart or worse in the bowels of Hell, and Oneiros? She had called him, screamed for him. Anything. And he did nothing. She understood with Eurydice being unable to intercede – she did, even if Orpheus had not. But now… she cannot see why he did not come.

“Calliope,” he says, quietly, slowly – while Deceit catches Desire’s amused glint.

She glares, uncaring that this Desire doesn’t know her, and she watches as they go – content to open their mouth and worsen whatever this is when they find they cannot speak. Their eyes widen, hand at their throat, and they twist, until they can see Deceit’s own mischievous stare. She winks, content to hold the silencing spell for as long as it takes for Desire to decide not to be themselves.

“Our son was taken,” Calliope says, seething. The rest of the Endless, those not present for the fight specifically fall silent. “By a demon.”

“Aila,” Dream growls, only for Calliope to raise her hand again. However, this time he stops her. His fingers tighten around her wrist – no pain but a warning, nonetheless.

“She almost died trying to stop it,” Calliope says, her voice quiet. “And you did nothing.” The tears burn her eyes as she struggles to keep them in. She can only see, in her mind’s eye, Orpheus’s terrified gaze as he was pulled back in the portal, and Aila’s desperate attempt to go after him… even though it would have likely killed her. The girl didn’t care – not about herself, only about Calliope’s son in that moment. The girl that knew them for a few days cared more than her husband, Orpheus’s father. She yanks her arm away from Oneiros. “You will never touch me again,” she hisses.

It’s unbidden but both the Corinthian and Deceit consider that perhaps even if some events changed, there were some outcomes that did not. Both find the idea of fate to be nauseating, especially given their own course – given what was likely to come… starkly, the nightmare realizes then… that what it could mean to change things – substantially change things – as Destiny said he had done with Alec’s fate. Would Dream still suffer as he did or would the outcome remain with the road only slightly different? The nightmare wonders how much worse… it could be… he’d rather not wonder; experiencing it once was enough.

Of course, that’s the moment Aila decides to come back to – groaning slightly with how her head throbbed, especially in beat with her heart. Which reminded her of how bad her leg burned, side throbbed. She had been hurt before, multiple times in fact, but this was worse – exacerbated by the immediate realization that Orpheus was… he was beyond her reach. Because of…

Deceit pulls a chair up, settling across from Aila, the chair turned backwards with Deceit resting against it – chin on her arms that were crossed long the top.

Aila raises her eyes, uncertain of what to expect now that she has a moment to appreciate the other woman, but she sees… disappointment, loss, pain… and she shudders back at the realization that the other woman’s gaze – in one blink was like a mirror and the next more human like. That had been her own… emotions… her own truth reflected back.

“I don’t…” Aila starts, at a loss for this – for her. She pulls against the ties around her wrists, a slight panic to the realization she was not only restrained but contained within a circle. She’s young, perhaps inexperienced as Beelzebub said, but she recognizes runes and things meant to disarm. As long as she sat within these binds, she was as powerless as a human mortal. It was a feeling she was not accustomed to. “Who are you?” she growls.

“Deceit,” she says again – as she’s said a multitude of times. Immediately, she can see there's no recognition from the young girl. An unsurprising outcome, given not even Lucifer was all that aware of her. “But your mother likely told you of my previous name, or at least of my previous hosts.”

“Hosts?”

“I was not always… this way,” Deceit says slowly. “But I once possessed Hob Gadling, Johanna Constantine, and then Alexandria Wright, which is, was the woman you see in front of you.” The form she mostly kept.

As Deceit spoke, Aila did recognize the names… the three humans that her mother had mentioned more than just in passing… humans that were in part to blame for Lucifer’s loss and descension from Hell. Aila had also heard of Johanna Constantine outside of that – their generation’s most powerful magician… though from what she understood, the woman was retired, long out of the business, and was completely off limits. Aila had never put much effort into researching her otherwise, since Johanna was… not a person of interest to her. Though, she was starting to regret that quickly given she still had no idea who Deceit was.

“Then my previous name,” Deceit continues, leaning back slightly – ignoring the Endless behind her with little care.

The nightmare rolls his eyes at the display – how predictable.

“Dread?” Deceit says, a smile twisted onto her features with how Aila tightens herself against her physical bonds – eyes wide.

Behind her, Destiny drops his book, surprising the room when it slams into the ground. Eurydice jumps, while the Endless stare at the book, uncertainty in their gaze at the display. Deceit, however, glances over her shoulder catching Destiny’s gaze.

“Oh, so you’ve already heard of me,” she says, though Destiny says nothing in turn. Unsurprising, though given what she did know, she suspects that Destiny didn’t even understand what Dread meant, would mean… just like how Deceit was a word repeated over and over in the other Destiny’s book, she wonders how many pages Dread’s name encompassed. However, she keeps her focus on Aila – right now, this was why she was here after all. This girl. “Now, that you know who I am or what I was, you have until the end of this conversation to convince me you’re not a danger yourself.”

Aila clenches her fist – she recognizes a threat when she hears one. The nightmare as well, though Deceit continues to sit, relaxed and uncaring. This wasn’t her first go around with such messes. After all, she was a product of Dream in part as well.

Something the nightmare realizes then, hissing – “You can’t.” He moves forward, just as Deceit stands – blocking the Nephilim from his view. She gives him some grace given he’s one of Dream’s, but she was not about to have him let the girl go or stop her. “You can’t spill blood.”

“I can,” Deceit argues, “if I care little for the consequences. Why do you think they sent me back, why I elected?”

“Wait blood? Endless blood, family blood?” Desire says – content to find they can now speak. “How can you both be Endless… from an Endless?” Missing an Endless offspring was one thing, but the other… the one called Deceit… that made no sense.

Calliope’s the one that sighs loudly. “Because neither of them are from this time Epithumia.”

It had taken her far longer than it should, but as she says it, she realizes that it had been far too obvious for quite some time. She had put it together, though the final pieces are still missing. She doesn’t understand the connection of Deceit and Aila, and how Aila is Endless… however, given the dark hair, the dark wings… Calliope has a suspicion – one she can’t put to words, because it would mean… she recalls slapping Oneiros, stating they were done… perhaps, some things didn’t change.

“I would suspect they’re from the future,” she adds.

Quick Notes: Dominos fall

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Four: Why We Lie

Eurydice sits – her mind a whirl. The future… time travel wasn’t… she tries to comprehend it, but she’s mortal. Such magic didn’t exist – shouldn’t, and yet, she was aware of Orpheus’s family when she agreed to marry him. Given their reactions, slight disbelief but otherwise nothing, it would appear it could be possible.

“How did you get back here?” the nightmare asks, though Deceit would rather not talk about it.

Unlike the nightmare that had the Nephilim’s assistance, once Deceit had discovered that the two weren’t anywhere but when, it hadn’t taken much for her to go to her grandfather. It was not a conversation she was excited to repeat, however, nor ever repeat. He gave her a warning about pursuing such a thing and then made it clear to not bother him again – only agreeing after Death… threatened him. Which the entire situation was fine by her; in the end, she was just content that she didn’t have to go see Night. From what little Death had told her about that her grandmother, that was not a conversation she wanted or would ever want to have.

But it worked. Time had sent her back, and now – she has Aila. Orpheus… that was an unintended consequence, but one Deceit figures can be rectified with a quick trip home – though how Beelzebub had jumped not only realms but time as well… Lucifer had to be involved. Deceit grits her teeth. The Endless should have ended the angel when they had their chance – which was in part her fault as well, she rightfully thinks. She had just been too new. And now?

Their window to go home was closing. The magic Time supplied was limited, and after that, they’d either be on their own or not going back at all (though Deceit could just always wait – time would move forward after all but given who she’s sitting with…). Or she’d have to talk to Time here, which given how his function worked – she suspects he’s already aware that may be a possibility, and the Death of this time wasn’t likely to help.

The room sits heavy for the moment with Deceit pondering her options, uncaring of the Endless family dramatics behind her, when Dream finds his voice – turning to address Aila. “You’re Endless?”

But Aila refuses to answer. All she can think was of Orpheus’s last moment before he was pulled into Hell, and that Dream hadn’t… he’d done nothing. Absolutely nothing for his own son, and now… Aila tightens her fingers into her bonds, straining against them. She won’t give Dream a moment nor an answer – he doesn’t deserve it.

When he realizes her response is to ignore him, Dream moves towards Aila again – only for Deceit to step between them. She’d let them be any other time but not with Aila. As ridiculously complicated as this all was, Deceit was here for a reason – Aila was still breathing for a reason. She promised Death she would speak with the girl before merely ending the possible threat, and as much as Deceit wanted to lie and promise she would, she had given Death the truth. Which meant, she actually needed to talk to Aila – and not deal with more of this family… nonsense. It was bad enough in their time as it was.

“Enough,” Deceit says, when Dream goes to move again.

“The demons,” Dream starts, and while Aila wonders where the concern was prior, Deceit stands unsurprised and impressed. She’s already lived through a variation of this – of Dream desperate to protect Desire… but only once torn so far down that pride was no longer a concern. A very cascade that led to her, after all.

“Yeah, a demon,” Deceit says. “One of which had you been there, like you should have, wouldn’t have taken Orpheus but focused on me and the girl instead.”

The glare she receives for the truth is all too familiar, but she merely smiles, head tilted, uncaring of his rage at the moment. Because all she gave him was honesty. Had Dream been there, Beelzebub likely wouldn’t have been able to take Orpheus, and right now, Aila and Deceit could be back in their time – not dealing with… this.

The shadows deepens likely in response to Dream, and while Deceit was born from him, her former self had been… afraid of Dream. Not directly in that sense but how fears worked and intertwined, and it had been because of Dream that Dread failed. Deceit is not Dread; however, even she can’t help how she subtlety shifts in response.

The two wait, curious to see who will blink first, but Deceit came here for a reason. As much as she would rather not face down Dream in this state, she would complete her task.

Thankfully, Despair breaks the silence. “How far from the future are you?” Despair asks, curious. Some of the tension slowly breaks apart, letting Deceit take a step back nearer to Aila, while Dream continues to seethe but also wait for the answer.

“Try a few thousand years,” the nightmare mutters, reminding Dream of his presence, and suddenly… Dream seems to start to put the pieces together himself. He stares at the nightmare – one he realizes he has yet to make but will… and then looks to Aila – finally studying her, his mind working to slide everything into place.

“You honestly kept it from them?” Deceit asks, surprised in part herself that such a big thing.

“Save from me,” Desire purrs, content to see how this is starting to fall down. They watch Aila flinch, hating the attention the Endless are now giving her – giving both the newcomers. The nightmare groans, rubbing his face wearily with the knowledge that Desire was apparently within the loop, muttering about the ramifications of that.

But Deceit turns back to Aila now, taking a seat across from her again. “So,” Deceit says, letting the word hang. She waits until the girl looks at her, before continuing, “I’m going to give you what no one else in this room will. I will give you the honest truth about whatever you ask.” She pauses for a moment. “Or I’ll lie.” Which wasn’t personal, but it was her function. However, she was still telling the truth either way – it was just up to the girl to decide what was and wasn’t the truth from that. She’d give no convoluted stories, no roundabout answers – either it would be real or not.

“You’re a concept from Dread,” Aila says slowly, and Deceit nods. She was – merely just remade when her function stabilized, when she settled into herself. “Which means you’re an offspring of Dream.” The room freezes at that.

“Yes,” Deceit says, truthfully, and Aila puts it together then.

In their world, which was far from normal or expected, they would be sisters in a metaphysical way – which was another reason Deceit offered to come back. She was… okay with her aunts and uncles, herself – though closer to those in the other reality – but to hear she had a sibling… one that was possibly as lost and confused as she was when she first came to be… well, Deceit had felt something stir, so… here she was.

Desire sputters, frowning suddenly. “So, you’re both Dream’s?” It was less fun now – only given Deceit seemed far too… irritating. And given she tied up Aila was now prohibiting their fun from tempting the little bird into going after Dream – they huff as they realize their plans are slowly falling apart. Something Deceit must also realize, even without the details, given how she catches their eye – uncaring that they can see exactly what she wants… to help. They growl, ignoring their siblings’ response – mostly Death’s exclamation as she turns to Destiny about how…

“In a few thousand years, the family tree gets far more complicated,” is all Deceit offers – thinking now of Rose Walker as well, Johanna Constantine’s marriage, Calliope by association and everything else.

When Dream goes to step forward again, Aila tenses – refusing to meet her fath… his gaze. She refuses to think of him internally of her father – not after what just happened, not after all of this. She wants to be anywhere but here, except – she looks to Deceit now. The Endless merely sitting and waiting for her response.

When the Endless shift again, Deceit sighs and waves a hand behind herself. The magic shimmers in the air. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it would keep the Endless away from them both. Once that was done – this was done – Deceit supposes she could deal with them too. It was just, right now, they were not her focus. Aila was. Fow now, as such, she ignores them.

“You’ll give me the truth?” she asks, quietly.

“Mixed with some lies,” Deceit says.

“Why?”

“You are my sister,” Deceit says with a shrug. “And you wouldn’t believe me if I promised the whole truth. It’s up to you to figure out what’s real and what’s not.” Deceit leans back, offering the rules simply – eighteen questions. Whatever Aila asked, she would answer to the best of her knowledge, either truthfully or not. Aila could try to use some of her own questions to decipher further what was what, but as promised, none of it would be completely honest and not all of it would be lies. There would be a mix, and after that – after Deceit gauged Aila’s responses in turn… Deceit would make her own decision regarding the Nephilim – whether she lived or not.

“You’ll go after Orpheus either way?” Aila asks, uncaring of her own life in many ways, and Deceit softens her smile, uncertain yet if she’s surprised by the girl’s caring nature or not. Internally, the piece of Hob that remains beams, much to her chagrin.

“That is a question,” Deceit says, curious to see if the girl would burn one of her very few chances on this, but Aila does know, and she doesn’t care. She waits instead for Deceit’s answer, and the Endless nods, saying, “Yes. I’ll be going after him.” The answer hangs – just for a minute – before Aila accepts it as truth.

Which it was.

Deceit grins, curious now to see exactly what the girl would ask, and how’d she take each response. Seventeen questions to go.

“Look, I don’t know…” Death starts – only for each of the Endless to blink and promptly find themselves silenced. Death’s eyes open, a hint of rage to them as she realizes Deceit silenced each of them with magic.

“I get this is a lot,” Deceit says. “But her first, then you can question, lecture, or whatever this version of you does.” Not that she plans to stick around for that. She had better things to do, after all – not that she’d tell them that, though either. With them, she was content to lie. Instead, she focuses back on Aila.

“Do you know why I was born?” Aila asks, quiet – and suddenly, the Endless are more silent because of their own curiosity than not.

“I do,” Deceit says. Sixteen.

“Why?”

“She wanted a child. One to love and care for, that would love her in turn,” Deceit says, and Aila glares – something about the answer – how it’s said, how it rolls off the tongue. As well as… Aila grew up with Lucifer… Lucifer didn’t love her, and she grits her jaw in response – Deceit clicks her tongue as how much like Dream the girl looks like in that moment.

“Lie,” Aila says, and Deceit grins.

“Yes.” Fourteen. Deceit wonders if the girl is aware of how careful she needs to be – how she needs to word her questions far more carefully. However, before she can ponder it long, the nightmare steps forward, which Deceit allows, and he quickly conveys that. Warning Aila to be more concise to avoid yes or no questions and be cautious of follow-ups. He’s apparently keeping track of the number too.

“Why was I born?” Aila says, much more effective in her wording.

“Nephilims are generally not… right. The mix of the divine with mortality never sits well,” Deceit says. “You were born as a tool against the Endless. A way to hopefully kill them.” Deceit suspects Lucifer originally wanted Aila as something to taunt Dream with had he still been imprisoned – to have him watch his child grow, turn feral, and then see if he would allow the girl to kill him or him kill her as an act of mercy. She suspects no one expected Aila to be… coherent. Not for this long at least, though Deceit knows the reasoning for that as well – she waits to see if the girl will ask after it.

“We cannot spill blood,” Death says – which Deceit knows and allows Death to say. Aila doesn’t – at least not the reason why. “It brings the Kindly Ones down on us.” Death was the only exception, and she never… spilled blood… only helped to carry them.

Death could not imagine having a child just with the intent of turning it on family. It would be a vile action, so uncaring, that she can barely fathom it. Even their own parents, while callous, she would never think to be that heartless.

However, Aila… after everything, she can only swallow roughly, eyes hot, and say it, “My mother wouldn’t care.”

“Maybe,” Deceit says, unable to state it fully one way or another – thus not counting it against her. Lucifer was many things – vile, yes; conniving, certainly. But… to raise a child and have no care whatsoever would be akin to being a demon. Which Lucifer was not. She may not care completely, but Deceit suspects Lucifer would feel something. It’s just…

Aila clenches her teeth at the response, muscles trembling, the air outside the circle shifting. The Corinthian calms her again, by willingly stepping into the circle – something the Endless allows – reminding her quietly that not everything is the truth. And sometimes the truth was not always so black and white.

Lucifer would likely care… just not as much as Calliope did with Orpheus, or Orpheus when he almost lost Eurydice.

“Do the Endless know of me?” Aila asks, quiet – not wanting to talk about her mother any longer. However, before Deceit can answer, she adds, “Of our time.”

Deceit grins – the girl was quick to pick things up. That much was at least certain, and while emotional, she did regulate it well enough. Although, it could be better. She seemed human enough, which for Deceit – given her hosts, she understood far better than her aunts and uncles would.

“They do,” Deceit says.

“How’d they take it?” Aila somehow forces out. She can see already how these Endless were taking it. Death was silent, more by choice now; Destiny wouldn’t look at her. Destruction – exasperated. Delirium was… actually, she didn’t even see Delirium at the moment, Despair was regarding her, likely feeling her, and Desire was… Desire was watching – their expression softened. Except now, Aila doesn’t know if that’s because they cared or not. She wants to believe they did – they had answered questions for her, they had helped her against the demons unlike… Dream refuses to look at her or Deceit.

“Okay,” Deceit says, but that’s the lie.

The Endless in their time were yelling at one another, quite impressively when she arrived due to Death’s call. She had watched the entire thing devolve from a simple disagreement to an outright shouting match – mostly as everyone tried to figure out how this was missed. How anyone hadn’t thought… how everyone didn’t realize the true extent of what Lucifer did to Dream… even Deceit hadn’t considered it – not fully. Though once she had been told, a few things did click into place that made more sense.

“Does Dream?” she continues, aware now that she didn’t specify likely enough.

“Yes.”

“The Dream in our time,” Aila says with a growl, and Deceit sighs.

“You need to make your questions precise,” she says, echoing the nightmare’s words from earlier. She does not want to take questions from the girl or answers, but she is her function. She will answer them, as promised, but questions that are too open ended with too many possibilities would muddy the waters far more than her answers ever would. “But no, and you know why. His memory…”

“Right, still gone,” Aila says – recalling the nightmare’s explanation of a punishment handed down by the Fates, because of Dread – now turned Deceit. She wonders if she should ask more about that. She wants to know more and see how much of what she was told versus what actually happened – especially in relation to her mother’s fall from Hell.

“What do you mean gone?” Death asks, and Deceit glances back again.

Thankfully, the nightmare answers before Deceit can further antagonize these Endless. “Few thousand years, and a lot has changed,” is what he offers, hoping to settle it that way.

“What…”

“Dream’s human,” Aila says, and Deceit shrugs.

“As much as he can be,” she adds. “He still touches his function at night, but during the day, yes, he’s human. No memory.”

“One human lifetime,” the nightmare snorts. “The Fates didn’t exactly make that clear how difficult that would…”

“It is a punishment, you know,” Deceit says, interrupting.

“For your crimes,” he growls, stepping towards the Endless. The air goes cold in an instant, while Deceit says and does nothing. She doesn’t shift, she doesn’t move, she merely stares at the nightmare.

“Cori don’t,” Aila says, recognizing the threat hanging in the air. She may not entirely understand the context, but she doesn’t want the nightmare caught in the middle of whatever this was. She watches, breath bated, as he nods – stepping back, albeit reluctantly.

“Eight questions left,” Deceit says to Aila, and the Nephilim settles herself again.

“Did my father know about me before he lost his memories?” she asks, and Deceit – her features soften, her face pulling into a frown, as she shakes her head.

“No,” she says. She couldn’t even bring herself to lie about this even had she wanted to.

“Is that the truth?” Aila asks, biting her lip as emotions threaten to overwhelm her.

“Would you rather it be a lie?” Deceit asks, as Aila shakes her head. “It is the truth.”

“Then how was I born?” Aila asks – if she was wanted but it was for a specific purpose? Did that purpose come before or after she was conceived? Was she an accident, was she wanted? Perhaps… she needs to know, except Deceit stands up, pushing the chair away.

“No.”

“You said you’d tell me the truth,” Aila growls, which Deceit recalls, but she merely says,

“I was lying.”

“No, you weren’t,” Aila counters. “So, why won’t you answer…”

“You think you want this answer,” Deceit says. “I can sense that, just as easily as I can sense my own function, my duty now. But you don’t. Not really. Because you already know the answer, and if I confirm that…” No child wanted to hear that. No child needed that over their heads, and while Aila was not… a child by mortal standards… by theirs, she was, and Deceit was cruel in many eyes, but she was not that. She wouldn’t be that. “Do not ask…”

“Did they want me?” she asks, and Deceit growls… the terms she set pulling at her.

“Yes.” Except that was both a truth and a lie – which they both know. Lucifer wanted Aila, for a specific purposes. Dream…

“Did my mother?” Aila wants… needs to hear this – even without their function, Desire can sense that, and now the entire family watches, wanting to hear this answer… Orpheus was wanted and loved; no one could tell much by Deceit and where she fell, though Desire both like and despised their newest niece apparently… and Aila… even Destiny wanted to hear this.

“Yes.” Four.

“Did my father?”

Dream flinches, uncertain yet of how to take that term now faced with the realization that he was the father in this scenario. Orpheus. His son was… and now he had a daughter… two daughters… he clenches his fists, half tempted to storm out – except he needs to hear this as well. If him and Calliope were to fail no matter, he wants to understand how the rest of this fell together or apart.

“No,” Deceit sighs. Three.

“Was I an accident?” Aila asks, but Deceit refuses to answer. Because perhaps she wasn’t purposeful and once Lucifer realized… except… “Did my father force my mother?”

The Endless shift – Dream could not… he would not… even the nightmare growls – despising the insinuation, but Deceit answers this truthfully.

“No, you were not an accident, and no, he did not,” she says.

“Did Lucifer…” Aila starts, though she swallows roughly. The entire room quiets – the sudden realization of who Aila’s mother was. “Did Lucifer rape my… was I…” she cannot get the words out – Deceit was right. She had never felt loved by her mother, but to think she was a product of something… of such a vile act, for the purpose of in turn destroying them? Was she bred only as a tool? And even then… she feels sick, her stomach twists – her eyes heat, and she cannot get the words past her lips.

Deceit, however, heard enough, and as much as she would rather it be a lie, she admits honestly, “I’m sorry, but she did.”

“You’re lying,” Aila whispers, which Deceit understands. Even if Lucifer’s love was… difficult to understand… she was still Aila’s mother, and to hear that, it would be difficult. The rest of the Endless would not truly understand it as readily, but like Aila, Deceit had a mortal side – or at least an echo. She understood, and she does feel a tug of something nearer to her aunt’s realm of Despair at the sight of Aila’s features breaking. The girl had done a good job holding it together, Deceit would give her that, but she can see Aila holding onto hope – that perhaps this was the lie.

And Deceit won’t let that stand. Lucifer didn’t deserve that shield as much as Aila did.

“No, no, I’m not.”

Truth.

Quick Notes: I mean it was going to need to get referenced at some point. I figured I made it rather implied in the original trilogy – though near the end ‘implied’ was less ‘implied’ and simply not written out (outside of the one shot series). But here, we’re going to address it, because Aila is a product of it. And that would mess with anyone.

I will not be updating tomorrow because of the site maintenance obviously (for any of the three stories

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Five: What Comes from the Truth

Aila says nothing more; instead, her shoulders shake, as she tries her best to not cry. She hates this. She hates all of this. She wishes she had never gotten her father’s… and yet, she thinks ruefully – that was apparently a set up as well. Mazikeen had purposefully set her off after her father, and it sounds as though it was a bid to see if she’d destroy him… and what happened instead – Aila sitting, tears filling the brim of her eyes, and she…

Calliope’s arms come around her, her fingers delving into Aila’s hair immediately – as she whispers things a mother should, a loving mother would have… had Aila ever had or known one. She tries to pull away, limited as she is by the chair and runes, but Calliope doesn’t let her. No, the muse merely tightens her hold and whispers apologies against the young girl’s hair… as though this wasn’t her fault – and yet Aila feels like it was.

She existed because her mother was cruel, she was born because her mother wanted a tool, and she lived… at her mother’s whim… she was nothing, and she hurt. She didn’t want to be here – she didn’t want… Deceit was right. It was better when it was only a thought in her head and not a fact. Now, she can’t escape it, and the sob breaks free.

Deceit watches it silently and carefully, even as the nightmare pushes past her to check on the Nephilim as well. However, Deceit gauges the response. She didn’t want to answer the question, but she promised the girl… and the girl pushed, and the reaction… it’s telling. The girl obviously did not know her origins, did not know what had been put into motion, and was not… well, Deceit decides – the girl was a threat but only because of what she was… in the same vein that Deceit was a threat as she was a concept from Dread.

Neither were entirely their fault, and Deceit was not one to hold how and why someone was born against them. Not when the Endless were willing (mostly) to look past her own. Without a word, Deceit breaks the runic circle – her foot cutting through the ash and blood with ease. The magic falls immediately. Not that Aila notices it; but the nightmare does. He glances to Deceit, though she says nothing – instead, she turns to walk outside. She figures the nightmare, the muse, and the Nephilim could take a few minutes to gather themselves.

Without a word, the nightmare cuts Aila’s bonds – however, she continues to cry, and he can do nothing.

Outside, Deceit leans against the wall – a heavy sigh slipping free. She had come here with a purpose, and now… now, she had to get back, which the window of ease was closing rapidly, – the girl in tow, and see… she does wonder how the rest of the Endless of their time will react to Aila. They hadn’t… they had been shouting a lot about the possibility of Aila when she left, and now… the girl was quite real and quite…

Deceit ponders the word naïve, young – words that didn’t belong in their world. The girl, outside of their origins, did not belong in their world, but… Deceit glances back to the doorframe. Sometimes, the world was cruel like that – fate was punishing like that. She scoffs at the word fate.

“So,” Death says, strolling outside – hands in pockets, interrupting her thoughts. “You’re one of my nieces.” She’s eyeing Deceit with some wariness – which the youngest Endless understands. This was a lot for all of them.

“Metaphysical, magical,” she handwaves a lot of it, “but yes in concept.” After all, she was not conceived in the same way Orpheus was… or Aila…

Death clicks her tongue – a simple huh slipping past her lips as she considers this. Destiny is a step behind her, though he says nothing even as Deceit tosses him a wink. Then, the rest of the family is outside – Dream included, and he… he’s seething. Deceit can only guess what’s going through his head, and she has little interest in trying. No… seeing Dream as Dream… angry at her? That was a normal day for her pending what she had done to frustrate the other reality’s Morpheus.

However, Deceit wonders if he’s actually mad at her or just everything now laying at his feet. She’d have half a mind to ask if she didn’t think it would provoke him more… although…

“You get around don’t you, big brother?” Desire says, breaking the silence, and Deceit… she honestly forgot how Desire could be at times. It had been… it hadn’t been a lifetime for her but she also didn’t have eons of family squabbles to look back on… so to hear Desire being… Desire of old – even she shifts forward, the threat unsaid but apparent.

Death was a moment ahead of her, silencing Desire with a look – while Dream… he shifts away, unable to even give a moment of attention to Deceit or Desire. However, the latter sneers – enjoying themselves far too readily.

“You’re despicable,” Deceit says, surprising Despair. “If you could see yourself in my time…”

“Stop,” Destiny says. “We cannot.” They had some ability of course to view how things might fall – some more than others -, but to know exactly how things would fall… that was… something Deceit found amusement in – after all, the whole reason their entire timeline had been derailed had been because Destiny had looked and changed things… without realizing the repercussions of that fully… Now, she has half a mind of just letting them all know it again – just to irritate her oldest uncle.

“Did I win?” Desire purrs, just wanting to know that.

“Desire,” Dream says, the warning evident – not that they care.

“Yeah, Desire you win,” Deceit says, with a snort. Then with a grin, she adds, “And you hate it.”

“That I…”

“Truth,” Deceit continues, daring Desire to argue, and they smartly click their jaw shut.

“What…” Death starts only for Destiny to interrupt her, but she brushes it off. “What happened?”

Deceit opens her mouth, closes it, then glances towards where Aila is inside. A lot, so much, and she wouldn’t even know where to start, nor is she certain she should. There was just… there was so much, and there wasn’t the time. Instead, she offers, “Too much.” Dream traumatized, human, amnesiac… but right now, her focus was on the why of all of this. She continues, “Lucifer is no longer in Hell, forcefully removed and bound. Including away from the family. A truce and treaty to ensure we do not involve ourselves with her or her with us.” But the former angel hadn’t forgotten nor forgave – none of it, and it would seem that that bill had finally come due. Deceit curses herself for not pushing to destroy Lucifer two decades ago. It would have… eased this, though that also would have meant Aila wouldn’t exist.

But the girl… Deceit doesn’t know. Not yet, not completely.

“So Aila…” Destruction says – the name somehow more foreign now knowing she’s his niece.

“The loophole,” Deceit says, leaning her head back against the wall. Aila was not what she was expecting, and honestly, Deceit is thankful for that. With a mother like Lucifer… she had… she hadn’t thought the girl would be a complete sociopath, but she did expect something near enough that ending her wouldn’t have been a question. And now… Deceit had let the girl go – she hopes she doesn’t come to regret that.

Dream continues to stand silent – trying to incorporate the newest information into the picture he already had. Enough so – that he barely hears Desire’s barbs, enough so that he doesn’t care about them. No right now, he’s trying to come to terms with Aila… and Deceit.

However, for everything he had suspected – Aila being his daughter… his daughter… that was not… he struggles to understand how that would be possible, especially with Lucifer. It would be quite difficult to force such a coupling. It didn’t make sense; Deceit, herself, had made it clear her function was truth and lies. It has to be a lie, Dream decides. The girl was not his – even as a piece of himself argues otherwise. The girl was not of Lucifer either. It wasn’t possible.

No. This was not…

It wasn’t possible, so instead, Dream focuses on what he can – “Orpheus?”

Deceit’s half surprised by Dream speaking, as well as the question. Although, at least, it’s about his son, Deceit supposes. It could be… any number of other things, though she also wonders if that’s what he’s electing to focus on – while being faced with how… utterly twisted his life had apparently become.

“I’ll handle it,” Deceit says, although that’s a lie. By their own truce, she couldn’t… something they must realize – Dream included – by how he shifts.

“I will,” he states, and Deceit shakes her head. Crossing time, as she had, as Aila had… it caused ripples. Bringing Dream of Old into the present… there was no good ending to that. Dream steps nearer to Deceit, but she was never one to back down, not even to an Endless – not even one that was her father. She remains leaned against the wall, no care or concern in how she holds herself.

Desire watches captivated – perhaps this will be the time brother spills blood, they wonder. Between Deceit and Aila, there was now plenty of new options… both of which… Dream had no love for – though, Desire thinks ruefully, it wasn’t like big brother loved them either, and he had yet to strike them.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but your perchance for trouble,” Deceit starts, before ending with, “no.”

“You think to order me…” Dream starts, and Deceit somehow forces out a chuckle. Because that’s not what she’s doing, but right now, she elects for silence, while Death steps between them.

“Dream,” Death says quiet, ambiguous. This entire situation was a complete uncertainty, but the look Dream levels on even Death is telling. However, she doesn’t back down – she merely swallows back a laugh at even her little brother thinking she’d walk away from this. Allow him to walk away and do something – as Deceit… her niece, Death shudders at that… said – do something equally stupid. She tries to ignore the knowing worry… of what she’s seen and heard – of what Dream must go through for Deceit and Aila to exist…

And if Aila existed… the fate she carried… what she would do – to her sire, to Dream… Death couldn’t help but worry.

“Why is Aila… normal?” Destruction asks, breaking the tension slowly wrapping around them. “Is it because she’s half of one of us?”

Deceit shrugs – perhaps in part – but more likely – she admits, “I’m the one that bound Lucifer.” When the former angel had lost the Oldest Game against Desire, when Desire decided their boon was to keep Lucifer away from the family, and she had to be tossed from Hell – it was Deceit that used the necklace that Lucifer still wore to interweave the magic. It was not perfect, but it had done its job. “When I bound Lucifer, I didn’t know about the… I didn’t know.” She had sensed something was… odd, but she was young – in the sense of being a stable Endless, trying to find her own footing at that point – and she didn’t know, didn’t stop to truly look.

And the binding magic would have cut deep – it would have bound anything magical… including a child… continuing to include a child.

“I still don’t…” Despair starts, trying to wrap her head around any of this and failing. She frowns, just as the nightmare appears in the doorway as well.

The Corinthian rubs his brow wearily, but at least, Aila was calming down. He didn’t fault the girl for having a breakdown. At this point, if anyone needed it – she was at the top. However, he does fault Deceit – even though the girl had pushed for the answer – for pushing the young Nephilim over that edge. Now, though, he takes a break – letting Calliope and Eurydice handle her, stepping outside… only to find all the Endless.

The nightmare promptly wants to turn back around, though he does catch the tail end of Despair’s confusion. For such powerful beings, he thinks smarmily, they can be so easily and utterly lost.

“I assume you… they have a plan?” the nightmare asks, though referring to they as their Endless and not this troupe.

“Return Orpheus,” Deceit says. “And then…” The nightmare waits. “Lilith’s been ousted from Hell.” The nightmare holds his breath – Lilith was whom they all made the deal with. Endless stay out of Hell business and vice versa. If Lilith was out then… “The truce holds, but not likely for much longer.” And Aila was the weapon both sides wanted.

“Dream?”

“Unaware.” Which was probably for the best.

“You said he was human,” Death says, interrupting – recalling that short bit of conversation. “My brother as human…” Death finds this part of the story to be the most ridiculous section, if anything – while Desire is quite amused by the picture painted.

Deceit sighs, heavy and exhausted. She could use a nap, she decides, but first… all of this… “As I said, it’s a bit of a story, and probably one best… not told?”

“I want the truth,” Death says, even as Destiny steps forward. The words pull at Deceit, as expected – and she frowns.

“People say that,” Deceit says, quietly. “They don’t really mean it.”

“What is happening?” Death says, again, and this time – all the Endless turn towards Deceit. Even Destiny, and Deceit takes a moment – looking around, assessing each. Despair has her hook deep into her palm, Delirium is humming and smiling, Destruction appears concerned, Destiny silent – he could force her to be quiet in turn. He could try; Deceit would enjoy that, but she glances towards Dream and Desire. She recalls how things started, how things ended. She recalls Desire hugging Dream, desperate – she shudders at that of Desperation -, of them not wanting Dream to go.

She shouldn’t change things. She can’t. Time wouldn’t let her – not truly -, but she sighs. She was young, and right now, she didn’t care as much for the rules of the Universe. Nothing had truly changed, after all, and likely wouldn’t.

“In a few thousand years,” she says, her voice low – the words difficult, even for her. She clicks her tongue and forces out a pained laugh. “Dream ends up as a guest of Lucifer… Desire as well…” Guest was a nice way of saying captive. She watches as they look towards the house – of course, assuming, that was when Aila would have been… but Deceit shakes her head. “What happened then was not her but me.” Deceit pulls the coat off, exposing the corrupted marks again. “Or my former self, Dread.”

The nightmare shudders. Dread was… the nightmare feels Aila slip up behind him. The sobs were long gone, but he guesses that if he turned, the tears would still be there. He reaches back and finds one of her hands.

“Dread?” Desire purrs, but Deceit says nothing, merely steps around Death, catching Desire’s eye – their golden gaze falling into her now mirrored one. Her fingers – the ones twisted with the marks brush against Desire’s sternum, but that’s all it takes.

One single touch, and Desire stumbles back – eyes wide…. Dream as well, having glimpsed it… Lucifer, Dream, Desire… Dream… Dream broken… Desire twisted, darkened… sick… Lucifer beaming. All of it and none of it, but enough that Desire gasps, shaking their head – eyes wide, even as they’re stuck in the depths of Deceit’s gaze. A version of themselves, make-up smeared, dark marks crawling up their own face, face twisted into a sneer – staring back. They want to be sick.

“What was… What…” Desire sputters. It’s not them that breaks the stare, but Deceit. She steps away, giving them the space they need – impressive since it’s not her function. Not that they say that; instead, they try to gather themselves back into some sort of semblance. All the while Dream watches, silent and unmoved.

“What you think you want, but the lie as well,” Deceit says. The fear revealing the honesty. “I almost…”

“Dread,” the nightmare interrupts helpfully, and Deceit thanks him with a nod.

“Dread almost killed the entirety of the Endless. Corrupted every single one, and if not for Dream… you would have ceased to exist,” Deceit admits. There’s silence at the admission. Dread was so close – one more moment, and it would have ended far differently. If not for Dream, if not for Johanna Constantine… if not for Hob and Alec… But Dream – what he was forced to do. Deceit sighs.

“What did he do?” Death asks, her voice breaking in turn.

“What had to be done,” Deceit answers, the answer vague. Not even she likes to think now of what happened. She wasn’t there when the Endless rescued Dream, only for the after – to bind Lucifer. However, Aila was proof of how truly despicable things got.

When Deceit continues not to elaborate, the nightmare sighs. It was and wasn’t enough. The Endless didn’t have what they needed – not entirely, and part of the Corinthian wants the Endless – namely this Desire – truly understand without any doubt what Dream did.

“Gave himself over to Lucifer,” the nightmare says. “It saved you lot.” Even after everything, in the nightmare’s opinion, Dream shouldn’t have. The cost… he shakes his head, but it was his lord’s family. Dream had done it without question or expectation for himself. He had thought he would be lost and his family okay. The nightmare hates it still.

While the words remain unclear enough – after all, it wasn’t exactly what happened, of course – the bare bone details missing much of what truly happened. But they didn’t have the time for the full story. However, it’s enough.

“That’s when I was…” Aila says, and Deceit sighs, nodding. That would have been when Aila was conceived.

“I was reborn into this, Lucifer was… ousted from Hell, and things had been quiet until now,” she continues. And now? Now Hell and Lucifer were making a play to destroy the Endless once again… if Deceit had to guess, they had waited to see what use Aila had, but only just came to the realization of how truly powerful the girl was or could be… especially if the binding was removed. But if the binding was removed – Deceit worried that the girl would be like… all the other Nephilims.

“But Dream human?” Death says again.

Deceit chances a glance at the nightmare and then at Destiny, who even appears pale at the realization of what Dread meant in his book. After all, as their own Destiny had said, he couldn’t see past his own corruption. He may not know the full details, but he likely had started to glimpse some of the trials, some of the torture that Dream endured… what had led to her creation… and Destiny was right – Dream had stayed, this version… by the change he triggered… but…

“It was bad,” the nightmare says, electing to answer when Deceit could not. “This was… better.” Though given he was now standing a few thousand years in the past with two of Dream’s… unfortunate offsprings… that could now be debatable for himself.

“The… Fates… were angry by what happened,” Deceit continues – though angry was an understatement. “This was part of the punishment.” Dream – human. The rest of them unable to be involved.

“I cannot wait to see…” Desire starts, but even Destiny silences them. Their eyes widen at their eldest brother even - not so much snapping but stating harshly – to stop their teasing. They open their mouth again to argue, when the realize how quiet Dream now is… how he’s slowly pulling himself away.

Unlike his younger sibling, Dream can see and understand the ramifications of how bad things must have been for not only the Fates to be involved… but for a new Endless to be standing in front of him… an Endless that by some cosmic process was… a part of him… just as the girl… he catches Aila’s eye now, but he cannot keep it. Instead, he finds a random point on the wall to stare at.

“And now, here we are,” Deceit says. The moment hangs, and Aila can’t… she tries no to think on how she came to be. She can’t or she’ll break again. Right now, she needs… she takes a breath – focusing on Deceit and refusing to look at her Father… at Dream.

“One big happy family,” the nightmare mutters darkly, and that Deceit can agree on. Aila… she’s numb.

Quick Notes: We’re going to focus back on Aila now. Just had to get some of these Deceit chapters out of the way.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Six: When to Move Forward

The silence overtakes the group for a moment, each taking a moment to process, and Aila takes the moment to gather herself. She glances back over her shoulder at where she was restrained – the ropes torn, the symbols scuffed… and her life in shambles. She thumbs the wound in her thigh, the pain settling her; right now, there was only one thing to focus on. Only one thing that mattered now.

That in mind, Aila pushes herself forward. “So, Orpheus?” she says, finding the strength to speak again, and Deceit nods – pulling away from the wall. The Endless eyes the younger girl, noting the tear tracks are now dried, and there’s a resolve that wasn’t there before. Deceit could admit to being impressed. At least, it would seem stubbornness ran in the family, which in case such as this – was a needed trait.

Especially… Deceit stretches her senses – pulling at the doorway Time gave them.

“In our time,” Deceit says, and Aila regards the Endless a moment before accepting the answer as truth. “We’ll have to go back.”

They can likely slip through the way Deceit came, just as Beelzebub did – with Orpheus – except Deceit feels it then… the Fates… she glances past the Endless to see the three witches watching them, watching all of this unfold, and she has half a mind to challenge them herself. But no, they’re only here because some things still have to unfold…

“I’ll bring him back Eurydice, Calliope,” Aila says, promising, and both women believe the younger Nephilim. “It’ll be…”

“Don’t say okay,” Deceit says, warningly. “You can’t promise that.” It would be a lie.

“I can,” Aila counters. “I’m bringing Orpheus back.” Her brother…

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t change his fate,” Deceit says, and Aila recalls the story – Orpheus… as a head for thousands of years… because of their father… A father she refuses to still look at – he wasn’t hers. Her conception was not his fault… but his actions now were. She couldn’t handle that – not right now.

“I saved Eurydice.” As if that’s proof of anything, and Deceit decides the girl is far too young and naïve, actually. The girl had little knowledge or concept of the world she was now a part of. Deceit decides it would be better now to just rip this band-aid off. They… she… Aila… could perhaps save Orpheus – depending on the truce would depend on what the Endless could do… but save was relative.

Aila eyes Deceit, the distrust evident, and when the Endless glances at the others, she sees that while there is some disbelief remaining there was far more understanding in Destiny’s eyes now. He had already seen this play out – they were proof of what was to come. And his book – it was clutched in his hand. Things had not changed – not truly. Orpheus… they could save him from Beelzebub perhaps but not from this.

Quietly, Deceit turns back to Aila. “And yet, Orpheus is not speaking to Dream, Calliope has practically divorced him,” she says. “You changed a small thing, the path perhaps, but it doesn’t change the outcome.”

Orpheus would still suffer and die. Eurydice would… she would die… her thread had been cut, maybe stitched back but unraveling all the same again. Which was likely why the Fates were just beyond their sight – hovering – as all the Endless were aware of but not Calliope, Eurydice, the Nephilim, or the nightmare. Not yet.

And Dream… Dream was starting to truly digest what his own outcome was to be… his life here gone – though whether he had answered Calliope’s summons or not would not have likely changed anything either… a summons he only heard once until he felt his sibling call for him… he hadn’t known… about Orpheus, about any of it. And now… he tenses his jaw, refusing to look at Aila or Deceit – the ends to parts of his own story… one bathed in blood it would seem – his own.

The quiet returns but only for a moment. Aila tenses, and the air shifts – heat crackling on the specks of dirt around them. “No,” she hisses. Aila refuses to accept that. She wasn’t going to save her brother, just for him to suffer. “Change it.”

“That’s not my function…” It wasn’t any of theirs – not even Destiny…. Although… a tiny piece of Deceit purrs in remembrance of Dread – of a creation born of Destiny’s meddling. She pushes it away, ignoring it as she always did. “I cannot…” she starts, only for the Nephilim to interrupt – which Deceit appreciates the audacity, but Aila sees the lie. Deceit says she can’t, but Aila doesn’t believe it. Not really. The Endless could but just wouldn’t.

Something she was content to ignore.

“Fine, I will.” Aila has found the hill she has decided to stand on, and Deceit can sense it – clear as a ringing bell – the girl means it. Taking a moment, the Endless regards the Nephilim before nodding. It was the truth, except the question was how…

Destiny speaks then, “To do that, you would need to untangle this time from your own, fracture this into a new reality.” Something that went against Time, Fate… Endless functions. They could not do this, but as Deceit knows – Aila was more than just part Endless and angel, she was human. Humanity… did not entirely play by the laws of the universe.

All the same, Deceit doubts the Fates would just allow that to happen. Just beyond the tree line, the three stand – saying nothing but watch.

Calliope steps forward then. She doesn’t want to lose her son… or her daughter in law… but to try and separate the realities – to forge a new fate, to change everything… Calliope won’t let the girl take that risk, undergo that trial. She can accept her own destiny, and as Eurydice stands silent, she suspects the other woman already has. They just want Orpheus home.

However, before Calliope can say a word, Aila steps back – out of reach, shaking her head, ignoring the hot blood still pulling at her skin. Aila appreciates the Greek muse; she does. After all, within a few moments of the woman finding out she’s her husband’s… unwanted child… Calliope didn’t care – didn’t even blink. Instead, no, the Greek muse comforted her – while Aila tried and failed to calm her tears.

And now when hearing that their fates – that Calliope’s fate was to leave Dream, for Eurydice to die, and her son to suffer… Calliope still reached out, trying to settle Aila’s mind – because the Nephilim can see the muse’s intent. She wanted Aila not to risk everything, but for Aila there was no other option. This was everything and she wouldn’t allow it to be for nothing if she had the chance, the possibility of at least trying.

However, it’s Destiny’s words she focuses on. To keep Eurydice alive, to change things – she would need to do more. “She’s alive, is that not enough?” Aila asks, and Destiny sighs. He can see his siblings watching this too – far too invested… especially Desire – Desire, whom still found far too much joy in what would come… except Destiny had seen what was written for them too, and it had churned even his stomach. Neither of his siblings deserved what was coming.

“It is not,” Destiny says. “There is nothing that can be done.” He settles his face, keeping his fingers tight on his book, and he watches as Aila’s face darkens a moment before Deceit says,

“Lie.”

He turns towards her, and Deceit smiles, content to shrug away his answer.

“You’re lying,” she continues when Destiny says nothing. Death swallows her snort. Her two nieces are quickly becoming something else, and when she looks to Dream, she scowls. Her younger brother is refusing to look at either of them; she considers marching over there to shake him… only holding herself to further listen to the two time travelers.

“So, it can be done?” Aila asks, and Deceit nods. She was Endless, just as Destiny was, and she was quite aware of how to change things… after all it was her… Alec’s fate… that Destiny changed. It could be done; and he was more than aware of that.

“It’s not about the action, but the cascade,” Deceit says, her gaze boring into Destiny’s. “It can be something small or something big, but it has to cause a significant enough ripple.” One that could not just be undone with another action. Alec learning ritual magic for example… that could not be easily undone, and that one moment with her brother – learning and seeing and reading about the rituals and symbols… a moment that triggered Charlie into a darker path, one that Alec had traveled for a time as well… that moment diverged everything.

However, if they did that – the nightmare considers it briefly. If Aila did what she wanted? With a sigh and mutter, the Corinthian says, “So, we can be really stuck here?” As fun as Greece had been, he had no want or desire to go back to his master’s – not this master’s – realm.

Dream would rather… none of them remain… he would rather go back to his realm, but he finds his feet planted in the Waking.

Tossing the nightmare a glare, Deceit all but ignores him, unimpressed. If anything, given her ability to jump realities – the mirror shard around her neck - that would make her life easier. Time would not need to be involved… which was good as their window was closing, and she was not really in the mood to go to him again.

However, changing fate… that would be an undertaking.

And not one Deceit could help with – something the rest of the Endless also knew. They were bound by their duties and functions. They did not have choices or free will – not as humans did. However, as Deceit also knew, Aila was part human – born as such. If there was someone that could, it would be her, and Deceit was tempted to let the girl try. After all…

Deceit glances to Dream… then Desire… and she recalls very easily how she was born. How Dread came to be – perhaps as punishment for Destiny straying from his function, from interfering as he shouldn’t have -, and the entire traumatizing cascade from it… but she worries – even if she or the Endless didn’t involve themselves directly, would things be better or worse for it? She supposes that in some ways she was faced with the same decision as Destiny now. Her eldest uncle had not… done more than change one simple turn a human made – a small change, and it had been her… Alec… that had made the choices from there. Deceit could do the same – let Aila make that choice.

However, Destiny speaks again, interrupting their thoughts. “The Fates would not allow it,” he says finally, and Deceit reluctantly agrees.

All the Endless know this – and a few, Delirium shift at the prospect of tempting the Kindly Ones. Delirium may not always understand things – which she hates when people say as much – but she understands enough to know her brother… her future brother… had invoked the Kindly Ones – purposefully, accidentally, crazily - but she didn’t want to give them cause now. She didn’t. She didn’t like it, and she was… uncomfortable by a new niece suggesting an action that might.

However, Deceit ponders it. The Fates would not allow it – yes – but what could they do. After all, the Kindly Ones could only do so much within their own purview. They were powerful yes, but more so when invoked… something that was not likely to happen here and now.

All the same, Deceit is aware of more than one occasion that they were suggested – suspected - to interweaved and changed small things themselves. The case in point – likely Dream. After all, she doubts, even now, that it was completely incidental that the Endless that suffered the most in their time was Dream.

Dream who had on more than one occasion upset the Fates in his own way… a feat apparently shared by his offspring. And for that alone, Deceit considers… decides to try this way forward. It wasn’t like she wanted to owe Time anything more anyway, nor was it likely he’d help her again. They could either go now… or go the way Aila suggested. Except she could not untangle time or change fate completely, but… she grins - she could give the Fates something to do.

“All right,” Deceit says, making a decision, turning to Aila. “You’re not leaving unless you do this?” Aila nods. “Which means I’m not leaving.” She sighs deeply, suddenly wondering how this became her life. “Find a breaking point,” she continues, “and break it.”

“How would I…” Aila starts to ask – only for Deceit to point at Destiny’s book, and once that’s done, she turns to Dream then Desire. She has only a moment to make this point, and she’d like to get it done.

“Desire,” Deceit says, and they grin – content with how much this has frustrated their brother. “I have little care about the not spilling blood law.” Their faces falls in a moment.

“Lie,” they scoff, but Deceit merely grins, and they fall silent.

“Father,” is all Deceit offers Dream, content to watch as his face reveals every truth to that word. He hates it – more that it’s from her mouth and not Orpheus… and also was a word that belonged to Aila. A reminder – a necessary one in Deceit’s mind. Changing fate… would require changing a lot, and that included their father – in this time… a feat that was likely harder than untangling the realities themselves, but… Deceit notes Death. If there was anyone that could… Deceit regards Aila again… the girl had promise.

That in mind, Deceit settles herself, then makes her way slowly over to the Fates. The three, who until now, had fallen quiet again – watching. Doing nothing more, though the energy changes as Deceit’s attention shifts to them.

The rest of the Endless can only watch at Deceit’s casual stroll, fingers stuffed in her pockets as she giddily makes conversation with the three – none of which appear amused. However, there’s no blood, no shouting – which is an improvement of what the Corinthian was expecting. He wonders if Hob’s tempering the other two aspects of the personality. Out of the three, he tended to be the most levelheaded… however, the moment, Deceit tosses a glance back over her shoulder, grinning at the Corinthian, before winking and then… The nightmare is unsurprised when she promptly banishes the three.

The Endless… save for perhaps Destiny and Death… are quite the opposite, though Delirium swallows a laugh and Destruction sighs before muttering a curse under his breath.

Deceit didn’t hurt them – she didn’t have that power, not really, not completely… maybe in time when she came more into herself, but it wasn’t worth the headache. However, she was quite content in her choice to send them back to their small hut – likely hurling back. Their visage had only been here, sadly, but Deceit suspects they’d get the hint… and if not, she glances at Aila once, and then, she vanishes. Deceit would keep them busy… trapped… irritated, while watching the line.

“Did she…” Dream starts, while Death can only muster a ‘huh’. A few minutes with the newest Endless and somehow, Death finds herself struck silent but at the same time unsurprised. She half wants to toss Dream a glare; perhaps this was not his fault directly… but she was starting to wonder about his offspring and their tendency to find trouble. They did certainly liven things up – a fact Desire would also be quite agreeable with.

All the while, the nightmare wants to be astounded by Deceit’s audacity – sending Fate away was… that was a choice, but one he would half expect from an Endless contaminated with Johanna and Alec. That would be exactly a choice they would make, and he can’t help his smirk. The Endless was Endless, but even now, he could see the humans still twisted into this being. Parts that remained.

“I’m related to that?” Aila asks, voice a bit distant as she tries to put the pieces of her own family tree together.

“She’s one of the better parts,” the nightmare says – although that part did change pending the day.

Eurydice wasn’t so certain – but she was not entirely thrilled with any part of the Endless family at the moment. Calliope remains silent in turn as well – she wasn’t sure how she felt about… another of her husband’s offspring – other than it would seem the creature was willing to let Aila try and save… All of them. Calliope swallows thickly.

All the while, Aila takes a moment; leaning back against the doorframe – a necessity born from the adrenaline now slipping away. Thanks to Deceit, Aila did now have the window needed to do… whatever it was that Deceit suggested. Change fate completely – unwind it… cause the cascade and change the course… and then save Orpheus.

Aila… she takes a deep breath and somehow finds it in herself to step completely out of the house and into the midst of the Endless. She feels Desire’s eyes on her – likely wondering what she plans to do now that the secret is in the open. However, the only thing she can do – is more forward. Which is what she’s going to do. She’s going to save Orpheus and change this.

She could. It hurts to force her power in this manner, but she slows the bleeding, heals the wounds as best she can, even with the exhaustion beating at her. For now, it’s ignorable, and that’s what she does.

In this moment, all she can focus on is moving forward. Her mother didn’t think she could do anything… not until now, and if that made her valuable, then she had the power to do something… and she would – or at the very least try.

“You knew Orpheus’s fate,” Aila says, turning to Destiny, and she watches as he tightens the hold on his book – telling enough for her that she was right. She takes a deep breath, settling herself. “What do I need to change to fix this?”

“Fate will fall as it should,” he says, not without kindness. He would not be mean or harsh with the young girl, but it was not his duty to change things, merely observe and guard the outcome. He recognizes the girl as a niece as well – just as the others do – but he would not show her special treatment… just as he did not with Orpheus, even after seeing what would befall the boy.

“Funny thing coming from you when you’re the reason the cascade started for us,” the nightmare says helpfully.

Death steps between Aila and Destiny – not threatening in any manner. Merely trying to defuse the tension slowly building, as well as still come to terms with… the last half a day of their lives. They were Endless – they had lived many lifetimes and would have many more… but this was a first for her. Not the time travel. That was… a less than ideal gift from their own father but meeting another niece… from a time far in the future was not something she had expected. Not something Destiny had either based on the frustration he’s not readily masking.

“Saving a life,” Destruction says, helpfully, “can be easily undone.” He says it slowly, thinking carefully about explaining their functions and how they also represent the opposite in turn. It was a thought that he had had for a while, but he hadn’t… he hadn’t spent more time on it, but right now, it felt right to say – he was less hesitant than the others with intervening -, “Eurydice’s life… her living it…” It didn’t change anything – not truly.

“Then, what you need is death,” Desire says, grinning as they lean back against a nearby fence. This did not go the way they thought, but given how sullen and withdrawn Dream was… given Orpheus’s current predicament… Calliope’s response… and Aila’s absolute delightful continued disregard of Dream, it still gave them a tingle.

But killing someone… gives Aila pause. She glances to the nightmare, who appears less squeamish about the idea, but still… Aila hadn’t… she had taken a life but… she takes a step back, uncertain how she feels about not just performing the act in self-defense but in pursuit of something. And taking a life? One life couldn’t guarantee a change either – there were always others to take the place.

If she killed someone, it would have to be someone important – someone who’s actions couldn’t be replaced by another… like her mother… her father… neither of which – neither option she can stomach nor would she. Her mother that had taken Orpheus – her mother of her time. Not this. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t - she goes to shake her head… she can’t do…

“Taking a life is not an easy feat,” Dream says – and not one he would want of his… he refuses to think child. He grits his teeth and turns away more, refusing to acknowledge them again.

It’s the nightmare that thinks of something – someone. After all, even he recognizes they’d need someone big – important. Something to cause a ripple, and there was one – especially one that the nightmare personally wouldn’t mind being wiped away. Though, he smartly keeps the word Lucifer out of his mouth.

Instead, the Corinthian suggests, “Azazel.” A demon that went after his lord and perhaps didn’t torture the Endless as directly but played a part all the same. “A demon lord, one of the three that help rule Hell.” And one that came near Dream’s son – meaning the Endless says nothing in response to the suggestion -; after all, if that was what it took to get back to Orpheus…

Aila considers the suggestion, staring at the nightmare. It was… an option but one that she can’t help but pause at. After all, this was a demon lord, and… but the nightmare knows the story well enough – he knows that while Azazel did not hold all the cards in the future, the demon had plaid a significant part in what happened. After all, that was the demon Johanna killed – her first performed by her magic… in defense of Dream. A not-so-insignificant moment. Not one easily replicated as it would need to be a lord and not just another demon.

Destiny’s fingers tighten on the book again, something even Aila notes. She swallows roughly but nods – Death pursing her lips at the response. Desire grins, Despair worries, and Delirium hums… something.

Aila settles herself. She needed to untangle their realities, derail this time from following their own. If she did that, she could save Orpheus… Eurydice… change things. So, kill Azazel? If that’s what she needed to do to save them… then that’s what she would do.

Quietly, Aila glances to where Deceit vanished, along with the Fates. She wants to be… She takes a breath again; she can do this. Her sister… a sister… she gives that thought pause as well as now being able to think of Orpheus as her brother – giving strength to that thought. To what needed to be done. Her sister had given her a window, one that functioned in truth and lies, so obviously Deceit also thought she could.

Thus, Aila could do this, she decides. She could. She may not have a mother or father… she’d willingly acknowledge, but she had a brother and an interesting half-sister. That was some sort of family. She’d take that.

Quick Notes: A very short chapter to get transition. Dream, Aila and Desire have a few minutes to discuss things next chapter…

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Seven: When to Rebuild

It’s all a bit much – even the Endless would admit to that. Even Destiny would agree to that, not that he’d ever say it out loud. He couldn’t – not without admitting how much of this he hadn’t seen or glimpsed. However, all the same he recognizes its overwhelming nature. Smartly, as does Death. She also realizes without it being said that having the entirety of the Endless here plus another, with an offspring… was a mixture for more chaos.

She doesn’t wish to send them away, but at her urging, Death tries to send Despair and Delirium away. This involved the Kindly Ones, Time, a new Endless, and utter chaos… things that Delirium did not need to add to, and Despair… she was only feeding Aila’s grief over the life she never truly had. And right now, Aila needed to focus. She had never… she had only beaten Azazel by accident, and even then, she had only knocked him unconscious.

However, both hesitate. Delirium in concern, Despair because of Desire. However, Destruction steps in then – helping to guide Delirium away – offering to take the youngest to his realm for the moment, to give them a breath of air, even as the chaos grips all of them. Despair continues to hesitate until Desire smiles, far too ecstatic for the ongoings, and shoos her away. They were fine, content, and far too elated to see how this would all play out… although the Fates were… an unneeded complication, Lucifer too… No matter, they suppose. They could still see multiple ways they could win… they refuse to think on Deceit’s words – that they had won… and they hated it.

She was lying. It was her function, they decide.

All the while, Aila separates herself from the Endless. She needs a moment; she needs far more than that, but there was little other option right now for anything besides this small amount of space she was allowed. Not that she doesn’t think she’s alone. No, she’s certain one of the Endless – Death likely – is watching her, but she needs a moment. She needs to settle her stomach, even as it churns at the thought… at the concept… of the idea of taking a life – even a demon.

She had never… she had never done what Deceit had suggested. Azazel’s life – his thread could unravel this world and theirs. By taking his, she could save theirs – Orpheus, Eurydice… and who knows what else would change. She’d likely never be born, not here at least. But she had never tried to take a life before. Not on purpose. She thinks back to their first day here – the human she accidentally… her stomach twists more, and she swallows the bile in her throat.

And right now, she sits in the main room again – in the chair she had been restrained in while she ponders the choice. She wasn’t incapable of taking a life; it was just…

“It’s good it gives you pause,” Death says, crouching down in front of Aila.

“What?” Aila says, slowly, not entirely understanding what Death was saying.

“It makes you human,” Death continues. “To not want to take a life, even a demon. To have that hesitation means you have…”

“Emotions?” Aila snorts.

“Empathy, sadness, regret, a conscious,” Death continues. “You may be one of us, but you’re still human.” She moves to stand. “It’s a good thing.” She means that completely too.

It was one of the better things that seemed to come about from their offspring – at least in Death’s opinion. Deceit… Death hadn’t made a decision about her yet, but Aila… Death liked. The girl was – now knowing who she was, the girl made a lot more sense, and Death felt warmer about the girl with the added information. The girl was… off with their family… only because they were off to her in turn; Death couldn’t fault that. She could, however fault her ridiculously idiotic younger brother, who had yet to actually address either one of his new kids… Deceit, again, she understood; but Aila… Aila didn’t deserve that.

Death turns to leave when Aila asks, “Would you have taken Eurydice that day? If I hadn’t interceded.”

“Yes, I would have,” Death says. She watches the girl’s face shift – from open to not hostile but guarded. “It’s my job. I do what I can to ease their journey. It doesn’t mean…” She stops there. She had never truly admitted it out loud that there were parts she didn’t enjoy – not as of late; she had thought she had put it behind her. However, the girl… she wants to be honest with her. “I did not want that for Orpheus. I did not want that for Eurydice.” That was the truth.

“Neither did I,” she says quietly.

Brother or not, Orpheus didn’t deserve to lose his wife, and now… because of her… Aila clenches her fists. Because of her, Orpheus was now trapped in some Hell, in her time, and unless she found a way to… untangle this and their reality… he would lose everything – Eurydice, his life… likely his mother… she refuses to think on Dream, but that was also a possibility. After all, she had seen where Dream ends up – in the end… he was human because of his suffering… and somehow, even Aila knows – Orpheus wouldn’t want that, not even with the two of them not speaking.

However, to take a life… Aila feels nauseous over the prospect. Death smiles sadly at the girl, stepping away just as the nightmare – one of her younger brother’s, just not one yet made – joins them. He eyes Death cautiously, glancing concerningly towards the Nephilim. The protectiveness was… adorable – not that Death says that out loud. Given he’s her brother’s, she suspects he wouldn’t find it to be a compliment. That unsaid, the eyes… she could do without and questions Dream’s… decisions.

Before the nightmare can completely bypass her, Death can’t help but ask as she leaves the house, “How is he..? My brother in your time?” She imagines him human… turned by the Fates… and to think that was necessary, to think of what he may have went through – Aila proof of some of it.

Death considers the ramifications of trying to end Lucifer in this time – just to prevent that. It would likely untangle their fates, their times… but the ramifications… to herself, her family, their world… she still considers it.

The nightmare hesitates before licking his lip nervously. The smile is forced – more than he’d like, except there isn’t much he can say. “He’s better… like this. That,” the nightmare says, trying and failing to convey what he needs to. “Before he was turned… he asked…”

“Asked?” Death asks, aware of her siblings hovering just on the purview of their conversation. They’re terrible at pretending not to listen – such younger siblings. She’d roll her eyes if it wouldn’t bring their attention to her being aware. Even Aila is listening.

“For you to carry him,” the nightmare says – admitting in those five words everything Death needed to know.

A piece of her breaks hearing that, and she glances to Aila… something the girl also did not appear aware of but seemed to understand the enormity of. The Nephilim finds a spot on the floor and stares at it, not wanting to think or try to imagine how much of that want was because of her or what created her at least.

Without another word, the nightmare goes to join Aila, taking a knee in front of the girl – Calliope slipping behind her. Neither say anything, while Aila thinks. Azazel was a demon… one gone in their world because of Johanna Constantine as the story was told. A demon that caused untold pain and trauma in the time he was alive, and his death… it helped to cascade Hell again – into further turmoil. It was in part what led to her mother losing control of Hell… in the face of the corrupted. The corrupted… which had the possibility of not existing here.

Aila catches the Corinthian’s eye, and she doesn’t smile or nod. She does nothing, but he understands all the same – she’s going to do it. And then… then she’s going after Orpheus – and they both already know to do that… it would put her on the opposite side of her mother. It would put them against one another, and Aila honestly? She doesn’t care. Something the nightmare notes as well.

“Deceit will give you the time you need,” the nightmare says.

“Will she?” Aila asks.

“Can she?” Death follows with.

However, the nightmare just snorts, shaking his head. “She’s as troublesome as Desire with Dream’s insatiable need to be right. She won’t stop.” He would have compared her back to Johanna – as that was a more close approximation, but… these Endless did not know Johanna Constantine – at least not yet. He’s curious if that crossing would still happen… if… he glances at Calliope and imagines explaining to this muse that her current husband was married to another. He figures, rightfully, that’s a conversation for a different day or never. No reason to bring that up more – not when the muse was already aware that her marriage to the Endless was already doomed in their time. As was her son… and daughter in law.

Actually, the nightmare can’t help but be curious how the muse is taking all of this. Given everything, she stands stoic, unmoving save for the comfort she continues to give to Aila. She seems unperturbed by their fates, and the nightmare gives the muse some silent credit for that.

While on the inside, Calliope just feels too broken to truly grasp any of this. All she can focus on now is Aila… helping her, so that the girl could help her son. Save her son… unlike his father. One she still refuses to acknowledge. She appreciates Aila’s earlier confession – while everyone was outside.

The young girl had apologized – to her, for not telling her what and who she truly was. Calliope recalls through the girl’s quiet cries that it was hard enough admitting what she was and to go further… it was always with the assumption of being turned away… and… and Calliope understands. The girl had faced enough rejection in her life; it would be hard to trust someone to do the opposite. Calliope swears to do better – she can do better than Lucifer Morningstar.

Taking a deep breath, Aila gets her feet back under her, dragging everyone’s attention back to her, but right now – she just needs… she needs to start. Sitting here – doing nothing – it was dragging her, pulling at her, and right now, she’s made a decision. Something the nightmare can see as well.

“All right,” he says. “How do we get a demon lord out of Hell again?”

“Summoning,” Aila suggests. Though that was beyond her. She hadn’t… she had magic but she hadn’t ever tried that.

“Bait,” Desire then says, a grin twisted onto their features.

“We cannot be involved in this,” Destiny states, appearing as well. “Deceit…” he starts, only to trail off. He had a lot to say about that Endless, as well as that she should not be involving herself, but she had merely sent the Fates away. She was treading a line, but she had not yet crossed it. “It does not involve us.” Not of this time at least.

“It involves my son,” Dream says, and Calliope makes a sound that’s telling. After all, where had been that concern before – that care? However, had Dream known… he… he wouldn’t have left Orpheus to this – to that. Not that anyone believes it – not for the moment. Deceit would have, but only because of her function. She would be able to tell it was the truth.

It takes a lot and a glare from Death for Desire to stay quiet. The temptation to tease and manipulate was simply too much, but they somehow keep their tongue between their teeth.

“It does not involve us,” Destiny states again. He did not mean to make this painful for his family, but the risk…

“It does,” Death counters. In some ways, this did; they just needed to be cautious about exactly what they did and the repercussions. “Lucifer won’t cross that line.” The line of attacking them – not yet -, but…

“She will… eventually,” Desire mutters, trying not to think too hard on what big brother would go through.

Tormenting their brother was fun, trying to get him to spill blood – a promise to come, but the idea of what Lucifer had done to their older brother… what Deceit had shown them… they try to push away their discomfort, their disgust at what the angel had done, but… they glance towards Dream again.

Dream says nothing, but Desire would be correct – not that he would say that out loud. If they did not unravel – if Aila… the girl did not unravel their times and Fates… he would… he clenches his fists at his side.

Then, there was also the fact the demon Lord and Lucifer wouldn’t stop – of this time and her own. Not if it meant winning. Not with what Aila being what she was… even if Lucifer didn’t…

“She cannot know,” Dream does say – pulling Death’s attention to him. “Lucifer. She cannot know what… who the girl is.”

Aila scowls at the term the girl, though she appreciates that more than my daughter - even if a piece of her wants him to acknowledge her.

But she does readily agree with him. Lucifer of this time knowing… would benefit none of them, and after their brief interaction earlier, Aila has no interest in getting to know her mother of this time either. She nods her assent – something that seems to surprise the Dream Lord, but he says nothing more on it.

“Aila,” Calliope says, concerningly. Neither summoning nor bait are things she wants for the young Nephilim, but Aila merely forces a smile, understanding… actually, having someone else concerned for her is a new feeling but it feels right from the Greek muse.

“I’ll be fine,” Aila says, not wanting to promise anything but wanting to alleviate something. She looks to Eurydice now – who’s remained silent for much of this. However, the human now steps forward – face set.

“Bring him back,” is what the other woman says before she adds, “But please don’t get yourself killed.” Eurydice moves forward then giving Aila a hug, which the Nephilim hesitates briefly before returning.

Recalling Deceit’s words, Aila doesn’t promise it – not out loud, but internally, she refuses to fail. She can’t. She won’t.

However, until then, Aila thinks it would be better for Calliope and Eurydice to remain at the temple – saying as much quietly. The demons didn’t need any more targets, and they needed the focus on her. If Lucifer – of this time – used Calliope or Eurydice as bait, Aila was certain she’d lose and any edge she’d have. No, it would be best for them to remain out of this… and as for the Endless.

“There is not much aid I can offer,” Death says. “Deceit shouldn’t…” Deceit shouldn’t have done anything either – it started to blur the line of their duty as it was. But at least, it was mostly… keeping the Fates attention, which Death… she tries not to focus on either. Both her nieces were headaches. Nieces – Death sort of enjoys that. At least, there are more girls in the family now.

“Are you going to stop me?” Aila asks, and Death smiles, before shaking her head.

The Endless could not risk the cosmic order by defying the rules of Time and risk realities… that went beyond their duty, and even if the younger ones sometimes played with humanity, this was… this was a lot. Involving themselves carried risk – likely what the Fates had seen and why they had been hovering until Deceit’s involvement. However, Death would not stop her. There was no rule or law in place forcing that – not unless the girl was a threat to them… or the girl died.

Death hopes the girl doesn’t die. But against Lucifer?

Quietly, Death moves back outside. She has a duty to get back to… although, she wants to stay here – something Destiny must also realize, as he shakes his head. This… change… was not theirs to control. They would merely need to watch and see how the pieces fell, but since he could not see it in his book… Destiny worried. His newest… family members were chaos… and they had enough of that already with Delirium.

Although seeing Deceit… hearing what was a possibility to come… Destiny opens his book as he turns away – wondering again about one human’s fate… left instead of right. Burgess, sigils, Hell, Vortex, Orpheus, Destruction… Fate… he will need to think on this, he decides – stepping back into his realm.

Dream hovers just beyond the doorframe, having followed Death outside, ignoring Desire – who’s all too thrilled with the recent developments… and not as surprised as they should be. Death wonders if perhaps they had more of an inkling as compared to the rest of them – did the nightmare creation not suggest it as much, Death tries to recall -, but if so, she wants to have a quick conversation about pertinent family details.

This was important information that was not a game.

“You need to talk to her,” Death says, quiet but commanding. Dream turns away, but she grips his elbow. “Brother. I am serious, you need to talk to her.”

“She is not my child,” Dream growls. “Not yet.” Not ever possibly if their lines were shifted enough.

“To her, she is,” Death counters.

“Orpheus…” he starts, before trailing off. Orpheus was… Orpheus was trapped in another time, in a Hell – because Aila was right, he wasn’t there. He drops his gaze.

“Talk to her,” Death suggests gently, and his sigh is telling.

Out of all the Endless, Dream had the most reason to be involved in these matters. This was a risk to the Dreaming. If Lucifer found out what Aila was – the who -, it went without saying Lucifer would come for the Dreaming and himself. With his realm threatened…

In the other time, it was obvious Deceit did not want him involved – he ignores that line of thinking for now… but she said nothing about remaining out of matters in his own time. Lucifer had not fully declared war, but near enough.

Unlike his siblings, he could be involved – should he choose to. Something Death did not inherently, completely want, but she looks to him, trying to get him to open some line of communication with the Nephilim. She did want that, and he… he doesn’t know what to do, but he could at least speak with her.

His realm was likely in danger; he could focus on that. He could, though he doubts he will be able to.

Acknowledged, Death leaves, promising to come back when she can – tossing a quick look at Desire, who continues to hover. They’re just enjoying themselves and waiting for it all to come tumbling down. They continue to try and not dwell on some of what may occur to Dream. It wasn’t all that bad, and he was alive – likely having learned a lesson. They could… they ignore the twinge of hesitation and concern that boils deep in their gut. Instead, they focus on how impressed they are that big brother has yet to run away – especially after all of this.

Instead, to their surprise, Dream approaches Aila.

“Lucifer will be cautious,” he states – after such an attack, near enough to an Endless, she would hesitate to send her demon Lords or creatures anywhere. “I will request an audience with her.”

Aila has half a mind not to respond, but Dream stands – quiet, waiting, and something tells her he’s trying to help. Which right now with Deceit off… whatever it was she was doing… and the nightmare’s suggestion of bait… an extra hand was not… unwelcomed. She frowns, however – not sure how she feels about it being him.

“What good will that do me?” she asks.

“It will keep her eye on me,” Dream states – aware of the risk to himself for this. However, Orpheus… his son… his… he stares at Aila – now seeing and feeling the similarities. “You will need to merely present the demon with an opportunity in turn.” Out of sight of Lucifer – which for a selfish creature such as a demon Lord, one that already had a taste of Aila… would not be that difficult.

“Why are you…” Aila starts before trailing off. She wants to ask why are you helping me? except she’s not sure she’s ready for any answer; something Dream also must know, as he says nothing in turn.

He may not even know the answer himself.

Quick Notes: Aila and Dream finally get a few minutes to talk next chapter and then… Aila decides how to handle Azazel with the Corinthian.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Eight: How to Move Forward

Calliope won’t speak to him; she refuses. Of course, Dream tries only for her to turn him away – multiple times, enough times that he now smartly gives her room, as much as it pains him to do so. At least until Orpheus is returned… and then… but for now, she forsakes him, just as their son did. Dream has half a mind to return to his realm after all of this, ignoring his own offer to distract, handle Lucifer.

As an Endless, these matters did not pertain to him, not to his duty, but as a father… his son was not just dead or gone… his son was trapped, taken… and it pulls at Dream. He’s uncertain entirely what that feeling is, just that he wants – needs it to be gone.

The nightmare casually tells him it’s what concern feels like, a moment before Dream near threatens to unmake the creature again… only to hear him laugh as he strolled away about being his - his, Dream’s – masterpiece. He questions that thoroughly, given the derisive nature of the nightmare. But at the very least, the creature was no longer present. No, now it’s just Dream and Aila.

Desire had finally… stepped away… much to his relief. He wonders exactly how much his sibling knew, given their response to it all, but right now, he focuses on Aila. She stands outside of Eurydice’s old family home, pulling at her magic – only for it to sputter and die out. She can’t… and if she can’t… then Azazel would be beyond her, and she needs this. She has to save Orpheus; she refuses any other option.

Dream doesn’t… he doesn’t know what to do with the girl. In his eons of life, this was not an experience he had something similar enough to pull from. Orpheus had been his only child, and one that while Calliope had wanted more, he had as well. And now – his son was gone. Something about that – that thought, it pangs through him, enough so, that he can feel the Dreaming shift even from here. Dark clouds and coldness seep into his realm, into his being. His son was gone… and the girl was trying to get him back.

“Did Deceit not say she bound you?” Dream asks, not truly moving closer but at least being near enough to converse, and Aila stops – considering that. She hadn’t heard that part of the story, but she does recall Deceit stating she was the one that bound Lucifer. If Lucifer was bound while pregnant… which that was the only timeline that made sense.

However… if she was bound… Aila scowls. Bound kept her from doing what she needed to do – which was find the power to overcome Azazel. She could not merely knock him out or remove him from this plane. She would need to destroy him – which… she swallows down her hesitation – pulling at her power again. The trees bend, the wind howls, but otherwise… the sky remains blue. She pants against the exertion, her frustration evident.

However, Dream sees far more than that. Even bound, the girl could do this. Freed? He doesn’t need to be told that she would be a threat, and if Lucifer – the one of Aila’s time – had her way, it would be one against them, his family. That did make this his business… however, that’s not what he thinks of when he moves forward. No, all he can think about is his son.

He should have come when called… he should have answered Calliope… but they had only called once. He hadn’t known; he suspects, however, that was for nefarious reasons. Someone had purposefully kept him away, and he would blame Deceit, save she had actually been angry at him for his non-response.

No, likely Hell kept him away – to ensure he wouldn’t intercede. Not that he would have interfered to Aila, but Orpheus… Dream pushes the thought aside again, focusing instead on this moment.

If he wanted to get his son back, then he needed… Aila needed to understand herself. Death would tell him to try, offer something, but all he can do is state what he’s seen.

“You bent my realm to your power,” Dream states, standing beside Aila. She eyes him wearily – a degree of caution in how she holds herself. Understandable given their previous encounters – especially their last. However, Dream ignores that. He did not appreciate being thrown about in his own realm, in his own seat of power; however, he recognizes the need for Aila to succeed at this. “When you were there, you should not have been able to transverse as you did.” Only a vortex could have gotten that deep into his palace without his knowledge, and if not a vortex… then, apparently a child.

“I don’t understand…” Aila starts.

Because the Nephilim doesn’t. She could possibly commandeer part of the Dreaming, it would seem, but it did her little good here. She needed to summon a demon, not a nightmare or dream – an irritation that was beginning to show likely. Quietly, Dream shifts closer – his hands outstretched towards her, but Aila steps away, the distrust evident.

After everything, she doesn’t understand why now he cares – which is not something he can answer entirely either. However, he does recognize that if Aila cannot get to Azazel, he cannot help Orpheus… and… he felt… he felt driven to do that. He couldn’t leave Orpheus in Hell – telling Aila quietly as much. His son… Dream tries to push down the rising tide of whatever he was feeling in that moment, as he further considers his own words.

His son suffering the consequences of his own faults… Dream could accept – apparently had if time had gone as it should have (at least initially) – but Orpheus fate… this was not his fault, not his own actions. It was Lucifer’s and Hell’s. His son didn’t deserve to suffer that. His son was his, and Lucifer would do well to remember that. This was Lucifer’s fault. He settles on that.

“Why?” she asks. Why care now – is the rest of the question she cannot bring herself to ask.

“He is my son,” Dream says, as though he’s acknowledging it for the first time – something that causes Aila to scoff. After all of this, it’s understandable she’d be hesitant to believe this concern now. “I could not help Eurydice,” he continues. It was not within his power – simply, it was not. “I can help him.”

It takes a moment, but Aila can see that’s the truth. She tries not to think of Deceit in that. However, she does hear the sincerity in his voice – understanding that… there are lines to what they are. As Death said, Aila was human. She had free will… free will and choice was not something found often in others – not those that weren’t human at least.

She allows him to help cup her hands, standing across from her, and she feels it – his power slipping across her skin, as soft as a baby’s touch. She has half a mind to pull away from the sensation, when he tightens his hold on her hands, and slowly, between their palms – Aila feels it. A swirling – a combination of hers and his, and the tightness in her chest, the pain of pulling at just her power fades.

“You cannot access your complete power,” Dream says. “You do not need to.”

Not if she had access to his as well – which given what he had seen in the Dreaming, she had some ability to manipulate his realm. It was more archaic, less fine-tuned, but for something such as this – summoning a demon? One that Morpheus was certain had touched his realm more than once… in his dreams of heaven? Aila could use that – he could help her do that.

Once Aila seemed to recognize the feel of it, Dream slowly pulled his away, and to her surprise, she continued to be able to manipulate it – a small sphere of sand swirling in the cusp of her palms. It’s accidental, but she grins – the smile stretching wide. She glances up, catching Dream’s surprised gaze – only for that cold realization that… that… the power fades in an instant. Right, he was helping… but not because she was…

Aila was Aila. Nothing more. Nothing less than a Nephilim. She wasn’t his child, and she steps away, only for Dream to grasp her wrist. He opens his mouth, trying to decide on what to say – only to stumble completely. He didn’t… he didn’t know what to tell the young girl.

She curls back her lip, trying and failing to pull away. “Let me go,” she hisses, but he refuses. She needs to get this to deal with Azazel and running away would do nothing, which she knows, but right now, she needs a moment.

“Lucifer will not stop,” he says.

“You think I don’t know that. I’m quite familiar with Lucifer,” she growls. After all, this was all about her. Lucifer had sent Beelzebub after her, for her. There was no undoing that, and now Orpheus suffered for it. She refuses it, however. She would save him and protect Eurydice. She was not bound by the Fate of their reality.

“You have spent just over two decades with her, while I have known her since before her fall,” he states. “What she will do…” to Orpheus… what she had done to a version of himself – it catches his tongue, as does Aila’s look. She didn’t need someone explaining what her mother was like, what sort of monster she was; Aila was quite certain she had figured that out. With a growl, she wrenches her arm free, moving back into the house.

“Good job big brother,” Desire purrs. “That went well.”

All Dream can do is glare at Desire, as they follow after Aila. He… he hated that he agreed. For one brief moment, when helping Aila to mold the Dreaming – the daydreams flowing around him at all times -, he had sensed it, just as easily as she had… she was his… and… it hadn’t felt wrong.

Orpheus’s birth had been…Dream takes a moment, drawing his own mind back to that moment. Orpheus being born – he recalls Calliope’s birthing pains, the shouts, the promises and threat she laid before him, and he recalls holding Orpheus the first time. The small human that was his and Calliope’s, and… and in that moment, to see something he had created but in a different way, he had been struck silent. That moment he had wanted to give his child the world and more, and…

Dream looks around – realizing again that he’s standing outside of Eurydice’s house. His son’s wife almost died, and he had done nothing – she should be dead. His son had wanted his attention, his son had called for him to save him… because Orpheus thought he would, and now, his son was taken, likely thinking his father had truly forsaken him. His son was trapped in a Hell dimension – not because of Aila. This wasn’t the girl’s fault, not really. Dream stares at the house, that cold feeling drifting over from the Dreaming into himself.

Aila had not chosen to be born, not had she purposefully come here – not outside of attempting to meet him, to understand herself as humans did. She was… quite human like that and yet so different from Orpheus. And yet they both had wanted his attention – because as Calliope would tell him children want love from their parents, something he was quite aware of given the relationship with his own.

And now? Aila was trapped here, hunted. Orpheus was trapped in Hell, in a different time period. And in that moment, he comes to realize this was not Aila’s fault or Orpheus’s fault. They were human, they had made human choices, and they both had wanted something from him – something children always wanted from their parents. Affection, love, attention, care… This wasn’t Aila’s doing; it could be argued it was Lucifer’s. However, instead, he realizes:

It was his.

Like a bucket of ice water, a cold feeling seizes every part of the Endless. This was…

This was his fault.

Orpheus and Aila’s position… only existed because of him, and without a word to either Desire or… or… Aila – not the Nephilim or girl. He couldn’t think of her as his daughter. That was… too much for now, but without another moment to waste, Dream pulls himself to his realm. He needs to grab his affects and then - Hell. He will garner Lucifer’s attention. He will do what he can, and then… he doesn’t honestly know.

Inside the house, both Desire and Aila remain unaware of Dream’s revelation. No, instead, Aila deals with her own emotional turmoil over everything. For a brief second outside, Dream’s hands around hers – that power… it had felt… not foreign, not hot against her, but calm and cool. It hadn’t felt as though the power rejected her – as though the Dreaming rejected her; instead, it was as though once she was willing to welcome it, it had in turn… and from what the Corinthian had said, the Dreaming was Dream.

She takes a moment in the house to organize her thoughts. Once that’s done, she’ll… she’ll talk to Dream again. The nightmare was so certain that Dream was not… Lucifer, which she supposes Dream had stayed to help with Orpheus. Would Lucifer have ever done that for her? Aila snorts – of course, the former angel had not.

No, instead, her mother had sent a demon to retrieve her, so that she could destroy her family and father. A family she… wasn’t sure how she felt about yet, but she wasn’t about to do that. No. There was nothing Lucifer could…

“So,” Desire says, stepping into the room and interrupting Aila’s thoughts. “You kept that small little detail to yourself.”

Aila shifts, but she does glance back at Desire. Her mind – it’s still torn. She struggles to understand what she’s feeling over all of this. She rubs her fingers together, small grains of sand coarse against her skin as she does so. It was… odd but not unpleasant.

“You being Lucifer’s little demon,” Desire continues, and they grin at Aila’s flustered face. She was as easily riled as big brother could be, though they suppose right now it was far easier given she was already likely not in the best state of mind. They pull gently – sensing her wants again, only to find them in utter disarray. The girl didn’t know or wasn’t ready to accept what she wanted.

It was unfortunate the rest of the family now knew who Aila was, and it wouldn’t be long until they circled back to the realization that Nephilim’s kill their sires. They wonder if Death would intercede before that or hope that perhaps if Aila returns to her time, it would be a future them issue. While Desire would much prefer it to remain a now issue.

“Desire, I’m not in the mood,” Aila mutters – going to pull away, only for Desire to loop their arm in hers.

“I just want what’s best for you,” they purr, and something about that… it sounds disingenuous.

Aila recalls Deceit’s words – it was Desire’s game… Desire’s… that led to all of this. Their own plot against their brother, and the words slip out,

“Why are you doing this?” She wants the truth, and Desire sputters for a moment at the question. Not exactly what she wants to hear but quite telling all the same. She pulls her arm away. “Why… you’re not interested in me.” She feels like Deceit now and half wishes her… her sister… was here to help sort this.

“I am,” Desire counters – which was true enough. It was just beyond her use to them, she wasn’t more than that.

Lie - they scowl at Deceit’s voice drifting in. They weren’t attached to the girl or anything. They weren’t that interested in her. Fine, they could admit she was a bit more lively than half of what big brother did and likely one of his better creations. She had fight; they appreciated that, but all the same, they had a use for her. However, they think now of what caused her to be born… and it gives them pause, not that Aila notices.

A storm appears outside – in response to Aila suddenly finding her footing. She turns more fully on Desire, a flash of sudden lightning illuminating her hidden wings against the wall. Desire doesn’t take a step back, but there’s a… Aila recognizes the discomfort.

“You want something from me,” Aila says, feeling more brazen, and the Endless sighs.

“I do, little bird,” they say, their voice much more tense. “As everyone else does as well.” After all, that was true. Everyone wanted something from Aila. Deceit wanted to go home; the Corinthian as well; Calliope wanted her son; Death wanted the girl likely to go away, and Dream… well, they weren’t entirely sure what big brother wanted to do with his current dirty little problem… but he wanted. Everyone wants. That was the point of their function, so of course, they did too.

“I don’t…”

“Nephilims are fated to kill their sires,” Desire says. They could have kept it to themselves, they suppose, but the way she pales? The words finding purchase? Desire enjoys it… mostly… a piece of themselves – they find some unpleasantness in it. They refuse to give it too much thought – just as they refuse to think on what big brother would have had to experience for her to exist… or perhaps, they realize they’re lying to themselves, and they’re telling her now because she deserves to know the truth.

They refuse to think on it.

“I won’t,” Aila growls. She wasn’t… sure how she felt about Dream, but she wouldn’t do that. Just as she wouldn’t hurt the rest of the family – but that would mean she was against her mother… and her mother… Aila couldn’t hurt her either – not easily. However, either way, she adds, “I’m human, in part. Fate is something I refuse. I’ll change it.” As she had done with Eurydice, as she would again with Azazel.

Desire grins at that – actually believing her.

However, they cannot help themselves when they say, “Perhaps, but don’t forget, little bird, you owe me.”

Quick Notes: Not a very fulfilling Dream and Aila chapter, but we’ll get more. However, plot must plot.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Nine: What Needs to Be Done

Desire didn’t stay long after that reminder – or that realization. Aila hadn’t known… she curses herself. She knows enough about their world to know verbal contracts exist, and she should have realized that offering a favor – an open ended one – had risks. However, in that moment, she hadn’t thought about it, and she feels as young as she is – at least compared to these beings. For being so foolish. She curses.

It doesn’t take long for Aila to find the Corinthian. He hadn’t gone far – but he had stepped away to give her space with the Endless. However, she half wishes that he had remained nearby. She could have used him; she was comfortable with him… a realization she also refuses to give too much thought to. However, right now, she needs the familiarity as she sits to ponder Desire’s words.

She owes them… and they insinuated… what they would ask. She cannot imagine a sibling actually asking for their own brother’s death, and it wasn’t a boon she’d be willing to grant. However, she also didn’t know about the possible ramifications of that.

There are a thousand reasons, many of them good, that Aila should tell the nightmare, but once she’s at his side, she finds the words sputtering and dying in her throat. She had just gotten him back, she had just started to find her foot, and to admit such a mistake… Aila takes a deep breath, however. She wasn’t a coward. “Desire… do they want Dream dead?”

The nightmare startles at the question. One – just as the suddenness of it; and two – because it was an unexpected but unsurprising question Although… he didn’t entirely have a great answer for it. After all, as evidenced by Desire’s own corrupted nightmare – what they think they want and what they truly want are far different things.

It takes a moment for the nightmare to find the right words as such, “They have a complicated relationship.” Which isn’t saying much, but it’s the best way he can describe it. “Dream’s…”

“Uptight,” Aila mutters under her breath, and the nightmare nods – because that’s quite true. At least in this time.

“He’s a lot of things, as is Desire. They don’t see… eye to eye often,” the nightmare continues – flinching at their own unintended pun. “Desire wants…” Dream humbled, Dream hurt, Dream… knocked a few pegs down… but no, the nightmare doesn’t think they truly, even in this time, Desire wants Dream dead. It was just… “It’s complicated.”

Aila nods, not fully understanding but understanding enough to let it be for now. She bites her lip, thinking on what Desire had yet to ask again… she hopes the nightmare is right… but what else could they want from her… and that was ignoring the fact her own mother likely wanted the same thing. She hates it.

And now, apparently Fate was turned against her. She was destined to kill her sire – something she didn’t even know had been woven into a possibility until this moment, and she despises it just as much. She didn’t like to feel cornered into something, forced into a decision. Fate was real, but Deceit seemed to think Aila could just ignore it or change it… just as easily as she could change this reality into a new one. Aila hopes Deceit’s right – that she’s telling the truth, though some part of her feels like her sibling is.

However, Dream… in this time… he was not… he was not a good man (not even a man at all). He was more than just uptight. He seemed cold, uncaring, distant… though as the thinks that, she recalls him standing with her – helping her to mold her power, his power… something she doubts he offered lightly given he was the Dreaming itself (though she suspects he only did so to help Orpheus, not her... which she supposes is still something and she cannot ask for more).

“And what about you?” the nightmare asks, and when Aila looks at him, completely lost in thought, the nightmare can’t help his slightly grim face. “Do you want him dead?”

“No.” It slips out quickly enough that it surprises even Aila. “I may not… he’s not my father, not in the way it mattered.” Not in that he raised her. “But…” But… she sighs. He had left Orpheus… then but not now. “I can hate him, not love him, but… but I’m not my mother.” Aila says that with certainty. “I’m not her, and I don’t want him dead.” Saying it out loud made it real, made it a vow she didn’t intend to break.

The nightmare grins – content and if anything elated with that answer. He reaches out, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her in tight – something she obviously appreciates by how she lays her head on his shoulder briefly.

“No, my little bird, you are not your mother,” he repeats back quietly, and she preens at the statement.

Aila gently finally pulls away, a part of her despondent at the sudden lack of contact; however, the realization it was just them hits her. Calliope and Eurydice had gone to the temple as requested – only after almost finding a way to lecture her again on her safety. Desire was… thankfully gone, and hopefully not returning for awhile. Not while Aila was in a disarray. Death had sent the younger Endless away, and Death herself had stepped away to give them time to speak.

The issue was Dream… her fathe… Dream was gone. She suspected to Hell – though she hopes not, not with things left unsaid -, but he had said he would. Though after everything… now knowing what her mother did, what Hell did to him… even another variation. Perhaps, there was another way… except she did need Azazel, and if she summoned him now? Lucifer would follow, and she was not ready to face Lucifer. She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready for that.

However, was she even ready to try and summon Azazel? The power, her own felt so far away, but even as she considers that, she recalls the other power within her reach. She rubs her fingertips together, the phantom feel of the sand still present… the Dreaming just at the very reaches of her power. With that, she likely could, but here in this realm… it would be a struggle.

“We need to go back to the Dreaming,” Aila says, finding more confidence near the end. If Dream remained in the Dreaming, then she could speak to him… but if not, if she was too late… the nightmare says nothing but understands the concern.

This part of the plan the nightmare was far from thrilled with – his master marching back into Hell? It would be quite the distraction and keep Lucifer and her upper general within her kingdom. She wouldn’t risk it, not with Dream’s ire, but still, would this Lucifer not jump at the opportunity of an Endless pushing the boundary of decorum again. Perhaps, it would be safer for Aila to simply just try and deal with the outcome…

Except, that’s not even what she’s thinking. Yes, she’d like to try and stop Dream, but instead, she has a better idea – one that may work, may bring Azazel to her, where she’ll… she stops the thought there. She has yet to completely settle with what she must do; she will. She just needs… right now, she focuses on this step.

“From there, I can try and pull Azazel to me,” she continues, surprising the nightmare.

“And if Dream is there?” the nightmare asks, and Aila cannot think of a response. Him going into Hell would help her but… she does struggle with the idea.

“Stop him,” Aila says, “if he’s gone though…” Then, let him go and allow him to give them the aid they need. If she pulled Azazel into the Dreaming… that was her plan.

The demon knew she was a Nephilim but not also of Dream’s. She would have an advantage there, and she could actually do something, even with herself partially bound. Once Azazel was there… Aila takes a breath… instead wondering how Dream would feel about her trouncing on his realm again, a thought the Corinthian shares.

“Right now, if it’ll help the boy,” the nightmare says – he’s not sure Aila cares about the risk not truly… though given what he knows of his master, especially come the future, neither would Dream. This Dream, in this moment? Perhaps more debatable, but he suspects not given that Dream had shown her how to start to twist and mend his power.

He considers himself – he… he cares in the sense there are inhabitants of the Dreaming even now that he’s familiar with – or would be eventually. After twenty years of protecting Dream… it hadn’t been just Dream he had been guarding after all, but his master’s realm – as he promised, swore to. He wasn’t against Aila being there, especially if it was true she could harness some of it and turn the tide against Azazel, but as long at the Dreaming didn’t suffer for it.

The nightmare snorts, curious how his master would view him now given these thoughts. His old self would be sickened by all of this; this version… he glances at Aila, who waits on him he realizes. She trusts him, even after… even after he tried to separate her and her brother.

Right now, however, the nightmare cannot help but be worried for Aila – what this will ask of her and his master. Even this variant. If Dream was not in the Dreaming and had already gone to Hell… without another word – he wouldn’t be surprised. If there was one thing to expect of his lord was for the Endless to do something reckless when he should not otherwise.

………….

Fetching his helm took a moment of time, which given on going was not ideal, but Dream felt far more comfortable with that ordained than to march into Hell with nothing. This meeting would not be like the last. He did not request an audience this time; he did not send prior word.

No, this time, Dream pulled himself straight to the front gate and walked through. A demon or two attempted to stop him before shying back from his power. He was not Lucifer, but Dream was Endless, and he was no longer in any forgiving mood.

His son’s home was destroyed, and while the Beelzebub that took his son was not the one of this time, it was still one of Lucifer’s demons that touched his child. He had half a mind to untangle the timelines himself and wipe the demon lord from existence – only stayed by the war that would bring about. Lucifer was…

Dream was not foolish – to hear what she had done… to him… in a few thousand years – even he shudders at the promise. All but attacking Lucifer now, declaring war now would do him no favors and would put his realm at risk. He loved his son… and he has half a mind to toss the risk aside all the same.

He loved his son…

What an odd thought to have suddenly in his head, Dream realizes, but not one that goes away. However, even though he rightfully acknowledges it, he understands that while he does, he cannot antagonize Lucifer – at least no more than he’s doing at the moment. He couldn’t condemn his realm; instead, he needed to rely on… Aila… to cross this canyon. To trust another child – one of his own…

Destiny would have cryptic words on this, Desire would be delighted, Destruction concerned, Despair pending her mood could go either way, Delirium would find some way to suggest she follow, and Death… Death – he doesn’t know but he does. He’d suspect she’d call him an idiot but be glad to see him finally doing something – actually something for his child… ren.

Right now, his focus was on Orpheus and giving Aila the time she needed. Lucifer did not know yet she was his child, and even had she, as long as he did not direct or order Aila to go after Azazel, Hell’s ruler could not hold it to his throat her actions… the consequences, however… he tries to imagine Aila – as she was – forced into Hell, forced to confront this Lucifer or the Lucifer she was obviously running from. And he does not enjoy the sight in invokes.

Aila… Aila even before knowing what he did… was not a creature he would condemn to Lucifer – though the thought had crossed his mind once. However, it was brief, fleeting. Gone in an instant. After all, the girl was… too young. Far too unaware of these matters. He curses the future Lucifer – for many things, including not preparing the girl for the politics of the world she was born into.

Settling himself with a breath, Dream pushes through the main door, the one separating him from Lucifer’s courtyard, and while it was filled with demons, none dared approach him. They snapped and seethed, he could hear the yells and demands for his blood even through his helm, but not one touched him. Just as he was hesitant to outright declare war, Lucifer was not yet wanting to fully cross that possibility either.

Aila…

Lucifer would for Aila. Not for Aila, he reminds himself, not the who but the what. A Nephilim. He would keep the Hell’s ruler attention. She would be none the wiser – at least until it was too late.

Though Dream does wonder – for who…

Lucifer.

Or himself.

Quick Notes: Finally moving into these bigger chapters.

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty: To Be What I Was Born To (Part One)

It’s brief, but the entirety of Hell holds a collective breath. There’s glee, uncertainty, and blood lust in the air – none of which concern the Endless. Instead, he merely focuses on the former angel, and her – she stares at him in turn, her smile widening by the second.

Finally, Lucifer breaks the silence – which for her is not a loss. She feels completely in control within the seat of her own power as well as Dream came to her, without warning. Perhaps, he did have provocation – she’d admit that but still…

“Very brave or very foolish of you Dream Lord,” Lucifer states, coming down the steps – multiple at a time, the sea of demons parting for her. Just over her shoulder Mazikeen stands – her shoulder at an odd angle to suggest an injury, lips curled back in a snarl. “To come here alone.”

“I made it clear Lucifer Morningstar to leave my son out of these matters,” Dream counters, aware he’s treading near obstinance. But he leans into that – into what one would expect of a parent… something he should have done far sooner, a voice suggests quietly. “You attacked his home.” She did far more than that – they both know that.

Lucifer smiles, hands clasped in front of herself, shrugging. After all, the human boy was not in the home, nor the woman. The latter was less than planned, but no matter – it had brought the Nephilim, an actual Nephilim, to her. A Nephilim whose mind was intact – the power was… acceptable… and with training, Lucifer suspects the girl would make a fine addition to her own forces, a girl that was obviously desperate for some sort of familial connection. She may not be the girl’s sire, but Lucifer was at least - or ruefully she thinks, she was, at least a time ago, an angel of the creator.

“I believe I made it clear for you to stay out of my affairs,” Dream continues, aware now that Lucifer was not going to carry this conversation, not given how she had control in this situation.

Sadly, Dream’s also acutely aware of how much he stayed out of his own affairs – at least his son’s affairs, and now? Now, his son was trapped in a different time, another apparent child of his was running amok – apparently content to tread the line with the Kindly Ones -, and the daughter in question… the one he had considered handing over to Lucifer briefly… he refuses to let any of these thoughts show on his face. Instead, he stands, head held high – uncaring that he was the one in Lucifer’s realm; he still had power here – there were dreamers here, and that was all he needed.

It was easy to admit and difficult to face all the same. He couldn’t change the past, not without his own Father’s help. He couldn’t change what his relationship with his son was, his daughter – daughters to be. He couldn’t fix any of that. He had sewn that into the fabric of his realm, but whether he showed it or not, he did care about his son. He hadn’t done anything before this, and that was a mistake – as well as not purposeful given the magic against him. Perhaps, he can’t change what came prior to this moment, but he could do this.

The angel sneers at the telltale arrogance – frustratingly so given he was in her realm. Even as Lucifer comes to stand in front of him, her stature slightly towering over him, he remains unmoving. He merely regards her quietly, unwilling to bend here. His helm masking his features.

“Quite bold of you Dream Lord to come here with threats,” Lucifer says, her lips pursed tightly as she considers him. The nearby demons shift – the power fluctuating in the room far too readily, far too easily felt. She reaches out, her fingers skimming the helm, the bones, before she rips it from his head.

Though quite bare without it, he allows it. She holds it for a moment before dropping it, then stepping closer – practically bringing them barely a breath apart. He refuses to step back, as she likely wants him too; instead, he stays, merely tilting his head up, just as she smiles.

“That was not a threat,” Morpheus says, leaving the rest unsaid. He was not yet making threats. He was reminding Lucifer of their previous discussions; he had not yet reached threats. Against the fabric of Hell, his power swells – Lucifer can sense it as well. They were outmatched – in the seat of her power? Even without… it fell in her favor, though Dream stands unmoving, uncaring of that – Lucifer would laugh haughtily if she wasn’t so curious if going near his son had truly prompted that… as well as… an opportunity was slowly starting to unfold - one that perhaps wouldn’t garner her a Nephilim… but an Endless. She smiles.

All the while, Dream keeps his focus primarily on Lucifer. He’s not foolish enough to turn his back – not yet on the former angel, but he does search for sea of demons for a specific one. It takes a minute, but nearby, he spots Azazel and Beelzebub – the latter the one of this time. Both demons are practically drooling, their obvious want, lust, to pull him down, to bring him to heel apparent. He itches to end Beelzebub again for touching his son and Azazel for the… for a daughter he did not yet have.

“This was… quite foolish of you Dream Lord to come here,” Lucifer says, and he feels it. Her power wrapping around him, grounding him. He could escape, he could fight it, but it wouldn’t be without cost. Not that he was entirely planning to; his job was to keep Lucifer’s eye on him, keep her attention and focus. As long as he was here, he hoped her forces would be pre-occupied in turn as well.

An Endless in Hell… his power was not what it needed to be here; he was aware he was outmatched. However, he was not completely helpless. To keep him, Lucifer would need to stay near, same with a majority of her own forces. Which was all he needed.

Azazel stumbles – not enough to draw Lucifer or Dream’s eye -, but enough that Beelzebub considers the other demon quietly. The fly Lord tilts his head, trying to understand what just happened when the other demon growls and snaps again – his form flickering briefly.

“Summoning,” Azazel hisses. “From the Dreaming?” He recognizes the power, but that made… he turns, eyeing the Endless briefly, but no, it was certainly Dream here. Dream and Lucifer continued their silent battle of wills, Lucifer’s fingers just starting to curl possessively into the Dream Lord’s robes. The nearby demons shouted and rallied at the power fluctuating.

Azazel, though, could only focus on what just tried to pull him, but in Hell, he retained more power. He would not be so easily moved, even with the power of an Endless behind it. However, he hisses at the blatant attempt of whatever this was, stepping forward drawing Lucifer’s eye.

“This is a ploy,” the demon says. “He is here, but…” Azazel growls as his he’s almost pulled from Hell – only saved by Lucifer’s power stabilizing him.

She turns her gaze to Dream, who says nothing – does nothing. He just tilts his head up, meeting the devil’s gaze without hesitation. He remains in control, in the face of all of this – something even Lucifer realizes. She does not understand why Azazel is being targeted, and her fingers shift from Dream’s robes to his throat. He does nothing still even in the face of her threat.

“What is this?” she hisses, bringing his face near to hers.

“I do not know what you speak of,” Dream says, his voice clear, unbothered even with her nail threatening against his skin. Lucifer can see the lie far too easily, and she curls her own lip back at the blatant disrespect.

She doesn’t know what any of this means yet, and Dream was correct – touching his son carried risk, one that apparently had brought Dream to her door. However, there was still an option open to her – one to make a point.

“You’re correct, your son is off limits,” Lucifer says slowly. “This Nephilim… I don’t know her purpose in all of this or what you’re planning.” The former angel smiles. “However, the girl…” she looks to Azazel now. They both know that girl means Eurydice. “Kill the girl,” Lucifer says, a moment later, and Dream responds to this. He curls his lip back, his own hand wrapping around Lucifer’s wrist, dislodging it.

“Do not touch her,” he says. The girl… the girl was his son’s wife. Eurydice would not die… but even as Dream thinks it, he knows that it’s a lie. Fate had seen to that. Eurydice was destined to die. Her thread had been cut and perhaps fixed for a short time again, but it was cut. Her time was ending – some things couldn’t be changed. Viper, falls, rocks, arrows, demons… something would claim the girl – unless Aila succeeded.

If Aila succeeded then… then perhaps his son… his son could have a different future too – one with Eurydice.

“Would you beg for her life Dream of the Endless?” Lucifer purrs, aware of the sudden turn this just took. She was quite interested, and for the moment, her focus was back on him.

“You would not entertain the notion,” Dream counters. She would enjoy it, but she would not grant it. “You will not touch my family.”

“Oh?”

“That is a threat Morningstar,” Dream says, his own power curling around his feet – fed by the demons and the dreams surging around them. Something Lucifer realizes too late, when she’s shoved back a few feet by the force – Dream’s eyes darkened in turn.

“Kill the girl and the muse,” Lucifer snarls, crossing back to Dream; however, before Azazel can respond, he finds himself pulled away. The spell, the power working but only in part… he tumbles from Hell, through the realm, but into the Waking – into the mortal realm… where Lucifer’s order still rings out.

Kill the girl, kill the muse.

Azazel grins.

All the while, Lucifer stalks back up to Dream. He was not leaving – he did not have the power for that, and she would make him regret striking her, even a paltry blow such as that.

……….

Eurydice and Calliope sit quietly in the temple, their hands intertwined. Neither had the energy to speak; both merely worried about Orpheus, and in part – specifically Calliope – Oneiros. The words spoken and not said pulled at the muse. She’s aware they had much to talk about, and some of it – some of the blame she felt – was not fair to lay at her husband’s feet.

When they married, Calliope knew what she had agreed to – what things Dream could do. There were rules and laws for a reason. The Fates existed for a reason. The Endless had a reason, and to stray outside of that… well, it created things like Deceit and Aila – mishaps in the universe… and while Calliope liked the young Nephilim, she couldn’t help but realize the danger the girl posed.

The girl had brought demons, time travel, and Lucifer down on their heads… and yet, Calliope could also not blame her. Aila had not known, could not have known what she was truly. The girl had no family, no real family, and Calliope only wishes the girl had been honest from the start. She suspects things, while not entirely better, would have been smoother.

Honestly, she suspects while initially resistant, eventually Oneiros would have accepted the girl far quicker had he just known the truth. He would not have blamed her for her own birth. He may not have acted like a father to her, but he would have… been better than what all of this turned into.

He would have… been there when Orpheus was taken. Unconsciously, Calliope tightens her hold on Eurydice. It’s not purposeful, but she cannot help how the rise and fall of emotions tighten in her chest. She releases the girl’s hand a moment later – not that Eurydice notices. No, instead the younger mortal merely continues to sit silent, unmoving.

“Eurydice?” Calliope says, concerned. For a moment, the quiet hangs between them – only the wind outside the temple as their companion.

Finally, she speaks only to ask, “Is this my fault?” Her death… her apparent death was meant to be the catalyst – not only for this turn of events but the original ones as well. How could she not feel at fault? Her eyes heat at the realization, tears starting to roll down her cheek, but Calliope is there, wiping them away in an instant.

The muse quickly shakes her head, disagreeing. The girl was not at fault for any of this; the entire thing was… beyond all of them. The only one at fault was Lucifer, and Calliope grits her teeth with that name in her own head. Lucifer was at fault for all of this – maybe not this time’s variant but near enough that the muse doesn’t care.

Lucifer was Lucifer, and to think what the devil would do – had done, she shudders at the thought.

“Calliope,” Eurydice whispers again, but Calliope only pulls the girl in closer, tucking the mortal under her chin.

“Aila will… she will fix this with Oneiros,” she says, and while it takes a moment to form the words, once she says them, she knows them to be true. She tightens her hold on Eurydice; she has to believe it, even as she feels the strings of fate tighten around them. “She… they will get Orpheus back.” She refuses to think her husband would truly abandon their son to this fate… this was not the outcome for him. At the very least, Aila would do whatever she could – no matter the risk to herself.

She’s so deep in thought that it takes a moment longer than it should to realize something’s amiss. The silence outside – it takes Calliope a moment to realize how unsettling it is, how other worldly it is. Her eyes widen at that, and she barely gets a chance to shift Eurydice and herself when Azazel is there, grotesque and twisted as always, teeth lashing out at them from the shadows. Eurydice shouts, scrambling to her feet – as the demon tries again, only missing because Calliope pulls her forward. The two run for the door, only to be thrown back by Azazel’s long limbs. The demon encompasses the entire front of the temple. They’re trapped.

The muse reaches for her sisters, the Greek Pantheon – all or any, but she… she barely gets a chance to even shout for help when she feels Azazel’s teeth in her arm. Eurydice shouts in alarm, and Calliope closes her eyes. If this is to be her fate, she will not give the demon the pleasure of her fear. She wouldn’t die like that – except it doesn’t come.

One moment, she nears the maws of Azazel, and the next, she’s tackled away – the nightmare, the Corinthian here. He stands between Eurydice and Calliope and the demon.

“You want the girl, right?” the nightmare shouts, and the drool drips from Azazel’s teeth. This was less than ideal in the Corinthian’s opinion, but Aila had at least pulled Azazel from Hell. She just didn’t get him all the way to the Dreaming, which was fine. The nightmare would get him there the rest of the way; this fight had to happen in the Dreaming. Aila would have the advantage in the Dreaming. “Then follow me,” the nightmare continues.

Calliope watches the nightmare taunt and tease the demon, and while Eurydice and herself are an enticing meal, the demon doesn’t hesitate to go after its true prey – Aila. Eurydice scrambles after them both, the concern bleeding off of her – understandable. The mortal had come to like Aila and to see the demon Lord turn its sights to her… but Calliope wraps her arms around Eurydice, keeping the mortal back… while both the Corinthian and Azazel vanish through a portal – back into the Dreaming, Calliope suspects.

“I am done running,” Eurydice says. She may not be able to do much… but she decides then she will be there for Aila… even if it’s only to draw the demon’s ire for a moment, to give Aila an extra second, which may mean saving Orpheus too. That in mind, she shakes Calliope free and follows through the portal just before it closes… and Calliope, although she’s only a step behind her daughter in law, finds the portal closed to her. The Dreaming… Eurydice, Azazel, and the Corinthian gone.

Quick Notes: Back to the Dreaming as we see Aila sort of deal with some thoughts before attempting to summon Azazel (so these chapters sort of coincide together) and then… Azazel vs. Aila

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-One: To Be Who I Need to Be

The Dreaming – or at least the nightmare realm of it – was an interesting experience. Aila had not yet had much time to examine or experience it, not in any meaningful manner, and even now, she didn’t have the time. Not after both her and the nightmare realized that Dream was not here. He was gone, and there was an eerie silence to the realm that was telling.

The Corinthian recognized it immediately – telling Aila as much. Dream had gone to Hell as he said he would. The Endless would get them the window they needed, and Aila… she has to think on that. Because this Dream hadn’t lived through… what made her… but as of this moment, this timeline was her timeline. To willingly walk into a situation, aware of what could cascade…

She doesn’t understand it – yet she does.

Dream was an Endless. Not human. Not mortal. She had to remind herself of that because… perhaps she could see that Dream did love Orpheus and Calliope in his own way.

He had marched into Hell for her – a child that he didn’t acknowledge – but because she needed the time.

The realm wasn’t just cold because of where Dream was but because of what Dream was feeling. She doesn’t entirely know how she feels about that. It’s one thing to know how someone feels – but actions were telling. After all, perhaps Lucifer did love her, but the words meant nothing in the face of her mother’s actions – or lack thereof (save for apparently her mother trying to drag her back to their time).

Then again… Dream was in Hell.

That was action.

Aila wants to try and ponder it – wants to put the pieces in place. She wants to understand her family – question Death, spend time with Delirium and Destruction, wonder after Despair, and likely avoid Desire (at least until she knew what they wanted). The family was… odd… but at the end of it – the Endless, whom she sought out, weren’t her main focus. Not anymore. It was Orpheus, Eurydice, Calliope.

Those three give her focus now. She has to get this right. She needs to do this – summon Azazel. If she doesn’t, Orpheus is lost, Eurydice will likely die, and Calliope would be alone.

Which was not going to happen. Aila refuses.

With that, Aila goes to summon Azazel, but the demon’s power, Hell’s power bucks against her. She pulls harder – as the nightmare watches on, silent – trying to get the demon here, but the realm now – it guards against her, uncertain. Understandable but she needs to do this for Orpheus; she let the realm feel this was for Orpheus – to protect him, to save him. And what was originally taut against her goes slack. The realm aiding her immediately, surprising her but not. After all, the Dreaming was… Dream.

The Corinthian was right, Aila realizes – completely now. It wasn’t just a thought or a theory in her head. It was true. He loved his son. He did not always show it or say it, but he did. The Dreaming was him, and that wasn’t a lie. He was just terrible at expressing it – whether that be because he wasn’t mortal like herself or Orpheus or merely because he was dense…

But he did – he loved Orpheus, and Aila would save him – not just because he was her brother, but because he deserved it. Just as Eurydice deserved to live. She would not fail here – she refuses to. However, this power – this strength was still unknown to her, even as it wraps around her, far more gently than expected. She feels it deep in herself, as it tries to find a home – give her the edge she needs.

Edge or not though, the power snaps and Aila stumbles. The nightmare, however, is there immediately – his fingers around her elbow.

“Lucifer stopped me,” is all Aila can say – that much she can sense. Aila may have the power of the Dreaming on her side, but Lucifer was still Hell’s ruler. She was powerful… and Aila shudders to think of what her mother will do when Aila comes home.

However, right now, Aila can’t focus on that. She has to focus on Azazel and what to do now – except… something feels off. Hell is there – Aila can sense it, which she couldn’t truly before, not like this, and it churns her stomach… and somehow, she recognizes the moment Azazel is no longer in Hell… but he’s also not here.

“Corinthian,” Aila says slowly, painfully – concerningly.

Something was wrong, and before she can even get out another word, the nightmare is pulling himself to the Waking.

Lucifer had Dream; Lucifer didn’t know Aila was Dream’s… but Lucifer did know about Calliope and Eurydice. If there was a target… Aila wants to follow, but…

Aila trusts the Corinthian. Completely. She does.

The Corinthian would bring Azazel back and then…

Aila takes a break, settling herself into the realm – amongst the realm. It curls around her – there isn’t distrust there, she senses but apprehension. She feels and doesn’t feel like its master, but it doesn’t reject her. The Dreaming is… worried – Aila realizes. About Dream, and right now, it can sense she wants to help Orpheus, which meant helping Dream.

Which… Aila doesn’t know… she can’t imagine leaving Dream in Hell, but he was an Endless. He should… she stops the thought there – that was naïve, and she knows better. She was proof of that.

The realm pulses against her, and for a moment, Aila worries it’s because she’s not thinking about Dream any longer. However, no, it’s because it wants her to focus on Orpheus. That she can do, and she settles herself into the realm more, at least in this area. It’s a region of nightmares.

Perhaps an odd choice as the demon may find it a bit more homely, but the nightmare was also quite adept here. And it was still the Dreaming. The demon may enjoy the darkness provided here, but it was born of Dream… as evidenced by the touches she felt… the demon would not be welcomed here.

Azazel would… Aila takes a settling breath… Azazel would lose here. She would do this, she would untether their fates, their realities. She could. She knows this.

The realm flushes against her, and she – she’ll need to get used to this. Dream was terrible at expressing anything, she decides, but the realm… the realm was telling. It hummed in agreement with her, and it takes her a moment to realize what she’s feeling… the realm knew before her, and it liked her answer it would seem.

Desire asked her once if she was going to let others dictate her life, asked her what she truly wanted… and she had struggled to answer then.

She didn’t now.

She wanted this. She pulled a blade from the ground. She wanted to protect her friends… even family – the one she chose, the ones that mattered – and she would, no matter the cost.

One moment, Aila was alone in this part of the Dreaming, no creations, no inhabitants, and the next, the Corinthian appears – the sand and power swirling around him, as if to welcome him home – which in this area… even now… and just after the nightmare, Azazel appears – the multiple maws and teeth and everything in-between, snapping and snarling at the nightmare.

Aila takes a settling breath, and then, she lunges out. The teeth miss their intended target of the nightmare, deflecting by Aila; the blade sinking deep into the underside of one jaw. The demon roars, pulling back – taking the blade with it. Aila curses. She only knows how to summon one of those, but thankfully, Azazel reconstitutes his form, slowly reforming his shape, tossing the blade aside as he resumes his more human-like stance.

“Hello little bird,” the demon purrs, wiping the blood from his mouth. “We have unfinished business.”

“We do,” Aila says in agreement, pulling the nightmare behind her. The Corinthian curls his lip at the motion; he didn’t need protection from anyone, but he also realizes that right now being in-between these two was not an ideal place to stand. “You’re not leaving here alive.”

“Big words from a paltry little Nephilim,” the demon chuckles.

“Says the demon standing in my father’s realm,” Aila counters, and at that, the demon’s eyes widen… the words finding their intended target immediately. After all, she was not trapped with him but quite readily the other way around. The Corinthian bleeds back into the forest, vanishing among the foliage, while Aila closes the distance between herself and Azazel, just as he changes back.

The first two snaps, she slips under – intending to retrieve her blade, but the third catches her arm. It almost tears it from its socket, but Aila leans in with the pain, doesn’t pull away. Instead, she latches onto the mouth in turn, using her free hand to pry it open and slip free. She rolls as she comes crashing to the ground, finally getting her fingers now wet with blood around the hilt of her sword.

“I will devour you,” Azazel shouts, but his next snap, she turns, catching with the side of her blade. The metal cuts deep, this time enough so that he rears back from the pain. Aila unfolds her wings then, using her natural advantage to reach the next mouth, easily gliding over the snapping maws and stabbing down as she does so.

The demon snarls again, though this time in pain, and when Aila lands, she has a slight smirk on her face. She ignores every part of herself that reminds her that she is only able to do this because of Mazikeen, because of her teachings. Dwelling on that now, allowing that to distract her now? It would only risk her life, and if she died… if she loses, Orpheus was lost as well.

Aila wasn’t going to lose. She settles herself with that thought, tightening her hand around the blade. However, one moment, it’s just Aila and Azazel fighting, and the next, Eurydice stumbles into sight. It distracts Aila enough that Azazel swings one of his jaws cleanly into her chest, sending her skidding across the ground.

It’s only a moment later that Azazel notices the human girl as well and all of his maws smile. Without preamble, he charges the other woman, who’s only saved by the Corinthian pulling her out of the demon’s path. Eurydice wants to say she’s sorry, she wants to do something, but her voice catches in her throat at the sight of the demon. It rears back again, and this time, both the Corinthian and Eurydice are trapped… except – the realm shifts, pulling them briefly into the fabric, just as Aila lunges forward again.

The nightmare and Eurydice end off to one side of the fight, away from Azazel’s jaws just as Aila jumps back fully into the fray.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the nightmare growls, which Eurydice knows. But she also knows she’s not going to sit and do nothing – something the nightmare realizes with a heavy sigh. “If you die…”

Nearby, the realm shifts in response to the Fates. Dream was not here to keep them out, and Deceit had failed to keep them fully contained… an action that continued to irritate them to no end. One they would deal with later – for now… their eyes land on Eurydice.

Swinging forward instead of snapping, Azazel is able to take Aila by surprise – catching her bluntly along the side and sending her careening into a nearby tree. The pain is sharp and immediate, but she pushes it away, just as she did with her arm. She’d heal those later, when she had the energy to spare. Right now, she needs to focus on this, and she tries not to check on Eurydice. The woman was fine… the nightmare had her.

However, before Aila can get up, the demon pins her to the tree with a claw, keeping her blade uselessly trapped. Aila pushes back against the hold, but physically, she could nothing. The demon snarls, lunging forward with its maw, intending to take off her head, when the Corinthian does what little he can, stabbing a knife into the exposed side of the demon. It’s not much, it’s barely a papercut to a thing like this, but it’s a distraction. Azazel turns, his teeth catching the Corinthian – largely, painfully, and Aila lets out a shout as the nightmare is almost shredded in the teeth.

Eurydice surges forward then, even with Aila practically shouting at her to stay back, but the woman pushes forward, finding the nightmare’s discarded knife and stabbing it directly into Azazel’s eye. The demon roars, even as one maw continues to torment and work to destroy the Corinthian. The demon slaps Eurydice away, where she slams painfully against a tree. Aila snarls, pushing back against the claw pinning her, but between the Corinthian and Eurydice, the hold is loose enough that Aila can slip free, and then, she takes the claw off at the joint with her sword.

The demons howls in pain, and Aila falls to her knees, her chest heaving. This was… the demon was… injured yes, but no where near defeated. Aila stares at Eurydice – she can’t even tell if the other woman was… Aila looks at the Corinthian – he’s… he’s in trouble, and Aila… she recognizes when she’s outmatched.

She does what she can in that moment. She digs her fingers into the grass, the dirt, the small rocks – feels it cart between digits. “Please,” Aila whispers to the realm. She digs deeper, not just letting the realm brush against her but truly feel her. She opens herself, all of herself to it. In that moment, the realm likely knows her better than she knows herself. Every thought, every moment, every dream – she gives to the realm.

She just wanted to know her father.

She just wanted a family.

She wants to protect them. And not only them but everyone.

The nightmare included.

She wanted to be loved. She was not her… she stops the thought there, but the realm sees enough, feels enough. She has to trust this - to save them… uncaring of herself in this moment. The realm – everything falls silent.

“I know I’m not truly his… I know that,” she says, her voice barely audible. She’s not yet sure how she feels consciously about that but subconsciously… the realm while quiet twists around her – some degree of comfort there. Otherwise, it was silent. However, she had not yet fully made her plea, and Aila continues, “But I don’t want to lose. I can’t. Orpheus needs me. Eurydice deserves to live. The Corinthian is one of yours. Please.”

Beneath her fingers, the grass turns to sand – an odd sensation -, but somehow, Aila recognizes it for what it is. She grabs a handful, staring at the offering only for a moment, before she lunges forward again. She hears the nightmare, though now she can’t see him. She doesn’t let that distract her – no instead, she presses the sand against the closest thing to her, and she imagines it then, large venomous vines crawling up the limb, embedding themselves into flesh and bone, twisting and tearing, freeing the nightmare as it pries open the demon’s jowls.

And to her surprise, that’s exactly what happens. Azazel roars at the pain, dropping the Corinthian in an instant, while stumbling back from Aila. It’s not much, but it’s an advantage. She needs to finish this, but even with the realm aiding her… this was still hard. If it wasn’t for her bound state… she curses it. With a single snap of power, she suspects she’d be able to just end this given what she can feel. Beneath that surface inside – there was an ache of power wanting to spill out, but all she can is graze it.

It’s not much, but she uses what little she has to throw Azazel away, putting distance between the demon and the nightmare and Eurydice. The realm twists and turns, and Azazel goes rolling down a hill that hadn’t existed a moment prior.

There isn’t much time, but Aila runs, sliding to her knees next to the nightmare, trying to understand the damage she’s seeing. Eurydice was also a few feet away – within arm’s reach thankfully, also injured – though alive.

The Corinthian wasn’t flesh and blood – not like Orpheus – but he was also not like herself or even an Endless. He was dream stuff, and she doesn’t understand how to fix it; however, she can see large gaps of the creation missing, chunks and limbs gone. The nightmare with one eye socket remaining stares at her – the pain evident. She rests her hand against his – or what was his forehead.

In this, Aila knows she needs to do something – fix this. Pieces of the nightmare remain scattered, but Aila merely pulls at the Dreaming, as she did before. However, she’s not its master – it agreed with her, aided her before, but in this… she was not Dream. She could not repair the nightmare as the Endless would have. No, all she had was what made her her – that piece of grace and divinity.

There’s a painful pang in her chest – the realm… though Aila pays it little mind. Not right now, not when she needs to focus on the Corinthian and Eurydice. They… they both would fade if she didn’t.

Slowly, Aila stretches her senses and catches Eurydice as well – the woman was unconscious but alive… hurt too… and if Aila did nothing. Her wings unfurl and stretch out. Aila can’t leave either of them, and she shifts to where she can sit between them. She keeps one hand on each of them, catching sight then of the Fates. She meets their gaze and holds it without question.

Nearby – behind her -, Azazel recovers – grotesque and monstrous still; however, Aila continues to sit, unmoving. What little pieces of the nightmare that look familiar to the Nephilim, she can see that he wants her to move, to run – not to focus on him. However, Aila was not her mother… or even the Endless… she was Aila, and she wanted to help. This was not her duty or function… or fate… she’d roll her eyes at that. It was simply a choice, and as Deceit and Death had said – it’s what made her human.

Aila was okay with that. The Fates stare at her, and without fear, she stares back. This was her choice.

Focusing on that, Aila feeds what she uses to heal herself into the pieces that make the Corinthian, and while it originally balks against her – against what is not Dream -, eventually the pieces start to mend, pull themselves back, and with a light glow, the Corinthian lays back in one piece once again. Eurydice was human – pulling her back was different, familiar. It takes a moment but Eurydice gasps awake.

There’s a heavy exhaustion now in Aila’s limbs, but no part of her regrets it. Instead, she smiles at the nightmare and then Eurydice. She breaks eye contact with the Fates then. She doesn’t care what they have to say about her, this realm, or Eurydice. She would continue to make her choices, and she would save them.

“That was not…” the nightmare growls, but she merely shakes her head.

“Worth it. It was,” Aila counters, before spinning just in time to block the demon’s next assault.

Thankfully, the nightmare grapples Eurydice, pulling her away as Aila focuses back on the fight. The Dreaming fluctuates around her – warmth bleeding into her being, helping give her strength again in this. She was not its master, and there were things she could not do as such, but it was willing to help.

Aila realizes it of course. The Dreaming was Dream. He was in Hell, likely feeling whatever this was, and helping… there’s another deep ache to the realm then – one she’s starting to feel more and more… and she realizes abruptly the source. It wasn’t her or the realm, but for now, she has no choice but to ignore it. She needs to finish this first.

However, Aila settles herself. Beelzebub wouldn’t keep Orpheus, and Lucifer wasn’t winning. She wasn’t theirs. Dream wasn’t hers, neither was Aila. But that meant…

For one beat, she considers her options – which there was truly only one. Killing… killing was difficult, but she recalls Orpheus – his fearful shout before he was taken, the nightmare behind her, Eurydice… the Endless… killing was not something she would take pride it, but she wasn’t also one to walk away. She would do this.

With a snarl herself, Aila gets her feet under her even against the strength of the demon Lord bearing down on her. All around her, the landscape shifts – quicksand swirling beneath Azazel’s form, sinking him in a heartbeat. On her own, this fight would be… an uphill battle, but with the Dreaming cooperating, Aila finds far more strength in herself, even as she lunges for not one of the mouths but the main body – her feet skimming against the sand. Each step for her solidifies the ground though, further trapping the demon.

“You’re nothing,” Azazel snarls.

“I’m obviously something,” Aila counters, driving her blade first into the demon. All her previous hesitation at killing fades in that moment. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.” She floods the demon with what little power she can access behind her own binding. The demon scoffs, uncaring – unafraid, but it burns hotter, brighter, and the realm aids her further even as it strains against the divinity… strains against some unseen pain.

For one moment, Azazel appears unphased, and the next, he shouts and every piece of him catches aflame, burning hot enough to turn the sand beneath her feet to solid glass.

Nearby, the Fates say nothing, but they’re there one moment and gone the next. The nightmare sits with Eurydice, comforting her, and Aila… Aila stands on a mountain of glass and sand that catches the light in a slight glow.

The nightmare wants to be astounded, impressed (which he was), but mostly, he was just proud.

Aila grins.

Quick Notes: Next chapter, deal with Dream and Lucifer (sort of, you’ll see) and then… we do need to go save Orpheus don’t we?

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Two: How the World Falls Apart

And like that Azazel is gone. Yet… Aila can’t tell if anything is different. The world feels the same – Corinthian and Eurydice remain unchanged. The realities – Aila can’t tell.

Jumping down from the remnants of Azazel, Aila can’t help but trail her eyes after it. She did that. That. She took on a demon Lord and won, and part of her seizes at the unbelievability of that. Even just a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have thought it possible – thought herself that strong. And now?

Aila takes a breath. She doesn’t want to get ahead of herself. After all, this was only what needed to be done in part. Azazel’s life… to separate the realities – hopefully – and then…

At that, Aila trails over to Eurydice, who asks – voice slightly breathless, “Did it work?” Eurydice doesn’t mean to tremble, but she does. The entire day – the number of times she’s almost died finally catching up. If it had been her time… so, be it… but death… it was not something she was ready to greet fondly, not yet – not before Orpheus was returned.

“I’m not sure,” Aila says. She can’t sense the realities to suggest they are, but Deceit had seemed certain this would work. It had to work… Aila had… taken a life – demon or not. However, unlike that day in the village – the man – Aila feels… uncertain on this. She hates the twinge of pride in her actions, but she wonders perhaps it’s less about the act and more what it meant…

Something the nightmare must also realize given how he reaches out then, his fingers gentle on her wrist – reminding Aila in that moment of how close he came to being unmade, destroyed. She wants to ask him, demand a lot – including why he got involved against a demon lord -, but instead, she merely grabs him along the middle, plastering herself to his chest in a hug.

“Good job, little bird,” the nightmare says, eyeing the unusual statue now marking Azazel’s grave. “That was… something.”

“The Fates…” Eurydice starts, realizing then that the three are gone – something Aila had already noted.

“Left,” Aila says. Thankfully. She had nothing good to say about them. She understood they were doing their job – she did, but she didn’t like them.

“Perhaps, it worked then,” the Corinthian says, arms gentle around Aila as he allows her this moment. He can feel her fingers digging into his jacket, the need she has to ground herself in this. He leans down, these words meant for her only, “You did what you had to.”

The words help, and Aila relaxes her grip, pulling away then – however, she only gets a step back, when she feels it again. A sudden stabbing through the Dreaming and in turn herself. The Dreaming had found an outlet in her, though Aila suspects better her than one of the many creations here. However, unlike the other pains, this one was far sharper – far more painful. She gasps, taking a deep breath stumbling back.

“Aila?” Eurydice says.

“Dream…” Aila says, teeth gritted. “Dream’s in trouble.”

Something that doesn’t entirely surprise the nightmare, nor Deceit – as she appears in a swirl of sand. She had attempted to keep the Fates away – had done quite a good job for some time… until the Crone had tired of her interference, and it had taken Deceit some time to climb back out of the hole they had left her in. They hadn’t killed her – whether because they couldn’t or because they truly could not was debatable.

However, Deceit cares little lie as it was a means to an end. And it had worked. Appearing before Eurydice – no Fates in sight –, Deceit can feel an ease to the air, in how the realm hums against her skin.

It’s a sense for Deceit – the way the realities bend and twist, how the fabric of each layering onto one another. She can feel it, just as the other Endless can sense other parts of their realm. She suspects a by-product of her own birth, of how she was bound to a family of Endless not of her own reality yet born from those instead… or perhaps it was because the Endless that oversaw the realm of dreams could be argued that he also oversaw that of reality… All the same, with Azazel’s death, she can feel it – almost see it. The twines of the realities, slowly unraveling.

“Impressive,” Deceit says, meaning it. That was a feat, one that would not be easily replicated anytime soon – though thankfully there was not much need for it anyway.

“Deceit,” Aila says, almost stumbling again from the pain – though this time the new Endless helps to stabilize her footing. “You’re here. Did it…”

“It worked,” Deceit says, only for the nightmare to clear his throat. With a none-too-subtle eye roll, Deceit mutters, “Truth nightmare.” She had no reason to lie about this. It worked, and they could go home. They could save Orpheus…

However, while Deceit cannot sense it as Aila does, she can tell the Dreaming is not… right. Something’s wrong, and she can immediately tell when its Lord is not present. She didn’t need to be told where he was, and the source of the issues.

Deceit fingers her necklace – her portal between worlds. They could go and save Orpheus now. Creator only knew what was being done to him, though Deceit would guess even Lucifer wouldn’t cross the line of truly hurting the boy. Even in their time – even with Lucifer’s mind… not as it was in this time… hurting Orpheus had no benefit and was only likely to incite the Endless. The truce… held – though Deceit suspects that it wouldn’t for much longer.

“We need to go after Orpheus,” Aila says, pushing it to the back of her mind whatever the Dreaming was trying desperately to tell her.

“You’ll face Lucifer Morningstar,” Deceit says, and Aila falls silent. She knew that; she did… and she wasn’t sure how she would yet handle that. Lucifer was…

Lucifer was something – that was all Aila could settle on. Right now, though, she elects to focus on Orpheus.

It’s Eurydice that interrupts things then. She may not entirely understand everything – she was not as magical as these, even though she had magic in her line -, but she understood they were planning to go after her husband. They were going to bring Orpheus home, except they were standing in the Dreaming with no Dream. She may not have much love for her father by marriage, but Orpheus – she loved Orpheus. And even if her husband would claim otherwise – Orpheus loved his father.

“What of Dream?” Eurydice asks, and Aila says nothing. Deceit, on the other hands, shifts – the question causing some discomfort.

Deceit… was in part Alec (the good and the bad), Johanna (the good), and Hob (the good). and of those two of the three were more than attached to Dream. Which meant a majority of Deceit was attached to Dream (even her Alec echo wasn’t completely against him)… only the Dread component hated him – which was small and quiet (barely a blip, as she would tell herself – even when she caught the reflection of the corruption in the mirror). And in turn, Deceit agrees with Eurydice.

“Will he be… okay?” Aila says, her voice trailing off. “He’s Endless…” He should be able to hold his own, but she cannot finish the sentence since it was him and Lucifer that… she swallows at the reminder of how she came to be.

“He will be,” Deceit says, and the nightmare glares at her. She only shrugs in response. After all, it wasn’t a complete lie – eventually… sooner if they did something.

The nightmare glances between the two offspring. He had an opinion, of course. Dream – of any reality – he felt some… inclination towards, but he worries about their time, their reality. If Lucifer was making moves, then Dream – their Dream – was in danger. Lucifer wouldn’t let her prize go again, and the nightmare may not say it, but he worries about Aila too. She was just as much of a target… and her mind – he can’t help but the anxiety over her mind surviving this. Deceit was right – they’d face Lucifer if they went back (Aila would).

“Orpheus would never forgive himself if his last words to his father were in hate,” Eurydice says calmly. “If he’s in danger…” she looks to Deceit now – and the Endless sighs,

“Truth.”

“Then you should do something,” Eurydice finishes.

“What can we do?” Aila asks – besides marching into Hell… which was something she was not ready for… something the nightmare would agree with.

The four of them stand silently for a moment. This went beyond Eurydice, which she understood, but she refuses to let them consider walking away, not that any of them would. Not now at least, but that didn’t change the fact that none of them knew how to fix the Endless’s dilemma.

“Call Death,” the nightmare finally sighs. “Maybe she can do something.”

And while Aila nods, turning to do as much, Deceit grins – her smile stretching wide. “Now, that’s an idea,” the youngest Endless says, though none of them understand the sudden glee.

…………

When Deceit had called for Death, the elder Endless had worried about why. The youngest – newest Endless – was interesting, but when Deceit’s words had wafted in, talking on Aila… Death focused only on that. After all, she had not sensed… anything… but when the call had come from her brother’s realm – given what the girl was – it was an understandable concern.

And given Death was lecturing Desire on the absurdity of keeping some things to themselves when she got the call, that meant they also heard it – and like her… actually, the concern was a surprise. Not only to her but to Desire as well.

For all their games… Death wonders how much Desire actually – truly – wants to win or merely just wans the games to continue because… that was what was expected.

All the same, the two of them promptly make their way to the Dreaming – stepping into the realm with the use of Death’s power – and the sound Desire makes at the sight of Deceit is telling of their opinion on her… it might actually be less than that of Dream, Death amusingly considers. Aila, on the other hand… Death recognizes a soft spot for the Nephilim; somehow, Desire had come to… maybe not like but at least tolerate in their way… and they relax substantially when they see Aila standing, intact and sane.

“It’s your brother,” Deceit says, ignoring Desire – much to their irritation.

“You mean your father?” Desire asks, which is in part why Deceit ignores them. She refuses to play this game right now.

“Dream’s in Hell,” Death says – which she knew was the plan. As did Desire. It was what needed to be done, and Death may not be of the Dreaming, but she feels it… the Dreaming… it’s in pain – which means… “He’s hurt.”

Desire shifts, but they refuse to admit their concern. Instead, they say, “Sounds like a him problem.”

“Lie,” Deceit says, and Desire promptly narrows their gaze, much to her amusement.

“It’s not a me problem,” Desire counters – which was true but only in part.

“We can help him,” Aila says, though at this – she looks to Deceit.

It had been Deceit’s idea, her plan. After all, this was thousands of years before it happened the first time. Dream wouldn’t expect it. Lucifer wouldn’t expect it. Neither would be able to guard from it, and they’d get one chance… and in a few thousand years, should it occur again, Dream would recognize the sensation and perhaps better steel against it.

“Do you want to?” Death asks, and Aila understands the question. She had not… she doesn’t know how she feels about Dream either… but she does know he doesn’t deserve to suffer her mother – this reality, this new one… she didn’t want to exist here, and she nods in response to Death’s question. Her lack of hesitation – Death appreciates it and understands the girl’s reluctance to share her heritage prior.

Desire sighs loudly, pulling attention back to them. “Do you have a way of helping? I’m not going into Hell.” They would outright refuse – at least until Dream asked for help, perhaps begged. That would be delightful, and the image it provoked? Desire grins.

“We can’t help without permission,” Death says.

“Oh, I know,” Deceit says, “which is why I’m asking for it.”

The response is not immediate. Death opens her mouth then closes it. She had never thought of that loophole. The Endless needed permission to interfere with one another’s affairs, and yet, Deceit was asking for help… to help Dream… and Death – well, she decides that’s enough for her. She wasn’t about to leave Dream in Hell, if she could help it.

“Then, what do you need?” Death asks.

“Am I just not here now?” Desire then follows – they feel suddenly ignored – which Deceit was doing. She only needed Death, and even then, only a drop of blood. Just one drop – blood to call blood. A payment in turn for the cost.

After all, Deceit – while she was Alec, Johanna, and Hob – had summoned Endless before, and in a few thousand years, Dream would be forcefully summoned… a spell that was now burned into Deceit’s mind from the times the echoes in her mind had done it. She just needed a way to smooth it – since she didn’t exactly have a soul or the total amount of mortal blood to pay. Instead, she’d just a drop of Endless blood to call to Dream’s, and since this was no longer their reality – well, Deceit needed family blood. She wasn’t family – not yet, likely not ever.

And a drop of blood was something Death was more than willing to provide – while Desire continues to huff about not being involved. Yet, they don’t leave. They stay – even as Deceit sets up the circle, the symbols coming from memory. They smartly say nothing about the monstrosity of glass and sand near them – they don’t need to be told what it was… nor Death. That she could sense – could see what that was.

Eurydice watches silently, while the nightmare grasps their own arms tightly. He did not like the reminder of this spell – though better this than the collar.

However, once the symbols are drawn, Deceit takes a step back. She was Endless. She was not human as she was the last time she cast this, and this spell… Deceit doesn’t admit that the echo of Dread in her tensed at the sight of the spell too. Casting this would be difficult for her, and the other two Endless (well likely only Death given Desire’s mood) could possibly do it. However, Deceit looks to Eurydice. The human could do this – with Aila’s help – with Deceit providing the words. Humanity held power, especially over the Endless. It would perhaps work better with a human calling.

“Is it safe?” Eurydice asks. She’s never casted something or performed a ritual before. Nothing like this.

“Do you want the truth or a lie?” Deceit asks, curiously, and Eurydice says nothing in turn.

After all, the answer wouldn’t change anything. She’d do it anyway – for Orpheus. Death stands to the side, with Desire, as Eurydice and Aila situate themselves. Eurydice wrings her hands, fidgeting at the realization she’d be helping to summon an immortal being forcefully from another immortal being. She swallows harshly, and Aila reaches out, clasping Eurydice hand in hers.

“This works or it doesn’t,” Deceit says, “but it won’t change what happens next. You’ll have to face Lucifer.” Either of this time or theirs. Once Dream was safe… they had to return, and Deceit isn’t sure how that will all proceed – just that it would require Aila to meet with her mother again.

It’s quiet, but Aila says, “I know.” There was no way around it, but she can avoid it for now. Right now, she can focus on Dream, then Orpheus – ignoring what that would mean. Which is all she needs - at least for the moment. Her eyes trail to where the once body of Azazel sits – now a conglomeration of glass and sand, with a crack down the center. “But first Dream,” she says. She’d bring Dream back – another thing she was working to ignore… how she felt about that, him. The Dreaming curls around her, telling her far more about her father than he ever said – then he ever showed to Orpheus. He couldn’t hide form his own realm. She’d do this and then… then, she’d deal with their time and reality. She stands up straight, head held him – and in that, Deceit can see the Endless in the girl. “Then, I’m bringing Orpheus back.”

It’s a small statement, but Deceit feels her function flare at that – truth. Eurydice doesn’t need to be Endless to recognize that as well. Aila would bring Orpheus home. It gives her strength in this. She’d do this – help bring Dream back for Orpheus in turn.

All the while, Aila takes a settling breath – staring at Deceit, ready to start the spell; however, first, she adds, “I don’t care that I’ll have to face Lucifer or not.” Just as long as she brought Orpheus home… just as long… she doesn’t know how she feels about Dream, but she wouldn’t leave the Endless with her mother to suffer this fate. No one deserved that, and Orpheus – Aila agrees with Eurydice – he wouldn’t want that. She knows that because she doesn’t want that and she barely recognized the Endless as family.

Deceit nods, taking a step back – readying herself to help them through this spell while Death and Desire look on. Deceit says nothing in regard to Aila’s words; there was nothing to say. However, Deceit’s function had flared with her words – she had felt it deep in her self. Not that she would have needed it. Anyone could tell how Aila felt.

Everyone could see the Lie.

Quick Notes: I rewrote this entire chapter, so I hope it came across right. The entire re-write took forever, hence the delay in posting

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Three: When We Go Home

The spell was intricate, yet far too simple at the same time. For a ritual with such power, it would seem anyone with even a drop of magic in their bloodline could possibly pursue it. Something that was helpful in this moment as Eurydice spoke the spell, as whispered to her by Deceit, who in this moment is completely and one hundred percent honest. She would not risk this spell, risk the outcome… the one that befelled Alec’s brother…

Deceit wouldn’t risk that again. Not even as an Endless now – one that toed the line… no, her eyes remain clear – words succinct as she recites them perfectly from memory.

The power in the room swells – enough so that the Endless feel it. It puts their teeth on edge, Deceit included, but she continues – shuddering through it. Even Eurydice starts to feel something – an unearthly cold that claws into her body, and as she speaks the final word, she cannot help how she almost falls over, only for her stomach contents to make themselves known.

Before she can fully collapse though, Aila is there – an arm wrapped protectively around Eurydice. All the while, Deceit stares at where the circle sits, which is no longer empty. Death eyes Deceit, uncertainty in the elder Endless’s gaze. That spell… she had never seen it before, but it had pulled an Endless from Hell. In this moment, of course, she’s thankful for it, but she cannot help but dislike the spell itself as well. When Deceit had been whispering it, even Death had felt an unnatural pull… such a ritual… it could be used for any of them.

Which given what Deceit had revealed about the future…

Death pushes past Deceit, surprisingly only a step behind Desire, who’s at the circle where Dream does now lay – curled up. Desire pushes him with their shoe, the concern… well, it’s not much of a look of concern – more disdain and irritation. However, they are, at least, there, and when Dream doesn’t immediately respond to them, they look immediately to Death.

“Is he…” Aila asks, but neither Endless can answer.

Instead, Death kneels by her younger brother, working slowly to pull his arm from his face… and his helm – which was back in place. She says nothing in regard to it, though she still maintains some opinions on the wretched looking thing, and instead removes it, grimacing when his head falls near unceremoniously back to the floor.

“The spell or…” even Desire asks, not liking the response thus far from their elder sister or how minimal responsive Dream is to them.

“I’m not sure Desire,” Death admits, fingers brushing over cheek bones, checking for damage. He was, at the very least, not toeing her realm; that much she can sense. He was unnaturally still, and while she could sense him as she could with any of their siblings, he felt so much farther away.

“The spell always takes a lot of the one summoned,” Deceit admits. Sleeping or near to it was almost a guaranteed side effect. Even the corrupted had almost passed out – some of them even did – after being summoned. Dread… Dread, on the other hand, did have to be forcefully put to sleep – though her previous self had been less summoned and more dragged into the Dreaming by other means… but she recalls standing inside those runes – how that power felt leeching off of her own. It would put anyone in a state.

However… Lucifer… something Aila must realize as well as once Eurydice is settled, the Nephilim slowly makes her way over to Dream. She kneels next to Death, who says nothing even as her hand reaches out. She can feel – sense – practically taste her mother’s power… power that had been used against her more than once.

Touching his shoulder, Aila feels the Dreaming wrap around her and him in turn – like a protective blanket. It hadn’t liked the spell, but it would seem the spell was the lesser of two evils. Lucifer… she can sense Lucifer had left some sort of mark… nothing grandiose but something likely meant to make a statement. It takes Aila a moment of shifting her father’s usual effects to find a red mark wrapped around his neck, and she grimaces.

“Agony?” Death whispers, glancing back to Deceit – who can merely shrug. It was, but Deceit sees no point in confirming it. Right now, the last thing anyone needed was the elder Endless making a further mess of this; however, the lack of response is enough. While Desire stays where they are, Death stands.

“Don't,” Deceit offers. “It won’t help.”

“They…” Death starts, but Deceit interrupts.

“Yes,” Deceit says. “But he also went into Hell willingly, and knowing him, likely made things worse first.” Truth - not that she agreed with it. She despised Lucifer as well – her Johanna third especially; however, Death marching in there, as it was, would be of no help to any of them.

Death stands, teeth gritted, before taking a heavy breath and relaxing. She knows Deceit’s right… which for the youngest Endless is impressive… but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Quietly, Desire checks Dream over for other red marks, other signs of abuse, but thankfully finding none. It would seem that Lucifer had merely summoned Agony to deal some sort of punishment versus doing far worse damage… doing… Desire’s eyes are drawn to Aila then, something the Nephilim notices and understands the reason for. Her mother could have done far worse… had done far worse… but they were in this time – she glances towards the Corinthian then Deceit.

“Will she follow?” Aila asks.

“She’s always had a bit of an unhealthy obsession with Dream,” the nightmare says, but even he looks to Deceit, who shakes her head.

“Which was made worse, darker by the corruption,” Deceit says – which was both the truth and not. Lucifer was made worse by the corruption but much of it was still her. The former angel had merely leaned into the darkness and enjoyed it. “She’ll…”

“Truth, Deceit,” Aila says, and the youngest Endless nods.

“She won’t likely follow,” Deceit says. Not in this time period, not with Death here, and not if the lessons was learned well – which if it was Agony… Desire shudders at that… then Lucifer would let the Endless lick his wounds, only to poke and prod at him again soon enough. “No one will come.”

“Lie,” Desire growls. The former angel was not likely to sit idle for long; she would not likely try to drag Dream from his realm, but she would be content to send a demon or two to his door to make her point.

Deceit looks to Aila then. “Yes,” is what she says, and then she waits. Because right now, they don’t have any more time to spare. They needed to go after Orpheus… or they could stay here. Deceit was relatively certain that with Death here Lucifer wouldn’t go too far – too much risk, not enough reward, especially when the summoning had not been his idea. Dream was too responsible to just up and leave Lucifer’s realm in such a manner – something the former angel would likely realize. Which meant… Desire was correct… Lucifer may not come herself, but she’d likely send a demon messenger or two – pending how much she wanted to make a point. And what that messenger did…

Deceit doubts Lucifer would be willing to go to war… just yet… Dream, on the other hand, given the dry heat in the air was very much not thrilled, even semi-conscious, with the fate of his child at the hands of any Hellspawn.

Aila understands what Deceit is waiting for. She glances at Desire then Death. They’d… Death would keep an eye on Dream, but when Aila goes to stand, she finds fingers gently wrapped around her wrist… Dream’s eyes are hazy but open, and he’s staring at her.

“Aila,” he says, his voice quiet. “You are all right.”

“You’re in the Dreaming,” Aila says, and she watches as his brow furrows, the confusion evident. It’s slow going, but he pushes himself up, surprisingly with Desire’s aid or not… given Desire’s smirk. They were very much going to enjoy holding this over big brother’s head come next dinner.

“Lucifer,” Dream starts, but Death shushes him.

“Has no right to keep you,” she says, though given how Dream flinches, she suspects there may be cause now. Nonetheless, she dares Lucifer to try. Lucifer attacked her nephew – no matter how much the former angel would pretend it was only about Eurydice. No, the angel had attacked Orpheus… and while not ideal, Death can use that to keep Lucifer from trying again, lest Hell truly wanted open war… which Death doubts – maybe not the one in the future… but this one… she’d hesitate.

“Aila,” Deceit says again, and slowly, the Nephilim moves to the other Endless’s side. Dream was here; within his borders, he’d be safe – especially with Death nearby. However, they were not done, not yet.

Dream gets his feet under him, ignoring the remnant pain of Agony left behind. He should have known better than to attack Lucifer as he did, and he accepted the… response in turn… Lucifer would not be thrilled with his disappearance, but given it was not of his own making (other than it was apparently his own children), she could not further seek him for that.

However, that’s not what concerns him at the moment. He notes Deceit, Aila, and the nightmare standing near one another.

“I will accompany you,” Dream says, even as Death chokes out her disagreement. “He’s my son.”

“And you care now?” Aila says, unable to help herself. Deceit sighs, expecting this to suddenly devolve again, except the fight, the aggression fades from Dream at those words. If anything, he appears as though he was slapped, and Aila realizes it too. She can feel… feel more than what she even sees. The Dreaming curls around her. He could lie as much as he wants, but his words wouldn’t matter. “You always cared,” Aila corrects herself.

“Truth,” Deceit says. “He does. He’s just shite as expressing it in any healthy manner.”

Desire cackles at that – not that they entirely believe it themselves. Dream and caring were not words they would ever put together, and they have half a mind to say it too, when they realize that while exhausted, Dream very much appears willing to jump into another reality… for his child… and Desire can feel it – far too readily… that Dream would do anything to bring Orpheus back now. They fall silent immediately.

“Orpheus…” Dream starts. “I should not have said what I did to him, and I cannot change that. I will do what I can now to make that right.”

Aila opens her mouth, though whatever she wants to say dies on her lips. She doesn’t entirely know what she wants to say, and she can’t help but fidget in place.

“Which is a great growing moment for you,” Deceit says, as the Corinthian sputters. “But no.”

“Deceit,” Dream growls.

“Fine yes,” she counters, surprising the group; however, before any of them can counter or realize that was the lie, Deceit has her hands on both Aila and the Corinthian.

Traveling time was not a skill Deceit had, but changing reality – especially to a plane she already had been and recognized… one such as her home – that she could do. It wasn’t often, however, that she traveled with others, and even though it was not the entirety of the Endless family as she had done once prior – for Dream’s wedding – it was enough that she felt the strain.

One moment, the Dream of that reality is staring at them – in the last second, likely glaring – and the next… they stand in an open empty field.

“You said…” Aila starts.

“I lied,” Deceit counters, staggering away. Her head pounds. “I’d rather not place any Dream within three feet of this Lucifer.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” the nightmare mutters.

There’s no crack or other shift of power to suggest they’ve been followed. The other Endless could from what Deceit understood, but it would take time, power, and likely a trip to Night or Time to help… which gave them the chance to try and settle this before. Deceit glances concerningly towards Aila.

“You all right?”

The answer to that was difficult. Yes – which was a lie but so was no. There was a lot on her mind in this moment, but she does what she can to push it aside. She has to… including the fact she had heard from a Dream… are you all right?

“What about Dream?” the Corinthian continues. He feels this Dreaming resonate around him, welcoming him home, and some of the tension he’s been carrying for the last few days fades in that moment. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed this place until now. Something he’s certain his master would love to hear, he thinks with a snort.

“That one? Stuck for a time,” Deceit says. “This one? Hopefully won’t even know what’s going on.” She hopes he doesn’t know – won’t have need to. This one had suffered enough, that much Deceit agreed with as well. A sentiment echoed by Hob and Johanna in her mind. However… if not… “Johanna… her memories are not what they were, but she recalls enough as well now too.” Deceit… had helped with that – showing the former magician the truth, before also discovering that some small remnant of Johanna’s magic had returned.

Deceit would know – the woman had thrown her with ease into a wall right before the Endless had cleared Johanna’s mind. One moment, Johanna had thought them nothing more than fleeting dreams and nightmares, imaginations, and then, after Deceit… Johanna’s arms were around her neck, while Deceit made quick work to catch Constantine up.

“Come on,” Deceit says, stepping forward. They need to get to the palace. It had already taken far more time than it should have to come here, and even Aila can only silently hope Orpheus was okay… she wishes she had gotten the chance to say goodbye to Eurydice, and that thought seizes her. It was possible… she may not… And then, that Dream… she frowns.

Deceit’s already a few steps ahead, and Aila focuses again, with the Corinthian one step behind.

“Where are we going?” Aila says. She has very little understanding of the Dreaming landscape, but she realizes quickly that it continues to respond to her here as it did in the now other reality. The path evens itself, allowing for faster travel. It wasn’t as… willing like the other reality, but it seemed to recognize they meant Dream no harm.

“To meet with the others,” Deceit says, and it’s such a vague statement that it takes Aila a moment to put it together… the other Endless… the rest of her family – her actual family… and while she wants to pause or stumble, she keeps up with her half-sister. After all, she just faced Azazel, and she was going to have to face Lucifer… her own mother soon enough… she could face the rest of the Endless – the ones that actually knew of her… she could.

Deceit recognizes the lie even without it being stated, but she does appreciate the girl trying, electing to not point it out as such. They do, however, remain silent for the rest of the journey – at least up until the palace.

The palace, this one, was exactly as Deceit recalls it – or how the once Alec and Johanna in her own mind recall it. Though, she – herself (as an Endless) had only been here a few days ago – right before she had transversed through time to meet her own half sibling – siblings. She sighs – gathering herself in this moment, because while the last few days were something… of a sort she would rather not repeat, it would be a lie to say that she was looking forward to this.

“Deceit,” Aila says, just as they reach the doors. She watches as the Endless glances over her shoulder, waiting for whatever the Nephilim had to say. “Do you… I don’t…” she stumbles here, uncertain how to put it to words – her concern, her fears, but Deceit reads it easily, even though it’s no longer her real function.

However, it’s the Corinthian that answers. “You’ll be okay,” he says, certain of it. “Death will like you.” Which was true – Deceit would agree. Even the Death of the past did, though Aila didn’t seem to immediately realize it. Had the elder Endless not, well… they would have known. They wouldn’t have even made it back here to start.

“I don’t need them to like me,” Aila mutters. Because she didn’t, but she does find some comfort in the nightmare’s words. She smiles in thanks. After the debacle of the past… it would be easy for them… to not or because of… how she came to be.

“They don’t blame you,” Deceit continues, finally pushing open the doors. “Your birth and what happened to Dream…” She trails off here, as the doors loudly announce their presence. “It’s not your fault.”

Aila for a moment worries that it may not be the truth, but after a moment, one that hangs far too long, Aila believes Deceit completely. She nods, unable to find it in herself to otherwise respond. The youngest Endless heads inside, while the nightmare and Aila linger.

She had just spent weeks in the past, she had met her family, her brother, her father… her aunts and uncles… and they were – she doesn’t know how she feels about them, how to separate the them of the past and the them now. The nightmare had sworn Dream was not as he was then… and even in that one span before Deceit had pulled them to this reality, Aila had seen it – seen all of it… and agreed with her half-sister.

Dream did care. He had gone to Hell to help Orpheus… and her…

And now, she was back in this time period – this reality… and she had to save Orpheus… which meant facing her family - her family by blood and all their… interpersonal relationships. With a heavy breath, Aila goes to follow after Deceit, silently hoping that perhaps the Desire of this time was less… troublesome.

Quick Notes: Finally home? Good news, Deceit takes a page out of Dream’s book and just leaves when things don’t suit her

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Four: Why We Come Together

That said, Deceit makes her way inside – the shouts already quite apparent. It would seem that even though they had been gone a few days – then again how much time had passed here, she wonders -; nonetheless, it would appear that Desire had not merely moved on from the discovery of their newest niece and how no one knew.

Without another word, the Corinthian steps inside the palace as well, though unlike Deceit, he waits for Aila to join him. He walks with her as they head together towards the main throne room, where – yes, all the Endless wait… and as Deceit suspected, Desire was still finding some remarkable way to complain about everything.

“We can’t trust…” Desire starts, only to fade off as Deceit, Aila, and Cori arrive. Their eyes widen at the sight of the young Nephilim – her dark hair, black wings… if there was a doubt the little bird took after anyone, it was silenced in that moment. Even Death and Destiny can sense beyond the physical attributes that the girl felt like their brother – very much in the way Deceit did as well.

Quietly, Deceit joins the others, sneaking past Delirium and finding a latte waiting for – in thanks to Matthew. She gives the raven a smile and a quiet thanks before situating herself comfortably on the table, legs dangling, cup in hand. The other Endless say nothing save stare at her.

“As promised,” is all Deceit has to say. She told the others she would handle the Nephilim, and the girl was handled in her opinion. After all, she was here, the other Endless weren’t dead, and the girl wasn’t with Lucifer.

“As promised,” Desire repeats, before stating it again. Deceit takes a sip of her drink and shrugs. She had done exactly as she said, and that’s all they could ask of her – not unless they wanted to get the other Morpheus here to try and order her… which honestly wasn’t all that effective either, pending her mood. “She’s still alive,” Desire continues, and Aila shifts, her mood darkening.

“Desire,” Death admonishes.

“She’s not a threat,” Deceit says.

“Is that the truth?” Desire growls, and Deceit grins, content to see that her function continues to off-balance Desire. She didn’t mean to poke at them; it was just natural to do so. As her Father’s offspring and given what she did in the other reality, it was far too easy to do so.

“I’m not,” Aila says, finding her own voice and stepping forward. Death smiles at the girl, appreciating that the young one seemed to not cower in the face of meeting the Endless – though given she had just spent weeks in the past with their own variants… this was and was not their first meeting.

“Deceit?” Destiny says.

“Truth.” Deceit takes another long sip of her drink, content to watch the proceedings now. She had done her job; she had gotten the girl back here.

“So… if they were back there and we’re here, and now they’re here,” Delirium says, “why don’t we remember…”

The moment hangs, Aila glancing towards Deceit for help; however, the Endless merely shrugs and takes a long sip of her drink. After all, Deceit had been content to come right back at the start of all that mess. Aila had not; Aila had wanted to truly change things. And while Deceit won’t explain it for her, Aila realizes that Deceit is offering a small smile. The Endless waves her hand in such a way, suggesting ‘go on then.’

Taking a settling breath, Aila steps forward again – uncaring if that truly put her in the midst of the Endless or not and says, “I split the realities.”

Delirium giggles, and Destruction sighs – his eyes quickly finding that of Deceit’s, who only shrugs. It hadn’t been her idea or her actions, after all.

However, Desire sputters – trying to understand what exactly Lucifer’s offspring did. Split… that didn’t make any… and yet, for an offspring of big brother, considering his other metaphysical child jumped realities, and as Destruction would state, reality is the cusp of the other end of dreams… it made some ridiculous sense.

Nonetheless, they still struggle to put it to words, even with Despair at their side, but thankfully, Death steps forward then – trying to clarify it all, since Destiny says nothing.

“You split..?”

“Lucifer took Orpheus,” Deceit says, and whatever slight calm that had overtaken the group shudders and threatens to shatter again.

“Beelzebub took Orpheus,” Aila clarifies, though she knows internally that Deceit is not entirely incorrect. Beelzebub had come after her on her mother’s orders, but it wasn’t intentional. The demon wanted her, and she can only hope that means that none of Hell would hurt her half-brother.

“Deceit,” Destiny says, his tone and voice betraying nothing, though the younger Endless hears the lecture all the same. She merely leans back in response, taking another long sip of her latte and says nothing. It hadn’t entirely been to plan, she supposes, but they were back, and while yes, Orpheus was likely in Hell, they were here to do something… well mostly, Deceit presumes – since the treaty still held.

“She wants me,” Aila says, surprising the room by being so forward. “Hurting Orpheus…”

“Dream can’t know about this,” Desire says, interrupting Aila. She frowns in response, disliking being cut off, but when she goes to speak again, she sees Deceit shake her head. It’s not that she shouldn’t interrupt, but Deceit points to each Endless, urging Aila to better assess her surroundings.

The Endless weren’t meaning to be rude or condescending, at least not right now, but they were – all of them – were stressed. Aila realizes it then. Orpheus being taken didn’t just affect her, she reminds herself, but them and Dream as well – even this Dream. A Dream that didn’t have his memories or know-how to protect himself should Hell come for him… again.

“I’m getting Orpheus back,” Aila states, unwaveringly, and the Endless fall silent. “I don’t care if it is my mother orchestrating this. I’m getting him back, and he’s going home.”

Truth. Deceit smiles. She’s decided; she likes the girl.

“Where Eurydice is still alive,” Deceit adds, helpfully – surprising not only Death but the rest of the Endless.

“She changed that?” Despair asks, and Deceit nods.

“There’s risk to such things,” Destiny states, aware of his own folly in that, which Deceit is quite aware of. After all, she was the result of Destiny’s meddling.

Aila keeps her chin up, refusing to back down on this. She had made her choice; she was aware there was some risks, but Orpheus didn’t deserve to lose Eurydice. And Eurydice was not going to lose Orpheus… nor was her Father… though she… she can’t help how her face shifts at that thought – he distracted Lucifer, giving her the window to pursue this… he cared but… it didn’t matter… she wasn’t saving Orpheus for them – Deceit eyes Aila, as though the Endless can read thoughts, and Aila sighs… she wasn’t entirely saving Orpheus for them but because Orpheus deserved to be saved too.

Dream cared, she reminds herself; he was just shit at showing it as the nightmare had warned her when this all started.

Said nightmare, as though unconsciously summoned, steps forward then, hand resting comfortably on Aila’s shoulder – offering what little support he could, standing by the Nephilim. His presence is noted by the other Endless, and it’s accepted. The two had obviously been through quite the ordeal, even in such a short time period.

“Can she…” Delirium asks, glancing to the elder Endless. She means to ask – can she do that but trails off all the same. The question didn’t need to be asked, after all.

At the end of it, Aila was – in part – human. Humanity had free will and choice… hence the issue at hand. Death regards the girl closely before offering what little she can in a smile. The treaty with Hell was intact – the Endless could not yet involve themselves. Not in any substantial degree, at least. Not without risking Dream, which they wouldn’t – couldn’t. But for Orpheus… Dream would want them to, but none of the Endless… they couldn’t make that choice, not after everything.

Not even Deceit could easily choose the boy over Dream – her echoes of Johanna and Hob torn as well. The Alec side was the only one weighing Orpheus higher – the boy had no part in this, not truly and didn’t deserve any fate given to him by blood alone. Even still, Deceit can’t easily make the jump to Hell, to challenge Beelzebub more directly, to challenge Lucifer… outside of Desire and Dream, after all, no one had defeated the former angel, and that’s what this would come down too.

Aila would likely be one of the few with the possible power to do so… but not as she was, something the Nephilim does know.

“I’m getting Orpheus back,” Aila states again, far more boldly. She didn’t care about the possible ramifications, something starting to settle heavily over the Endless… the risk, the possibility – the unintended consequences… to Dream…

It’s Desire that gives voice to it, “Lucifer will return Orpheus for Dream.” Though not as he was or once was. No, Lucifer was beyond such things now. She had no need for a pet or a consort; she just wanted revenge. Killing Orpheus was not beyond the former angel, and while Aila didn’t think her mother would just hurt Orpheus to hurt Orpheus – she did believe Lucifer Morningstar would to gain her compliance.

“She’ll want Dream’s head,” Death says, also quite aware of that fact, and all eyes turn to Aila then. There was one option – one Deceit had already seen as well. Destiny eyes the youngest with far too much seen, and Deceit shrugs. The Endless could not involve themselves in this – not until the treaty was already broken; however, Aila could possibly.

After all, the girl was born outside of the treaty, the truce. The girl could involve herself in such matters, help them, save Orpheus, stop Lucifer (though the latter was still difficult to ponder. It was Lucifer, and Aila was only just a girl).

However, should the Endless retaliate against Hell… Dream would be the one to suffer, they could allow and trust Aila to help, or the Endless – Death – could end the girl here, as Deceit said she would, should if the girl was a threat… and while Death still doesn’t entirely know how much she trusts Deceit, she doesn’t think the youngest Endless was Dread. Not any longer. If Deceit brought the girl here, it wasn’t to endanger Dream.

“She can want it, but I’m not delivering it,” Aila says, and even without Deceit’s gift, Death finds truth in that – all the Endless do. Aila states it as surely as she stated she was getting Orpheus back. She would get her brother back, but she was not handing over Dream. He may not be her father (but he was), but… she swallows roughly at the truth of how she came to be. And Lucifer was…

Aila looks to each Endless now, her eyes focusing on Deceit the longest, which the Endless gives a small nod to.

Only then does she look back at the rest of the Endless and state clearly, “I am not my mother. I won’t be.”

Aila was not Lucifer Morningstar. She was not. She refuses. She was going to save Orpheus and stop Lucifer. She wasn’t a pawn to anyone or anything, but Orpheus, Eurydice – they mattered to her… and she wasn’t a monster. She was everything her mother never wanted, and perhaps, it was Lucifer’s mistake to not raise her more in line of wanting a successor… perhaps it was to prevent herself from caring – to hurting when Aila fell… because that was the risk.

No, not the risk – the inevitable truth. Her fate. Her life. All of it would be over. Because to beat Lucifer she would need… she glances to Deceit.

To get Orpheus back, Aila would need to challenge Lucifer – in Hell. And she would need to win. Which meant she couldn’t be bound.

But first…

“I’d like to meet him,” she says far more quietly. At this, she looks to Destiny and Death. “My… Dream, I’d like to meet this one.” Just something. It didn't have to be a lot, but... but she needed this.

Challenging Lucifer… Aila wasn’t coming back; she knows this… and this all started because she wanted a chance to at least meet Dream, to see where she came from, and while yes, she had met the one in the past, as the Corinthian said, that was not the same Dream. A lot had changed, so much that would eventually cascade to her… and a piece of her just wants… she needs to at least see him one more time – to settle that last piece of herself. She was saving Orpheus... but to send him back to Dream... she needs to understand the change - needs to see it.

To just see the end of how this all started… and… and she was curious how different this one was. Was that why she was... Would he… would have have… she swallows.

She was Aila. She was not Lucifer; she was not Dream. She was just herself, and as she told Desire – or as Desire (the other Desire now) told her, that was okay. But that didn’t take away the feeling, the want of at least getting that one moment, that one chance to meet – see – greet – the Endless that… while she was not him - a piece of her still was. There was no completely escaping that, just as she could never truly escape the pieces of Lucifer that were apart of her, even now.

Aila just refuses to be defined completely by them, but she did want to understand them. She did want to accept them.

Which meant, she needed this; but given his lack of memories…

“That’s not…” the nightmare starts – wanting to say possible, but he trails off at the sight of Deceit nodding, in agreement. Something that also seems to surprise the other Endless.

“She can’t,” Destruction says, mouth open slightly with a touch of surprise and aghast at the suggestion. “That breaks the Fates…”

But Deceit waves it away. “She’s not us,” the youngest says. The Fates forbade the Endless from interfering, and while yes Aila was, in part, Endless – she was not them. A fact Destiny can agree with; however, that didn’t remove the risk. “And she’ll have to,” Deceit continues a moment later.

At this, the other Endless stare at Deceit – an unasked question hanging… though Death and Destiny realize the reason quickly. They had been there, after all, when Deceit had bound Lucifer (and Aila by accident).

“Dream’s blood is the only way to break the binding,” Deceit continues while Desire groans. It hadn’t been… it had been purposeful to twist the spell in such a way – to ensure it would be difficult to break. Deceit just can only hope that Lucifer doesn’t know this yet.

“She can’t be unbound,” the nightmare growls, but Aila steps forward, her hand gentle on his shoulder.

“To save Orpheus, to stop… Lucifer,” Aila say, “I’ll have to be.” Which meant she had to meet Dream in some capacity, and her heart seizes at that. She had this chance, and she finds her throat and chest tight in turn.

“You can’t,” the Corinthian says. If she did, then…

“I can. I will,” Aila states. “But…” she looks to Deceit. She doesn’t mean to cause such problems, but she did want to meet with Dream – in some capacity – and it would seem she had no choice anyway.

And to Deceit, Aila did deserve this chance – a facet Death does agree with. Most of the Endless would if it wasn’t for the fact it was Dream. He had been through enough.

However, to Deceit, the young girl was going to do the impossible; which meant, she needed and earned this chance. What may be her only chance. As well as… Lucifer was Lucifer… Deceit suspected the former angel would do whatever she needed to to convince the girl back to her side… meeting Dream, this one, seeing what her mother did – to Deceit, the risk of the Fates wrath was less than what help this could be to the girl. And all the same, the rules of the Fates pertained to them, the Endless. The girl was only Endless in blood.

The rules did not apply to her – hence Lucifer’s want of her.

“And it can be done,” Destiny states, silencing the rest of the Endless. When he looks to Deceit, she grins – unsurprised that he would think she’d have a way.

Because she did.

“Can it?” Despair asks, quietly.

“Alec?” Death says, while Deceit scowls; however, she doesn’t correct them. Not this time.

Instead, she lets out a dramatic sigh before admitting, “It can be.”

“How?” Death asks.

Deceit jumps down finally, setting the empty latte aside. Right now, there wasn’t time to get more – no, she needed to go and fetch who’d they’d need for this… while situating a small distraction for the Fates of this time. It wasn’t… exactly… breaking rules, but given the three, Deceit wasn’t about to take chances – the other Endless wouldn’t appreciate that.

“Deceit,” Death says, when the youngest continues to not answer.

However, Aila’s the one to repeat the question, “Can it?” She licks her lips nervously. “Can it be done?”

“Me?” Deceit says. “I can.” Lie, which they recognize. “I just need someone first.” Truth.

“You need Johanna,” the nightmare says, stepping away from Aila.

“I need Johanna Constantine,” Deceit echoes back.

Quick Notes: Oooooo, it’s going to be a heavy chapter next one… dun dun. These chapters always take so much more editing. Originally this chapter was 6k words, so I cut it down and found a better separation point. Hopefully it's being enjoyed.

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Five: By the Sins of the Mother

Over two decades of silence – not peace (as sadly Morpheus had a lot to work through, which she was okay with and always would be) – but silence. Johanna’s thankful; she’d never say she wasn’t, as she had over two decades with Morpheus, Hob, Callie (Calliope). Before Deceit had helped her see the truth, Johanna had recalled small things – but she had thought them nothing more than dreams or fleeting… she had tried to ignore the unusualness that these things were also things that Morpheus would sometimes recall.

And now? Of course, Johanna – now that she’s awake and aware of the ongoings – is torn. She misses the chaos of her life of before, of the magic, and helping people, but… she was settled. She had found purpose and meaning in her life outside of it, and while she understood the necessity of waking her given Hell’s plans, she had not thought she’d otherwise be directly involved.

And honestly, while she remembered most things – not even Deceit could bring back everything. There were blank spots in her memory – of things just gone that she couldn’t recall… and honestly, Johanna worries.

About Morpheus, herself, friends, family.

So when Deceit showed back up – in the middle of her living room? Johanna shouldn’t have been surprised, but still, she didn’t realize until her stomach dropped in that moment, how part of her wanted the Endless to stay away. However, another part – not a very small part – also seized at the sight of Alec… well, not Alec – Johanna supposes – but near enough. The memory remained, Johanna remembered, and even with Deceit denying it, Johanna could still see fragments of Alec in the other Endless.

Which is likely why the two of them end up staring at one another versus either of them stepping back rationally.

It was just Johanna did miss Alec… and she was thankful to be aware of the possible threat to her family… but Dream… Morpheus… Dream… her mind still reeled from that – it was taking time to slip those memories back into place, but she remembered enough… enough to know what he was like after Hell the first time, and while she was not there the second time, she was here in this house. She had seen the nightmares, the panic attacks, the nights spent in the garden.

“You’re asking me to let him recall all of that,” Johanna said slowly, quietly. Worse yet, she was being asked to help unwind his mind - use what little remnant magic she had to help open his mind in the Dreaming, while he slept. She seizes at the thought. She loved Alec, she did, and she didn’t… the girl… Johanna tries to remain rational about this girl – Dream’s mysterious offspring. Johanna supposes she could be jealous, hateful, angry – and she was. But at Lucifer. Johanna could separate enough to know that the girl didn’t deserve the life given to her, but Dream didn’t deserve any of this either.

“He’s already recalled some,” Deceit counters.

“In the Dreaming,” Johanna argues. “It doesn’t carry over here. Not like that.” It was just fragments, small pieces. Sometimes, he would have a faraway look as though he was trying to remember, but it never stayed. They were just nightmares that he was working through, and as compared to the beginning, when they would seize him to a point where he could barely move, things were better. He was healing, he was better.

If they did this – if Johanna helped in this -, she couldn’t be certain what Dream would be like after. His last panic attack had been over ten months ago, and they were inconsistent enough that the twins didn’t even think about them anymore. Things were better, and while there were… far too many years left in Dream’s banishment… he had settled, and he didn’t deserve this.

“Orpheus is in danger,” Deceit says, and while Johanna wants to question that, she recognizes the truth in the statement.

The two are sitting quietly at the table downstairs. Morpheus was at a signing, thankfully. Hob was on his way over, Callie… Calliope – that was also taking some getting used to… It felt as though she had lived two different lives. Johanna recalled the before, and she remembered the now, and it was like two halves that didn’t quite fit together.

This house, this domesticity proof of that. Her life, his life… it was normal – quiet, and Johanna shakes her head. Alec… Johanna has to sit and remind herself that this wasn’t Alec, not really, but still, Alec – she owed a lot, but this was too much. She couldn’t do this to Morpheus.

“Alec,” Johanna says, voice quiet.

“Johanna,” is all Deceit says in turn, before she sighs. “The girl is like you. She refused to leave the time period.” Now other reality. “Until she had ensured Eurydice’s safety. The girl is not her mother. She reminds me of you.”

Aila was not her mother, but Deceit realizes then that’s likely why she likes the girl so much. The girl’s courage, tenacity, and inability to walk away from innocents? It was Johanna. She’d find amusement in Lucifer raising such a child, save Lucifer never should have had the child to start.

“He doesn’t deserve…” she starts, before trailing off.

“No, he doesn’t,” Deceit says. “Nor does she.”

With a sigh, Johanna mutters, “Truth.” Johanna stares out the window, into the garden – into the safe space that over the years offered Morpheus comfort after everything. “Alec…”

“I don’t disagree,” she says, interrupting. “It’s not fair to ask, but she needs this.” And to undo the binding if they so choose, they’ll have to do this. “Everyone has to wake up someday,” Deceit continues, while Johanna flinches.

That was true. At the end of it – at the end of this banishment – Dream would wake up completely. He’d recall everything, and… perhaps… she sighs. In the Dreaming, while he dreamt, she’s certain he recalls more than she knows. And it would carry over to the Waking likely, but it was better for him to start to recall more of this now then later… the last thing Johanna wants is for when the veil is lifted for her husband’s mind to break.

“Johanna,” Deceit says. To do this, the house would need to be warded, protected, and to ensure Morpheus recalled… things… a bit of Deceit’s power woven into to reveal the truth. However, Deceit was many things – including not completely Alec -, but she was enough of Johanna’s friend, that if the magician refused her, she would walk away.

Something Johanna realizes.

The two share a small smile, before Johanna nods. It wouldn’t be hard in theory what Deceit was asking. Johanna needed to merely ensure Morpheus was asleep, place the right runes to keep them safe, and then allow the girl the chance to talk to Dream in the Dreaming. It was just… after their discussion… Johanna couldn’t be sure who would be waking up – her husband or Dream of the Endless. The memories… the past was there – fleeting, brushing by them both every day -, but it had yet to carry outside of glimpses and feelings… occasionally names, but the full weight of what happened? That remained in the Dreaming, but…

Johanna sighs… enough time had gone by. It was possible Dream could handle it now. He was better; she knew that – as did Deceit, but he was her husband. Dream or Morpheus – she loved him – and she hates the idea of putting him at risk. However, even without his memories, Dream loved Orpheus. If he knew the boy was here… and Lucifer was a threat again… without hesitation, the Endless would be getting himself involved.

Which was half her worry too.

But Johanna finally nods. “Okay,” she says in agreement. “I’ll place the runes… with your help. I don’t want the Fates to even have a whiff of what we’re doing.”

Deceit nods – understandable. Her ritual magic, the remnants from Alec, remained strong, and she had already banished the Fates once. Doing so again wouldn’t be that much of a struggle, though these three were likely far more vindictive. There would be risk, but Deceit looks to Johanna… just as Hob arrives, and his smile splits wide at the sight of Deceit.

Between the three of them, the Fates wouldn’t invoke their justice – not again -, and Lucifer would remain a far distant threat.

……………………..

Aila was told the rules a thousand times at least – by multiple Endless, which to her was a bit surprising and overdone, but she also recognizes she wasn’t present right after all that occurred. She was, however, proof of how bad it was, so she understands. Deceit’s words don’t leave her – what her mother… what Lucifer did… They were protective of Dream – Johanna too, which in Aila’s opinion, Johanna was the scariest of the bunch.

And she appreciates this chance. She wants to… she needs to settle this side of herself, and while Dream of the past was a glimpse into the creature her father was, she wanted to know of the actual being she came from. She understood Deceit, the Corinthian, Calliope, the Endless… things from thousands of years ago were not the same as they were now. Dream as he was was not how he was now… and even the Dream then, even with all his faults, his pride, and a few other less than desirable attributes, was part of the reason she was now here – with the chance to save Orpheus.

She needed to see.

So, Aila does the near impossible; she waits patiently in the field’s of Fiddler’s Green. Per Deceit, meeting here and not in the Waking was needed, given the Fates magic – as well as Dream’s mind was more likely to take the change versus buck against it. And for this, she needed him as he was. Even just for a moment, a fleeting second... with the hope when he wakes, that this will fade as all dreams can.

Also, the Fates had no place here; if they found fault in these actions, then they wouldn’t be able to enter… not that they should – not with what Johanna painted around the house. The runes should shield this, and the Dreaming should shield her.

Aila, for all that it was worth, didn’t want Dream to suffer the Fates, but… this was likely her last moment. To face Lucifer… in that manner… Aila settles herself, even on the cusp of her own demise, she settles herself. She’s more antsy with meeting Dream she realizes then facing her mother… she’d laugh if it didn’t sound so broken.

“You okay?” the Corinthian whispers, coming to stand near where Aila sits under a tree. She has her wings folded casually behind her, and as the nightmare stares down, he sees his master in her… he wonders how they kept it a secret at all in this moment.

Aila pushes some of her hair behind her ear, nodding slowly. She was… she was a lot of things – okay wasn’t one of them truly, but she was… ready for this. She takes some pride in that.

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for staying.” She figures he would stay for Dream, but as she looks up at him, she can sense he’s here for her too. That loyalty – it was something she appreciated, and she reaches up briefly just to squeeze his hand in turn. He was… she was glad for him and glad that he had been pulled through with her that day. She wouldn’t change that.

Honestly, getting the chance to meet Orpheus? She wouldn’t change any of it – save, of course, Orpheus being kidnapped. She’d admit to that being less than ideal.

Quietly, Aila turns her attention back to the pond, her hand falling back to her side – and the nightmare steps away. He would linger, but this was… this was for her. He’d oversee it, but he wouldn’t involve himself, not unless needed… and they both feel it the moment Dream enters the Dreaming.

The realm fluctuates, warming slightly as though to welcome its master home, and the overall area brightens. It’s different Aila realizes as compared to the Dreaming of the past. This realm felt… different… more welcoming… and certainly had less rain. That she can appreciate.

However, even though Dream is here – he’s not here. Aila knew there was a possibility that he wouldn’t come here immediately. Death had warned her as much that many nights – more recently – he’s spend the entirety of his time in the fields, but sometimes… still… he’d go someplace else. Not that Death told her where… not that Aila needed to be told.

And it would seem that’s where he was this time. The nightmare shudders. He hates this part.

“Show me,” she says, pushing to her feet. She can see the nightmare hesitate, and she understands. It was one thing to be told… but she repeats herself adding, “Please Cori.”

It’s slow and reluctant but he nods, before leading Aila away from Fiddler’s Green to where Hell has carved out a piece of the Dreaming. It’s smaller than it was – near only a far corner now, and it did not allow any of Hell to bleed in here… but still, the sight of it gives the Corinthian pause. As always. It was a reminder – of his own part in all of this and the outcome they despise they played in.

The two of them go from the grasses outside to stones – the air immediately cooling, and the walls closing in as though they were always there. However, the nightmare stops here. He has half a mind to pull Dream out himself, but one look at Aila – and he lets her. She thanks him quietly before stepping past, ignoring the fact she’s following the screams… ones that echo and permeate into her being.

There’s a cell – an empty one… but what she sees inside the cell, Aila gags. She tries and fails to imagine. She doesn’t have that sick of an imagination, but the walls tell enough of a story that she can connect the dots.

She sadly can imagine her mother doing this… and the corrupted. It wasn’t just her mother that painted this cell but them as well. Aila recalls then that Deceit had warned her – sometimes the corrupted lingered here still – in the Dreaming, born from nightmares invoked by her… father, and as she turns a corner and comes upon a door, she finds another… Desire but not Desire. Their face is twisted, dark marks and smeared make up across their face. Their smile near bloody.

“Desire,” she tries, and the being shakes its head. She recalls this one’s name now - Desperation.

One of the corrupted, and it stares at her like she’s a five course meal. She imagines she may be – her wants and desires bleed to near desperation. She has to save Orpheus, she wants to know her self – and that meant confronting this side of herself. Her father… and her mother.

“She will kill you, you know that?” Desperation purrs, leaning back against the door. “You won’t get what you want.”

“I will,” Aila growls, stepping forward now. “If I save Orpheus, then I don’t care…”

“You don’t have the power little one,” Desperation says. “Not even with Daddy dearest’s gifts added on. She’s too desperate to win, and desperate are always willing to risk everything.” They tilt their head. “Are you?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she growls. She was facing this; to her, that was near everything.

Desperation clicks their tongue, pushing off the door. They saunter past her, brushing her shoulder as they do. “Truth or lie, little one… are you ready to face the truth of what you are and will be… for this, for them, for him?”

Aila turns back on Desperation – the words, the saying, she curls her lip prepared to lecture Deceit on such a trick, only to see an empty hallway. She’s alone again. She doesn’t… except she reminds herself then – the corrupted were born from Dread’s power. Dread who became Deceit… Dread, who also, showed people what they feared most to reveal an inner part of themselves, and when she turns back to the door – she finds a mirror.

A reflection – her reflection stares back. She says nothing as she regards it – in the mirror, she’s dressed elegantly, red dress with a high slight, hair slicked back, wings flared… and behind her, Hell… in a blink, she’s dressed more in black, wings folded as she sits on a balcony overlooking the Dreaming. And in the next – she’s dead. Lucifer standing over her – uncaring, unloving… and somehow that felt true. Her mother would grieve her, perhaps, but…

When Aila touches it, willing it to change again – the mirror rippling beneath her fingers – her reflection stares back at her, both of them and not the dead one, but her face – her eyes… there’s nothing there. No humanity, no recognition… her mind gone and warped… her very being… she stumbles back from the mirror – despising what it shows her.

That no matter how this ends – so would she.

Her power flares against the mirror, shattering it in an instant. She refuses… right now, that’s not her focus.

Pushing open the door, Aila takes a deep breath – half worried what she’d find here, half terrified to find a nightmare version of her mother, but while she steps into bed chambers, there’s no Lucifer in sight… her father, however, is here. She sees him curled up, sitting on the floor at the end of the bed, head tucked.

Aila doesn’t recognize this room, but not that she needs to – these are Lucifer’s bed chambers. She’s uncertain why he’s here, but she suspects her presence… the Dreaming reacted to her, even subconsciously, and brought Dream here in response. A piece of herself shudders at that – to think, she did this, even accidentally.

She refuses to let it stand for another moment. Dream – no matter which one – didn’t deserve this. It’s not purposeful but she does hope everything in the past, now that other reality, was changed enough so that this never happened. She was okay with not being born.

In a few strides, Aila reaches Dream’s side, and she watches as he tightens further into a ball, and she notes the rags… this being was nothing like the Dream of the past, and she goes to her knees in front of him, reaching out slowly to touch him. She doesn’t realize the mistake until her fingers brush his arm, and the Dreaming quakes. It almost sends her tumbling, though she adjusts well enough. She worries for everything else briefly, until she focuses back on this moment.

“Dream,” she says, and she hates how her voice sounds. “Morpheus,” she tries. He merely curls tighter. “You’re dreaming,” she says, “and I..." she trails off. She wants to talk to him, understand him - understand herself, but in this moment, all she truly wants to do is get him out of this room... out of this dream.

“Please go,” he says, and Aila’s breath catches. She cannot imagine the being she met ever asking or pleading with anything.

“I can’t,” she says. Not only is this her only chance, but she refuses to leave him here. She can't, not after even just seeing this for a moment - not after she recalls Deceit's words... the story of how she came to be. This may be her only chance to truly meet her father - unbinding be damned -, but she realizes right now, she doesn’t care. Even just briefly being in this room, she doesn’t want to stay – him especially. She just wants to get Dream out of here; if that was all she got, then so be it. At least, she wouldn’t be in this vile room any longer.

Without thinking, Aila reaches out again pulling Morpheus to his feet – trying to ignore how he strains against her. However, she pulls the Dreaming to her – recalling what the other Dream showed her – and with that, she takes them both to Fiddler’s Green. It shies from her until it recognizes she’s trying to pull Dream away, and then, it folds. And they’re far from that disgusting room.

However, Dream remains dressed as he was, and the sudden bright light startles him; nonetheless, the air – the warmth – it’s not Hell, and he finds some comfort in that. It does take him an extra moment to realize… he thought of himself as Dream and another to recognize who brought him here… he doesn’t recognize her. The wings, however, he tenses at the sight of those. Angel.

“I don’t…” Morpheus starts, looking around. “Who are…”

“My name is Aila,” she says, licking her lips nervously. “I’m... I'm...” She stumbles again. The words caught in her throat. There was no other way to state it, no other way around it. With them out of that room, she wants to seize her chance, though she hates how he recoils from her - the pain, the haunted gaze staring back. This was possibly a mistake... but it was too late. She was here. She needed to do this. She needed to speak to him - understand him as he once was then and as he was now. To understand herself. To unbind herself. To save Orpheus. She had to do this.

And Aila was here - physically and mentally -, she was ready, and though her heart hammers in her chest, she finds the words slowly becoming easier to say. She doesn't know if this will bring him peace or her, but she hopes it does. Not just for her sake but for his. She can't undo what her mother did, but she could be... herself. She doesn't know if this will bring either of them the closure they likely need, but... she takes her chance. She wasn't Lucifer. "I'm your daughter," she says, finding the strength then. She wasn't her mother. She keeps that on loop in her head.

Morpheus shakes his head… he has… he has… Orpheus. Son. Twins… but… the girl, he doesn’t recognize. She cannot be his child; children didn’t have wings, and he opens his mouth to stay as much when his head pounds against his skull. He had just been in… a bedroom - Lucifer’s. He groans as his mind struggles with his subconscious.

“I am Lucifer Morningstar’s offspring,” she continues, trying not to react to his own struggles. “And yours. Conceived when she…” Aila stumbles here before taking a breath. She had to do this. If she wanted to meet Dream of the Endless, then he needed to – at least here in this moment – recall himself. “It was not consensual. I am not her, but I needed to meet you.”

Morpheus licks his lips, nervously – hand falling away from his skull. “It was,” he whispers, and Aila tilts her head, not understanding. “I agreed… I submitted to all of it.” He recalls… he recalls… there’s a quiet chanting in his ear – far away but near enough that he can tell it’s Johanna whispering against his ear. Yet, she’s not here. He looks for her, but it’s only him and the girl… the girl… his daughter?

The chanting becomes louder, and he grits his teeth as he feels the Dreaming… the Dreaming? He recalls that word, and slowly, it’s not just that but a slow build of other things, other names, other beings that start to filter into his mind.

“I allowed her,” he continues, though they both know the word allow is used far too loosely here. Aila grimaces… she reminds herself why she’s here, however, and tries not to dwell on where she pulled her father from. She does not wish to go back there.

Instead, she pressed forward. “To save your family,” Aila says, surprising even herself. “That’s not consent.” It wasn’t. It was force.

“I would do so again,” he admits, quietly. “Who are you and what is it that you want?”

“I’m Aila,” she says, raising her chin. “And to meet you, Dream of the Endless. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t ask this of you.” And for a moment, she does consider walking away. She hadn’t seen much, but in these few moments, she had felt as though she had learned everything. “I need you to wake up.” She can feel the Dreaming, the other Endless, Deceit… the magic swirling around them both.

And with those words, the realm around them shifts – turning from a field to a cacophony of a galaxy that they stand in the cusp of. Aila stands in her outfit from Greece – the one she wore when Orpheus was married, and Morpheus… he stands in a coat that has stars woven in and when it shifts, flames lick the bottom.

Dream. He was Dream once again.

Quick Notes: I split the this chapter because it was a bit long and this was a good ending point. We’re going to finish up with Dream and Aila soon as they sort of have a much needed conversation… and then… well, I’m not spoiling it. This story will hopefully be coming to an end here soon – then I’ll focus more on Essence. I may or may not do a single one shot (one chapter) of Deceit in the other reality and how she settled in too. But otherwise, once this story is done, this series will be done. I may or may not add to the comic series. But otherwise, I will be marking this as complete soon

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Six: By the Sins of the Father

One moment, the world is quiet. The color, the noise – all of it muted. And then, the girl… her words… and as though he had never forgotten, it comes back. The world shifts into a different focus, and while everything remained muffled, Dream could see it differently.

Dream doesn’t… he recalls bits and pieces – he recalls the Fates, and their punishment. He recalls why he was punished, he recalls… things he does not wish to, and he takes a breath to settle his racing heart. However, he does not understand why he stands here – awake as he was. One human lifetime – it was not one he had fully suffered. He should not be awake, and he should not remember… Dream swallows roughly.

Standing in the Dreaming, conversely, he finds some comfort in, and the memories – the nightmares he faced – they feel far more fleeting, more distant. They felt real – there was no escaping that, but unlike times prior, where it would have sent him to his knees, he stays standing. The memories he recalls… he had faced them before. He just now knew they were real, but he had faced them more than once, he had escaped them every time, and Johanna… he settles with her name – Johanna had been there at his side.

Dream’s eyes finally open. He was awake, confused but awake. He recalls enough to know why he stands here, why he had been separated from his realm as he was.

What he doesn’t understand is the girl in front of him. Aila. He thinks back on her words – on her accusations, and while he wishes to toss them aside as nothing more than a fallacy, staring at her – at how the Dreaming ripples around him then her in such a similar manner… there was no other possibility. However, that did not make it a reality he was content to discover.

“You are my child,” he says – doesn’t ask, merely state. Aila opens her mouth twice before settling on just nodding.

For a moment, Dream considers, then as he turns – the Dreaming comes back into focus, the field returns, and then, he takes a seat against the tree, one arm resting on his knee while he otherwise sits stretched out. It takes a second but Aila joins.

“You are Lucifer’s…” he stumbles here but the name slips from his mouth easily enough, and he finds some comfort in that. All the same, he takes a settling breath. “You are Lucifer’s child as well?”

He didn’t need to ask it, but he felt the world settle with being able to ask it out loud. Next to him, Aila nods again, but she can’t otherwise find the words to speak. She didn’t… she hadn’t planned this out – not well enough. She wanted this chance – had since the start – but now, she has no idea what to say.

All she can do is sit next to him and stare out at the same fields he is in. At least compared to that room, this was – not peaceful – but not chaotic, demeaning, distressing. She shudders at the memory, pulling her knees tight against her chest, resting her chin on them.

“I would presume you wished to speak to me,” Dream says, after a moment. He can’t imagine risking the Fates ire for simply no reason. Johanna wouldn’t risk that, Hob neither – they… he takes a breath – before realizing how odd that was given he did not actually need to breath in this form, but after over two decades of performing the act, not breathing also seemed… wrong. “Did you… did you have something you wish to ask me?”

Aila digs her feet into the grass, impressed how her shoes are just gone as though they never were there. “I thought I had a thousand questions,” she whispers. Dream tilts his head in consideration but says nothing. “But now…” she trails off.

“Did you wish to know if you were… purposeful?” he asks, the words hot in his throat. The memories, the past - it starts to wrap around him, and the world darkens. He clenches a fist, trying to relax against the waves threatening to drown him. He was better; he recalls Johanna, his therapist, Hob… all of them… and he recalls these nightmares were the past. He was not there, he was not in Hell. He was not with her, but…

Honestly, he’s unsurprised by Aila’s presence… existence. He had a suspicion what Lucifer had wanted from him, even then. It was just… he expected a child from… that… from her – he scowls – to want his head, not have questions. However, Aila doesn’t even seem to want that – or at least know what she wants, given how discomforted she seems to be. He clenches a fist by his side, trying to settle the rock slowly dipping into his stomach.

“I know I was not,” Aila says, quietly. “I know quite a lot about that and how I came to be.” The world chills with her words, and she shivers. It wasn’t purposeful, but to say it out loud, everything shifts. Next to her, Dream’s eyes are clenched shut.

It was an accident, but the memory of just that is on the cusp of his mind. If she did not have questions, then was she here… did Lucifer send her… Johanna wouldn’t let… He keeps repeating the words – keeping himself settled here and not in Hell - in his head, trying to keep the world from accidentally changing, though beneath Aila’s hand she can feel stone and no longer grass. It’s not… she doesn’t like it, and she reaches over, gently grasping Dream’s wrist.

“You’re in the Dreaming,” she says, and she watches as he slowly relaxes. “You’re not in Hell, and Lucifer…” she refuses to say mother in this instant. “Lucifer did not send me.” He doesn’t calm completely, but the Dreaming returns to the fields, the quiet returns, and the laughter – laughter Aila didn’t even realize until this moment that she was hearing it – fades.

“Aila,” he says slowly, testing the word in his mouth, before continuing on, “what is it that you want?”

She opens her mouth, half expecting something to just spring forth. She had been waiting for this moment her entire life. Even meeting his variant in the past didn’t feel like this exact second, but now, that she was here Aila could do nothing but gape. She doesn’t honestly know what she wants… Lie. She curses herself for Deceit’s cool voice filtering in. She knows what she wants – as herself. But from Dream… she…

“I just wanted…” she starts, before licking her lips nervously. “I wanted to meet you.”

Dream stares at Aila – there’s no rage, or endless galaxies, or anything of any otherworldly sort. It’s a quiet look, one she cannot fully read herself, but while it doesn’t off balance her, it doesn’t bring her comfort either. Her hand slips from his arm, only for his own fingers to slip around her wrist. He can feel the Dreaming in her… even like this – half mortal, half what he once was. It moves around and through her – not able to fully respond to her as she was not its master, but it was not disconcerted with her either.

“I didn’t… Mother…” she starts again before finding her footing after a deep breath. “Lucifer,” she says, correcting herself, “didn’t tell me much about you. I just wanted to understand where I came from.”

With a quiet nod, Dream’s hand falls away, and he stares out over the Dreaming. On the horizon, dark clouds sit formed, the chill recedes, and the sun remains out. It wasn’t perfect, but it at least remained the Dreaming and not a nightmare. It wasn’t Hell.

The Endless ponders Aila’s words. It was difficult for him to think of an answer, given they were sitting the cusp of said response. Aila was his daughter, he was Dream and the Dreaming in turn. They were in the midst of what she asked. However, the girl in part was human. It was not a concept they easily grasped. What answer could he give – he suspects none would truly settle whatever the girl was looking for. In many ways, it would be best for him to leave; he… he stays.

Instead, Morpheus says, “There is not much I can provide you with. I am not even myself at the moment.” Even with whatever magic was weaved around him now, he could sense it was temporary. He suspects when he wakes this would fade as many dreams tended to, and this would become another odd fleeting moment for him to ponder over… a part of him feels… disconcerted at that, he realizes. Looking around the Dreaming – it’s odd but he recognizes now that he missed here… this place… his realm. However, he focuses back on Aila. The moment hangs for a moment, before he adds, “But I am likely whatever you have been told.” All the good, a lot of the bad. He sighs, dropping his head slightly. “I am not… I am many things. Some of them good, much of them…. Not. Endless, mortal, immortal, brother, husband, father…”

“Father,” Aila interrupts – not meaning to call him by that but more wanting him to… say more in regards to what he means there.

“Orpheus was my first child,” Dream says, and Aila’s breath catches. “I was… not kind to him.” He should have done better, he wishes he had, but now… now, he was better. He couldn’t undo what he had done, but he was trying to do better – even unconsciously. “Perhaps it was best you did not meet me until now.” The two share a quiet look, before he stares back out across the Dreaming. “Fate has not been kind to those around me.” Or himself. “Much of the blame lies at my feet.”

“That’s not true,” Aila says, without even thinking. After all, she was not his fault. “You didn’t ask for this.” For me.

“Perhaps,” Dream says.

“Orpheus loves you,” Aila says. She knew that without a doubt. “Your siblings…” she starts before trailing off – Desire of this time’s words were quite harsh but telling of their feelings for Dream. They worried she’d hurt him, and she can understand why. “Johanna from what I’ve been told too. Your nightmare…”

Dream stares at Aila then.

“The Corinthian,” she clarifies. “They all care about you.” She takes a moment before saying what was obvious, “You can’t be that bad, if they all care.” She wrings her hands, as she stares at Dream – she tries to place him and the past Morpheus side by side in her mind… she could see the similarities – she could now recognize the hurt that existed even then… but the Corinthian was right. A lot had changed; he had changed… It’s unbidden but she asks the question that has been on her mind since she started this journey, the one thing – the one thing she realizes she does desire to know. “Do you think had you known about me you could have loved me?” Aila asks, snapping Dream’s attention to her.

“Did Lucifer not…” he starts, and she shakes her head.

“She had me to torment you.” Which doesn’t surprise him the slightest. “I’m sure some part of feels something for me, but I think only for what I can bring her. Do for her.”

“Which is kill me,” he says – also unsurprised. His family had unseated her, thrown her from Hell – because of him. Like Aila, he pulls his knees up near his chest.

“Which I’m not doing,” she says. Even had she hated him, she wasn’t doing that. She truly was hoping, even now, that she could talk Lucifer down as well – settle this and save Orpheus without further bloodshed. Azazel was enough. She didn’t want to do more. “But I need to face her,” she says, and when Dream looks at her, she explains it briefly, “She has Orpheus. I traveled back in time, and she has him now.”

If Desire was here or Death, Dream’s certain they both would have words about his offspring – a child that could time travel and unravel reality? He wants… he doesn’t know what he wants but thinking of his siblings – the chill returns. He misses them, and just thinking of them now, it brings a tidal of things to the forefront of his mind. However, his focus is Orpheus. If Lucifer took his son, it was for only one purpose…

“She’ll honor her word,” he says, “if you take my life as she wants, she’ll let Orpheus go.” It’s said without hesitation, without pause. It wasn’t even his child – not truly, not anymore -, but it was Orpheus. He would not abandon his child again – neither of them. Aila… Aila was a mistake, but not at a fault of herself, and he wouldn’t hold her accountable for that. “She would also hold you in higher esteem for it.” Though the idea of spilling family blood… he says nothing more and turns back to stare out at the landscape.

Aila pauses. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting in this moment or from any of this, but somehow, she finds that there are no words. She had seen how Dream of the past had changed in the face of his son being in true danger – facing down Lucifer as he did. But this… Lucifer would never do this for her.

“You’re not like him,” Aila says, her voice quiet, a moment later. Internally, she had already know it, but she feels only right saying it out loud. “The Dream I met in the past…”

Dream’s quite aware of how he once was, and in some ways, he still was. Parts of him were unchanged, much of him was; it was just… things had shifted; his perspective had, and in turn, he didn’t guard himself in ways he once did.

Something Aila notes readily now. That Dream and this Dream… they were… this one was softer at the edges, and the way he glanced at her… there was no anger at her, rage – nothing. It was just sadness – though whether she was the source of it or not, she can’t be sure. But the Dream of the past was much more guarded, and while he did consistently also refuse to look at her, most of his feelings regarding her were based in irritation. Though, she was starting to see she couldn’t exactly blame that Dream either… she had seen this one’s nightmare.

“You love him…”

“I did then as well,” Dream says, truthfully. “I merely could not express it.” Not well, not easily. But after everything he had gone through and over the last two decades, he could say it now. “But I do.”

“You’ve changed,” she says.

“In some ways,” Dream says, with a nod. “In others…” In others, how he was and always had been just became more readily apparent. He had always loved his son – that was unchanged – but how he expressed it, came to understand it himself had… a lot truly had changed – even if he was still struggling to accept it himself.

Aila regards Dream for a moment, before sighing. She could admit to misjudging someone, but she was not looking forward to the Corinthian’s gloating when she did.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “for what my mother did to you.”

“I traded myself…”

“To save family,” Aila says, recalling the Corinthian’s words. She pushes her tongue against the roof of her mouth, as she realizes that she could see some of Dream in herself. She was going after Orpheus – to save him… and it could very well cost her herself. “You didn’t deserve… me.” She didn’t mean that as an insult, and she’s grateful to see he didn’t take it as one.

“You do not seem like your mother,” Dream says.

“I’m not her,” Aila says, with a quiet chuckle. That was something she had quite figured out. She could see parts of herself that came from her mother, but thankfully, most of the bad? That stayed with Lucifer.

“Even from our brief time, I can see that as well.” Dream relaxes finally, legs stretching out before himself. After a deep breath, he adds, “You didn’t deserve her either. Had I known…” He can’t be certain what he would have done, but Aila, like Orpheus, was his child. He suspects he would have struggled with it – as Lucifer would have craved and wanted… he hates the girl was forced to grow up with Lucifer, but he’s grateful the girl did not have to be raised in Hell.

“Thank you.”

It’s not much but Aila can see a brief glimpse… a different life had she been with Dream… and given what she had seen in the past, it wasn’t – perfect, but it was different. And it wasn’t Lucifer. Lucifer, who was still her mother – a terrible one but her mother all the same.

“I’m worried,” Aila admits. “I have to confront her. To save Orpheus.” She couldn’t kill Dream, and he was an Endless she barely truly knew… and Lucifer… well, she supposes she didn’t know her mother all that well either; however, she doesn’t know… she can’t… but…

And she couldn’t if she was bound… her eyes trail to Dream. She needs to but she hesitates. To ask would mean it was something she was considering… and she struggles to consider that. She can’t. Lucifer was… is her mother… but Orpheus… and Dream… she swallows harshly. All of this because she wanted to meet her father, and after meeting him… meeting Orpheus, Eurydice, Calliope, the rest of the Endless… Deceit…

She wouldn’t hurt them, which meant she may have not a choice but…

“You may have to kill her,” a new voice gently calls out, Aila flinching unconsciously – she had reached that conclusion ten times over but to hear it… Thankfully, the distraction ends her thought there before she has to voice it herself. Desperately but hopelessly, she wants another option.

Like Dream, she turns to look at the newcomer, watching the Corinthian step towards them. He inclines his head respectfully.

“You’ve been watching after her?” Dream asks, pushing to his feet.

“And you.” The nightmare quietly observes the Endless, and he cannot help the slight relieved sigh at the recognition once more in his master’s gaze as well as the lack of utter fright. “It is good to see you, my lord.”

Without hesitation, Dream is thankful – not only for his own unseen protection but for that of his kingdom and apparent child. However, he cannot help but wonder how much of his family had also been watching… and how they have been. He opens his mouth, the question on the tip of his tongue, when the nightmare answers it,

“They miss you.”

All of them.

“Desire especially. They wanted me to tell you they look forward to seeing you again.” It doesn’t need to be said that they all wanted to be here – they had weighed the risk and benefits… and sadly, to risk angering the Fates when the precipice of war was already tipping with Lucifer? There wasn’t truly any choice – something Destiny had reluctantly pointed out, then Death enforced. No one was happy, but at the very least, the nightmare could relay a message. That was something.

And now, the nightmare holds his breath – because until this moment, no one had had the chance to ask Dream again what his choice might be… when his punishment was over – would he stay or would he go…

Aila doesn’t entirely understand it, but Dream does – and he opens his mouth, intending to answer… when he vanishes in a blink.

“Oh,” Aila says. “What happened?”

“He woke up,” the nightmare says, however, far too slowly. That did not seem… natural, and a moment later, that’s proven to be what happened when Deceit appears.

“Lucifer sent demons to attack Johanna’s home,” she says, her own eyes betraying her fright. They hadn’t thought Lucifer would risk it – would dare… but Lucifer was also bound, like Aila – like Aila continued to be. It made sense, but Deceit curses herself for not seeing it coming. Lucifer would always go after power, and to do so, she needed Dream’s blood to unbind her too. “We need to go now.” They can’t wait; Lucifer wouldn’t.

The words are barely out of Deceit’s mouth when Aila pulls herself to the palace; she doesn’t even realize it until the other Endless startle that she used more of her father’s power than her own to do so. They shift and encircle her – not threateningly but more because of the anxiety she can sense. It bubbles around her, and the Dreaming… it quakes in turn.

Aila opens her mouth, uncertain of what to even say, when it’s Desire that steps forward, silencing her in an instant. She… she’s used to the other Desire, but this one – there isn’t any mirth in their gaze or amusement. No, it’s utterly cold and off balancing.

“Your mother…” they start, with a hiss, but Aila shakes her head. Which wasn’t accurate because it wasn’t as though Desire was lying. Her mother had done something and now Dream… as well as Orpheus and possibly Johanna… were in danger.

Deceit arrives a moment later, smartly dispersing whatever Desire was going to say next. They glare at the arrival of the youngest Endless, but Deceit merely smirks, content that she can still aggravate Desire in such a way, before turning to Aila. Right now, the girl was the focus – something Death also knew. Stepping around the rest, Death takes charge.

“Dream’s in trouble,” she says, confirming what Deceit had already stated.

“So, go after him,” Aila says. “Lucifer broke your truce, did she not?” Was that not what stayed the Endless’ hands originally? They did not wish to be the ones to draw first blood again, to tear apart whatever agreement they had? If her mother had already done so, she didn’t understand why they remained here and not at Dream’s side. After all, if they handled this… then perhaps, she wouldn’t have to. She wouldn’t need to face this – her.

Death glances mostly to Desire now. Of all the Endless, she worries about them the most. They’d likely be the one to go to Dream. It was their deal, their boon that had kept Lucifer away until now… away from him and their family. Something Lucifer had obviously found a way around – an outcome they had expected… just eventually. Not today. Not now.

Desire brims with rage, their concern palpable. They were desperate (they despise that word) to go to Dream. It was only because of Destiny’s power that stayed their own. They curse themselves for not wording their boon better – leave Dream and their family alone. When did they consider Orpheus family..? Now, they did but then… and Dream… Not Morpheus. They hadn’t accounted for every name, every variation – a loophole Lucifer obviously now exploited. They hate it, and they need to fix it.

Delirium and Destruction were of a similar mindset as well. After what their corrupted selves did… while they were better, while they had healed, the scars remained, and even now, they both searched for ways to undo what they’d have done. What the others, what the corrupted had done – even Death still struggles to sometimes separate Demise from herself, from her thoughts.

Some things could not be forgotten. Death does hope that Lucifer had not forgotten her own threat to the former angel… she swore that if Lucifer touched Dream again – she wouldn’t care what the cost was, but Lucifer wasn’t surviving this fight. Not again.

Though apparently Lucifer had not forgotten their slight in ostracizing her from Hell, nor did Lucifer apparently forget their deal with the Fates – which was the cusp of the problem.

“We can’t go to him,” Deceit says, stepping forward, closer to Aila’s back but not overwhelming in any way.

The Endless merely feels like a supportive force here, helping keep Desire from stepping forward, and one Aila welcomes, though once the Corinthian appears, she cannot help but shift towards him all the same. None of the Endless stop her, which she’s grateful for. The nightmare quietly welcomes her at his side, and the Endless remain where they are.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Aila asks. “He’s in trouble and…”

“And we can’t,” Deceit says again, before the others can. “The truce with Lucifer and Hell is shredded, but…”

“The Fates,” the nightmare says, suddenly realizing the issue then. “Your deal with the Fates is intact.”

The Endless hadn’t forgotten – they couldn’t. One hundred years – one human lifetime. That was the deal. Dream would live that life and should he choose to return, he could. But until that day, the Endless could not intercede, interfere with his life… even if he was in danger, and right now, knowing that it was possibly Lucifer that held him again, Desire was a moment away from throwing that risk away.

After everything, they’d rather challenge the Fates themselves than leave Dream for even a moment longer with Lucifer. But… there was still a risk to Dream in that – the Kindly Ones could still enact their justice, and Desire… Desire didn’t want to take that chance, even as they wanted to all the same.

So, they wait with the rest of the Endless.

“Only you can do this,” Death says then.

“I…” Aila starts before stumbling. She was still bound; Lucifer was still her mother. Facing her was always the plan of course but being faced with it suddenly? Aila’s stomach twists tightly and she swallows the bile suddenly building in her throat. “I can’t…”

“You can,” Deceit says, stepping forward but Aila shakes her head, moving back in turn. However, the Corinthian stops her – a single touch to her arm, and the Nephilim freezes.

Quietly, the nightmare tilts her head up with a single finger. He keeps her eyes on him, even as the Endless shift uncomfortably nearby. He could sense the Dreaming – the anxiety, the brittle nature rippling through it. Whatever Lucifer was doing… the nightmare grits his teeth against it, focusing more on Aila now. This was a lot to ask, and even if this was the plan, he can understand her feelings now.

To face one’s creator… it wasn’t entirely the same as a birth parent, but it was near enough… although, the nightmare doesn’t know even in this if he was the best for it – after all, he had been rather willing in his first iteration to try and tear Dream apart as well. Or maybe that made him perfect for this.

“Aila,” the nightmare says. “You can, but you don’t have to.” He wants her to know that. If she chose not to, he wouldn’t hold it against her. This wouldn’t be her fault, and she swallows roughly at what is unsaid.

“Nightmare,” Desire hisses, but he ignores them.

“She’s your mother,” he continues. “This shouldn’t fall on you.”

“But it does,” Aila says quietly.

“But it does,” he echoes back.

“If I don’t?” Aila near whispers. But she already knows the answer. She existed because of that answer. Orpheus would suffer because of that answer. As such, she already has her own answer.

“Little bird,” the nightmare starts, but Aila’s eyes – he sees it then. It’s that faraway look, one of acceptance and just utter despair. Nearby, the said Endless frowns, but she doesn’t know what to do for the girl.

Instead, the Endless can only watch as Aila’s wings unfold, the realm shifting around her in turn. A thunderstorm takes them all by surprise – the rain pouring down with such ferocity that it rushes through every small crack. At first, the nightmare thinks it’s because of Dream but staring at Aila, he realizes that no, it’s her. Her pain was now feeding the realm – pain that existed because she would face her mother… and although it takes the nightmare a second, he does realize that facing Lucifer… Aila likely wasn’t going to come back from that. Something she must also realize given the sad smile she gives him and the quiet thanks she murmurs in turn.

The nightmare had done a lot for Aila – had stayed by her side, had helped her even when he didn’t have to. She wouldn’t forget that. He was her friend, and she can’t help how her hand comes up to gently touch the creation’s face… and in that moment, she can see and understand her father a bit more. After all, he had created the Corinthian… and the nightmare truly was… everything. She’d miss him.

“Good-bye Cori,” she whispers, as her hand falls away.

It was too final – too certain. The Corinthian’s eyes widen at that, and he suddenly wants to tell her to stay, to not place this burden on her, that they’ll find another way. He doesn’t want to choose between the two, of course, but he doesn’t want to lose her either. Aila takes one step back, and he can do nothing besides watch as Aila is there one moment in front of him and gone the next. He swipes at air, hoping to try and get his fingers on her, ground her here for a moment longer but nothing.

Not that it matters, the nightmare decides. He’d merely go after her. Perhaps, there wasn’t much he could do for her, but he would be there… and if Lucifer… if Dream… no matter how it ended, he’d be there, even if it meant that was the end of himself as well. However, when he turns - pulling at the fabric of the realm, intending to slip back into the Waking as he has done a thousand times, he finds… he cannot.

He tries again and again with no change, and he turns back to the Endless then. His widened gaze, even masked by sunglasses, saying enough. He was trapped here – not by choice -, but it wasn’t the Endless stopping him. There’s no amusement in any of the Endless’ gazes at this. They understand it immediately.

Aila had gone to face Lucifer as she said she would… and she had done so alone – grounding the Corinthian with the use of her father’s power. It’s not fair, but the nightmare cannot help the trembling rage at the thought. She had no right to do that. He would have been by her side; he would have helped her and his master… he would have…

“You would have been destroyed,” Destruction states, “if you had gone with her.”

“She didn’t…” the nightmare starts, only to realize he doesn’t have anything he can say to that – he doesn’t even need Deceit’s input, whom he happily levels a glare at. He knows that it’s true. Had he gone with Aila, he wouldn’t have come back. However, he cannot help but look to Deceit now. “Will she come back?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” she says. That wasn’t within her realm or purview. Perhaps, more of Destiny, but he says nothing, merely staring off into the distance.

Death, all the while, shifts uncomfortably because she can sense far too much. The world – the threads of their lives were wrapped around each of them – taut with possibility. She could not yet sense Dream, which brought her some hope, but… she could feel the flickering of others.

“Are we really going to sit here and do nothing?” Desire hisses, but Despair merely turns into them. None of them want that, of course, but unless they were willing to invoke the Fates, then… Desire curls their lip back and pushes their nose into Despair’s hair. They say nothing, but Despair can feel them teetering into her realm at the possibility of what Lucifer… of what my happen to their brother… again. “We cannot,” they whisper.

“We must,” Destiny states. There was no other choice.

All they could do was sit and hope that Aila… hope that Aila would confront and stop Lucifer likely at the cost of her own life and sanity.

Quick Notes: Finally, Aila and Lucifer talk next chapter, and we see Dream as Morpheus again

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Seven: What’s the Purpose of All of This?

One moment, Aila was in the Dreaming, and the next, she found herself standing on a sidewalk within the mortal realm. It was far too easy – much easier to slip here with the help of the Dreaming. She hadn’t used even a small piece of her own power to do this – just her father’s… and it was like the Dreaming had known she had needed to be here – perhaps, it did. The Dreaming was an extension of her father… it must know her father and Orpheus were in danger.

And somehow – she recognizes that the Dreaming was protective of them both. She could sense it, like a whisper against her skin, and it, in turn, must know that she had the power to do something, to help them. Or so she hopes. She wants to help, but…

Now standing here, outside this small quaint home, Aila finds herself seizing. Just beyond the door, she can feel it. Not the Dreaming… no, that felt far away now but Hell. She could sense her mother’s oppressive presence, and the despair and discomfort settle heavy in her gut in turn. It was just like when she was home every day up until the day, she walked out to start this journey. Except in this moment, it’s not just her own feelings she can sense but whoever else is in this house.

It would be easy to step back inside to face this; it would only take a few steps. However, she can’t. She knows she needs to – she swore to the other Endless she would. Only she could do this. Orpheus could be in there – Dream certainly was. However, she was still bound… which in some ways made things better. If she was bound, she couldn’t beat her mother – she could barely do anything. Perhaps, she could talk Lucifer down – convince her mother to walk away from this.

Convince her mother that maybe she was enough.

Aila wants to laugh brokenly. She doesn’t need Deceit here to tell her that she’s lying to herself. There was only one way this was going to end, and with that, Aila walks up to the door, pushing it open with ease.

Inside, the smell of ash and sulfur hits Aila first followed by the pain of magic slamming into her gut. Protective wards – powerful ones – but not powerful enough it would seem… not against Lucifer, and though it hurts, Aila pushes through, stepping fully into the house. She doesn’t entirely know the layout, but she just seems to know where to go. She passes by a bedroom on the first floor, then a bathroom, before she finds the kitchen and adjacent living area, one that lets out into the garden…

A woman – older but no less beautiful – lays crumbled in a heap in the kitchen. From here, Aila can see she’s breathing, but Aila makes her way over all the same. There’s blood on the woman’s head – a deep gauge the source. It could be worse, and though Aila needs to save her energy, she bends down all the same, slipping her power against the woman. There’s something…

Something’s broken in the woman. It feels off – like a void. Pieces exist, but the well was still mostly empty. Without even considering what that might mean, Aila pushes against it, hoping to fix whatever leak there was and in turn rouse the woman, at least enough to get her out of the house. If Aila had to guess – this must be Johanna Constantine… a once mage – though from what Deceit said, the woman still maintained some magic… though little of what once made her the most powerful mage of their generation. The cost… the cost to beat the corrupted.

And now… the woman groans, though she doesn’t fully come to. Aila tries again, but there’s nothing… and she can’t risk any more energy, not with what’s coming. At the very least, Johanna seems stable, so Aila stands. She can’t linger; instead, she steps around Johanna and heads out the open door into the garden. The sky is dark, but the air is dry. A storm was on the cusp of bearing down on them, but it had yet to decide either way. They were on the knife’s edge, and standing in the garden, staring up at said sky, was Lucifer.

Lucifer as she was – wings… not feathered ones like Aila’s but large black bat-like wings – stretched out lazily, as she stands in the garden, dressed in a dark suit with a white blouse. Her blonde hair hanging loose over her shoulders, with her back to Aila. From this angle, Aila can see the family resemblance, and she grits her teeth.

Over two decades… two decades… and this felt the first time Aila had ever seen Lucifer. All other times had been so brief or without wings or smell… even the presence of the dammed – while familiar – was far more overwhelming out here. This was not just her mother but Lucifer Morningstar – one fully unbound and healed from the damage of the Endless, from Johanna, from Dread. It was Lucifer as she was at the height of her power.

However, that doesn’t completely stop Aila. She can’t help it, as she comes down the two small steps, the grass moist beneath her sandals… sandals she has because of the other time period, and it’s then Aila sees Dream… curled up by Lucifer’s feet. He appears intact but unconscious from here – whether from injury or magic, she can’t be certain. However, she does note that Orpheus is nowhere in sight.

“Quite the journey you’ve been on,” Lucifer says, and just hearing her mother’s voice after the last few weeks, Aila’s own breath catches. It’s not purposeful; she wasn’t… she was afraid. She didn’t feel ready for this, especially as Lucifer finally turns, and her mother’s cold gaze lands fully on her… but only briefly. It lasts just for a moment before Lucifer’s staring down at Dream… Morpheus… who remains blissfully unaware of what’s ongoing.

Aila doesn’t see blood, but that doesn’t mean much. However, she can finally confirm his chest is moving – he is breathing. He is alive, something Death likely is at least aware of, and it isn’t until Lucifer bends down, her fingers outstretched towards Morpheus that Aila finally finds her voice –

“Don’t touch him.” It comes out far more like a hiss, a threat, which must impress Lucifer given how she stops – though she’s far from concerned. No, she’s merely amused by Aila; her smile far too telling. However, she does stop and glance back up at Aila.

“I didn’t think you cared,” Lucifer says. “He doesn’t.”

Somehow, the words cut deeper – cut truer. Aila realizes why. Lucifer was aware of what happened in the past, perhaps, not all of it but enough. Her mother knew the Dream of the past and her hadn’t… they hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, and even now, she didn’t know where they stood. She didn’t know what she meant to either Dream or either groups of Endless. Which honestly?

“Where’s Orpheus?” Aila growls, stepping forward. That’s what she truly wants to talk about, but she does also very much want Lucifer away from Dream. She doesn’t care what he thinks of her; she cares. That’s enough.

And Lucifer… she shouldn’t be allowed to touch him. Never again. You would need to be a demon to think otherwise, and Aila… for all that she was… she was not a demon, she was not a monster, she was not… this thing that was her mother… she was human and she was herself. And she was getting Orpheus back.

These thoughts remain internal, but Lucifer grins all the same. The former angel is far too amused with her child. Lucifer eyes the Nephilim, her gaze raking over every inch and then, she stares back down at Lucifer, lips pursed. She despises how much of the Endless she can see in the girl… and feel. The girl shouldn’t have become attached to the boy… it created a mess of things, but it also provided opportunity.

All the while, all Aila can do is watch as Lucifer takes a knee and carts her fingers through Morpheus’s hair.

“Yes, the pup,” Lucifer says, with a tsk. She hums as she shifts Dream with every small touch, tilting his face, running her thumb along his lower lip. “That’s what you ask, what you say to me after all this.”

“Should I say something else?” Aila growls, wanting to demand Lucifer stop again, but she sees it now. Lucifer is doing this because it bothers her, but how can it not? Aila had confirmation of where she came from – how she came to be, and seeing her mother torment the man that was her father… even if he was unaware of it… her own stomach twists and threatens her.

“I taught you better manners,” Lucifer says, fingers finally tightening against Morpheus’s scalp and practically bearing his throat. “Let’s start with hello mother.”

“Mazikeen taught me manners,” Aila counters. “And you don’t deserve that title.”

Not after what she did – not with how Aila came to be. No matter what she felt or didn’t feel about Dream – this one or that one – he didn’t deserve that. Nor did she. Just it sadly didn’t change anything, and when Lucifer tsks at her response, Aila isn’t sure what to expect next – however, whatever it was, it wasn’t the knife that Lucifer pulls out to press against Dream’s throat.

Aila shifts, but she smartly clicks her jaw shut. There was no possible way she could cross the distance in the time to stop Lucifer, and Aila had no idea if she could heal Dream given what he was and wasn’t. Human but not truly, Endless but not fully. She can’t risk it. She won’t.

With a soft smile – one Aila had never seen in all of her childhood -, Lucifer loosens her grip on the knife but doesn’t completely remove it. Obviously, Lucifer wanted some degree of obedience – which had Deceit been here or Johanna was awake, both of them would have quite a lot to say about that hypocrisy. Sadly, one was banned and the other was unconscious… meaning it was just Aila, and all she can do is stare at the knife’s edge – with how close to Morpheus’s throat it still sat.

“I suppose then,” Lucifer says, “that Mazikeen did teach you well.”

“No,” Aila says, aware this isn’t the time to be disagreeing, but she can’t help it. “This lesson is you.” Mazikeen may have helped beat it into her as well, Lucifer had made it clear that when she wanted Aila to listen, Aila had best listen. Right now… Aila takes a knee, mimicking how Lucifer sits – though without the unconscious Endless.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, until finally Lucifer releases Morpheus’s head. He remains unconscious, even as his head slams back down into the dirt. It wasn’t ideal but better than a slit throat, Aila supposes.

“Do you know why I had you?” Lucifer asks, finally breaking the silence.

To torment Dream, to torture her, to break the Endless, to kill whomever Lucifer ordered? Plenty of answers – though Aila says none of them. Instead, she stares – jaw clenched, silent and waiting as expected. Lucifer had asked but hadn’t truly expected nor wanted Aila to speak.

The empty air brings a smile to Lucifer’s face – far too forced and nothing about it loving, but the former angel would take the compliance. It was something.

“I had hoped I could use you to kill Dream eventually,” Lucifer continues. Though, honestly that had been more of a possible outcome. The Endless was far too delicious in his submission, but a back up plan was never wrong. Aila would have either helped to kill her father or been another way to break him when Lucifer took the girl’s life in front of him. “Only for then…”

“Deceit,” Aila murmurs, and Lucifer growls. Deceit was not Johanna, but she was a combination of the three humans that helped to oust the former angel. She was the perfect target for the devil’s rage.

“The Endless,” Lucifer says instead, content to lay blame at all of their feet. If not for them, Lucifer would still be in Hell, likely with Dream at her feet – perfectly obedient. “And then, we were out of Hell.”

We. Lucifer, Mazikeen, Aila – though not a known entity yet, at least not to anyone besides Lucifer.

“You want me to kill the Endless?” Aila says. “Including my Father?”

“Is he anymore of a father to you than I’m a mother?” Lucifer asks. “Neither of us raised you. Not truly.” Something Aila is more than aware of. “He doesn’t even love you.”

“He didn’t ask for me,” Aila counters, without hesitation. Except to this, Lucifer truly does smile.

“But he did,” she says. “He agreed…”

“Agreed to hand himself over for his family, not for this, that!” Aila snarls, her wings unfurling and flaring, and Lucifer watches the protective display with amusement. For a child born to the devil and practically raised by a demon, Lucifer is not entirely sure where some of these behaviors come from… though given her father’s own suicidal tendencies – perhaps that was where.

Finally, Lucifer stands up and away from Morpheus, uncaring as her boot catches him in the side as she steps towards Aila – something the young Nephilim allows. If Lucifer was near her, then the former angel was at least not near Dream… and Aila needed to still find Orpheus. Which given Lucifer’s knowledge of the past would be difficult. She’d know Aila’s attachment to the boy, and Aila suspects rightfully her mother was about to use it against her.

“I wanted you,” Lucifer says, reaching up to cup Aila’s face. “The reason changed, but I did want you.”

Of course, to that, Aila can only scoff. After all, if she was so wanted, then why treat her that way – ignore her, not lover her… why not care? Aila felt nothing with Lucifer. In this moment, Aila realizes just how little she felt in response to Lucifer’s touch… Lucifer’s… how often did Aila refer to Lucifer as Lucifer and not mother? More and more, Aila realizes that word – mother – fell farther and farther away. Lucifer was Lucifer; she was not a mother, and Aila settles herself with that thought. She steels her face, meeting Lucifer’s gaze without flinching.

“But you don’t love me,” Aila says.

“No,” Lucifer says, after barely considering it. “No, I do not.” Aila’s heart would break, but somehow… the admission? It brought her comfort. After all, how could a loving mother do any of what was done to Aila. At the very least, Aila meant nothing to Lucifer, which made this easier for Aila to stomach… or should – except… Aila swallows. Lucifer didn’t love her, but she… Aila… Aila was still raised by her.

“Then why do you want me?” Aila asks. “To kill the Endless?”

To that, Lucifer smiles, tilting Aila’s face up more. “I would enjoy that greatly.” It would be an ideal consolation prize, but it was not the main goal… not now… especially not after seeing what Aila could do – even bound. How perfect – it may not have come together exactly right. But it was near enough that Lucifer accepts the small bumps along the way.

After all, it didn’t matter how they got here – only that they were here.

Aila doesn’t understand it – stating as much, “Nephilim are fated to kill their sires.”

To which, Lucifer nods. Nephilims were feral beings. They were fate bound the day they were born – fated to kill their sires… but after being ousted from Hell, after losing everything because of the Endless… but not just the Endless… because Destiny had seen fit to change things… but not even Destiny truly had the power.

No, Lucifer had lost everything because of the Endless – yes -, but there was another group just as equally at fault… and once Lucifer had heard Aila had done the impossible – had jumped time without the aid of Time or significant magic… Lucifer could finally destroy those truly at fault for her fall. And not just this fall but the one before – the one that cost her everything.

Cost her the silver city.

Fate.

It was all Fate’s fault.

And now with a Nephilim bound by fate, touched by fate, and had changed fate? Well, now, Lucifer is certain Aila can also kill fate… which is exactly what she wants now.

Quick Notes: Full circle back to the Fates

Chapter Text

Chapter Forty-Eight: How does Fate Lie?

The Fates could be killed – they could. It just had never been done, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t. Everyone – while no one had truly tried – everyone was certain it could happen, with the right set of circumstances. Very rare circumstance, yes, but nonetheless.

And Nephilims? Creatures born to fate, yet had the capacity for free will? They were the perfect tool and weapon against the Kindly Ones. Lucifer just hadn’t been certain if the girl would have been useful until she had seen the girl’s power herself, felt it’s touch – which until Aila had jumped into time? Lucifer had thought the girl was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Now? Now, Lucifer had plans… and she had leverage.

The former angel hadn’t intended to use Dream, merely slit his throat and be done with it. After years of dealing with his offspring, she had little interest in further games with him – especially when he was without his memory. It just didn’t carry… the same thrill… not when she knew even though she had lost, she had won. And the boy – she had him; which from what Beelzebub described, Aila would go to the ends of the mortal realm for him.

However, after seeing Aila’s staunch reaction to Dream – her father-, it did seem both were options. An interesting proposal, the former angel considers. After all, while killing Dream quickly had some finality to it, some enjoyment, keeping him and using him against his daughter – that would be… quite fulfilling as well, especially as it would further torment the rest of the Endless… especially as it would drive Desire – the only other Endless that Lucifer wishes to kill personally.

Wings – newly formed and still aching from their revival – stretch languidly behind Lucifer, even as she bends back down, intent evident – target obvious. Aila curls her lip, but the distance between her and Lucifer… she couldn’t cross that in time – not without risking Dream…

“You wish to protect Dream, save Orpheus,” Lucifer says, “then you shall do as I say, dear daughter.” Her fingers tangle into Morpheus’s shirt, what remains of it at least, as she pulls him up and against her own form. His head hangs limp; at the very least – what little small mercies it was – he remained unconscious… but Aila reminds herself – in this time, he was human. Such an injury could be traumatic, and as Lucifer takes a step back, Aila realizes that if Lucifer leaves with Dream now… it would come down to one or the other – Orpheus or Morpheus. And as terrible as it was, Aila knew she shouldn’t be able to choose, but she could.

Orpheus… he didn’t deserve any of this.

But Dream did not deserve Lucifer.

Honestly, in this moment, Aila didn’t want to consider such a choice; instead, she just wants her mother to gain nothing.

Something Johanna must agree with as the other woman stumbles out of the house, dazed and obviously not completely herself, but enough that she can mutter a spell. The world flashes bright, and the next second Lucifer’s thrown clear back, while Morpheus drops back to the ground. He groans when he contacts, and there’s some shifting to suggest he may be closer to waking than he should in this moment, but when Aila goes to help, Lucifer’s already recovered.

“Johanna Constantine,” Lucifer states, an ease to her movements that settles heavy in both their guts. “How good to see you as yourself again.” With magic goes unsaid. Johanna had recovered some of her abilities, but that… what she had just done to Lucifer… shouldn’t have been possible. “Pray, when did your magic return?”

Johanna refuses to answer. Not only because it’s Lucifer and the former angel was threatening her family but also because the magician did not know. All she knew was when she woke, she could feel it. The strands weren’t as strong or as bright as they were before Dread, but they were prevalent enough for this… her magic was always based in protection, and right now with Dream… Morpheus… her husband crumbled far too close to the former angel – well, her magic flares in indignation.

“So, you’re her?” Johanna says, instead. Her gaze never leaves Lucifer, but Aila recognizes that she’s the one being spoken to.

“I am,” is all Aila can offer.

“Are you attached to Lucifer?” Johanna asks then, glancing once over at the Nephilim, and when Aila shakes her head – she was and she wasn’t… right now, she was not – that she felt certain of. When she shakes her head, Johanna gives her a tight smirk, then the grass comes alive, turning to an ashy red, the magic pulsing through it – trying to force Lucifer farther back and out of the garden.

Except while Johanna’s magic had returned in part, it was still no match for the once jewel of the silver city, and although Lucifer takes a step back, she merely steadies herself and curls her lip.

“With your memory back,” Lucifer says, “I think I will slowly take Dream apart before I let him depart from this world.” After all, Lucifer blamed Johanna as well for her loss – for everything. The former angel would take everything back – unless… she looks to Aila again. “I will leave poor, sweet Morpheus alone if you do as I ask. I will return the young Orpheus as well.”

Before Johanna can interrupt, Aila steps forward, her own wings flared out. Johanna would be mildly impressed if she wasn’t so alarmed (for her husband) in this moment. Morpheus is waking – slowly – but he is, and from here, Johanna can see how he’s starting to shift and get his hands under himself. She wants to see his eyes – know he’s okay, but at the same time, she hopes he stays unaware long enough for Lucifer to leave. Over two decades, and he was doing better – so much better… all of it…

Johanna realizes in that moment – she remembers everything. She had recalled enough with Deceit, but now… it was all there… even the part Dread had attempted to remove, and she swallows her gasp.

Aila can pay Johanna no mind – no, she knows better. She needs to keep her attention solely on Lucifer. She can’t risk looking away; instead, she takes a step further towards Morpheus and the once angel.

“You won’t survive this,” Lucifer says. “No matter how this ends, you will not little bird.”

“Don’t call me that.” Only Cori called her that.

“It’s why I kept myself from you,” Lucifer continues. “You will die.”

Aila grits her teeth but says nothing. She already felt as though she knew that. There was no other outcome that she could see for herself. Her entire life… all of it was a single thread, weighed down by the fate of what she was – cursed. Either she died by her own mind, she died killing someone she loved, she died fighting, or she took her own life refusing to play any of these games. She knew that.

“But you can save Orpheus before you do. Even Morpheus, if you would like.” Lucifer appears far too smug.

“What would you have me do?” Aila asks, quiet.

“Destroy the Fates,” Lucifer says, as though it was merely that easy, and Aila shudders. Although… she thinks back on Eurydice, on the Fates, on how the three stood there watching – waiting for Eurydice to die again just to satisfy the fact they felt owed in that they had already cut her thread. Aila had no love for the Fates, but to hear it asked of her.

“Glad to know you’re still insane,” Johanna says, pulling at her magic again.

“Try Johanna. Go ahead,” Lucifer says. “But I will kill Morpheus the next time you do.” It silences Johanna – just as she weighs her own options, while Lucifer turns her attention back to Aila. “Destroy the Fates, little one. They have ruined my life, yours, your father’s… and when it is done, on my word, I will release Orpheus and no further harm will come to Morpheus.”

“To Dream,” Aila says, purposefully correcting her mother – understanding now the loopholes of things. She refuses to thank Desire on this, but she only had to learn this lesson once to put it into practice.

“Do this, and I will leave Dream of the Endless, and the rest of the Endless family to their business, as well as Morpheus’s family,” Lucifer clarifies, partially impressed that her own offspring had caught the wording so quickly.

“Or you could just go away,” another voice growls, stepping out into the grass. A young man, in his late teens – dark eye and blue eyes as well as a similarly aged girl but lighter hair though the same eyes – stand together.

Before Lucifer can even form a reply, the boy is the one to whisper the spell into existence – a powerful banishment spell; Lucifer could fight it. She senses the magic, and it burns against her skin. She goes to step forward, only for Johanna to start to whisper the spell under her breath in turn. Between the two of them, even Aila can taste the electricity in the air.

One moment Lucifer stands in the garden, and the next – a region of char where she once stood. The power in the air crackles, mostly from the boy but the girl – Aila can sense the magic there too.

“Ori,” Johanna says, “Andy.”

Both teens nod, running over briefly to Johanna. “As you said mom,” Ori says. “Don’t hesitate, just cast.”

A lesson Johanna was thankful had stuck in both of her twins now. Lucifer had not… obviously had not done her research else the once angel would have known about the two, as well as Johanna was no longer the most powerful mage of her generation… then or now… but her son – Orion.

Andy – Andromeda – slips under Johanna’s arm a moment later though, running to Morpheus, going to her knees as her hands skim over her father’s form. Her healing magic has always been more than Ori’s, but healing was never their forte. It wasn’t in their bloodline, but as she starts – working to mend the damage Lucifer had wrought… Andy is rather certain that was Lucifer – her mother had been clear in her lessons on that.

A moment later, Andy realizes another set of hands join hers, and she looks up to see a girl… features similar to her and her brother’s but not… wings… as well, but right now, as much as Andy would prefer to be finicky, the other woman’s helping.

“Is he…” Johanna asks, one arm wrapped protectively around Ori. It had been a risk to teach them magic, but when they both showed promise, and enough of her memory had returned for her to know what could be at stake, there hadn’t been much other choice. And today, that had paid off, but it also made them an enemy of Lucifer… not that they weren’t already. By family, by blood, by power – any of those, she would be.

“He’s ok,” Andy says, her hands falling away. “He’s okay mom,” she says again, when Johanna doesn’t entirely seem to believe it.

Except… Morpheus finally has his knees up under himself with his head still pressed into the dirt, and though they each expect some confusion from the last few minutes, they don’t… Aila sees it first – the rapid breaths, the tremors… then she hears it, just as Andy does –

“Not in Hell, not in Hell.” Morpheus is repeating it over and over, and Andy glances up at her mother, the terror evident. Andy doesn’t… her father’s memories were a point of contention in the family. Even the kids had been told a bit – not all – of everything, and that their father did not remember much of the time before – for his sake, for his safety… but she hadn’t meant… she couldn’t heal and bring those memories back. It wasn’t… she couldn’t undo something like that.

However, Aila isn’t focused on that – no, instead, she’s focused on the fact they aren’t safe here. Dream wasn’t safe here… Lucifer had likely retreated to Hell, and while Aila could follow – suspects that may be the point -, she doesn’t. Instead, she looks to the other woman.

“Can you put him back to sleep?” Aila asks. She didn’t have that sort of magic.

“Excuse me,” Andy says.

“Can you put him back to sleep?” Aila repeats, though with no malice. Instead, she merely points to the girl’s father and his current less than put together state. However, no one answers her – unsurprising.

Such magic was of Dream’s realm, and Dream was not… Aila tries to pull at the Dreaming, what she can sense, but while she can feel it, there’s nothing. It doesn’t capitulate to her in that manner. She wasn’t Dream, only a product of, but it doesn’t fight her either. Just twists around her, calming… as though trying to remind her to remain so herself.

Except this was all a mess… Dream was not… he was…

He wasn’t safe here, and right now, in this state, Aila figures what he needs is family.

“You need to take him to the Dreaming,” she says, thinking back on his dream-self – that while he was not… okay… he was better. He would be better there – far away from Lucifer, far outside her reach. Not even her mother would dare to invade the Dreaming – not with all the Endless there.

“The Fates…” Johanna starts but trails off at the sight of Morpheus taking deep breaths. He had yet to acknowledge them or speak. His mind… she suspects he was trapped in a memory giving how he refuses to look at her, given how he trembles with every touch. This went beyond her… they needed the rest of the Endless… and Hob.

“I’ll handle the Fates,” Aila says, confidently enough. “But right now, he isn’t safe here.”

Quick Notes: Morpheus gets to reunite with his siblings. The Fates and their fallout of all of this, and Aila makes a decision on what to do with her own fate

We'll find out where Hob went (in good news, he wasn't there), and we will touch base on Callie (Calliope)