Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This wasn’t the first time Rose had had a lucid dream; (according to Dream it was some kind of leftover effect of her Vortex powers) but this was way weirder than normal. 

The young woman was standing in a huge room she didn’t recognize, surrounded by hundreds of strangers, some human, or humanoid, others clearly not. She was familiar enough with the Dreaming by now to know where she was, but as she was swept along with the mass of beings to an enormous banquet table, while none of the human/humanoid people paid her any real attention, all of them likely assuming she belonged to one of the other groups; others, such as the more…demonic and frightening looking creatures, did glare, hard, putting Rose on edge. Other than that, each group simply talked among themselves, no-one seemed to be mingling or in any way acknowledging those not of their ‘kind’. Rose came to the conclusion that this wasn’t just a gathering of Dream’s creations and servants, (by now, all citizens of the Dreaming knew who she was and treated her as their Lord’s niece, whether she wanted special treatment or not). This wasn’t a mere dream, it had to be something else entirely.

As the various groups took their seats, she glanced around, wondering if it was a good idea to ask anyone what was happening. Before she got a chance, though, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and she whirled instantly, ready to defend herself.

The pale face and dishwater-blonde hair of Dream’s palace cook, Taramis, had her relaxing instantly: they’d met a few times and gotten along well, or so Rose had thought. The woman’s face now, though, looked almost horrified. 

“Lady Rose! What are you doing here?!” Taramis practically screeched, her eyes bugging.

Before Rose could tell her- again- not to call her ‘Lady’, a silence fell like a veil, and suddenly it felt like all the eyes at the table were on them, the combined weight of so many stares making her skin crawl.

‘Uh oh,’ she muttered to herself. Feeling like a deer in headlights might, she scanned the eerily quiet, staring faces all looking her way, hoping for some indication of what to do. 

She’d quickly learnt (because of Dream and Lucienne’s repeated lectures) that being a relative of the Endless could put her in positions of danger, but no longer being a Dream Vortex, she was unable to protect herself. Save for some residual, mostly subtle effects left by… whatever it was that had made her that way, there was really no way of being able to tell she had ever been a vortex in the first place, let alone any ability to fend off… whatever these beings surrounding her were… where was Dream when she actually might need him?

“My lady, if you'll allow me,” Taramis tugged at her arm, guiding her to a seat, even bowing before nudging her to sit, at the same time managing to whisper in her ear, “Perhaps you should return to the Waking? This is not safe for you!”

Rose took a breath. “Yeah, I gathered that.” she muttered quietly. “But I can’t just wake up. What is all this, anyway?”

Taramis glanced around briefly, all too aware of the dangers Rose’s presence posed; not only to Rose herself but the entire Dreaming realm if the emissaries around them discovered who she really was. Perhaps she should escort the young woman out of the hall-

“Well, well. I don’t recall seeing you among the other emissaries earlier, my beauty.”

Rose turned to find a woman, physically a few years older than her, with tanned skin and dark hair, her head was tilted to one side in curiosity, and she wore a kind expression that Rose could see through in an instant, But what made Rose’s eyes grow wide and had her taking an instinctive, and terrified retreat away from the strange woman, as far as the bench seat would allow, was the spider leg, an actual spider’s leg, that was protruding from the female’s rib cage! The appendage was bent at the joint, and close enough that the stranger had clearly been about to use it to stroke Rose’s bare arm! 

While Rose wasn’t afraid of arachnids - dealing with them was just something she’d gotten used to over the years, and Jed always called for her to deal with any that wandered into his room, day or night. But this… this was the sort of thing that came from nightmares! Was that what was going on in the Dreaming? Had one of Dream’s Nightmares escaped, or worse, like with the Corinthian?!

“Lady Merkin,” Taramis, her face tight with unease as she stepped in between Rose and the Nightmare, or whatever she was. Merkin retracted her wandering limb with an arch of her brow, “May I remind you that no harm is to be done to any of Lord Morpheus’ guests in his hall?”

Not a Nightmare, then, Rose mused, or Taramis wouldn’t be addressing her as ‘lady’. Was this some kind of… embassy meeting or something she’d stumbled into? What kind of creatures would be at an embassy in the Dreaming?

“Of course not,” Merkin spoke soothingly, as if to reassure Taramis of her good intentions, without taking her eyes off Rose. “But my question stands. I did not see this woman arrive with any of the parties, and so I find myself curious about who you are, and what your intent here is, my dear.”

Taramis hmphed. “All guests are allowed their privacy-”

“And yet this one seems to require Lord Morpheus’ cook to speak for her?” Merkin laughed derisively. “How pitiful.”

Now it felt like the entire hall was staring at them again. Rose gritted her teeth. If this was some sort of contest, a ‘biggest bully in the playground’ kind of thing, well, she had one card to play. Giving Merkin her best ‘looking down my nose at you’ expression, she smiled, showing all her teeth. “I wonder what Uncle Morpheus will think of a guest in his home mocking his only niece?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Taramis flinch and press a hand to her forehead in exasperation, as if she’d said something wrong. 

Why? What had she done?

Chapter Text

What had she done?

Her question was answered in seconds, as she was swarmed by guests who’d abandoned their seats and were now scrambling to get closer to her, all talking to her, trying to drown one another out so she couldn’t hear a thing. Taramis was pushed out of sight almost immediately. A tall, slender man with platinum hair gelled into a spiked style wedged himself in between her and Merkin, turning his back to the spider-woman completely, eyeing Rose like he was sizing her up.

Apparently none of these people had any concept of personal space. 

“Name’s Loki, you’ve no doubt heard of me,” the man stated smoothly. 

Rose, with a slight frown, shrugged, trying to keep casual and offhand. “Actually, no.” This wasn’t a lie - Mythology, from Greek, Egyptian and Norse etc had never been of any great interest to her but… could one still call it mythology when the people and characters were real? Given that she’d met more than her fair share of inhuman, god-like entities, even being part of the Endless family, however distantly, she made a mental note to do more thorough research from now on.

Loki seemed unphased by her words and chuckled. “Well, that’s different; usually lovely young ladies such as yourself practically throw themselves at my feet in worship when they get the chance to speak with the God of Mischief. Such is my affect on people, both a blessing by the old gods and a curse,” he lamented, pressing a hand to his forehead dramatically.

Rose fought back a scoff; not wanting to piss off a literal god and guest of her uncle Morpheus, but was everyone here this… arrogant and flirtatious? 

Before either Rose or Loki could say anything more, Merkin interjected with a venomous gleam in her eye, but she had at least tucked away her elongated spiders’ legs. “Now now, Loki,” she smirked mockingly, “Whatever would your poor devoted wife say if she saw you flirting with another?” 

Loki’s expression twisted unpleasantly before he stalked off. Rose, taking advantage of the moment given to her, ducked out of Merkin’s sight and darted away. There had to be someone normal she could talk to… well, normal was all irrelevant in the Dreaming but still.

At that moment a large black raven fluttered down to the ground at the human girl’s feet. “Rose! What are you doing here? It isn’t safe…” 

Rose sighed with relief. “Matthew! Thank god… yeah I know, I got that, but I can’t wake up!” She said hurriedly.

The raven swore, repeatedly, before flapping up onto her shoulder. “Damn it! I’d take you somewhere else but the Boss set things up so none of the guests could leave the hall unless they’re going to their own rooms in the guest wing.”

“And I don’t have one of those so I’m screwed. Great.”

Matthew shifted nervously. “Maybe we should tell the boss you’re here-” 

Rose held up both hands. “No, no, he’s… clearly got a lot going on right now, he doesn’t need to be worrying about me on top of, whatever this is. I’ll be a fly on the wall; I won’t cause problems.” 

Mathew clearly wasn’t in agreement, but he knew how stubborn humans - specifically Rose, could be and sighed in acceptance. 

“Well, ok fine. Come on.”  With that the raven took flight and Rose followed him to a darkened corner, mostly out of direct sight of Dream’s guests.

They observed quietly for a while- the groups had gone back to talking among themselves while eating the vast selection of foods provided - each table filled to bursting with the foods best suited to the table's occupants. From where she stood, Rose spotted Loki, who had skulked back to his table, but among the hulking, muscled, dark haired men, the God of Mischief looked relaxed but rather out of place with his lean frame, which was adorned with a very punk style of clothing and jewelry and that almost white platinum blond hair.

At another table, Rose spotted the spider lady, Merkin, sitting in the lap of a greenish skinned male figure with purple spiked hair. 

“Pretty hypocritical for her to rag on Loki for being married and flirting with someone else when she’s with someone too,” she muttered, mostly to herself but Matthew overheard and cocked his head.

“Huh? Oh, her. Well, what can you expect from a demon straight from the pits of Hell? And no, that’s not a metaphor.” He added quickly. What the two hadn’t seen, was the second man that had approached the demons’ table and begun to flirt shamelessly with Lady Merkin. While she had remained unbothered, if not a little irritated by his attempts, Choronzon made his own displeasure known and drew his weapon.

The relative peace was shattered when a flash of lightning and a loud crash drew everyone’s attention.

The greenish skinned demon picked himself up from the wreckage of a table. A taller, muscular man clad in fur advanced on him, brandishing a hammer menacingly.

“Ah, crap,” Matthew muttered. “I knew that guy was gonna cause trouble!”

“Who is he?” Rose wracked her brains for the little mythology she knew.

Mathew groaned, sounding like if he had teeth he’d be gritting them. “Oh, that’s Thor, God of Thunder. He’s… very unpleasant.”

At Matthew’s words, it all clicked into place for Rose; the fur pelts, the hammer… “That’s Thor?” she exclaimed, while keeping her voice down as much as possible. Jed would be disappointed if he knew, she mused. The Thor depicted in her little brother’s comic books was nothing like the real one!

She inhaled sharply when Thor raised his hammer against his opponent- whether the other guy was a demon or not, she didn’t want to see what would happen if the hammer- Mjolnir, wasn’t it?- made contact with flesh and bone. “Matthew, I thought the guests couldn’t hurt each other here!”

“They won’t.” Matthew puffed his feathers out. “Wait for it…”

As Thor went to strike, the legendary hammer dissolved to sand in his grasp! Thor’s look of astonishment and outrage was priceless. 

Dream materialized behind Thor, giving one of his typical melodramatic speeches, warning the guests that violence would not be tolerated in his realm. Rose considered approaching him now- this was turning out to be dangerous, so maybe she should let him wake her up. She took one step forward but froze, still in the shadowed corner, as an unearthly blue-white light, bright as the sun, shone down from the ceiling, illuminating Morpheus and the centre of the hall like a spotlight, much to the surprise of everyone, including the Lord of the Dreaming himself.

Two tall, winged figures formed within the light, and as one of them spoke, Rose instinctively flattened herself back against the wall, not wanting to be noticed. She wasn’t particularly religious, and she’d seen gods and demons already tonight, but these beings… angels, were somehow more inhuman and terrifying than anything she’d ever seen. Ironic given everything her mother had tried to tell her about angels before her death. These beings didn’t give off feelings of love and warmth- just the opposite in fact!

The first angel, Remiel, introduced himself as the angel of 'those who rise', whatever that meant, then his companion, Duma, the angel of silence, to Morpheus, who greeted them, welcoming them to his realm graciously before asking: “Have you come to stake your claim?”

Rose, although awestruck by the ethereal beings, flicked her eyes in Matthew’s direction. “Claim? What’s he talking about?” She whispered. 

Again Matthew shifted, ruffling his dark feathers, he replied in a voice so quiet Rose almost didn’t hear his reply. “The Boss was given the key to Hell; he doesn’t want the responsibility of ruling that place, so it’s up to him to decide who should get the job; all of his guests here want the key for themselves and are all trying to plead their own case and get on the Boss’ good side so he’ll give the key to them… it’s not a total surprise the angels showed up here I guess.”  

Rose stared, mouth agape, as she returned her gaze to the angels hovering above Morpheus, carrying with them a cold air of authority and confidence, and looking down upon the King of Dreams as though he were visiting their realm instead of the other way around. Unable to bear looking at them anymore, she tore her gaze away and noticed Thor now sitting next to a slender sandy-haired man dressed like he was going to a Renaissance Fair, with oddly pointed ears. Beside him sat a delicately featured blonde woman in a fancy gown with those same ears. Others with similar builds and outfits filled out the table, but not many.

“Who are they?”

Matthew looked where she’d gestured, and squawked. “The delegation from Faerie.”

Rose blinked. “Faeries want to rule Hell?!”

“Nah, they want it left empty so they don’t have to keep sacrificing their people to it every 9 years or something.”

“Why-”

‘Rose.’

“Dream?”

“What?” Matthew glanced around. “What are you on about?”

Ignoring the raven for a minute, Rose looked up to a balcony she’d thought was empty. Morpheus stood there, Taramis just behind him. He was staring down at Rose, his expression utterly blank. 

‘You should not be here.’

“No kidding,” she muttered. “I didn’t dream myself here on purpose!”

‘Once the entertainment begins, I shall wake you if you wish.’

Before she could think how to reply, an older bearded man wearing a long grey overcoat and a wide brimmed hat, missing one eye, leaning on a thick wooden staff, stepped directly in front of her, bowing graciously. “You do not join the festivities, my lady?”

“Oh, I…” Rose fumbled for a response, hoping that Morpheus would speak in her mind again, advising her what to say. No luck.

The one-eyed man peered at her shrewdly, a cunning gleam in his remaining eye. “All here were honoured to learn that Lord Shaper’s only niece graced this feast with her presence. I hope that you do not believe our company beneath you, to hide yourself away like this, my dear?”

Rose tensed as his words sank in: somehow he'd projected his voice so dozens could hear, and all their eyes were on her, waiting for her response. To declare that she was leaving in the middle of such an important and momentous event would insult each and every one of these inhuman beings, all of them no doubt stronger than her, and she had no idea how the consequences would affect Morpheus. It seemed she had no choice but to stay.

Matthew bristled his feathers nervously and flicked his wings as he hopped up and down. "Uh, Lord Odin-sir..."

But Rose interrupted quickly. "It's fine, Matthew." She wasn't getting out of this by letting Dream's creations speak for her: that would only make her, and Morpheus, look weak. Her gut churning with nerves, she made herself step forward. "I was just overwhelmed," she gestured up to where the angels hovered. "Just needed a minute to myself." 

Then, standing tall, she strode straight past Odin and, walking with her head held high, as if she owned the place, went to take a seat at the emptiest table, the one occupied by the faeries.

Chapter Text

Walking rapidly towards the faeries' table after Odin got everyone in the hall to stare at her, Rose was relieved to see that the rest of the guests had fallen back into their previous air of tense peace and diplomatic calm, for now. But the Fae all turned to the stranger approaching their table with such confidence, however false, and many stopped eating or raised their eyebrows over their goblets of wine. Rose came to an abrupt halt as though some unseen force-field had stopped her in her tracks; uncomfortable with so many eyes upon her. Yet she forced a smile and awkwardly gave a polite wave. “Hi…” 

The sandy-haired Fae man was the only one who so much as looked at Rose, after he finally tore himself away from his… intimate conversation with the server who had been refilling his wine goblet. 

“Ah, hello there!” He stood and bowed. “My Lady… Rose, is it not? Niece of our esteemed host, Lord Morpheus. I am Cluracan of Faerie. Come, join us! I guarantee our table is one of the… friendlier ones.” He joked, reclaiming his seat but moving over to make room for Rose to sit between him and the woman beside him. The woman snapped Cluracan’s name scoldingly but was ignored. Rose hesitated upon seeing the way the blonde Fae rolled her eyes, but as she sat down, Cluracan gestured towards the unhappy looking blonde Fae woman with his goblet.

“This is my dear sister Nuala. You should pardon her lack of enthusiasm; the stick up her behind leaves little room for manners, or any form of fun.” He teased. 

Hoping to find some common ground with them, Rose chuckled. Addressing Nuala instead of Cluracan, she tried to keep the teasing going, hoping to bring a smile to the faerie woman’s face, “Oh it’s fine. I actually have a little brother too. Younger brothers seem to think mocking their responsible older sisters is part of the job description no matter the species!”

Nuala managed a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes before looking back down at her plate, which was full of… flowers? That was weird, but maybe all the Fae ate them? Rose wracked her brains trying to think of any faerie folklore she knew, mostly from stuff she’d read but not taken too seriously (before she learned that the supernatural was, well, real). The most common beliefs were: faeries couldn’t lie, couldn’t touch iron, and that giving them your name could give them power over you. There was no way to know how much of it was true.

“Wine?” Cluracan brandished a goblet before her, a roguish grin on his face.

Well, why not? How drunk could she really get in a dream? Rose accepted it from him with a smile, taking a small sip. “Thank you.”

The audible gasps, and everyone at the table halting their conversations and gawking at her, made it painfully clear she’d done something wrong.

Rose hastily set down the goblet, eyes wide, pupils darting to the faces staring at her. Uh oh. “I’m sorry, did I do something…?”

Cluracan, eyes gleaming, leaned into her personal space. “Of course not. It is very generous of you to offer me a favour over a mere glass of wine.”

She blinked, utterly baffled. “What?” 

“Cluracan, don’t be foolish!” Nuala chided, reaching past Rose to swat him on the arm before turning to address Rose. “Lady Rose, saying tha- those words, among our kind, is an acknowledgement of a debt owed. But my brother was only jesting, we would not enforce such a thing on a royal ally who is unfamiliar with our ways.” Her last words were emphasized heavily as she shifted her gaze from Rose to Cluracan, who grinned like the Cheshire Cat, winking and saluting her with his own goblet as if the whole thing had been a joke.

Rose smiled good naturedly in acknowledgment of the ‘joke’ and took a sip from her goblet. The wine was very different to what she experienced in the human world, but overall the taste was pleasant; sweet, flowery yet not overpoweringly so. Turning to Nuala, she hesitated for a moment, watching the Fae woman eat from her plate with a delicate and effortless grace that, aside from anything else; her pointed ears, and inhuman beauty, would have given away her nature as more than simply human.

“So, um…” Rose faltered again. What if speaking during dinner was frowned upon also? 

But Nuala, chewing the last bite of her meal, lifted her eyes to Rose’s own, waiting for her to speak. 

Taking this subtle action as permission to continue, Rose went on. “Is there, you know, anything else I should know? About Fae rules and etiquette, I don’t want to insult anyone if I’m sitting with you guys.” She internally cringed at her own words: ugh, she sounded way too informal for such… high class guests, even if they were  in the Dreaming and not in the Faerie kingdom.

Since Rose had averted her eyes, she missed the glimmer of amusement in Nuala’s eyes. “Simply  do not say th- those words again, and all should be well. None here would seek to trap or harm Lord Shaper’s kin in any way, I assure you.”

“OK, th-” Rose caught herself just in time, pressing her lips together. “Alright.”

For a split second, it looked like Nuala hid a smile, although it was gone, the faerie woman’s face politely blank again in the blink of an eye; making Rose wonder if she’d imagined it.

Before she could think of anything else to say, or even take another sip of her drink, Loki, who she’d thought she’d successfully evaded earlier, slid onto the bench directly opposite her, facing her across the table. “Ah, Lady Rose. I wondered where you’d disappeared to. I hope my blood-brother Odin’s trick in forcing you to remain at the feast, did not distress you too much?” He shook his head disapprovingly. “He can be so manipulative…”

Before Rose could think of a reply, an incredibly loud belch, followed by chainsaw-level snoring, came from under the table. Loki, without even looking, rolled his eyes in obvious disgust. “And it seems I must also apologize for my oaf of an… ally, for drinking himself into a stupor so early on.” 

He shifted in his seat and a thud sounded beneath the table. The snoring paused for a second, then resumed even louder. Loki, who had apparently kicked the snorer, put his head in his hands and let out a theatrical groan. “My apologies. I assure you that Thor here,” another kick, “Is not a typical example of Aesir manners.”

Nuala, looking more casual than Rose had seen her so far, propped her chin on her hand, raising a brow at Loki. “He had only two casks of our wine. I imagined Aesir to have stronger heads for alcohol. My brother can drink six before he becomes unsteady!”

Cluracan only raised the bottle he’d just drained, grinning in agreement. 

Nuala, still watching Loki shrewdly, tilted her head to one side. “Could an adopted Aesir of lesser stature bear his drink better, I wonder?”

“Ah! A challenge!” Cluracan crowed, brandishing another bottle from… somewhere and offering it to Loki. “Whichever of us collapses first pays a hundred pieces of gold to the other!”

Rose wondered if she should be annoyed that they’d all apparently forgotten she was there. But then Nuala was on her feet, taking Rose’s arm like they were best friends, helping her up and leading her away while Loki and Cluracan began showboating, downing entire bottles of drink and bragging to each other.

As they left the table, Nuala murmured softly in her ear, “I’m sorry to order you around, my lady, but I swear I mean no harm. Loki is known as a trickster and deceiver, and the cruellest of his people. Cluracan can fend for himself, he knows Loki of old, and will keep the Trickster entertained, but it's usually best for most not to converse with him. He's known as Silver-tongue and Lie-smith for good cause. Those who deal with him always regret it.”

“Oh. OK.” It made sense, given what little Rose remembered about Loki in the myths. She tried to figure out how to say thank you to Nuala without actually saying thank you, but before she managed it, a spotlight came on at the end of the great hall, illuminating a stage that looked like it was set up for a magician’s show, with Cain dressed in a top hat and cane; Rose chuckled at the irony. Not really interested in that kind of thing, she sat beside Nuala on a bench, but looked around the hall instead of paying attention.

Her gaze was drawn to a table full of people in clown costumes that she hadn’t noticed until now,and she was baffled about who they were, especially as there was a little girl of about nine sitting with them, holding a balloon. The kid was looking right at her, and Rose smiled automatically- and then it wasn’t a little girl, but an old, old woman with yellow rotted teeth and sunken, blood-shot eyes! Then the cute little girl was back, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Rose stifled a yelp and glanced sideways at Nuala, who looked shaken and was now pointedly watching the stage, her head angled so she couldn’t see the not-child or the clowns at all. Good, at least that meant Rose hadn’t imagined… whatever just happened. She decided to focus on Cain’s show after all- what she’d just seen was too disturbing.

Cain was clearly enjoying himself. “Ladies and gentleman, my next trick, I like to call: Sawing a useless ninny in half!”

Abel, who was apparently his assistant, was smiling. “Shall I select a volunteer from the audience?”

Cain rolled his eyes. “My dear brother…”

Abel glanced at him, “My dear Cain.”

Cain sneered. “The useless ninny to whom I am referring is you!”

The audience erupted into laughter, likely at Abel’s expense. 

As Abel played along with Cain for… some reason… Rose resisted the urge to cringe. First the demon-child, now this… She knew enough of the bible to recall the story of Cain and Abel, if these two were anything like their biblical counterparts, this was going to get very gory, very quickly.

When Abel began to scream, Rose could no longer stand to watch. Shuddering and with her stomach turning, she was relieved to see that at least Nuala looked as sickened as she felt at the squiching, squelching sounds that sent the rest of the audience into uproarious laughter.

Rose resolved to have a long discussion with Morpheus about the actual meaning of ‘entertainment’ when this… mess was over, since he clearly didn’t actually know what dinner theatre was meant to entail; including not putting guests off their dinner!