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A little known side effect of becoming a statue was that you weren’t truly frozen solid. Not in this case anyway; instead the stone encased him, spelling doom for any mere mortal for certain, what with needing to eat and all.
Dream was no mere mortal, and whilst he’d wished for something for eat at the start of his imprisonment, he never cared as much as he wished he could just get out already.
It was the nature of this trap, of course, that he heard everything outside, albeit all muffled. He’d heard the rest of the villagers perish, in the very beginning. He’d heard the demon that had emerged from his brother speaking to him periodically, its gloating nature of what it had done outside of their world making Dream pause and wonder if it knew he was conscious inside. Of course, he couldn’t respond from in here, so he’d never know.
And he’d never be able to tell what little of his brother showed through that, it was okay, he should be the one apologising. Not that it mattered – Nightmare never truly seemed to shine through that beast often. Not that he even knew how much time passed from within his prison, but he knew it had certainly been a long time, and that his brother’s rare, true appearances were likely years apart.
He got to hear the creature become more…domesticated, at times, too – it’d picked up “servants,” which Dream had no idea were a real concept outside of the books his brother read to him when they were children (before it all fell apart). Some part of it seemed fond of them, if exasperated.
Dream hoped Nightmare got to enjoy their company, too. He’d always needed friends.
He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel what was outside, too. Life hadn’t immediately ceased around him; plants grew around his prison, and sometimes they managed to crack through the stone, though whatever magic bound him to the spot would cut that part off, sealing him back up until the next twig or vine dared. Countless generations of a bird family had lived on his head for a while, until that creature had come and removed the nest one visit, leaving him alone for good whenever it left.
Whenever he was alone, he would think. He’d done more thinking in his little eternity than he ever could have before. He thought about Nightmare and his mother, most of all; she’d been felled before he’d even managed to get home to see the commotion. Just as Nightmare had been overtaken by the beast before he could save him, too.
He thought about the villagers at times. They’d been wicked, in hindsight, but Dream still wasn’t sure if they’d all deserved to die. There was the baker, who always gave him extra food in secret to take to his brother, even if their intentions were never spoken aloud. The farmer, too, and his wife – they’d given them extra blankets as Winter drew close. The farmer’s son, as well, had defended Nightmare by saying the villager’s claims of the most recent famine being the young guardian’s fault were preposterous (of course they were, neither Dream nor Nightmare had any effect on the weather).
Many had been awful, yes, but very few of them deserved to die.
Sometimes Dream wanted to weep, though, his sorrow all-consuming and unbefitting of the positivity guardian (that’s what mother would say – oh, mother, he was sorry beyond belief, he should’ve just listened and stayed away from the villagers when they had settled in her land). But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried; the golden apple that had consumed his Soul had ensured that much.
In any case, Dream was present, but unchanging, unable to do a thing. He’d been here many lifetimes over by now, surely. He’d accepted this was his fate, as much as it pained him. This was his atonement for abandoning his brother and mother, he knew. There was no way to escape, and things would never change.
…Until, one day, it finally did.
“Oh! What a strange little AU!” came a voice from nearby, waking Dream from his brief rest. This voice was…New. Had the beast taken a servant with him?
…No. he couldn’t feel it’s presence. In fact, he couldn’t feel anyone’s presence. What was this being?
He heard footsteps halt, the frosty grass crunching only slightly under this being’s weight. Strange, he could hear their breaths as they drew close. Suddenly, a hand was at the stone around his cheek, their breathing stuttering slightly.
“…Wow…So this is where he’s been…” they marvelled to themselves. “Nightmare’s hidden you well, you know that?”
Dream’s own breathing stuttered; that…Creature…It had been using his brother’s name?
The hand trailed down pressing to his chest, right where his Soul would be.
“You’ve been here all this time…I can tell you’re awake, you know?” they spoke, almost amused (but Dream couldn’t feel it). “I bet you wanna get out of there, huh?”
This had to be a trick. A trap. Had the beast sent someone to mess with him?-
The stone was cracking around him.
Dream took a gasp of air as he was blinded by daylight, fresh air finally filling his ribcage. He could feel the rubble falling, his bones stiff (when had they started aching?) as his arms finally dropped at his sides (for they’d been outstretched in one last act of desperation to reach for his brother as he was cursed, trying and failing to save him, far too late). He stumbled back, falling square on his pelvis as he was no longer supported by the shell around him. Stars, he was tired. He felt weak.
He heard a chuckle before him, and he dared to try to inch his eyes open, still struggling to adjust to the light.
“Man, I bet that feels better!” the being cheered, bubbly and warm (but, again, he couldn’t feel it from them). A figure – a skeleton – was before him, moving to squat before him, their features becoming recognisable as his vision cleared-
Oh.
“Don’t worry about being able to stand, I get all wobbly when I sit down for a while, too!- Though, I guess I’ve been too busy to stay still for such a long time, recently,” they rambled, eye-lights flickering through different shapes and colours. They had a strange marking on their cheek, almost swamped by the large scarf wrapped around their neck, trailing onto the ground and swaying despite the lack of a breeze. They were dressed mostly in brown (not unusual to Dream – most of the villagers did, too), but their clothes were stained in various paints and dyes, the tips of fingers the most egregiously stained as he waved his hands around.
Oh stars.
“Oh! I’m Ink, by the way! Usually I wouldn’t come into an AU and interfere so much, but, well, I guess a friend of mine looked into the code and determined you’re supposed to be getting outta here? But you haven’t, you’re way overdue, so I just thought I’d come help you out and get you settled into what you’re really meant to be doing right now!” the beautiful stranger rambled, a grin on their face as they rested on their heels effortlessly. Dream always figured that, if he got out, he’d look all around to see what had changed outside his direct location. But he found himself entranced, eyes wide as he found he couldn’t even try to look anywhere else.
Maybe the villagers had gotten one thing right about religion – they looked like one of their angels without wings.
“I guess you’re an out-code, now! I’m not sure if that was meant to happen, but, well, I guess Nightmare never used to be either- So, welcome to the Multiverse club, uh…” they looked puzzled, eyes question marks. “…I forgot your name!”
Dream found himself laughing (out of madness, surely, what with how his Soul was beating so quickly), pushing himself up, breathless as the other wordlessly took his hand to help him.
“Dream,” he answered, voice quiet and hoarse from disuse, but he was beaming too brightly to care for how his throat scratched from the inside. “My name is Dream.”
“Well, Dream,” Ink grinned back, sounding out his name in a way that made his cheeks grow warm. “How about I show you just what it is we do out here? Get you acquainted with the Multiverse? Maybe help you figure out what your role is out here!”
Dream spared only a quick glance around. His world, save for the wildlife, was dead. He took a breath, before laughing giddily once more; let nature have it all. It would be what mother wanted, after all, the forest having long since healed where the villagers had felled its trees for their farms and houses.
“Please, stranger,” he grinned. “Show me.”
And the pair left, hand in hand, as Ink pulled him down into darkness before his mother’s corpse, neither noticing nor caring for what had sprouted in the centre of her trunk.