Lucid One, Chapter Five

"Oh, yes. That would be a grand one. They would end up solving a mystery together in that possibility," the dark, winged man murmured to himself.

He liked following the dreams and possibilities that concerned others he'd either met or knew of, but following the possibilities of these two never got old. However, it did make him feel lonely on occasion. Sometimes he was disappointed his "creator" hadn't also created a Princess of Dreams to traverse this realm with him, until he realized he still wouldn't have had the companionship he desired if Cruce had created Unseelie Princesses.

There was no realm, no existence, no dream or possibility where his loyalty would not ever be to MacKayla Lane-O'Conner, Queen of the Fae, and not just because she was his queen. It was built into his genetic makeup. Being made of the essence of someone's soulmate does that to you. He would always love her even though he could not have her, would never know her in the way he desired. And he highly doubted Cruce would have made a Princess for him from MacKayla's ess—

He straightened as the feathers of his wings rustled ever so slightly. Someone was standing at the border of the Court of Dreams.

Few dared venture into his lands. It was not itself the Dreaming, but being the one, well, being who could traverse and manipulate the mysterious realm had caused his lands to behave strangely. Members of the other castes and courts had been curious at times and had tried to visit him, but all ended up getting hopelessly lost until he finally went to find and return them.

Not even other Fae royalty could traverse his lands. He suspected the Unseelie King might be able to, but the man who would always be king had never tried to visit him; he didn't trust the prince, despite his elder brother's and the queen's insistence he could. (Their support meant a great deal to him, as he occasionally worried the king might send his Hunter K'Vruck to...well, K'Vruck him.)

He sat motionless as he pondered who would still be foolish enough to wander into his territory. Everyone who had had told stories of what they saw. It was as if the Dreaming was happy to have someone who could finally explore it but didn't know how to interact with anyone else but him. He supposed it was quite nearly like being in the Hall of All Days. The Hall would begin to show you memories, trying to entice you to get lost in it. His lands showed dreams, as well as nightmares. Sometimes they saw them just by gazing upon his lands so he had cloaked them in an impenetrable fog.

His lands were otherwise quiet; even Cruce had seen the danger in creating someone like his favored prince and had not made him any subjects or courtiers. Masdann was a singularity like his elder sister Lyryka. He hoped to befriend her someday, as he felt their status of bring singularities connected them.

Perhaps she was asleep now and he could watch over her dreams. Her innocence and desire for the Prince of Death to corrupt her amused him. His feathers rustled again before he turned his attention back to the wall in front of him. He didn't need some kind of screen or anything to watch dreams, but it felt more natural to watch what he wanted to watch superimposed on a wall or on a manifested screen.

She was dreaming of her prince again. She often dreamt the two of them in one of the millions of stories she had read while their father had kept her imprisoned. He liked Lyryka's dreams. All of the characters from the books were usually replaced with her favorite "acquaintances." MacKayla was often one of them; it was she and Death who had spoken first of Lyryka being free. She often found a way to ensure the queen hugged her in her dreams, as MacKayla had once done in waking life; she and Christian were the first two beings to ever kindly touch her other than Cruce.

Sometimes his sister would dream she was back in her bottle or the sepulcher in which Cruce had tried to entomb her when she had outlived her usefulness to him. The Dreaming always alerted him when she did. Then he would sift to her and gently touch her head or her hand and ensure that Death broke her bottle or found her and brought her into one of her beloved stories. None of Cruce's children had suffered at their father's hand more so than she. There would only ever be good dreams for—

By D'Anu, the person at his border was determined to get his attention. They had been backing away and approaching repeatedly. He looked at the wall and suppressed a sigh. It's not like her dream would disappear if he wasn't there to watch it unfold. The Dreaming would alert him should it start to turn.

Masdann made his way through his floating castle to the massive mother-of-pearl front doors and flew towards the spot in the wall of fog from where the disturbance was occurring. The fog was a special kind of fog the Fae had yet to name. It was made of the fog that occurs when you awaken from a dream that's been interrupted. Anyone who tried to enter the fog would find themselves feeling sleepy. If they continued to try to enter his lands, they would fall into a dreamless sleep until he returned them to the lands of their court.

He could have easily seen who the disturber was without needing to move or he could have sifted straight to them, but he felt his legs and wings could use a stretch. Appearing in the fog also made him seem far more mysterious than he already seemed, something he quite enjoyed. His feet paused when he sensed who was trying to get his attention and he sharply inhaled before composing himself and walking forward.

"My queen," he said as he emerged and bowed.

"Masdann," she said as she nodded stiffly, her arms crossed. He smiled a little because he found it amusing that she still felt awkward with the formalities of being queen. Of course she would be an egalitarian.

"To what do I owe the honor of your presence?" He glanced around and was surprised. "You have come alone. Is everything alright?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and said, "Obviously not." He patiently waited for her to continue speaking but she said nothing. Merely inspected him. "Well? Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Apologies, my queen," he said as he inclined his head. "I am unaccustomed to having guests."

"So I've heard," she said with a wry smile. "I am uncertain the True Magic will protect me from your wall of fog and you've somehow managed to block sifting. What do I need to do to enter your court?"

"Take my hand." She looked at him for a moment before she took a deep breath and took the hand he had extended. He was pretty sure her consort would not have been the happiest with this arrangement, but he knew Jericho Barrons respected him, quite possibly even liked him, and it was the only way through. She grew wings when they emerged and she saw the castle floating on a bed of clouds, releasing his hand and flying slightly behind him when they lifted off.

"Welcome, my que—" he started to say once they had flown past the massive doors and landed, but she interrupted.

"Masdann, you can drop the formalities," she told him as her wings disappeared and she looked around the entry hall.

"As you wish, my que—MacKayla."

"This is the first time I've been here." He smiled again when he saw the approval on her face as she inspected his home.

"I'm afraid it's not finished yet," he admitted. "I find myself lacking motivation to expand and fill it. Though I must warn you to be careful. I've anchored it to the Dreaming. Dreams and possibilities often pop up and it can be very easy—" Her eyes glazed over as one popped up in the wall she had been inspecting, drawing her in as he warned her. He smiled and stepped closer, watching it begin to unfold as he finished. "—to get lost."