NationStates Jolt Archive

Brendan, Prince of Holista and one of the more prominent members of the Danaan royal family, paced back and forth in the small bedchamber he was sharing with his wife. Due to the sheer number of royals and other notables attending the Commonwealth Conference, the couple were staying in quarters much smaller than their station usually entitled them to. Brendan had been reading a newspaper, which was on the desk.
His wife, Princess Theodora, was reading some of the letters sent to her by ordinary people (both from Holista and Pantocratoria) on the bed, on which she lay over the covers on her side. Her principal private secretary had selected some particularly choice letters for her perusal, and she occasionally smiled at the sweet words of a child, or the supportive words of an old woman, or the admiration of a young woman of her own age. Brendan smiled slightly at his wife and took the paper from his desk. He walked casually towards the fireplace. "Do you ever read your correspondence from members of the public?" Theodora asked him as she set down a letter on pink paper she had been reading.

"Sometimes." Brendan said, tossing the newspaper into the fireplace.

"Only bad news?" Theodora asked, trying to make conversation.

"It's nothing you need to worry about, love. I need to go speak to Prince Arthur about something. You should go ahead and go to bed. I don't know how long I'll be." Brendan said.

"Oh... but..." Theodora said, feeling dejected and a little unwanted. "I want to be awake when you come back..."

"Then I'll see you later tonight, love." Brendan said. "Until then, I love you." He walked over and gave her a kiss.

"I love you." Theodora answered.

Brendan headed out into the hall. He was gone for quite a few hours.Since her marriage and her move to the Resurgent Dream, Theodora hated being alone more than anything else. Without anybody to keep her company, she felt like she didn't belong, and her thoughts turned introspective and morbid. She tried to focus on her pleasant correspondence to keep her mind off darker thoughts, but it was very difficult. When Brendan did return, he looked exhausted and his face was drawn with worry. He began to undress immediately for bed. "There might be an unpleasant character loose in New Rome. Arthur says local police in Kagerlund recently found evidence that a wanted man got out of the country recently with false papers."

"Oh, that's no good." Theodora said, disinterested in anything but Brendan's return. She went over to him and hugged him from behind as he undressed, leaning her head on his back. "I missed you."

"It's hard enough walking away from the most beautiful face in the world when you don't make me feel bad about it, you know?" he teased, as he kissed her lightly and turned into her embrace, hugging her gently.

"So don't walk away from me." Theodora said, blushing bright red as she buried her face in his chest.
"That would be bad though." Brendan said, helping Theodora into bed.

"You don't like spending time with me?" Theodora asked. He could tell from her tone that she was in one of her delicate moods.

"I wouldn't get the joy of walking towards you again." he said, lying down beside her.

"Oh, you're being like that." Theodora rolled her eyes and smiled. She snuggled up to him.

He snuggled back and started to drift off to sleep. Before he did, he said "Theodora, if you get upset tonight, remember that I'm right here, next to you."

"That's why I won't get upset." Theodora promised, laying her head on his chest like a pillow.

When Theodora did finally drift off into the realm of dreams, she found that her dreams were more lucid than usual and, at first, more pleasant. She was in a tropical forest. She could hear birds singing. The air smelled fresh and invigorating and there was a crisp waterfall nearby. In the dream, Theodora found herself clad in somewhat revealing furs, like a primitive warrior woman might in a cheesy movie. In her dream state, Theodora walked over to the waterfall and ran her fingers through the icy waters. "Theodora?" called out a vaguely familiar female voice.

"Yes?" Theodora called back, standing and turning in the direction of the voice

Princess Maria Theresa, similarly dressed, stepped out from behind some nearby trees. "Are we asleep? It seems so real and...how am I talking to you?"

"I usually wake up from my dreams when I realise that I'm only dreaming." Theodora said. "I wonder why I haven't woken up yet."

"We have to be dreaming. I would never wear this." came the voice of Chrysanthenum, Princess of Wintermore, as she joined the growing party.

"You're not all dreaming, only I am." Theodora pointed out, sitting down on the ground.

"I'm pretty sure only I am." Chrysanthenum said as she rested briefly against a tree.

"No, really, you're not real." Theodora sighed. "What an odd dream, it seems so real, except for you all."

"We're the most real thing here." Princess Candace said as she came up and dangled her bare feet in the stream. She lifted them slightly and smirked. "Isn't it odd that feet don't seem to get dirty in dreams? In any event, for ladies who grew up amongst Fae, you seem to have forgotten much of what can happen in the world of dream."

"You're not real at all, it's silly that you're here, I'd never a visit a place like this with any of you, or dress like this." Theodora said.

Maria Theresa lightly pressed on Theodora's arm. "Have you ever had the sense of touch in a normal dream before?"

"I honestly don't know." Theodora answered truthfully.

Meanwhile, the Danaan princesses kept finding their way into the small glade. All but the two youngest seemed to be in the general area. Gwendolyn and Yuko seemed embarrassed by their wardrobe. Rachel seemed to honestly think it was just a dream. Maital just looked nervous, taking a seat on a rock near the pool. "Where are the men? The High Queen? The children?"

"Where's my sister-in-law?" asked Theodora.

"That confirms my theory." Candace said. "It isn't night in Pantocratoria. She isn't dreaming yet."

"This is just silly." Theodora sighed. "I don't know why I'd dream about any of you. You're all expressions of my subconscious. I must try to remember this to tell my therapist..."

"You didn't grow up with fairies." Theophania noted. "Things like this used to be not uncommon in the Resurgent Dream."

"That's it!" Theodora said, standing excitedly and pointing at Theophania. "This dream is an expression of my subconscious dislike of the Resurgent Dream! That's what it is! Professor Filos is going to find this fascinating, no doubt."

"You don't like us?" Theophania asked, looking down at the water, a little hurt.

"I didn't say that, not that it matters, since you're not real." Theodora replied. "But I only feel comfortable here when I'm with Brendan, the rest of the time I feel like an alien."

"We need to find out where he is." Maital repeated more assertively. "We need to find the High King and the High Queen as well."

"He's lying in the bed next to me." Theodora answered. She bit her lower lip and laughed. "Brendan, not the High King."

"Did he say anything odd before you went to bed?" Christina asked.

"He told me not to get upset because he was right next to me." Theodora said. "He's sweet like that. I wish I was awake..."

"Heinrich said something like that as well." Christina said. "He seemed very worried but he wasn't very specific. Something about some convict..."

"Now that I think of it, Aaron was acting a little nervous. He slept with his service revolver near the bed. I wasn't paying attention at the time but...it is odd now that I reflect on it." Maital added.

"Cesare was fine." Plautilla said in contrast.

"Yes, but of course you're all going to say the same thing about your husbands, after all, that's what my husband did, going on about some escaped prisoner." said Theodora. "And you're just manifestations of my subconscious, so you're all drawing on my experiences. Except for you, Plautilla, because I know your husband is too self-obsessed to worry about something like an escaped prisoner in a foreign country. I am actually half-surprised that you didn't say that Cesare... oh nevermind. I'm going to go wander around until I wake up."

"Don't wander away from the group." Maital said. "It might not be safe.

"If something happens to me, I'll just wake up anyway." Theodora answered, getting up and starting to walk off.

As if giving the lie to Theodora's protest, it was at that moment that she heard a familiar, male voice, still fresh in her memory from months ago, some distance off. "I think I heard voices over this way."

"Oh no..." Theodora gasped, freezing in terror. She began crying, realising that she was having her first nightmare in months. "No, not again... please, not again..."

"We need to run, Theodora." Candace said.

"I need to wake up!" cried Theodora, too frightened to move.

Morgan started back to her quarters with a slight limp. She had been spending the afternoon in the Imperial Court's library struggling to learn Greek, something to which she had devoted a great deal of her admittedly limited free time. At the doorway, she actually stopped and addressed one of the Varangian guards who kept the palace secure "Pardon me..."

The Varangian snapped to attention and awaited Morgan's instructions.

"Could you see that there's extra security in this corridor tonight? I...it's probably nothing but it would make me feel better." Morgan said.

"Yes, Your Highness." the Varangian replied in a Swedish accent.

"Thank you." Morgan said politely and continued into her chambers. She sunk quietly onto the bed, thankful that her leg was no longer actually in a cast. and awaited her husband. Her expression was set in a worried frown.

Constantine arrived in the apartments half an hour later, still wearing the tuxedo he had worn to the function he had attended that night at the Palais du Parlement. He pulled his purple sash with its medals off his shoulders and tossed it onto a chair as he entered the bed chamber itself, and started pulling at his bow-tie.

"Welcome home." Morgan said softly.

"Thanks." Constantine smiled as he turned to face her. He pulled his jacket off and tossed it onto the chair as well. "How was your day?"

"It doesn't hurt to walk anymore." Morgan said with a small smile. "And yours?"

"Oh, it was... well it was fine I suppose. I'm glad to hear that." Constantine replied.

"I'm worried though." Morgan added.

"About what?" Constantine enquired, looking quizzically at her.

"I tried to ring my brother today and there wasn't an answer." Morgan said.

"What do you mean? Did you call him on some sort of direct line?" Constantine asked. "Or was the whole palace not answering?"

"The whole palace wasn't answering." Morgan said. "I managed to get in touch with the Mayor of Agwenstadt who told me there'd been technical problems with the communications software and that people were working on it. I considered asking for the portable phone number of someone on staff but I decided that would seem a tad overly worried..."

She frowned a little, waiting for Constantine to come to bed. Constantine walked into the wardrobe and emerged shortly after in his pyjamas.

"You're probably right, but if you're actually worried about it, then maybe you should get somebody's mobile number..." Constantine suggested as he slipped into bed next to her.

"I'm sure it will be fixed in the morning. It's not just an inconvenience. It's a threat to national security." Morgan responded, closing her eyes and leaning into her husband.

"Don't worry, if it was a threat to national security they'd relocate the High King to another residence until the problem had been resolved. They mustn't be worried about it, and those people are paid to worry, so there's no need for you to do it." Constantine reassured her, putting an arm around her.

"Thanks, sweetie." Morgan answered simply.

"Goodnight." Constantine told her. Evidently he wasn't in a passionate mood tonight.

In a few minutes, Morgan drifted off to sleep. Constantine took a little longer, but soon he too was asleep. As Constantine began to dream, he found himself experiencing a much more vivid dream than usual, encompassing all five senses and an unusual lucidity. He was underwater, albeit relatively clear water. He could feel its chill on his skin. He could feel soaked trousers on his lower body but seemed to have no other clothing. In his dream, Constantine started to swim for the surface of the water. As he swam, Constantine slowly realized that he was, in fact, already breathing comfortably under the water. He swam to the surface nevertheless. Once Constantine broke the surface, he could see endless sea in every direction. In one direction, at a great distance, he could see very tiny, very weak lights.

"Constantine?" the voice came from behind him.

He turned around in the water to the direction of the voice. His brother-in-law, Prince Brendan, was treading water towards him.

"So, am I dreaming about you or are you dreaming about me?" he joked.

"I think we both know the answer to that... at least here..." Constantine smiled.

Brendan shrugged slightly. 'Do you know where we are?"

"The Atlantic Ocean?" Constantine ventured.

There was a splash of water nearby. Owain, Constantine's other brother-in-law, had surfaced a few yards away. "This isn't a dream. Well, it is and it isn't."

"It's a dream, an odd one." Constantine answered.

"No." Owain said. "We're in the Dreaming."

"What does that mean?" Constantine asked. "That you're both actually you, and not just figments of my imagination?"

"Among other things." Owain answered.

"What other things, Your Majesty?" asked Constantine, deciding to be polite now that he had been told it was the real Owain. Assuming that it was the real Owain.

"Someone probably brought us here." Owain continued. "For good or ill."

"Brought us here? How?" Constantine said. "I was in bed with Morgan just like any other night. How did they bring me here?"

"They brought you into the general realm of dreams as such through your individual dreams. That's the best way I can think of to explain it." Owain said.

"You sound like old hands at this..." Constantine said with a nervous chuckle. "Did they bring Morgan too?"

"Where's Theodora?" Brendan suddenly asked fearfully.

"I don't know if they brought any ladies." Owain said. "A lot of my male cousins are also under the sea."

"Is it just your family, sir?" Constantine asked Owain. "Or have you seen others, people not related to you?"

"Just mine." Owain responded.

"What will happen when, tomorrow morning, either Morgan wakes up and wakes me up, or a servant wakes both of us up?" Constantine asked.

"I...I'm not sure." Owain confessed. "We need to get to the bottom of this."

At the small grove where the princesses were gathered, the infamous Grand Duke Sebben ap Balor rode lightly out into the open. He was beautiful and terrible as a nightmare. His face was pale and his hair was of shadow. His armor seemed to fit his form perfectly and yet to impede his movements not at all. His horse was a midnight stallion, breathing smoke and fire, with great bat's wings and eyes like burning embers. In his hands, Sebben held a powerful bow with an arrow already notched, an arrow he was pointing directly at Theodora. "Hello, Teddy." he said with a grin.

Maital and Ygraine moved rapidly from where they were sitting to stand between the Sidhe and the Pantocratorian. "You were banished long ago." Ygraine insisted. "Go back to Hell and leave us in peace."

Sebben laughed slightly at the Queen's words. Slowly, he let his bow go slack. "You know, I have all the power here. Shooting you down like the dogs you are would hardly be sporting. Here are the rules of the game. You have my Oath on them and, as most of you know, a fairy's oath is absolutely unbreakable, even for such a heartless fellow as I. I will not fabricate anything here. Everything you experience will come from the memories, the desires, the fears, or the hopes of one of your companions. I hope it will be an...educational experience."

In their dreams, the Emperor of Pantocratoria and his brother, Monsieur, found themselves in a fairly comfortable setting. Both men were sitting in rather comfortable leather chairs in what seemed to be a Victorian drawing room. A third man, a Sidhe neither had cause to recognize, was pacing the room in an irritable state. He set his whiskey down with a frown and ran a hand over his forehead. "I suppose it is to be expected in today's society. Still... my own wife..."

"What is that?" asked the Emperor, not having any reason to think he was in anything other than a normal dream. His dreams were often very vivid, even if he rarely remembered them.

"It's all a simple matter of Garmarian law. In our legal system, man and wife share the dignity of all titles in both directions, as Your Majesty might remember. That much says the law of Garmar. The law of nature and of nature's Author says that a man is the head of his family. If the one law says the title is shared and the other says the husband heads the shared affairs of the family, then surely final say with regard to the powers inheriting to said title is his, are they not?" the strange man continued.

The Emperor glanced at Basil, non-verbally conveying that he didn't know who the sidhe was. Basil obligingly looked to the sidhe.

"Pardon me, I don't think we've had the pleasure..." Basil ventured.

"Oh, come now, Your Highness. You are my guests here. You must..." he shrugged and laughed lightly. "I am Mortimer, the King Garmar...the right king of Garmar."

"You must forgive Monsieur, Your Majesty." the Emperor answered. "He occasionally has these episodes."

"I do?" Basil asked, confused, which if the Emperor was paying attention would be the first indication that it wasn't a normal dream, since in a normal dream, at least those which he could remember, his family always went along with what he said.

"Your legal assessment seems quite correct to me, Majesty." the Emperor continued.

Mortimer sat down with a small sigh. "And yet she rejected my last offer to end this conflict. It was overly generous by far, driven by my lingering affection for Her Majesty, and yet...I'm really not sure what else she could want." Mortimer said in what seemed to be honest confusion.

"In fairness, Your Majesty, in most other places in the world, the title would not be shared, and Her Majesty's point of view would be quite reasonable." Basil offered, looking quite confused. Evidently he didn't usually have dreams like this one.

"Quite so. In Pantocratoria, for instance, Her Majesty would be in the right." the Emperor agreed, not seeming to detect anything wrong for the moment.

"Her Majesty doesn't have the title by primogeniture in any event. I am High Lord by birth, a title which surpasses a monarchical title created by foreign intervention in legitimate authority if not in glory." Mortimer said somewhat defensively, as though he were actually worried about legitimacy in the eyes of Pantocratorians.

"Quite, Your Majesty, our observations were not intended to impinge the legitimacy of your argument, which was quite fully justified by your legal analysis. They were merely offered as... food for thought." the Emperor replied.

"Yes..." Basil murmured, now looking quite suspicious about what was going on, although he didn't know anything more specific than the fact that something was definitely odd about this dream.

Mortimer nodded, continuing his rant. "If it were merely politics, I wouldn't be in such a state, but after I'd returned to my throne and after she'd claimed that legitimate authority was vested in her, she wouldn't grant me my private conjugal rights, she refused to co-habit with me, she even refused to speak to me. What exactly was I supposed to do?"

"Indeed." replied the Emperor.

"She refused to even acknowledge the continued legitimacy of our marriage." he added. "As though marriage is something one can just end."

"If it began on illegitimate grounds, one can end it." Basil pointed out.

Mortimer frowned slightly. "You, of all people, I'd counted upon for sympathy."

"I am sorry, Your Majesty, I don't know the full details. I don't know what I'm talking about, forgive me." Basil replied.

"As I said, he sometimes has these episodes..." the Emperor nodded.

Mortimer nodded. "Yes, yes. My marriage was sealed with Oaths sworn by both parties willingly. But....now that I've reminded you, what do you believe I should do, Your Highness?"

"Give up." Basil answered, rising to his feet and moving about to explore the room. "Offer her separation rather than divorce. There's something wrong here..."

The Emperor arched his eyebrow as he followed Basil's movements about the room. Something was certainly wrong.

"Is that what you would do?" Mortimer asked.

"Your Majesty, I don't mean to be offensive, but I would never have let things go this far." Basil told him plainly, now consciously aware of the fact that he was dreaming and that it was a very odd dream. "If she doesn't want to cohabit with you, you can't force her. Divorce is unacceptable, so that leaves you with separation."

"You're being rather blunt, Monsieur." the Emperor observed.

"Things went this far because I was forced, against my will, to be long absent, by the attacks and intrigues of the Dominion and its Imperatrix." Mortimer reminded Basil sharply.

"The Dominion of the Lady Nathicana?" Basil enquired.

"The very same." Mortimer answered.

"I see." Basil said. He smiled and turned to his brother. "It's a good thing this is just a dream, I don't think you'd give me another commission as chancellor after this display of ignorance about foreign affairs."

"What did you say?" the Emperor asked, frowning.

"That it's a good thing this is just a dream because..." Basil answered.

"But..." the Emperor cut him off. "I'm the one who's dreaming... not you..."

Mortimer smirked slightly and didn't comment. "Perhaps we should be heading to rejoin the ladies?"

"Perhaps we'd best." the Emperor replied, frowning suspiciously, now himself aware that something was very odd.

"I usually wake up around the time I realise I'm dreaming..." Basil mumbled as he followed after the other two.

Mortimer led them down the corridor into a cozy, if ornate, Victorian family room. It is in this room that the dreaming Jacqueline and Irene found themselves. It was also in this room that three or four Sidhe women were sitting. The Sidhe ladies rose when Mortimer, Basil, and Andreus entered the room. So did Irene and Jacqueline.

"This is the oddest dream..." Irene remarked.

"I'm the one who's dreaming." the Emperor said.

"So am I." Basil mumbled, frowning.

"You all might think you're dreaming... but you're really just all in my dream." Jacqueline said, although she looked uncertain.

Ignoring this except for a small smirk, Mortimer approached Jacqueline with a small smile, offering his arm. "Madame, I was actually hoping I might ask your advice."

"Please, feel free." Jacqueline replied, taking a few steps toward Basil which betrayed the fact that she didn't feel entirely comfortable.

"Would you walk with me to dinner?" he asked, as the Queen Mother approached the Emperor. Basil was apparently expected to escort Irene.

Jacqueline looked to Basil, who shrugged slightly as if to say that they had little choice but to go along with it for now. She took Mortimer's arm, and the Emperor took Aoife's arm. Irene was carrying herself in almost a caricature of herself, as if her usual bluster had been magnified in response to her underlying unease at this very odd dream. She took Basil's arm when it was offered, and reflected on how long it had been since such a simple gesture of polite affection had been exchanged between the two of them.

"I'm sorry to impose, Your Highness." Mortimer said softly. "I just...wanted the advice of a lady and I wasn't sure who else to ask. I obviously can't seek Her Majesty's advice with present circumstances as they are and...mother is rather odd about these things." He spoke as though he really were embarrassed and a bit shy about all this.

"I'm not sure I'll be of much help, Your Majesty." Jacqueline replied. "But please, I'll try."

"I am...just not sure what else Her Majesty wants beyond what I've already offerred." Mortimer said. "I have recently offerred her complete freedom of residence, complete authority over her personal retinue, and a perpetual guarantee of all the honour and dignity of her station. What else might she be holding out for?"

"I... don't know... I don't know the situation, I'm sorry, Sire." Jacqueline answered truthfully.

"I am beginning to fear I simply know nothing about the fairer sex." Mortimer confided.

"I'm sure that isn't it, Sire." Jacqueline said, smiling reassuringly, although her smile betrayed that she was ill at ease here.

"I mean, my own marriage is collapsing, the advice I gave your niece's first husband seems to have turned out poorly..." he continued, his tone still that of a forlorn gentleman.

"My niece?" Jacqueline asked, not understanding. She had two married nieces.

"Yes. She remarried after her husband was murdered but still...tragic." Mortimer responded.

"I see." Jacqueline nodded, obviously confused. She decided that this was part of the whole fabric of the dream, something which she should have already known just like this situation between Mortimer and his wife which everybody kept talking about. "What did you tell him?"

"Theodora didn't tell you?" Mortimer asked. "I had heard she complained much more when her husband disciplined her than you do."

"I..." Jacqueline turned bright pink. She stumbled as she stopped walking for a moment and he kept on going. "Wait, Theodora's first husband?"

"Yes." he answered, smirking openly now and looking to the others (especially the Emperor) to see if they'd overheard.

The Emperor was making polite conversation with the Queen Mother, and Basil was too far back to hear, although he was trying to look over the Emperor's shoulder, having seen Jacqueline stumble. Jacqueline tried to pull free from Mortimer's grip. Mortimer let her go without fighting, just watching now.

"What do you mean, Theodora's first husband?" Jacqueline demanded, glaring at him.

"What is this about?" the Emperor demanded, stopping and frowning. Behind him, Basil let go of Irene's arm and moved over to Jacqueline's side. Irene followed behind Basil curiously.

"I governed my own married life by the same principles, of course. Although not nearly so gently or with so much restraint. That is, primarily, the cause of the current problem. A problem with regard to which your husband and brother-in-law have stated they side with me, incidentally." Mortimer gloated.

"What's this about, Madame?" the Emperor asked Jacqueline.

"He said..." Jacqueline began. "Well... he said that he gave advice to Theodora's first husband... by whom I am sure she didn't mean Prince Brendan."

"What?" the Emperor frowned. He glared at Mortimer. "Explain yourself, sir!"

Mortimer laughed lightly. "It's exactly what it sounds like. So what are you going to do about it?" He walked over to Irene as he spoke.

"What sort of advice did you give him, you cur!?!" Irene demanded, trembling with anger.

"Madame, have you any idea what this man is talking about?" the Emperor asked Aoife.

Aoife just pulled away and let her son talk. Ignoring the Emperor, Mortimer arched a brow at Irene. "You know, you really are ill-mannered."

"Answer the question!" Irene shrieked at him, attempting to slap him across the face. He grabbed her hand as she brought it up and then shoved her, hard, in the shoulder. Irene would've fallen to the ground if not for the fact that he was holding her wrist. She twisted the arm he was holding as she fell nastily, and exclaimed in pain and surprise.

"Unhand her!" the Emperor commanded him.

Mortimer complied, releasing the wrist suddenly so as to send Irene tumbling to the floor. "Didn't your sister used to be pretty? I wonder how many years it's been since anyone's ever actually wanted her company."

The Emperor didn't answer. He bent over and helped Irene to her feet. Irene craddled her arm. Her hair had mostly come out of the severe bun it was usually pulled into and fell about her face and shoulders in a dishevelled fashion, mostly concealing the tears of pain in her eyes. Jacqueline, frightened by the display of brutality, stepped back from Mortimer and pressed herself against Basil's side. Basil put an arm around her protectively, watching Mortimer carefully.

"What kind of dream is this?" the Emperor growled to Mortimer.

"Fortunately, you're just here to watch the dreaming. Theodora is first." At that, the palace was gone. Mortimer and the Pantocratorians stood in a seemingly endless marble hall. There was a pool of water near them. In the pool, the Pantocratorians could see Theodora and the Danaan women as Sebben approached them.

Theodora found herself standing in a large green. She was standing in mixed company with people from every race (including the many Fae races), every age, and of both sexes, although all seemed dressed formally. The aristocracy seemed to be represented disproportionately, although aristocrats did not seem to be an actual majority of the crowd. Another similar group stood on the other side of the green. However, the center of attention seemed to be the many men and several women in the uniforms of Danaan lieutenants making their way towards the spectators from the rows of chairs where they had been sitting. Among these men was Brendan as he must have looked several years before she had met him, heading towards a woman Theodora might recognize from old photos of her husband's as Éabhna O'Brien, Brendan's late mother and, at the time of his graduation from the military academy, the dowager Duchess of Algha. Brendan embraced her tightly and she kissed him on the cheek. Then he embraced another older woman standing next to her.

On the stage, Theodora might recognize the well-known figure of Agwene ni Gwydion wearing the uniform of the Grand Marshall of the Resurgent Dream. Surrounding her were nearly a dozen other ranking officers, all smiling down upon the younger people.

As dreams went, this was not the oddest dream that Marissa had ever had, nor was it the most frightening. It was the one that made her feel unnerved though, which was something very strange in a dream. She had this strange feeling that something was not entirely right. For one, she found herself wondering about her dream or more precisely, wondered what she was doing in it. Normally her dreams took her along for the ride, but this one seemed to let her think about her actions.

She looked about her. She was standing in some kind of wood, one that have a very dreamlike feel to it, like it had come from some fantasy or other. She could not help wondering if this was the kind of forest that Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel and Gretel had walked through in their adventures. She walked around half expecting a big bad wolf to pop out from behind a tree or see a gingerbread house.

Of course, the oddest thing about her dream seemed to be her dress…or her lack of one. To say that she had more flesh on show than she had covered was certainly not an understatement. Still, she was grateful that she was not having a dream that had her walking naked through the forest, and would have some dream expert explain that she was ‘trying to get back to nature’.

Her appearance did bring Owain to mind at the instance, as she wondered if he would appreciate seeing herself dressed in such a fashion. She smiled to herself, suddenly expecting him to be conjured before her, as so often happens in dreams. A thought tended to create the dream reality.

Feeling a need to explore – oh how dreams always make you fearless – she began to walk deeper into the forest, the trees looming over her head, a faint whispering of breath through the leaves…or was that just Owain lying beside her, breathing as he too wandered around his own land of dreams.

Voices up ahead drew her attention, leading her now on a defined path. They seemed oddly familiar, people she knew. She edged closer, her pace an odd mix of speedy steps followed by very cautious. Beneath her feet the leaves rustled at her step. Pausing beside a large tree, she peeked around it, spotting a group of women, their faces slowly revealed as she looked from one to the other.

The group was finished by a man, definitely unknown to her, but not by some of the others. Ygraine seemed to have a distinct disliking for the man, and had mentioned something about being banished. This dream was obviously not as pleasant as she first thought. She watched for a moment, wanting to take a step forward while at the same time wanting to get away from the scene before her.

Please, wake up, Marissa, she mumbled under her breath, feeling very uneasy. Wake up.

Theodora knew that sidhe had powers over dreams, but the repercussions of that power had never really occured to her until this moment. When she saw Sebben perish by Brendan's hand, she thought, naïvely, that it was all over, that he could never torment her again. Until now, he had only tormented her in her nightmares, which, horrible though they were, were simply ordinary, every day nightmares. As time went on, the nightmares came less frequently, and the hold the terrible events of the year before had on her diminished more and more by the day. Since her eighteenth birthday, in fact, she hadn't had a single nightmare recalling her captivity. Sebben was something from her past - a horrible thing, but over and done with.

As Sebben had pointed that arrow in his drawn bow at her back in the clearing, she realised that Sebben was anything but something from her past. The words of the Danaans rung true - this was no ordinary dream, this was the Dreaming, illusions created out of their minds by Sebben to torment them. The realisation that he could tormet her for the rest of her life, whenever he wanted, was too much for Theodora to bear. And the worst part of it was, she didn't know of anyway he could be stopped. Who had more power over the Dreaming than Sebben? Nobody could rescue her this time, nobody could rescue any of them.

When her surroundings transformed and she found herself at some sort of military graduation, she didn't pay much attention to anything. She didn't see the point, she decided it was all some sort of sick game to set her up for something truly terrible. Instead of engaging with what was going on around her, Theodora cowered down on the ground and curled up into a little ball.

As he watched Theodora in the scrying pool, Mortimer, who looked suspiciously like the image of Sebben seen earlier, lightly draped an arm around Andreus's shoulder. "Wow...Andy...your daughter sure is a cringing dog! Of course, you know the old saying, like mother, like daughter?"

...

"Hey! Are you alright?" Theodora could recognize Brendan's voice. Then she could recognize him crouching down next to her on the ground. His face, younger looking than in life, bore a solicitous, worried expression. The crowd around them seemed to notice Theodora for the first time, turning and looking at her in perplexity. A few of them whispered among themselves and Theodora could overhear snatches about her strange garb, her apparent mental problems, how she got there, etc.

Brendan slipped off his uniform jacket and placed it gently over Theodora's bare shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you somewhere safe and warm. I'll buy you a coffee, alright?"

...

Marissa suddenly found herself, still dressed as she was, sitting next to Owain at a great round table. The table, of course, was not a huge solid circle but an extremely long table of normal width curved like the circumference of a circle. Exactly opposite where Marissa and Owain were sitting was a five foot space between the nearly touching ends of the table, presumably for performers to enter through so as to entertain the guests while they ate. There were no performers at present.

Around the table sat, not the usual array of courtly guests, but a party composed entirely of monarchs and, where applicable, their spouses. The Empress and Prince Consort of Lavenrunz, the Emperor of Pantocratoria, the Emperor of Adoki, the Emperor and Empress of Excalbia, the Emperor and Empress of Menelmacar, the Imperatrice of the Dominion, the King and Queen of Marlund, the King of Midlonia, the Grand Duke of Taraskovya, and even Marissa's own cousin Gehenna. All the guests were staring at Marissa and whispering among themselves. Some of the ladies would giggle from time to time.

Next to her, Marissa could feel Owain tenser than ever before. His face was red with humiliation and he was stammering to apologize. "I'm sorry...what my wife...I'm sure what my wife meant to say was..."

As he swam through the waters of his dream with the others, Constantine saw a large discolouration in the water ahead, moving rapidly closer. As he got closer and closer, the discolouration surrounded him. His eyes and skin burned and he could no longer see any of the others around him. In a panic, Constantine surfaced as quickly as he could.

As he broke the surface, Constantine suddenly found himself in a drawing room at the Imperial Court. While he was still dressed as he had been, no one seemed to notice it. The company included a number of noblemen, although no one Constantine knew well. His wife, Morgan, dressed in her normal gown, was the only woman present. Constantine was momentarily surprised but not for long, it was, after all, a dream. Strange things happened. He looked about and then set off for his room to change.

"Your Highness?" Morgan asked in a slightly perturbed tone.

"Yes, madame?" Constantine asked, turning to Morgan before he left the room.

"You're leaving already? I was just getting to the most relevant part." she protested.

"Oh? I'm sorry my dear, but I wasn't really here to begin with, and I really need to get out of these wet clothes." Constantine replied. "I'll be back later. Probably. Or maybe I'll be somewhere else."

Morgan pouted a little and made puppy dog eyes, looking at the seat next to her. Constantine turned and left the room, having decided that she wasn't the real Morgan, or else she wouldn't have acted as if he had been there listening to whatever it was she was saying. He walked to his apartments. He arrived and walked straight to the wardrobe, starting to take off his pants as he entered the inner rooms. The wardrobe was full of more pairs of matching pants and not a single other garment. Constantine frowned, having pulled off his wet pants only to find that, with the exception of being dry, the rest of his wardrobe was identical. He walked into the adjacent bathroom and towelled himself dry, before returning to the wardrobe and pulling on one of the many pairs of pants.

"I swear, I'm worse dressed in this dream than in any other..." Constantine said, bemused, as he looked for a pair of shoes... and found none.

"I have over a hundred pairs of shoes and I can't... well, clearly this is some kind of uniform." he complained out loud. He left his apartments to return to the room in which he had arrived.

Morgan smiled as he returned. "We waited for you."

"Of course you did, I'm the star of this little game." Constantine replied. "Now I know what it's like to be my brother... What do you think of my new outfit, by the way?"

"I'd think you were handsome in anything, my heart." Morgan said with a sweet smile.

"No, tell me." Constantine said. "I really want to know what you think."

Morgan blushed a little and looked down. "Your Highness...please..."

"Madame, I must insist." Constantine said, instinctively addressing her in a formal fashion again now that she had reverted to as much.

"Can I speak to you in private, Your Highness?" Morgan asked.

"We're in private." Constantine answered her.

"Constantine?" Morgan asked in shock.

"Well..." Constantine began, but he decided against it. The noblemen in the room were real enough to her, after all, even if she wasn't herself real. He offered her his hand. "I'm sorry, of course we can speak in private."

Morgan took his hand and stepped into the hall with him. "How could you ask me that in front of those men, Connie?"

"Well, I..." Constantine began, but stopped. "When did you start calling me Connie?"

"I've called you Connie sometimes since a few weeks after we were married." Morgan said dismissively and truthfully. "Stop trying to change the subject. It's bad enough you're walking around court half-naked, flaunting your physique for all the aristocratic ladies. If the situation was reversed, no husband would ever have to tolerate comparable behavior from his wife. But do you really have to call attention to it in front of all those men to humiliate me like that? Especially today of all days..."

"I... I'm sorry." Constantine stammered. "I didn't mean to, this was all I had in my wardrobe... you didn't seem to mind before and I... what's special about today?"

"Like you'd forget." Morgan said with a smile, turning back to the room.

"No, Morgan, really... what's special about today?" Constantine said, catching her gently by the elbow for moment to stop her from going back inside. "Pretend like I only just got here before I went to get changed..."

"We're talking about the trials." Morgan said, heading back into the room.

"Which trials? What day is it?" Constantine whispered as he followed her in. "Morgan, please tell me..."

"It's May 13th 2006 and we're talking about the trial of Rainer Fabel." Morgan said, referring to the former President of Marlund.

"Oh." Constantine replied. "I see. Well, I'm sorry I interrupted you. And I'm sorry I'm half-naked, I couldn't find a shirt..."

"It's alright." Morgan said.

"Please, continue." Constantine said, sitting in the chair Morgan indicated for him earlier.

Morgan sat down. "As I was saying, it is as untenable to base the trial on a special law capable of operating ex post facto. Not only is the very possibility of such a law a dubious matter but, even if it might be convincingly valid, it sets a very dangerous precedent for future constitutional norms. Likewise, it does not befit a civilized state to rely on the naked right of conquest. The only possible judicial basis is some sort of appeal to universal or international law, which is innately problematic."

Constantine nodded thoughtfully and listened attentively.

"The Government will likely seek to discover such a law in the various resolutions of the United Nations." suggested a Baron Constantine vaguely remembered to be active in support of the United Christian Front.

"Probably." Morgan said. "They'll be prepared for someone to perhaps suggest a more theological basis as preferable or to denounce the pretense of a trial. But that would be too obvious. I don't think we... don't think you should do that, Your Highness, and I think you should try do keep your party from doing either. Instead, you should point out the obvious implications, something that naturally follows from such a precedent and would turn the Socialists' attempt to bring international norms into play into a diplomatic disaster."

"Wait, we're trying him?" Constantine asked in surprise.

"We're giving instructions to the Pantocratorian representative to a joint allied judicial advisory body charged to submit a united recommendation to the Marlund legislature." Morgan said.

"Oh..." Constantine mumbled. "I'm sorry, I... wasn't aware of any of this. So, sorry, madame, could you clarify... you didn't think we should bring the United Nations into this?"

"Well, what are the implications of invoking United Nations resolutions as matters of law in trying a former Chief of State of Marlund? They are implications which the Danaans and the Adoki will see immediately, especially if they are asked to back this sort of recommendation." Morgan asked.

"Naturally, that we would be trying him according to the standards of an organisation of which Marlund was no more a part than the Resurgent Dream nor Adoki." Constantine nodded. "Well, we could charge him with treason."

"Against whom?" Morgan asked.

"The King of Marlund." Constantine replied.

"Not by any standard which doesn't make the Chief of State of practically every Republic on Earth legally guilty of treason." Morgan pointed out.

"Consider it. If you argue that he wasn't the chief of state at all, that his regime was illegitimate, an unlawful rebellion, then we can apply all the laws of the original monarchy to Fabel, and indeed, to the whole of his regime. Nobody can use the defence that they were acting on legitimate orders." Constantine proposed.

"That's quite a legal fiction." Morgan said. "Are you sure it's tenable?"

"Well, there was an entire, pre-existing legal system, which one could argue still applied if one could argue that Fabel's government was never a legitimate one to legislate to replace the prior legal system." Constantine shrugged. "And presumably, the formation of Fabel's regime was never legitimate under the laws of the old monarchy. Once you prove that, then you establish that the King remained the legitimate head of state, and that no laws could be introduced or repealed without his assent."

"Pantocratoria recognized the Governments of numerous nations which have had revolutionary changes." Morgan pointed out, slightly flustered at having her carefully prepared argument highjacked by this new idea.

"Such as?" Constantine asked. "We don't recognise the French Government as being the Government of France. We've never recognised the Gull Flag Republic's government as being the lawful Iansislean Government."

"You recognize the Knootian Government. You don't like them but you recognize them." Morgan pointed out.

"Well, the House of Knootcap gave up their claims to any Knootian titles, and only ever ruled Knootoss as a republic, which is to say, they ruled, at least theoretically, with the permission of the people. They never ruled by divine right." Constantine replied. "We always regarded the execution of their last Stewardess as illegitimate, but Knootoss always was a republic."

"You recognize a whole host of republics which won independence from Excalbia against the will of the Sword." Morgan pointed out.

"So does Excalbia. When Excalbia recognised them, the Excalbian Emperor implicitly renounced his claim. Did the King of Marlund ever do as much?" Constantine inquired.

"Implicitly, by living as private citizens for over a century without claiming the Throne." Morgan pointed out. "Incidentally, I might point out that the Romans frequently changed their governments through extraconstitutional means. Is your family guilty of usurping the right of Tarquin's heirs?"

"Imperial succession is an interesting matter, actually..." Constantine started. "Anyway, I was only suggesting something. You had another idea, didn't you, madame?"

"I did. But before we can get too much into the details of what could really constitute a binding international law beyond the statuatory authority of the United Nations, we have to clarify what we're asking...Obviously, we all believe in some sort of...Let me put it this way. Would you agree that divorce is wrong according to an unchanging moral law valid for all people and all time?"

"No, I don't think so." Constantine replied.

He frowned and wondered why he was here talking about this. The men blinked at Constantine a little but nodded.

"Yes, of course." one of them said.

"Haven't you ever heard of the Old Testament?" Constantine asked.

"Yes, of course." the man said again.

"Fine." Constantine rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Morgan.

"Incest then." Morgan said. "Anthropologically speaking..."

"What degree of consanguinity?" Constantine asked.

At that moment, Prince Basil walked into the room with a couple other figures from the party. Constantine looked to Basil and rose to his feet as courtesy required. The others rose as well. Basil smiled slightly. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, Monsieur." Constantine replied.

"Actually, Monsieur..." the Baron began "...I was hoping we could discuss the matter of judicial instructions for the meeting in Marlund. I don't know about Your Highness but most of us haven't had a chance to discuss the matter at all..."

Morgan opened her mouth as though to speak and then just closed it, turning slightly red.

"Don't feel badly, Monsieur le Baron, neither has the Shadow Cabinet." Constantine said. "Have we, Monsieur? Her Highness has been expounding on the topic at some length, however."

Basil smiled slightly.

"Not too many hysterics, I hope? In any event, we really should speak of it." He turned to Morgan and nodded politely. "If you'll excuse us, Your Highness..."

"Actually, I have heard quite sufficient on the matter for one dream, Monsieur." Constantine continued. "With your leave, I'll accompany my wife and leave you gentlemen to your meeting."

Theodora looked up at Brendan as he put the cloak around her shoulders. She knew that Sebben had only put him here with her to torment her, trick her somehow. She guessed it was probably to lure her into doing exactly that which was her overwhelming desire to do - to let him comfort her, to seek his protection. She knew that he was there only as part of some intricate mental torture whose full torments she had yet to discover, and yet as she looked up at him she couldn't help but go along with it. She smiled feebly with her trembling lips and nodded her positive reply to his question, the look of recognition and adoration in her eyes unmistakable. Brendan looked a little taken aback as he offered Theodora his hand.

"So do you have a brother graduating or maybe a betrothed?" he asked her.

"In... a kind of..." she mumbled, placing her delicate hand in his, and getting to her feet. She already knew he didn't recognise her, and could tell that she was seeing something from the past, or at least, that Sebben had selected the past as the setting for his wicked purposes. Nevertheless she buried herself in his chest as soon as she was on her feet. "In a kind of way, yes."

Brendan patted her somewhat awkwardly on her back as she buried herself in his chest. "Maybe we should get you somewhere where you can sit down and get you some decent clothes to wear?"

"Yes." she nodded, reluctantly pulling away from him to a more socially acceptable distance. "Let's get that coffee, I'll explain."

"Do you want a change of clothes first?" Brendan asked.

"There might not be time..." Theodora said, looking around as if frightened, scanning the crowd around her for any sign of Sebben or indeed, anything which looked threatening.

"Alright." Brendan said, starting off towards a coffee shop fairly near the campus with Theodora in tow. As they arrived, he held the door for her.

"Thankyou." she said, smiling with a sort of familiar warmth at him as she stepped through the door, his jacket wrapped around her.

"So what's your name?" he asked as he pulled a chair out for her.

"Theodora." she answered, sitting down in the offered chair. She took a deep breath. "Theodora Irene Marie Antoinette... O'Brien."

"Really?" Brendan asked curiously. "That's actually my last name as well. Perhaps we're related?"

"This is going to sound crazy, but please, believe me, I don't know how long we have." Theodora began. "We're not related. We're married. Not now, well, not here... I mean, not at this time, but in a few more years, we'll be married."

Brendan....looked at her like she was crazy, speechless for a long moment.

"I promise you I'm not crazy, even though I'm dressed in this stupid outfit..." Theodora began, reading his face. "In 2005 I was kidnapped from the palace grounds, and then sold by my captors to a sidhe terrorist named Sebben. He was running a base in Marlund. He and his men tortured, beat, and raped me, and half-a-dozen other women. You led a group of Danaan soldiers who stormed the camp and rescued me. You killed Sebben yourself after challenging him to a duel to save my life. You didn't know who I was then, either, but you risked your life for me anyway. You're not just my husband, you see, Brendan, my love. You're my hero."

At that point her eyes welled with tears of the sincerest sort of love, and she had to pause for a moment to wipe them dry and allow what she had said to sink in.

Brendan blinked slightly, studying Theodora carefully. "Grand Duke Sebben ap Balor?"

"Yes." Theodora nodded, leaning in slightly closer over the table. "But now he's back, haunting my dreams, and the dreams of all the women of the Danaan court... that's why I'm here, Brendan, one moment I was standing in a clearing with the others and he was going to fire this arrow at me... and then... I was in the crowd. All I know is that he's planning something terrible."

"He died last October." Brendan said gently.

"He's a sidhe." Theodora replied. "They don't stay dead... Brendan, you have to believe me... there has to be something I can say to prove I'm not crazy..."

"Where's my birthmark?" he asked.

"Just above your waist, on your left hand side." she answered.

"You could have heard that from any number of..." Brendan paused, sighing lightly. "From any of the men. We have a group shower after a lot of the physical courses."

"Then ask me something else." she pleaded, reaching across the table to put her slender hand on his forearm, and looking into his eyes.

Brendan sat down. "On which side of the bed do I prefer to sleep?"

"You sleep on the side nearest the door, but I don't know if that's because you prefer it, or for my benefit." Theodora answered.

Sebben walked through the door. throwing his hands in the air. "You Capets, you won't just go with it. You make me do everything the awkward way. Your brother's just as bad, you know?"

Theodora squealed with fright and leapt out of her chair. She scurried over to Brendan's side.

Brendan stepped between her and Sebben. "Now, see here..."

"I just wanted you to know I had your brother." Sebben said and then the setting changed entirely around Theodora. No longer was she in the coffee shop but now in Brendan's dormitory room. Brendan and a man she didn't recognize were straightening their uniforms before mirrors on the backs of their doors.

"Wh..." Theodora began, looking around in confusion, wondering where Sebben went. She took a few second to get a sense of her bearings - even if she knew what had happened, it was still disorienting.

Brendan spoke to his unfamiliar companion. "Is Garance taking you back to her room tonight?"

"Brendan..." Theodora interrupted, hopefully. She self-consciously folded her arms in front of her naked midsection.

Brendan seemed not to see or hear her. The other man nodded. "Yeah, so you and Gaetana can come back here if you'd like."

"Brendan!" Theodora whined, stepping closer to him.

He still seemed completely unable to detect her. He just turned and smiled at the other man. "That's up to her. But let's just say that I'm not worried about sleeping alone tonight."

Theodora frowned and reached out to him, walking right up between the men.

"Brendan!" she pleaded.

"Well, we'd better get going." the other man said, starting for the door.

As Theodora reached for Brendan, her hand seemed to pass through him. She gasped and started to sob, realising that she was there as a sort of ghost, unable to seek Brendan's protection.

"Why are you doing this?" she cried. The question was intended for Sebben, although it was directed at the floor.

The two of them walked out of the door. Sebben appeared sitting on the bed, smiling at Theodora. "He has plans already tonight, Teddy."

"Don't call me that." Theodora told him. "Let me go. Let us all go."

"You know, I think you're pretty. You're not really Brendan's type though..." Sebben commented.

"Stop it!" Theodora insisted. "You said you had my brother. Do you have anyone else?"

"All the princes and princesses, the Danaan ones. Your father. Your aunts and your uncle." Sebben said, shrugging.

"My father?" Theodora gasped.

"Yes." Sebben said. "But stop changing the topic..."

"Let them go! All of them!" Theodora pleaded. "Please, let them go..."

"Now, Gaetana Cuoca...that's a woman..." Sebben commented.

"I know he's had girlfriends before." Theodora told Sebben. "It doesn't bother me. Which one of my brothers do you have here? It's Connie, isn't it? You said you had all the Danaan princesses so you must have Morgan, and if you took her you'd take Connie too."

"The thing is, you get to watch." Sebben said. "That might bother you." And then he was gone.

"Basil, you really do come across as an ass in your nephew's dream, don't you?" Mortimer asked Prince Basil, taking his arm off of the Emperor and glancing over towards Basil and Jacqueline as the small group watched the dreams of the others.

...

After what seemed like hours, Theodora could hear laughing outside the room. Brendan soon returned with a tall, athletic woman with raven hair. She was dressed in a dress uniform identical to his and the two of them were wrestling as well as kissing. Gaetana eventually got a grip on Brendan allowing her to flip him onto the bed and then crawled up, penning him down and kissing him lightly. "I win!" she teased.

"And what do you win?" Brendan asked, thrusting upwards as though attempting to toss her off. In answer, Gaetana leaned down and gave him a deeper kiss, starting to unbutton his jacket. And it went on from there, Theodora forced to watch every second.

...

Morgan walked with Constantine back towards their room. She was quiet and slightly pale, just taking his arm and leaning against him ever so slightly as they walked.

...

Gwendolyn woke up with a splitting headache. She sat up in the bed, bringing a hand up to her forehead and slid her feet onto the ground. "What did I..." she started to ask before she froze, just staring at the bed behind her. Where her husband Peter should have been was Gailard Cabal, a poet she had once gone to school with.

As he watched Theodora in the scrying pool, Mortimer, who looked suspiciously like the image of Sebben seen earlier, lightly draped an arm around Andreus's shoulder. "Wow...Andy...your daughter sure is a cringing dog! Of course, you know the old saying, like mother, like daughter?"

The Emperor regarded Mortimer coldly with a studied arrogant, superior sneer. The sneer was one of his defence mechanisms to conceal his real emotional reactions, which he had sought to keep hidden and under control since his adolescence. His cold glances, arrogant sneers, disapproving frowns, and general stern demeanour, all contrived to conceal his real feelings, at first so difficult to affect, now came so easily that he was barely conscious that he was doing them at all. Words couldn't express the Emperor's rage, how much he wanted to reach out and strangle Mortimer, but he knew that his rage was impotent in the Dreaming, that here, he was the powerless one, and despite his anger his pride and the practice of the last forty years of his life wouldn't allow him to make some sort of futile gesture and thus have his impotence exposed.

"Impudent churl!" he growled from behind his disdainful mask. He turned his attentions to Irene, who was still wincing in pain from her twisted arm, looking absolutely terrified and not at all herself.

"Basil, you really do come across as an ass in your nephew's dream, don't you?" Mortimer asked Prince Basil, taking his arm off of the Emperor and glancing over towards Basil and Jacqueline as the small group watched the dreams of the others.

"You really do come across as an ass yourself, sir." Basil retorted, hugging Jacqueline close.

"Why are you doing this?" Jacqueline demanded from the safety of her husband's side. "That's not really Basil, that's your image of him. What are you playing at? What are you doing to Constantine, you cockroach?"

Sebben just laughed, staring at the pool. "It wasn't Basil. It was, however, someone's impression of Basil. I'm not just making anything up here. All of the material is from inside the dreams of my...guests. By the way, Basil, what do you think they should do with Mr., excuse me, Herr Fabel? I won't really miss working with him. Quite a small minded man. Do you know he actually believed I was an angel? Imagine! Me!"

Sebben smiled as Theodora's dream continued. "This one is almost like erotica. Will you look at her? She can actually flip him she's so strong and brave. Exactly Brendan's type. He probably would have married someone like that if his big heart hadn't gotten him tangled up in a pity marriage to some simpering victim he practically has to carry around with him."

Sebben smirked slightly, leaning over to look closer at the pool before turning back towards Basil and Jacqueline. "Of course, I'm sure she's weak and dependent on the inside. All women are. It's part of what makes them so revolting. Especially, you madam..."

Sebben physically grabbed Basil, shoving him seven or eight feet away and knocking him to the ground, almost tossing him. He then grabbed Jacqueline sharply by the arm. "Have anything to see to me without standing behind your weakling fag of a husband?"

"Unhand her!" barked the Emperor as Sebben grabbed Jacqueline by the arm.

"Let me go!" Jacqueline shrieked at Sebben (or Mortimer, as he had initially introduced himself). "You animal! Cockroach! My husband is twice the man you'll ever be! All this magic power in the Dreaming, and what's the best you can think to do with it? Abducting people, and watching their most intimate memories, hopes and fears like some sort of pervert watching pornography, that's all you can think of doing? You think I'm frightened by you just because you're hurting my arm? I'm not afraid of you!"

"Let go of her!" Basil roared as he scrambled up to his hands and feet. He charged at Sebben and dived at his midsection, trying to tackle him to the ground.

***

As she had warned Sebben, Theodora wasn't as bothered by seeing Brendan with an old flame as he had predicted she would be, although she would be lying if she said it didn't bother her at all. She couldn't help but compare herself to the woman with whom Brendan was sharing the bunk and wonder whether he preferred Gaetana over her. She did seem to be very different to Theodora, after all. Almost Amazon-like, not at all like a delicate, pampered imperial princess.

What worried Theodora more was what Brendan was being shown. If she was being shown Brendan with other women, she couldn't stand the thought of Brendan seeing her with other men. Brendan seeing her first time, with the young officer with whom she had a clumsy, awkward rendezvous in the backseat of a car, would be bad enough, but she absolutely couldn't bear the idea of him being made to watch what had happened to her in Sebben's camp.

***

"Is something wrong, Morgan?" Constantine asked as he walked her back to their apartments. "Are you feeling faint? Is your leg hurting again?"

Sebben smiled lightly. "You are fiestier than I thought, madam."

He gripped Jacqueline's head tightly, pressing his lips against hers and forcing his tongue down her throat, even as he almost casually kicked Basil aside with a vicious kick to the jaw. Basil, kicked in the jaw in mid-air as he leapt at Sebben in a rage, crashed to the ground in an unconscious heap. Jacqueline squealed and fought Sebben off, scratching at his face and biting down on his tongue as he forced it into her mouth. Sebben laughed, pulling back. He appeared entirely unmarked although she had felt herself scratching and biting him. As Sebben turned back to the pool, Basil instantly regained consciousness. Jacqueline, quivering with indignation, balled her fists and stared daggers into the back of Sebben's head, but instead of attacking him futilely again, she knelt down next to Basil and helped him up to his feet.

"You are beneath contempt, Sebben." the Emperor scowled at him. "End this nonsense at once."

"It must be hard for your pride to give an order you know can be disobeyed as casually as the word of the lowest servant." Sebben noted.

"You will have to end it at some point." the Emperor replied, and returned his attention to the pool, not wanting to be drawn on Sebben's observation, which was indeed insightful.

"Cockroach!" Jacqueline spat at Sebben as she soothed Basil and convinced him not to attempt another pointless gesture.

"I could do a lot more to you if I wanted, Jackie." Sebben said with a slight smirk. "A lot more."

"You wouldn't dare!" Jacqueline replied, although her voice betrayed that she was shaken by the threat.

"Because I've been so worried about respecting the dignity of imperial princesses before." Sebben said sarcastically.

"I'm not afraid of you!" Jacqueline said, her voice wavering slightly. She pressed herself against her husband's shoulder, and Basil wrapped his arm around her protectively and kissed her on the forehead.

Sebben walked back over to the pool. By now, it was showing Princess Maital reliving the first night of her marriage, conducted under now abolished laws allowing what would now be considered child marriage. Sebben shook his head slightly. "And I thought Pantocratoria was barbaric."

"What gives you the right to invade people's privacy like this?" Jacqueline demanded.

"Sssh..." Basil urged her quietly, knowing that he was incapable of protecting her if Sebben did try to do anything else to her.

"I've seen enough. I will watch no more of your illusions." the Emperor declared, turning away from the pool with Irene.

"The fact that I'm better than you." Sebben answered calmly.

Suddenly, the dreamrealm where the group was gathered shuddered, as though the Earth beneath it was shaking. Sebben frowned with what looked like worry, perhaps even fear. Scowling, he tossed Basil aside again and lifted Jacqueline to her feet.

"Put me down!" Jacqueline squealed as he picked her up.

"Put her down!" Basil shouted, instinctively preparing to charge at him once more, although he restrained himself, knowing it wouldn't help.

"If you resume looking in the pool, I won't touch her again." Sebben offerred.

Basil looked at his wife and looked to the Emperor, whose back was still turned to the pool. The Emperor made no indication that he intended to turn around.

"André..." Basil started. "Please..."

"Put me down!" Jacqueline squealed again, kicking and hitting at Sebben.

Sebben kissed her neck lightly. "Last chance, Andy."

"What are you going to do to me?" Jacqueline whimpered.

"André!" Basil pleaded moving over to his brother's side.

Sebben just shrugged, holding Jacqueline close as he looked to Basil and the Emperor.

"André, please!" Basil pleaded with the Emperor, who set his jaw sternly.

"André, turn around for the love of God!" Irene pleaded with him.

"Monsieur, mademoiselle, you forget yourselves." the Emperor told them, setting his jaw coldly.

"André!" Basil scowled, spinning on his heel to chase after Sebben. "Please, I beg you! Don't hurt her!"

"Please, don't hurt me!" Jacqueline echoed.

Sebben hit Jacqueline hard in the face, hard enough to make her nose pour blood. Jacqueline screamed and her legs crumpled from underneath her. Basil jumped down to the group to her side.

"André! He's broken her nose!" Basil yelled to his brother.

His back still turned to the pool, the Emperor flinched and frowned, before finally turning back to the pool. Sebben smiled and walked back to the pool, leaving Jacqueline alone.

"Help her back to the pool, Basil, I promised not to touch her."

"Can't you fix her nose?" Basil asked him as he helped his wife to her feet. She leaned into him, sobbing in fright and bleeding all over his chest. "Please, she's in pain."

Sebben shrugged and Jacqueline's nose was healed. Meanwhile, he stared deeply into the pool.

"I want you to see that I'm not just doing this to a few royals. I have the whole complex. I've been showing you those you know best but I have Ministers, judges, ambassadors, even staff. Like that man. His name's James Woods. He's living through his worst nightmare, losing his only son, his pride and joy of his life and the only thing he has left of his late wife. And he's nothing to me. He's some local constable who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. As long as I have the power I have, no one is safe from my merest whim, either through anonymity or power." Sebben commented.

"How fascinating. Heal my sister's arm at once." the Emperor commanded Sebben.

"I have been focusing on the ladies a little much." Sebben admitted. "What I could do to you personally, Andy..." and at that he stumbled as the ground shook again. It took Sebben a moment to regain his footing.

"Heal it at once or I shall turn around again." the Emperor told him.

"It's not so bad, actually." Irene lied, frightened, and sharing none of her eldest brother's confidence in the apparent effect turning away from the pool had.

Jacqueline hugged Basil tightly, afraid of what Sebben might do to compel the Emperor to turn around if Sebben refused to heal Irene's arm. Basil, equally afraid, although he was afraid not for himself but for his wife, hugged her back, craddling the back of her head in one of his hands. The pool was now showing a full range of victims. The Pantocratorians could recognize most of the Danaan royal family and likely some of the Ministers. People were reliving their worst experiences, living their worst fears, seeing disturbing truths about loved ones, or doing something they fear they might do or secretly want to so. In severity, the experiences ranged from troubling mind games to severely traumatic experiences. As they watched, the shudders got worse and worse.

"I shan't ask again." the Emperor said.

Sebben ignored the Emperor once more. The ground shuddered more decisively the next time. The pool caved in and the ground ruptured in places. Suddenly, all of the victims were standing in the large chamber. Brendan looked around rapidly. "Theodora!"

"Brendan!" Theodora called back, running towards him.

Brendan flung his arms around her. "Remember, you're lying next to me in our bed. Just keep repeating that. What did he make you see? I was so worried."

"Nevermind, it was nothing." Theodora replied, hugging up against him. "I love you more than life itself."

The Emperor arched an eyebrow in curiousity at the appearance of all the victims and then looked at Sebben with a triumphal expression on his face.

"It appears, sir, that your power here is not as absolute as you thought it to be." the Emperor gloated.

"Next time, I'm definitely sodomizing you." Sebben said to the Emperor, mostly ignoring the victims as other couples sought one another out, focusing his gaze somewhere in the distance.

"You've failed in whatever it was you were trying to do." the Emperor snorted dismissively. "Now release us. All of us."

"Meddling bitch..." Sebben said, waving Andreus off.

The Emperor didn't deign to respond, waiting expectantly for the dream to end.

"You're alright now?" Brendan asked Theodora.

"Yes." Theodora nodded, kissing his chest in relief. "He didn't do anything to me, I'm fine, honestly. Did he do anything to you?"

"I'm fine." Brendan said, taking Theodora's hand and starting to walk towards Andreus.

"Is... it over?" Theodora asked Brendan quietly.

"Almost." Brendan answered.

"What's left?" Theodora asked anxiously.

"I don't know." Brendan replied.


The Emperor looked in the direction of Brendan and Theodora, and seeing them, turned in their direction. While the Emperor looked almost pleased with himself, Irene, leaning against his side, looked quite distraught, her hair a mess, holding her twisted arm gingerly.

Unlike many of the others, Maital was unable to find comfort in the arms of her spouse after the memory she had relived. The princess moved towards the front, looking around in a vaguely befuddled manner. She actually bumped into Basil and stumbled a little. Basil turned to Maital when she bumped into him, but didn't recognise her, and was too busy with Jacqueline to worry much about her. Constantine, on the other hand, who had spotted his aunt and uncle in the crowd and approached them, caught her.

"Are you alright, madame?" Constantine asked her gently.

"No. I'm really not." Maital answered.

"Is there anything I can do?" Constantine asked her.

"Keep my husband away from me." Maital answered.

"If he did something to you just now, it wasn't really him, it was... well I don't know, but it wasn't really him." Constantine reassured her. "I was just with my wife in a dream, but it wasn't really my wife, it was just an illusion."

"It was a real memory, Your Highness." Maital said quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Constantine apologised. "Well, you point him out to me if he comes close, I promise I won't let him come near."

"You're Prince Constantine, aren't you?" Maital inquired.

"I am. Pardon my ignorance, madame, but I've not met you before..." Constantine said apologetically.

"I'm the Princess of Selinia." she answered.

Princess Sarah made her way towards the two, holding hands with her two younger sisters. As soon as they came near, Princess Rachel flund herself into Maital's arms. "Mother!"

"Are you alright now, madame?" Constantine asked, wanting to give the women some privacy. "I need to find my wife..."

"I think I'll be alright." Maital answered.

"She doesn't want to see her husband..." Constantine warned Sarah quietly. "I need to find Morgan..."

"Go." Sarah whispered. "I can handle this."

Constantine smiled briefly and then moved off into the crowd to look for Morgan.

Having seen to High Queen Marissa, who had actually had a comparatively mild experience, Owain was moving rapidly among his people like a field commander, seeing to their immediate welfare.

"Your Majesty." Brendan greeted the Emperor.

"I trust you both are well." the Emperor nodded to Brendan and Theodora as they approached him.

"I am, Papa." Theodora smiled weakly from Brendan's side.

"I will be in a moment." Brendan answered. "Theodora, would you stay with your father for a moment?"

"Yes, I'll stay with him. We're right next to each other in bed, safe and sound." Theodora answered with a nod. She kissed him on the cheek. "I can't wait to wake up."

Then she moved to her father, who embraced her with his free arm.

Brendan nodded. "That's right. We are. Just make sure you remember that."

"You go see to what you have to see to. I'm very proud to have you as a son in law, monsieur." the Emperor told Brendan.

Turning, Brendan headed straight for Sebben. "I already killed you once. This time I'll make it permanent."

As Brendan left, the High King, accompanied by the King of Marlund, made his way towards the Emperor. Both men nodded politely. Meanwhile, the Emperor of Adoki was out of sight. He'd hidden in a corner somewhere to cover up the fact that he was sobbing like a child. The Emperor regarded Kings Owain and Hermann as they approached.

"Your Majesties." he greeted them simply.

"Your Majesty." Owain said. "There are still some people in the Resurgent Dream of a sort who might be able to design some system to prevent future events of this kind. I will make sure the results are sent to Pantocratoria as well."

"I really don't think now's the time, Your Majesty, but naturally I appreciate that." the Emperor replied, still waiting for the dream to end.

"Are your people alright?" Owain asked.

"My daughter is fine." the Emperor replied.

"Mademoiselle's arm was injured. Monsieur and Madame are fine." the Emperor answered.

Brendan rushed forward towards Sebben. However, the onlookers never had a chance to see if he would fare better now that he no longer seemed in complete control. Before he arrived, the ground shook more fiercely than before, sending everyone tumbling down.

Many things had changed about Peter since he married Gwendolyn, but he still remained a night owl. Most nights the young prince went to bed with his wife, but he usually found himself unable to sleep. Sometimes his sleeplessness would lead him out to the study; other times he would simply pick up a book and read with a small night light.

This night, Peter had not felt like being far from Gwendolyn, so he had flicked on the dim light next to his side of bed and pulled a thin novel out of his night stand. He propped up his pillows behind him and settled in to read for a while.

As he read, he soon became aware that Gwendolyn seemed to be uncomfortable, as if she were having a bad dream. He tried to shake her awake, but she was too deeply asleep. Finally, he settled for stroking her hair and kissing her on the head, then went back to his book.

Before long, Peter felt his eyes getting heavy.

Suddenly, the prince found himself in a plush bed with satin sheets, which he felt sliding smoothly under his skin. There was the heavy sent of fresh flowers and perfume in the air. Peter smiled. He was used to vivid dreams. He turned, expecting to see Gwendolyn and was startled to see… what was her name? Celeste? De Frankopolis?

“Good morning, your Highness,” Celeste said sweetly.

“You married that oaf, Skrastins,” Peter said derisively. He stood, letting the sheets slide off of him. “And you were never that interesting…” He scanned the room. In one corner, Helen was lounging on a couch with Marian and both were wearing the scandalous mostly chain outfit Marian had been wearing when Andre had introduced her at his court. Closer on his left was a girl the prince had dated college.

“Peter, you promised you’d visit me…,” the t-shirt clad college girl said with a pout.

“Pardon me…” Peter looked around. There more of his old flames. And crushes. Even Vicotira. “But,” he mumbled, “I never…”

Suddenly, Peter felt overcome with grief. And fear. The irrational fear that Gwendolyn was there… somewhere… watching.

The prince rushed towards a door only to be blocked by a tall, athletic woman with short red hair dressed in shorts and tank top. She was the naval flight instructor who had taught him to fly.

“Your Highness,” she said sadly, “you said you’d take me to your family’s chateau… and we’d go skiing.”

“Sorry,” Peter said as he struggled to push past her. He grabbed the handle of the door and gave it a sharp turn. He pushed it open.

He stumbled into the outer room and fell against another door. He tried the handle, but it was locked. He began to pound on the door even as he felt the flight instructor and the college girl grabbing his arms.

The ground shook and Peter found himself in large chamber full of people. Many of them were Pantocratorians or Danaans. He turned about anxiously and began searching for Gwendolyn.

Gwendolyn had been frantically searching for Peter as well. When she finally found him, she threw her arms around him and nestled her head into his bare chest. "Peter! What'd they do to you? Are you alright?"

It was just as she found Peter that the ground shattered and the two of them, along with everyone else, toppled to the ground. "Peter...do you know what's going on?" she asked, pushing herself up to her hands and knees.

Owain, as soon as he fell to the ground, pushed himself back to his feet and turned towards the crowd, moving his eyes rapidly among the hundreds gathered there. "Marissa!"

Brendan leaped up just as quickly, rushing back to where he had left Theodora with her father. He helped his wife to her feet before moving to help the others in the immediate area.

By now, the ground had stilled and a bright light was shining in the direction Sebben had been looking, like a portal into or out of the dreamscape. Sebben continued to stare at it in horrow, taking a few steps back. "I am in charge here! This is mine! You meddlesome bitch, this is mine!"

“Gwendolyn!” Peter shouted in relief when he spotted his wife moving towards him in the crowd. He opened his arms to her and pulled her close, burying his face in the hair at the top of her head. “Oh, Gwendolyn,” he whispered, “what is this place? Are we in the same dream…”

Suddenly, the ground shook and the couple tumbled to the ground, with Gwendolyn landing half on top of Peter and half beside him with one of his arms still wrapped around her. “Good Lord, what is this?” He looked around and saw the light shining into the great empty chamber, then turned back to Gwendolyn.

“Is this what they used to call the Dreaming, Gwendolyn?” The prince asked as he rose to his feet and lifted Gwendolyn up the ground. After he saw that his wife was steady on her feet, he looked around for anyone else who might need help.

At the sound of Sebben’s shouting, he turned in the sidhe’s direction. Without taking his eyes off Sebben he murmured to Gwendolyn, “Is that really who I think it is?”

"It's still called that, Peter." Gwendolyn said. "There's just not nearly as much contact now. But..Peter...you know you're my world, Peter, don't you?"

Peter threw his arms around Gwendolyn and pulled her close. “Yes, oh, Gwendolyn,” he said, sounding relieved, “I do. And you’re my world…”

For a moment Peter was quiet and content to simply hold his wife. Then, looking again towards Sebben and the light, he said, “What is going on here, Gwendolyn? That can’t be Sebben, can it?”

Still in a whirl from the strange meal that she found herself attending, Marissa barely had time to register what was going on when everything seemed to change again. Around her, she saw familiar faces, all looking as lost and confused as she was. Her thoughts were filled with Owain, the image of his disgust at something she had done was firmly fixed in her mind.

Wishing she had time to understand what was going on, the floor suddenly seemed to rip in half, sending everyone falling to the ground. She felt a jolt of pain rush through her body as she made contact with the floor. Feeling her body trembling with fear and shock, she managed to scramble to her feet, along with the others who were doing the same.

“Owain!” She shouted, unsure that he would hear her even if he was close by. Her voice sounded odd to her, full of panic. She wanted more than anything to find her husband, to make sure that he was alright. Around her, she watched the others climbing to their feet, helping others to gain their balance. The sounds around her seemed to match her own inner feelings.

As she moved through the crowd, giving those in need of some support some kind words of encouragement or a helping hand, as she searched frantically for Owain, needing to know that he was unharmed and also to find out what was happening. For a dream, it was beginning to feel far too real.

Theodora scrambled up to her feet again after falling down with everybody else. She looked up in the direction of Brendan, now running back to her. Next to her, the Emperor got back up to his feet, helping Irene up with him.

"Brendan!" Theodora cried. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Brendan grabbed Theodora in his arms. "I think so. Are you?"

Owain turned towards the sound of Marissa's voice, starting to move in that direction. "Marissa!"

"Yes." Theodora nodded, hugging Brendan tightly.

"Who is he talking to?" Jacqueline asked, watching Sebben as she and Basil got back up to their feet.

"His...the woman he calls his wife, if I'm not mistaken." Brendan ventured.

And, as things cleared, they saw standing in the light a Sidhe lady in a gossamer gown of elegant sunset. Her eyes were completely white and lacked pupils. She didn't look towards anyone as she strode forward. "Is everyone alright?" she asked.

The Pantocratorians all nodded tentatively. Sebben moved rapidly towards the woman. She took a sudden step backwards and there was another flash of light. When it cleared, the room had become a vast plain and Sebben was nowhere in sight. The woman was on the ground with a cut on her forehead gushing blood. Prince Constantine stepped forward. Although he tried to hide it, he was obviously frightened. Nevertheless, he rushed over to her side to check her forehead. The woman jerked away suddenly, stumbling to her feet and moving back from Constantine's touch.

"You're hurt, let me help." Constantine told her.

"You couldn't understand." she answered. "We are sorry for this assult upon your persons by this Pretender. We shall continue in our best efforts to bring him to justice but suggest that you also take appropriate precautions. We will return you now to your ordinary dreams unless there is some matter needing further discussion..."

FIN