As horrible as it was to say, Niklaus was happy when word of his father's death reached him in the castle of mysteries. The King's absence had sent a ripple through the kingdom. The sands of every dreamer swirled slightly slower, their imaginations were less creative. And yet, he was happy.
His mother, Regina, stood on the Gold Balcony, watching the swirling mass of celestial dust flicker with the torrents of a fire storm. The spectacle had been brewing above the outskirts of the dream kingdom for days now, the first sign the realms monarch had finally passed on-that the Balance in the Universe was off. Her soft, once godly face was twisted into a cruel, malicious grin at the thought of the King being dead. He knew she hated his father for stealing her from the Aether, he understood her hatred more than most.
But this was different, he was different, and deep down he knew that the realm was different too.
It wasn't until the next day he realized just how much.
79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH3fsAjHm3a
The summer Sand Lillies were in bloom throughout the kingdom. Niklaus wandered through the bright cobblestone streets, committing to memory every new terrace and archway he passed. Far above, flying dangerously close to the cloud sea, Wilhelm circled his location. His escort was always rather impatient ever since Niklaus was a child, always squawking as if giving him orders.
There were many bizarre things in the dream realm, but no one, save his father had ever claimed to speak with insentient beings. He was almost certain the old god was mad and was relieved that almost everything about him was inherited from his mother.
One who passed him on the streets, or even in their dreams for that matter, would not have thought him the son of a primordial goddess of magic. Unlike other Aetherian's or their descendants, Niklaus looked human. Almost too human.
His cold, alabaster skin seemed to glow surrounded by his midnight robes. His tall dark figure loomed over others in a lanky sort of way. Each amble step caused his soft and unruly jet-black hair to sway over his eyes, which seemed to change color by the second. But he did not glow as his siblings did. Nothing about his presence was bewitching to the eye. He himself thought his overall apearance very mundane.
He clutched the summons from The Council tightly in his hand as he moved closer to the Golden Palace. His skin crawled beneath his dark robes at the sight of the looming structure. Not so fond memories flashed through his mind. Of his childhood and of his family. And in paralyzed fear, he wondered if his siblings had all received a similar summons. His fingers brushed over the broken seal, knowing every detail and line by heart, having spent countless hours memorizing it over the years. The Raven holding the moon in its beak, clutching a bouquet of flowers in its talons.
A bouquet of black dahlia's, Niklaus reminded himself, as his father was always keen to do.
The whole city was bustling with life. Instead of mourning the loss of their king, the market was overrun with colorful banners, brandishing the sigils of each of his siblings. He had never understood when people said time would stop around them in moments of clarity, until he crossed the center square and found the single stall stocked with black banners. His own sigil smacked him in the face as the wind blew the banners around with intense force.
"Support Niklaus of the Dreamscape for King!" The vendor, a stout old woman shouted, brandishing the twisted tree symbol as if it were a shield. It only took him a moment, much longer than it should have, to remember the elderly woman. He had met Gloria over a century ago, when she was only a little girl. He faintly recalled granting her a wish as she had successfully entered the palace of mysteries to meet him (which was no easy feat, even he sometimes struggled in finding the ever-moving entrance).
Several people of the Dreaming stopped as if in a trance, blindly reaching to take some. He remembered what she had wished for; the ability to sway others to her will, to influence anyone. She had dreamed of making a difference in the world. Niklaus smiled, content that she had found great success with his gift as so many others had failed. She didn't seem to notice him, but he could feel the power behind her words pulling at him, it took every second of wisdom from the past seven thousand years to overcome it. Even he, a half-god, struggled to pass the stall and approach the golden palace gates. His mouth soured and his stomach churned as he walked away. Gloria's magic was strong. If he wasn't a being of the Endless lands, he would have fallen victim to her will as well. Pride brought a gentle smile to his pale lips, but it quickly disappeared when he saw the palace guards.
"Name and Business?" The short guard barked, barely sparing him a glance.
"Niklaus of the Dreamscape," Niklaus folded his hands, patiently waiting for any sign of recognition. His face was cold and stoic as he desperately tried to suppress the fear that the palace evoked in him. "I have a royal invitation."
The other guard, much taller than his partner, snickered. His long, plain face twisted into a gross sneer as he plucked the scroll from Niklaus' hand. "Lemme see that!"
His thick, bushy brow furrowed as he read it over. "This is a fake!" He declared, pushing the scroll against Niklaus' chest. "You joshing us boy?"
Niklaus tried not to be offended. After all, he was the youngest of the kings children, and the last in line for the throne. After spending every possible moment maintaining and controlling the Dreamscape, he had very little time to make public appearances to remind people he existed. It had been nearly a hundred years since he had visited the palace, it was no surprise the guards didn't remember. But he remembered them, and their dreams. He remembered every dream, every dark little fantasy of the people from every realm.
"No," Niklaus sighed. "I am a Prince of the Dreaming."
Bushy brow sniffed and turned his pointed nose to the sky. "I've gotta hand it to ya' boy, this almost looks authentic."
"The king said someone would try to con their way in," The short guard added. "Move along, before we throw you in the dungeons!"
The King? Niklaus had no idea what they meant. His father was dead. But then a thought occurred to him: Linus. His eldest brother, the one who would inherit the throne. The new King. Or he was supposed to be anyway. Niklaus had no idea what was happening, but his stomach twisted with the urge to find out. But every fiber of his very being told him to turn back, that he was better off in the dark.
He ignored it and laughed. The guards moved their hands to the hilt of their blades and still he laughed. It was a joyous sight, for it had been millennium since the young prince had genuinely done so.
He laughed because of the irony.
Niklaus loved the mortals. Because no matter how low of a life form his people thought them to be, they (at the very least) always recognized him. Whether it was as Morpheus, the God of Dreams. Or as the Sandman, coming through their windows to leave sand in their eyes. They always knew who he was. Recognized him from the day they were born, blessing them with the gift of dreams. He laughed because his own people didn't recognize him, and yet they claimed to be the superior species to the humans.
"What're you laughing 'bout boy?" Bushy brow sneered.
"I am Niklaus of the Dreamscape, eight son of King Hiram, keeper of dreams and nightmares." Niklaus gasped for breath, a wicked grin spread across his chiseled features. "So please, by all means, lock me in a cage-it's not my dreams who will disappear."
"Everyone in the Dreaming knows school children learn that," The short one muttered, eyes flicking between Niklaus and his colleague.
"Take him," said bushy brow.
He bowed, holding his hands together, a smirk resting on his face as they placed the iron cuffs on him. When they turned down the courtyard-towards the palace dungeons, he chuckled. "Happy nightmares my ignorant friends."
79Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡADDkubvGjn
