[ It's gratifying, at least, to be successful in this. He could be standing at the lip of an active volcano, and it would hardly diminish his enthusiasm for kissing Liem -- maybe even the opposite. If there is one last thing Cardan wants to be doing when his eternal life ends, it would be this.
He is, therefore, a little calmer when Liem pulls away. Though not by much. His stare bores into Liem's pale, unhappy face, and the sigh that escapes him is exasperated.
Even if Liem had wanted to retreat, Cardan would not have let him do so willingly. As is, he only leans his brow against his husband's, not bothering to be particularly gentle about the impact. ]
I am real, you obstinate creature. Would your shitty illusions be this rude to you?
[ ...well, they might. He's only guessing based on the haughty stares and languid reclines as they faded away. ]
[The muted clonk of Cardan’s brow impacting his own startles Liem more than anything else in this dream yet has. His eyes again find Cardan’s face, sweeping over familiar features that are handsome even when alive with irritation. Yes, of course the versions of Cardan he meets in his dream would be rude to him—but so might his actual husband, if he found Liem in his dream, only for Liem to treat him like an empty figment. And, although the people Liem has spoken to in his dream have often seemed aware of the false nature of this maze, none of them have yet tried to convince him that they themselves are real.
Until now, that is. If this is faerie trickery, it doesn't fit the pattern Liem has come to expect. However…]
Cardan…! You can’t be here, [he insists. Treacherous hope wars against stubborn, unyielding suspicion as his fingers seize hard on the fabric of Cardan’s jacket.] If you are here… then who is going to wake me up?
[Even though he has been searching for a way out all this time as a way to keep himself sane, the idea that Cardan might be trapped in sleep just like him makes dread lurch in his gut. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been trusting in Cardan to fix things if he couldn’t find a way out. He hadn’t let himself acknowledge how much he’d been relying on it. If Cardan is just as trapped as he, how are either of them meant to escape?]
[ He can't help it; he grins, unfairly pleased with himself, at Liem's acknowledgment -- pleased, and relieved. His hands slide away from Liem's face, smoothing down his shoulders instead before Cardan wraps his arms around him altogether, pulling him insistently against his own body. Perhaps he should be worried, but he cannot bring himself to be just yet.
And the death grip Liem has on his jacket suggests that his husband could use an embrace. ]
Not for much longer, [ he promises, perfectly confident in the matter. ] I am here to break you out, husband.
[ He doesn't know how, not yet. Still, now that he's found Liem, nothing seems particularly insurmountable. ]
[It is the tight embrace Cardan pulls him into that causes the seed of doubt in Liem to finally take root. Although he had insisted to himself that the man before him couldn’t possibly be real, he had expected the truth to reveal itself cruelly, in the form of some sly comment delivered in a moment of hesitation. Cardan’s actions now have no place in this dream that seemed designed for torment, and Liem cannot make himself refuse the comfort he offers based only on blind paranoia.
Besides, he is always greedy to have Cardan’s pleased grin turned his way. Letting his husband fold him into an embrace, Liem rests his head against Cardan’s shoulder and inhales his familiar scent, unreasonably relieved to find that he smells just as he should. In this place where nothing has been as it should for the entire time he’s been here, that alone is a comfort.]
You know how we can escape?
[He cannot help the tiny bit of hope that sneaks into his voice when he asks. After all, if Cardan came here on purpose, he must have a plan. It would be incredibly foolish to just join Liem in what is obviously a prison of some kind without any idea of how to get out again. Cardan might be willing to do foolish things at times, but surely he wouldn’t be so hasty in this instance, at such unnecessary risk.]
[ He is well gratified by having Liem, solid and hale, back in his arms. For a moment, he only enjoys this, ignoring the vulnerable note in his husband’s voice when he asks his question — just as he ignored the way Liem had clearly expected Cardan to find a way to wake him from without. It cannot matter. Now that he’s inside the dream, the time for self-doubt has long passed.
And so he doesn’t let it creep into his tone when he speaks, as calm and collected as if they were discussing the weather. ]
This dream [ so Sorrel implied ] is of your own making, but the enchantment trapping you is not. You said you had told someone you were seeking rest. She bid sleep to find you, and that your search should be uninterrupted. Is that it? Did she do anything else?
[The answer Cardan gives him is not the kind of unambiguous confirmation he would have liked to receive. Despite the calm of his tone, Liem notes immediately that he hasn’t actually answered the question. From Cardan, who cannot lie, that kind of avoidance strikes him as conspicuous.
He finds himself even more grateful now for the comforting warmth of Cardan’s embrace. Even if everything else remains uncertain, at least his lover has come to find him and hold him close. That may have been foolish, but Liem would be twice the fool to scorn his touch now that he has it.]
I don’t think so, [he says slowly. Was there something important about that interaction that he’d missed? Could the clue they need to escape be something he’d overlooked entirely?] We parted ways after that. Nothing else about the interaction struck me as noteworthy.
Hm. [ He has to admit that he had hoped the answer would be more obvious by now, blind optimism as that had been. No matter; they don’t seem to be in imminent danger, and the dream has, so far, proved somewhat malleable. They’ll just have to try things until something gives.
Cardan’s hand comes up to stroke Liem’s hair, idly, as he thinks. It’s as soft as he remembers; the scent of Liem’s shampoo reminds him of every day he’s spent wrapped around his husband, breathing him in as he drifted off.
No dream nor curse will take that pleasure from him. In this, he is resolute. ]
What happened once you entered the dream?
[ He has some idea, given what happened to him — domineering fathers, irritated seneschals, scornful servants, and the like. Presumably it had been worse for Liem, who cared about those things. ]
[The question makes discomfort squirm in Liem’s stomach, making him glad that his face is currently tucked against his husband. The longer he lingers in Cardan’s arms like this, the longer he has to consider what it means for Cardan to be here with him, and one of the things he’s realizing is that Cardan likely encountered figments from Liem’s dream before he actually found Liem. There are many parts of himself that he has become eager to share with his husband, but his nightmares and anxieties do not number among them.]
I found myself here, [he says neutrally,] and I began wandering these rooms in search of some clue to my escape. They all seem to have people from the manor inside them, and at first I spoke with them, but… [He frowns.] It wasn’t productive. They all seem dissatisfied with me, but in no way I’ve been able to actually remedy, so I’ve been trying to ignore them as much as possible.
[Thus, his churlish attitude towards his husband when he had first entered the room. Finally, Liem leans back to peek up at him, trying to discern what Cardan might be thinking.]
What were you doing with that box when I came in? Did you find something strange?
[ Just as he'd expected, then. It still makes his mouth press into an unhappy line to think that the inhabitants of this false manor treat Liem such. He wonders what his doubles had said. Presumably, based off of Liem's initial reaction, something whiny and capricious.
Well, he is the latter, just -- mostly -- not about his relationship to Liem. He doesn't protest the obvious change in subject; presumably, if Liem had found anything of note, he would have mentioned. Better if he isn't forced to dwell on his anxieties.
His mouth twitches into a smile when Liem catches his eye again. Cardan keeps one arm curled around Liem's waist, even as he leans over to pluck the box from its spot on the couch. ]
I sweet-talked the good doctor into helping me find you. She said-- [ He pauses, recalling the exact wording, which he proceeds to recite in a close replica of the doctor's dry, factual tone: ] "Find his crown, young prince, and you will be reunited."
It seems that she spoke true.
[ Which begs the question: is the crown significant beyond this? Or does it merely serve as a token of their bond, rather than a piece of the dream's larger puzzle?
This time, Cardan does let go of Liem -- though his cautious gaze stays on his husband. Despite himself, he's a little worried that Liem will fade away, just like his own clones had, should Cardan not keep hold of him.
It's just that he needs both hands to open the box. ]
[Liem's surprise shows on his face when Cardan mentions his interaction with the doctor.]
She helped you?
[In all the time he has been in this dreamscape, not once have any of the occupants been anything other than disapproving towards him. He has encountered no one willing to explain how to leave; indeed, everyone he's met has been adamant that he stay and attend to their complaints. Only by tearing himself away from people mid-lecture and refusing unending streams of demands has he made it here at all.
Though, the help that Cardan has managed to wring from the dream's doctor isn't in any danger of being straightforward. Liem frowns, puzzled by the apparent significance his dream has imbued in a faded keepsake. It is meaningful to him of course—but he would not have expected sentiment alone to be capable of drawing him to Cardan like a magnet. If that were true, he would surely have been pulled toward his husband regardless of whether or not Cardan was carrying his "crown".]
How strange…
[He watches Cardan open the box to reveal what indeed appears to be the same wreath he'd brought back from Elfhame after their visit months ago. It was a silly thing to keep, he'd known even then, but although he still treasured the watch Cardan gave him that night, he hadn't been able to bring himself to get rid of the little wreath of flowers. When else, after all, had Cardan ever gifted him with flowers of any kind, crown or not?]
[ The wreath had been preserved well enough — even shrunken and faded as age had made it. Still, it looks fragile in its current state, liable to fall apart at too bad a jostle. Another precarious puzzle piece in a place full of the same.
Cardan sighs, loath to admit the thing he is about to admit, and embarrassed by his own squeamishness all the same. ] I glamoured her.
[ There is no reason for him to dislike it so much. After all, is that not what humans are there for? Even Liem has few compunctions when it comes to wiping his servants’ memories. ]
And then I told her I was not you. She seemed surprised to recognize it; none of the rest of the specters have. [ He frowns, then corrects himself. ] Well, except my own. They are eager to flee at the sight of me. This room had one in it.
[ Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably lucky; he can’t imagine how uncomfortable it would be to have this reunion with an imaginary Iago in the room. ]
[It is only when Cardan confesses that he'd magicked the dream's version of Doctor Samari that it occurs to Liem he could have tried the same. Not to Gusairne or his father, certainly, but to the (seemingly) human doctor? He could have tried. He simply hadn't thought to make the attempt, because he'd been viewing the figments much the same as the real people he knew from life—and he was not in the habit of subverting his servants' wills for the sake of convenience.
Of course, it's possible Cardan's success arose at least in part because he is not the intended prisoner of this labyrinth. Perhaps the doctor would not have been so pliable with Liem. Even so, he feels a little embarrassed to have been running around in a panic without even trying to properly explore his options.
But his thoughts are soon diverted.]
He fled?
[Relief follows his initial surprise. If the illusions in this maze have been treating Cardan just the same as they've been treating Liem, he doesn't want to consider what humiliating drivel Cardan's clones might drip into his ear. It's bad enough to think what his father might have said to him; that is still a very real concern, and one that he can't force himself to put out of his mind.]
[ He knows immediately that he will not be honest about this. They are figments of Liem's imagination, after all, in a dream that seems designed to put him on edge. Anything they say will have been too revealing of his husband's fears, and Cardan knows better than to put him on the spot, now.
He shrugs, glibly. ]
Irritating nonsense. [ Technically that is true, if he takes "the others" to mean "anyone but himself and Doctor Samari." ]
I believe they expected to be talking to someone with a conscience, and, well. [ He gestures with one hand to indicate himself and his presumed lack of moral fiber. ]
My theory, if you care to hear it, is that this place has fewer defenses against me.
[ Speaking of which: he glances down at the wreath again, frowning. It seems odd that he would be expected to find it and then not use it for anything beyond luring Liem to him. And yet, and yet-- he hesitates to pick it up in its current state. Instead, an odd thought crosses him, an idea of the kind of magic that might be possible in a dream. After all, so much of magic is imagination taken form, and are they not in a place built wholly of the same?
It is a silly thought. But he touches two fingers to his own mouth anyway, warming his own skin with a deliberate breath before placing those same fingers, ever so gently, in the center of one faded rose.
Nothing happens then, nor in the few seconds after. But just as Cardan is about to withdraw his hand in disappointment, the dried petals tremble with a sound like a whisper -- and then change, shifting as they grow plump and vivid with colour. All at once, renewed vigour consumes the crown, reviving wrinkled leaf and pale petal to their living glory.
Even Cardan cannot hide the surprise in his voice. ]
...well.
That is certainly better.
Edited (he can't not be truthful :() 2025-07-31 05:05 (UTC)
[Liem knows his husband well enough to be suspicious of the answer Cardan gives him. He has come to suspect that Cardan plays up his own villainy to distract from other things, and in this instance, that would seem to be whatever uncomfortable topics Liem’s subconscious has been trying to torment him with.
But pressing further would only make him seem paranoid and insecure. Much as Liem wishes his husband would tell him things, he cannot blame him for keeping his thoughts to himself. Liem is hardly any more forthcoming.]
Well, [he says after a moment,] it is tailored to me, it would seem. If it does not even recognize you, I’m willing to believe you might subvert it more easily.
[Perhaps by doing things Liem himself would not do? He had not thought to dominate Doctor Samari’s mind, and Cardan’s glamour had worked on her. And he could never breathe life back into a crown of flowers, in a dream or out of it.]
It looks just as it did…
[Hesitantly, he reaches out a finger to touch one of the soft petals. Though he still remains entirely confused as to any potential purpose the wreath might now hold, regardless of what the dream doctor may have said.]
[ Cardan will set the box back down onto the little couch, carefully, before lifting the wreath out with both hands. It really does look as it did -- and feels just as it should, fragrant and cool against his fingers. ]
Maybe your dreaming self is just overgenerous towards me.
[ They are, after all, in Liem's head -- more or less. And he is ever inclined to think far better of Cardan than Cardan's actions warrant. Cardan never knows whether to be flattered or horrified by it.
Well, he can be both of those things later. His gaze on Liem is a little sly. ]
Shall I crown you, husband? Although, given the state of that sky, perhaps we should find you a hat and gloves instead.
[ You know, just in case the sun does crest over the horizon in an attempt to incinerate the love of his life. ]
[Liem cannot refute the possibility that his dreams, even the unhappy ones, are simply more inclined to accede to Cardan’s whims than to his own, and he inclines his head in silent acknowledgement. It probably isn’t any kind of secret that Liem’s standards for himself are punishingly demanding, especially compared to those he requires of his husband. Since the very first night of their marriage, he has required very little of his fey spouse.
And still, Cardan has stood faithfully by him, and has pursued him even into the prison of his dreaming. His husband has a warmer heart than he consents to admit.]
I would hate for the sun to finally make an appearance… not least of all because the crown would surely go up in flames too.
[He regards Cardan with a wry expression, trying not to give into the nervousness that has been flirting with his awareness ever since he first found himself here, in this bizarre place of inescapable windows and endless threat of sunrise.]
But you may as well. It would seem a shame not to.
[And if the sun does finally rise, Liem intends to hide in the nearest shadow regardless of what he’s wearing anyway.]
[ It is profoundly hypocritical of Cardan to be unenthusiastic about his husband's gallows' humour, given his own propensity for the same. He tries not to let on, at any rate -- letting the comment pass with the quick flash of a smile. They have business to get on with.
He raises the wreath above Liem's head, eminently ceremonial about it. ]
Then let me crown you, husband, the one and only king I yet hold close to my heart.
[ After which he will set the flowers gently atop Liem's head, and then -- unable to quite help himself -- lean in to press an equally ceremonial kiss to each of his cheeks. Only then does Cardan straighten, job evidently well done, and look about the room again.
They've spent a lot of time on their greetings -- and time well spent it was. But he cannot forget his husband's uncomfortable joke, nor the unhappy strain in his voice when Cardan had first spoken to him. They shouldn't dally. ]
[Liem can never quite suppress the tight little squeeze of his chest when Cardan says things like that, or the flutter in his stomach when warm lips brush his cheek. His husband excels at distracting him with gestures he cannot help but read romance into, despite himself. Liem can only try not to show the emotion in his face, and remind himself that his faerie husband simply has romance ingrained into his manner of speech.
He is distracted in any case by the thing Cardan says next.]
You want to break them? Why?
[Stupid question. Why else would Cardan want to break the windows except to try passing through them? But Liem is still aghast at the idea of leaving the shelter of the house—the maze, really—when the sun is threatening to crest the horizon at any moment. Even if dawn has been threatening just that way for the entire time he’s been trapped here, he fears that the moment he steps outside will be the moment the sun finally makes an appearance.]
I’ve heard that dying in one’s dream tends to wake one up, but I really would rather not test it out.
[ Cardan's grimace is quick, almost perfunctory. He hadn't heard that particular myth, but he has to agree he's not keen on risking it, either. Even though-- ]
They are tempting me, husband. Why else would there be so many of them?
[ And, though he won't say it, he's certain that Liem wouldn't have gone for the windows, which makes him think they are more likely to be a viable means of escape.
Still, Liem has a point, and so Cardan isn't going to try convincing him. Yet. ]
But very well. Since the doctor was helpful, I propose we try talking to the rest of the residents. Or-- [ He glances at the fireplace with its filigreed screen. ] Will the house respond to you? Surely it cannot have complaints.
[Liem’s assumption about the out-of-place presence of maze’s windows had been that they were there mostly to put him ill at ease, much like everything else about this place. The unchanging predawn sky certainly has had that effect, regardless of how static it seems to be, and the idea that the windows might be an escape route in disguise—
Actually, he cannot refute the idea when Cardan brings it up. Nevertheless, the thought of leaving the shelter of the house in order to seek the dream’s end makes Liem’s skin crawl.
Cardan’s last suggestion, however, brings a frustrated frown to his face.]
I’ve not been able to get a response from it in the time I’ve been trapped here, for good or for ill.
[Perhaps that is because even he cannot fathom a world in which his own house attempts to confound him, no matter how upsetting the dream otherwise is. Or perhaps the space is too obviously other, and it makes too little sense to imbue the house’s personality into a bastardized imitation of it.
But if they must do something, and if they aren’t about to break out of the windows, Liem supposes he must accept the possibility of talking to one of the dream’s other inhabitants—even if the thought of Cardan being privy to such interactions unsettles him nearly as much as the idea of stepping out beneath the grey sky. Regardless, if they are going anywhere at all, Liem intends to stick to his husband like glue. To this end, he reaches for Cardan’s hand and grasps it firmly.]
I doubt any of the rest will be cooperative, but we cannot simply loiter here indefinitely. Let us find what clues we can, then, and escape this place.
[ Cardan is similarly uninclined to release Liem, if only because he half-suspects that the moment he lets his husband out of his sight, they will be separated again. He clasps the cool hand in his readily. ]
I do not know about that. Surely we can bully Gusairne into giving up his secrets.
[ Well, Cardan couldn’t, because he’s unwilling to start a physical fight with a vampire in a place with so few apparent consequences for said vampire. How humiliating would it be, to end up as the seneschal’s snack? Not even Cardan lacks self-preservation to this extent.
Iago is a bigger problem. He doesn’t know how any of the figments would react to seeing the two of them together — surely it would force some change in their behaviour? But out of all the ghosts inhabiting the dreamscape, his father in law is the only obvious threat. It would be easier if they could avoid him altogether, though he knows not how to achieve such a thing.
Well. They will deal with it as it comes up, which has always been Cardan’s preferred way of planning ahead, anyway. He lifts Liem’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over his husband’s knuckles. With his frown and wreath of flowers, Liem looks like the world’s least whimsical forest nymph. This, at least, makes Cardan smile against his husband’s hand. ]
[Eager is not the word Liem would have used to describe his own feelings about seeking out the various shades inhabiting his dream, but perhaps it is enough that one of the two of them has confidence. Cardan can maintain their forward momentum, and Liem…
Well, Liem will just try to tackle any issues as they arise.]
Let us try, then.
[Turning away from the wall dominated by tall, beautiful windows, he makes for what would normally be the door leading into their dressing room—and now, is a portal leading to some unknowable other room of the house. His grip on Cardan’s hand is tight as he reaches out and opens the door, passing through to find—
His office, most of the shelves along one wall stripped away to reveal the ever-present expanse of clear glass showcasing the outdoors. Inside, standing near his desk as though in readiness to deliver a report, is the house seneschal.
Ah, there you are, Master Liem. I have been waiting to deliver the regional reports for the southern baronies. You are, I hope, available to receive them?
Finally, is the unspoken addendum, as Gusairne’s gaze slides between Liem and his husband. The man certainly seems to notice Cardan now that they are returning to the office hand in hand.
With a small sigh, since this is not the first time he has had this exchange, Liem answers,] If you wish me to return and hear your report, Gusairne, I must leave this place first.
[But he is not expecting different results this time.]
[ Oh good, just what he wanted -- a sentiment that, he's quite certain, no one else has ever had about Gusairne before. Cardan's up and down of the seneschal is leisurely, even though he can never quite suppress the hot spark of irritation at the tone the man takes with his husband. ]
You'll wait forever, [ he promises, with the silken cadence of a man settling into a favourite activity, ] unless you can cease being so embarrassingly useless.
[ Much as he loathes letting go of Liem's hand, he will -- so that he can slide into Gusairne's bubble, radiating malice as he does. From an up-close vantage point, Cardan simply has no choice but to look down his nose at him, which makes it a necessity as well as a pleasure. ]
Tell me, Gul Gusairne: do you ever tire of the stink of mortality? Yours lends itself to such a distinctive miasma.
[ ...well, everyone's smell is distinctive to Cardan's sensitive nose, and Gusairne deals with mortal servants and drinks mortal blood. Technically, this has naught to do with his own erstwhile mortality.
[Gusairne’s already sour expression only pinches further when Cardan opens his mouth—especially as Cardan moves near to loom over him, crowding his space as Liem looks on.
This house is not your playground, Gusairne retorts, his expression only one charitable interpretation away from being a sneer. Liem narrows his eyes at the seneschal’s scornful demeanour. And I, at least, am serving precisely the purpose that I am meant to, instead of frittering my time away elsewhere.
Already Liem regrets continuing on through the maze just to reap rewards such as this. He cannot see how arguing further with the ghosts wandering these rooms will accomplish anything of merit. So far all it seems to be earning him is a headache, and the unwanted opportunity to watch a facsimile of his father’s seneschal argue with his spouse.
But Gusairne refuses to ignore Liem, even with Cardan occupying his immediate space. Your own carelessness got you into this predicament, Master Liem. Take responsibility for yourself.]
[ From the very first time he met Gusairne, Cardan has found the man appalling. He has reminded him of every servant who had pinched him when his mother wasn't looking -- which was most of the time -- of every impertinent courtier who'd ever snickered at his bare feet and threadbare clothing. And alongside this, he remembered the lessons ingrained in him from infancy: You are the High King's son. You will not tolerate disrespect; punish it viciously and painfully. Make others watch, so that they may learn.
Only, he had been new in the Talbotts' household, and unsure of his footing... and unwilling to overplay his hand, lest the master of this house also turned out to be fucking his seneschal.
But he is in no one's household now. Although, he doesn't mind it when Gusairne gets testy; all of this would be a little useless if he hadn't.
When he backhands Gusairne, it is almost perfunctory. Cardan doesn't even bother hitting him hard -- just enough to make a sound. After all, what would be the point? He's not trying to hurt Gusairne physically. That would take more effort than he's worth, and he wants to spare his knuckles.
The look he levels at the seneschal is cold and a little bored, like he's a chore to be crossed off a list. ]
His Grace has been far too lenient with you. Pay attention.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He is, therefore, a little calmer when Liem pulls away. Though not by much. His stare bores into Liem's pale, unhappy face, and the sigh that escapes him is exasperated.
Even if Liem had wanted to retreat, Cardan would not have let him do so willingly. As is, he only leans his brow against his husband's, not bothering to be particularly gentle about the impact. ]
I am real, you obstinate creature. Would your shitty illusions be this rude to you?
[ ...well, they might. He's only guessing based on the haughty stares and languid reclines as they faded away. ]
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Until now, that is. If this is faerie trickery, it doesn't fit the pattern Liem has come to expect. However…]
Cardan…! You can’t be here, [he insists. Treacherous hope wars against stubborn, unyielding suspicion as his fingers seize hard on the fabric of Cardan’s jacket.] If you are here… then who is going to wake me up?
[Even though he has been searching for a way out all this time as a way to keep himself sane, the idea that Cardan might be trapped in sleep just like him makes dread lurch in his gut. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been trusting in Cardan to fix things if he couldn’t find a way out. He hadn’t let himself acknowledge how much he’d been relying on it. If Cardan is just as trapped as he, how are either of them meant to escape?]
This place is a prison…
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And the death grip Liem has on his jacket suggests that his husband could use an embrace. ]
Not for much longer, [ he promises, perfectly confident in the matter. ] I am here to break you out, husband.
[ He doesn't know how, not yet. Still, now that he's found Liem, nothing seems particularly insurmountable. ]
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Besides, he is always greedy to have Cardan’s pleased grin turned his way. Letting his husband fold him into an embrace, Liem rests his head against Cardan’s shoulder and inhales his familiar scent, unreasonably relieved to find that he smells just as he should. In this place where nothing has been as it should for the entire time he’s been here, that alone is a comfort.]
You know how we can escape?
[He cannot help the tiny bit of hope that sneaks into his voice when he asks. After all, if Cardan came here on purpose, he must have a plan. It would be incredibly foolish to just join Liem in what is obviously a prison of some kind without any idea of how to get out again. Cardan might be willing to do foolish things at times, but surely he wouldn’t be so hasty in this instance, at such unnecessary risk.]
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And so he doesn’t let it creep into his tone when he speaks, as calm and collected as if they were discussing the weather. ]
This dream [ so Sorrel implied ] is of your own making, but the enchantment trapping you is not. You said you had told someone you were seeking rest. She bid sleep to find you, and that your search should be uninterrupted. Is that it? Did she do anything else?
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He finds himself even more grateful now for the comforting warmth of Cardan’s embrace. Even if everything else remains uncertain, at least his lover has come to find him and hold him close. That may have been foolish, but Liem would be twice the fool to scorn his touch now that he has it.]
I don’t think so, [he says slowly. Was there something important about that interaction that he’d missed? Could the clue they need to escape be something he’d overlooked entirely?] We parted ways after that. Nothing else about the interaction struck me as noteworthy.
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Cardan’s hand comes up to stroke Liem’s hair, idly, as he thinks. It’s as soft as he remembers; the scent of Liem’s shampoo reminds him of every day he’s spent wrapped around his husband, breathing him in as he drifted off.
No dream nor curse will take that pleasure from him. In this, he is resolute. ]
What happened once you entered the dream?
[ He has some idea, given what happened to him — domineering fathers, irritated seneschals, scornful servants, and the like. Presumably it had been worse for Liem, who cared about those things. ]
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I found myself here, [he says neutrally,] and I began wandering these rooms in search of some clue to my escape. They all seem to have people from the manor inside them, and at first I spoke with them, but… [He frowns.] It wasn’t productive. They all seem dissatisfied with me, but in no way I’ve been able to actually remedy, so I’ve been trying to ignore them as much as possible.
[Thus, his churlish attitude towards his husband when he had first entered the room. Finally, Liem leans back to peek up at him, trying to discern what Cardan might be thinking.]
What were you doing with that box when I came in? Did you find something strange?
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Well, he is the latter, just -- mostly -- not about his relationship to Liem. He doesn't protest the obvious change in subject; presumably, if Liem had found anything of note, he would have mentioned. Better if he isn't forced to dwell on his anxieties.
His mouth twitches into a smile when Liem catches his eye again. Cardan keeps one arm curled around Liem's waist, even as he leans over to pluck the box from its spot on the couch. ]
I sweet-talked the good doctor into helping me find you. She said-- [ He pauses, recalling the exact wording, which he proceeds to recite in a close replica of the doctor's dry, factual tone: ] "Find his crown, young prince, and you will be reunited."
It seems that she spoke true.
[ Which begs the question: is the crown significant beyond this? Or does it merely serve as a token of their bond, rather than a piece of the dream's larger puzzle?
This time, Cardan does let go of Liem -- though his cautious gaze stays on his husband. Despite himself, he's a little worried that Liem will fade away, just like his own clones had, should Cardan not keep hold of him.
It's just that he needs both hands to open the box. ]
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She helped you?
[In all the time he has been in this dreamscape, not once have any of the occupants been anything other than disapproving towards him. He has encountered no one willing to explain how to leave; indeed, everyone he's met has been adamant that he stay and attend to their complaints. Only by tearing himself away from people mid-lecture and refusing unending streams of demands has he made it here at all.
Though, the help that Cardan has managed to wring from the dream's doctor isn't in any danger of being straightforward. Liem frowns, puzzled by the apparent significance his dream has imbued in a faded keepsake. It is meaningful to him of course—but he would not have expected sentiment alone to be capable of drawing him to Cardan like a magnet. If that were true, he would surely have been pulled toward his husband regardless of whether or not Cardan was carrying his "crown".]
How strange…
[He watches Cardan open the box to reveal what indeed appears to be the same wreath he'd brought back from Elfhame after their visit months ago. It was a silly thing to keep, he'd known even then, but although he still treasured the watch Cardan gave him that night, he hadn't been able to bring himself to get rid of the little wreath of flowers. When else, after all, had Cardan ever gifted him with flowers of any kind, crown or not?]
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Cardan sighs, loath to admit the thing he is about to admit, and embarrassed by his own squeamishness all the same. ] I glamoured her.
[ There is no reason for him to dislike it so much. After all, is that not what humans are there for? Even Liem has few compunctions when it comes to wiping his servants’ memories. ]
And then I told her I was not you. She seemed surprised to recognize it; none of the rest of the specters have. [ He frowns, then corrects himself. ] Well, except my own. They are eager to flee at the sight of me. This room had one in it.
[ Which, now that he thinks about it, is probably lucky; he can’t imagine how uncomfortable it would be to have this reunion with an imaginary Iago in the room. ]
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Of course, it's possible Cardan's success arose at least in part because he is not the intended prisoner of this labyrinth. Perhaps the doctor would not have been so pliable with Liem. Even so, he feels a little embarrassed to have been running around in a panic without even trying to properly explore his options.
But his thoughts are soon diverted.]
He fled?
[Relief follows his initial surprise. If the illusions in this maze have been treating Cardan just the same as they've been treating Liem, he doesn't want to consider what humiliating drivel Cardan's clones might drip into his ear. It's bad enough to think what his father might have said to him; that is still a very real concern, and one that he can't force himself to put out of his mind.]
What have the others said to you?
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He shrugs, glibly. ]
Irritating nonsense. [ Technically that is true, if he takes "the others" to mean "anyone but himself and Doctor Samari." ]
I believe they expected to be talking to someone with a conscience, and, well. [ He gestures with one hand to indicate himself and his presumed lack of moral fiber. ]
My theory, if you care to hear it, is that this place has fewer defenses against me.
[ Speaking of which: he glances down at the wreath again, frowning. It seems odd that he would be expected to find it and then not use it for anything beyond luring Liem to him. And yet, and yet-- he hesitates to pick it up in its current state. Instead, an odd thought crosses him, an idea of the kind of magic that might be possible in a dream. After all, so much of magic is imagination taken form, and are they not in a place built wholly of the same?
It is a silly thought. But he touches two fingers to his own mouth anyway, warming his own skin with a deliberate breath before placing those same fingers, ever so gently, in the center of one faded rose.
Nothing happens then, nor in the few seconds after. But just as Cardan is about to withdraw his hand in disappointment, the dried petals tremble with a sound like a whisper -- and then change, shifting as they grow plump and vivid with colour. All at once, renewed vigour consumes the crown, reviving wrinkled leaf and pale petal to their living glory.
Even Cardan cannot hide the surprise in his voice. ]
...well.
That is certainly better.
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But pressing further would only make him seem paranoid and insecure. Much as Liem wishes his husband would tell him things, he cannot blame him for keeping his thoughts to himself. Liem is hardly any more forthcoming.]
Well, [he says after a moment,] it is tailored to me, it would seem. If it does not even recognize you, I’m willing to believe you might subvert it more easily.
[Perhaps by doing things Liem himself would not do? He had not thought to dominate Doctor Samari’s mind, and Cardan’s glamour had worked on her. And he could never breathe life back into a crown of flowers, in a dream or out of it.]
It looks just as it did…
[Hesitantly, he reaches out a finger to touch one of the soft petals. Though he still remains entirely confused as to any potential purpose the wreath might now hold, regardless of what the dream doctor may have said.]
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Maybe your dreaming self is just overgenerous towards me.
[ They are, after all, in Liem's head -- more or less. And he is ever inclined to think far better of Cardan than Cardan's actions warrant. Cardan never knows whether to be flattered or horrified by it.
Well, he can be both of those things later. His gaze on Liem is a little sly. ]
Shall I crown you, husband? Although, given the state of that sky, perhaps we should find you a hat and gloves instead.
[ You know, just in case the sun does crest over the horizon in an attempt to incinerate the love of his life. ]
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And still, Cardan has stood faithfully by him, and has pursued him even into the prison of his dreaming. His husband has a warmer heart than he consents to admit.]
I would hate for the sun to finally make an appearance… not least of all because the crown would surely go up in flames too.
[He regards Cardan with a wry expression, trying not to give into the nervousness that has been flirting with his awareness ever since he first found himself here, in this bizarre place of inescapable windows and endless threat of sunrise.]
But you may as well. It would seem a shame not to.
[And if the sun does finally rise, Liem intends to hide in the nearest shadow regardless of what he’s wearing anyway.]
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He raises the wreath above Liem's head, eminently ceremonial about it. ]
Then let me crown you, husband, the one and only king I yet hold close to my heart.
[ After which he will set the flowers gently atop Liem's head, and then -- unable to quite help himself -- lean in to press an equally ceremonial kiss to each of his cheeks. Only then does Cardan straighten, job evidently well done, and look about the room again.
They've spent a lot of time on their greetings -- and time well spent it was. But he cannot forget his husband's uncomfortable joke, nor the unhappy strain in his voice when Cardan had first spoken to him. They shouldn't dally. ]
...now. Shall we try breaking these windows?
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He is distracted in any case by the thing Cardan says next.]
You want to break them? Why?
[Stupid question. Why else would Cardan want to break the windows except to try passing through them? But Liem is still aghast at the idea of leaving the shelter of the house—the maze, really—when the sun is threatening to crest the horizon at any moment. Even if dawn has been threatening just that way for the entire time he’s been trapped here, he fears that the moment he steps outside will be the moment the sun finally makes an appearance.]
I’ve heard that dying in one’s dream tends to wake one up, but I really would rather not test it out.
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They are tempting me, husband. Why else would there be so many of them?
[ And, though he won't say it, he's certain that Liem wouldn't have gone for the windows, which makes him think they are more likely to be a viable means of escape.
Still, Liem has a point, and so Cardan isn't going to try convincing him. Yet. ]
But very well. Since the doctor was helpful, I propose we try talking to the rest of the residents. Or-- [ He glances at the fireplace with its filigreed screen. ] Will the house respond to you? Surely it cannot have complaints.
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Actually, he cannot refute the idea when Cardan brings it up. Nevertheless, the thought of leaving the shelter of the house in order to seek the dream’s end makes Liem’s skin crawl.
Cardan’s last suggestion, however, brings a frustrated frown to his face.]
I’ve not been able to get a response from it in the time I’ve been trapped here, for good or for ill.
[Perhaps that is because even he cannot fathom a world in which his own house attempts to confound him, no matter how upsetting the dream otherwise is. Or perhaps the space is too obviously other, and it makes too little sense to imbue the house’s personality into a bastardized imitation of it.
But if they must do something, and if they aren’t about to break out of the windows, Liem supposes he must accept the possibility of talking to one of the dream’s other inhabitants—even if the thought of Cardan being privy to such interactions unsettles him nearly as much as the idea of stepping out beneath the grey sky. Regardless, if they are going anywhere at all, Liem intends to stick to his husband like glue. To this end, he reaches for Cardan’s hand and grasps it firmly.]
I doubt any of the rest will be cooperative, but we cannot simply loiter here indefinitely. Let us find what clues we can, then, and escape this place.
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I do not know about that. Surely we can bully Gusairne into giving up his secrets.
[ Well, Cardan couldn’t, because he’s unwilling to start a physical fight with a vampire in a place with so few apparent consequences for said vampire. How humiliating would it be, to end up as the seneschal’s snack? Not even Cardan lacks self-preservation to this extent.
Iago is a bigger problem. He doesn’t know how any of the figments would react to seeing the two of them together — surely it would force some change in their behaviour? But out of all the ghosts inhabiting the dreamscape, his father in law is the only obvious threat. It would be easier if they could avoid him altogether, though he knows not how to achieve such a thing.
Well. They will deal with it as it comes up, which has always been Cardan’s preferred way of planning ahead, anyway. He lifts Liem’s hand to his lips, brushing a kiss over his husband’s knuckles. With his frown and wreath of flowers, Liem looks like the world’s least whimsical forest nymph. This, at least, makes Cardan smile against his husband’s hand. ]
I am eager to try, at any rate.
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Well, Liem will just try to tackle any issues as they arise.]
Let us try, then.
[Turning away from the wall dominated by tall, beautiful windows, he makes for what would normally be the door leading into their dressing room—and now, is a portal leading to some unknowable other room of the house. His grip on Cardan’s hand is tight as he reaches out and opens the door, passing through to find—
His office, most of the shelves along one wall stripped away to reveal the ever-present expanse of clear glass showcasing the outdoors. Inside, standing near his desk as though in readiness to deliver a report, is the house seneschal.
Ah, there you are, Master Liem. I have been waiting to deliver the regional reports for the southern baronies. You are, I hope, available to receive them?
Finally, is the unspoken addendum, as Gusairne’s gaze slides between Liem and his husband. The man certainly seems to notice Cardan now that they are returning to the office hand in hand.
With a small sigh, since this is not the first time he has had this exchange, Liem answers,] If you wish me to return and hear your report, Gusairne, I must leave this place first.
[But he is not expecting different results this time.]
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You'll wait forever, [ he promises, with the silken cadence of a man settling into a favourite activity, ] unless you can cease being so embarrassingly useless.
[ Much as he loathes letting go of Liem's hand, he will -- so that he can slide into Gusairne's bubble, radiating malice as he does. From an up-close vantage point, Cardan simply has no choice but to look down his nose at him, which makes it a necessity as well as a pleasure. ]
Tell me, Gul Gusairne: do you ever tire of the stink of mortality? Yours lends itself to such a distinctive miasma.
[ ...well, everyone's smell is distinctive to Cardan's sensitive nose, and Gusairne deals with mortal servants and drinks mortal blood. Technically, this has naught to do with his own erstwhile mortality.
But he doesn't need to know that. ]
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This house is not your playground, Gusairne retorts, his expression only one charitable interpretation away from being a sneer. Liem narrows his eyes at the seneschal’s scornful demeanour. And I, at least, am serving precisely the purpose that I am meant to, instead of frittering my time away elsewhere.
Already Liem regrets continuing on through the maze just to reap rewards such as this. He cannot see how arguing further with the ghosts wandering these rooms will accomplish anything of merit. So far all it seems to be earning him is a headache, and the unwanted opportunity to watch a facsimile of his father’s seneschal argue with his spouse.
But Gusairne refuses to ignore Liem, even with Cardan occupying his immediate space. Your own carelessness got you into this predicament, Master Liem. Take responsibility for yourself.]
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Only, he had been new in the Talbotts' household, and unsure of his footing... and unwilling to overplay his hand, lest the master of this house also turned out to be fucking his seneschal.
But he is in no one's household now. Although, he doesn't mind it when Gusairne gets testy; all of this would be a little useless if he hadn't.
When he backhands Gusairne, it is almost perfunctory. Cardan doesn't even bother hitting him hard -- just enough to make a sound. After all, what would be the point? He's not trying to hurt Gusairne physically. That would take more effort than he's worth, and he wants to spare his knuckles.
The look he levels at the seneschal is cold and a little bored, like he's a chore to be crossed off a list. ]
His Grace has been far too lenient with you. Pay attention.
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