[ 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.
[ For a brief moment, when Cardan smacks the sour look off Gusairne’s face, the seneschal looks completely blank with shock. He’s not the only one; Liem stares too, startled by the abrupt interruption of Gusairne’s criticism of him. For some reason, though the seneschal’s face was the one that was struck, Liem feels his own grow a little warm.
But Gusairne transitions quickly from stunned shock to outrage.
How dare you! he sputters. One pale hand flies to his cheek in apparent disbelief of what just occurred. As he fumes, the sense of tension that has been hanging over Liem during this entire dream grows a little heavier, for no immediately clear reason. Does the light seem a little different, perhaps? Has the sky grown just a touch brighter?
Wary, Liem shifts closer to his husband. If he must make a quick exit, he cannot leave Cardan behind.]
Cardan… [Liem reaches for his hand, for the moment completely ignoring the offended vampire.] What are you doing?
[Whatever it is, it is making the sky blush and line the distant trees with gold—and Liem does not like that one bit.]
[ It is a little pathetic, how good it feels to finally wipe the smugness off the seneschal’s face. For a perfect, crystalline moment, Cardan basks in his own success.
Then, as usual, things go awry.
At Liem’s prompt, he will glance at the window, narrowing his eyes against the spike of apprehension. The cresting of dawn feels like a threat — and an admittedly powerful one. He cannot risk Liem, no matter how willing he might have been to risk himself. ]
I don’t think it liked that, [ he murmurs, mildly. And yet… and yet. He cannot shake the thought that a dog bares its teeth when imperiled. Surely, the dream must be fighting them for a reason.
His grip on Liem’s hand is tight — but his gaze focuses once more on the seneschal, and his other hand reaches out to fist in the man’s starched collar, yanking him unpleasantly close to Cardan’s face. ]
If you know aught, vermin, now is the time to speak, [ he hisses, no longer bothering to be particularly cool about it. Better Gusairne read the hatred in his eyes and recognize that he is serious. ] Do not think I am above dragging you out to watch you burn.
[ Gusairne is not real. It wouldn’t be murder. And he’s certain that part of him would find it viscerally satisfying.
Of course, he cannot leave Liem behind, but that’s not the point. ]
[Even in the realm of a dream, it takes considerable nerve for Liem to continue standing at Cardan’s side as the sun inches over the horizon, the golden glow in clear view through the broad windows. His grip on Cardan’s hand threatens to become bruising if he holds it any tighter—but he does not pull away, nor object as Cardan’s other hand fists in Gusairne’s collar.
Another petty indulgence. How like you, the seneschal sneers. His hand falls back to his side, and he remains unresisting in Cardan’s grasp, as though daring him to prove him right by dragging him outside just to indulge his anger.
It is more disrespectful than Liem has ever heard Gusairne be with Cardan, but he is too preoccupied to give the exchange his full attention, and continues to stare warily at the steadily creeping encroachment of dawn.
And how like you to demand of others, elf prince, when what you require has always been within you.]
[ For a brief moment, Cardan only stares hard at Gusairne’s sour face, his thoughts racing the golden light on the horizon. Within him? Something he must give of himself, then — or, perhaps, something he must do.
Regardless, it confirms the one thing he had most hoped for: he already has it, whatever it is. He can break the enchantment. For now, that is enough. His lips quirk; he will tip forward just enough for his breath to hit Gusairne’s pale ear when he whispers, ] Thank you, Gul Gusairne.
[ Then he discards the seneschal’s collar like one would an uncomfortably wet tissue, turning to face his husband, whose iron grip filters through only a little late. Cardan swallows down a wince, lifting Liem’s cool fingers to his lips, instead. ]
Let us go, husband.
[ Preferably to a room with a nice, big wardrobe, wherein he could shove Liem if absolutely necessary. ]
[The room to which Liem drags his husband, leaving the sour-faced Gusairne behind, is sadly barren of wardrobes—though not for lack of space. Of all the rooms they have yet visited, only this one looks remotely close to how it should: the giant windows looking out over the estate have always been one of the banquet hall’s pleasing features, though the view out those windows was always meant to be of a land draped in silver and shadows. By the time the sun began to peep over the horizon, the room would be long-abandoned for smaller, more private venues.
Not so on this occasion. The banquet hall is set up for a party that appears to be in full swing, vampires in rare jewels and expensive fabrics dancing, eating, drinking, and gossiping all over the well-attired space. Some of them immediately sight Liem and hail him to exchange pleasantries, but Liem, still preoccupied by the watery gold light filtering over the line of trees on the horizon, makes for the nearest banquet table, deeming it large enough to hide behind in case of an emergency.]
Did you learn what you hoped from Gusairne? [Liem asks. What he’d really like to ask is What do we do now?, but that sounds a bit too pathetic to voice aloud, even if it is what he’s thinking. He does not feel any closer to figuring out how to escape this place than he had been before, and the sun’s recent energy is making him think that his intended stay here may not be as endless as he had initially supposed.]
[ Cardan makes a face at the hustle and bustle of the party; he was hoping for a quieter space, one where they could think. Though, he supposes, this is still better than a room occupied by Iago or another Gusairne, and at least the shrieks of ghost vampires should warn them of sunrise well in advance.
He almost reaches to snatch a champagne flute off of a serving tray, before thinking better of it. ]
He was more helpful than he wanted to be. [ Which is enough, or so he hopes. It has to be. ] He said the answer was within me, which means we already have it.
The faerie woman. She did not ask you to drink from her, did she? [ His blood would be a laughably easy answer, but incongruous to the puzzle as presented. Something he can give, or something he must do: he turns the options over in his head. What can he do that Liem cannot? Enjoy the sunlight, of course -- but that is a likewise unpoetic answer. Something to do with rest, something that interrupts Liem's search of it...
[The crowd of vampires does not much reassure Liem about the looming danger of sunrise. Had they been real, they would not be idling so blithely in front of the hall’s giant windows as the sky began to blush with dawn; he cannot trust that any of them will even notice the touch of day, much less be harmed by it, and he has no wish to find out in person how flammable his own dream self is.
But the banquet table feels reassuringly sturdy under his hand, and the tablecloth draped over its bulk is of a thick, quality weave. They will withstand a bit of sunlight, even if he can’t.
And Cardan’s assessment sounds like good news, if only they can figure out how to capitalize on it. Liem frowns, again trying to puzzle out what the answer to their escape might be.]
No, she was just persuading me to stay longer, and revel with some of her companions… though it might have been useful to sample it, I suppose. Perhaps then I would not have succumbed to her magic.
[Though he assumes Cardan’s blood would have a similar warding property, and drinking it regularly has not stopped him from getting cursed. And anyway, how would drinking from him in a dream accomplish anything of merit? At best, he would just end up feeling intoxicated.]
This is the most frustrating dream I have ever had, [he mutters.] It’s like it was designed specifically to thwart me, no matter what I try to get done.
[ Cardan's gaze slides off of Liem to consider the table for a moment. It is pleasingly wide, and on a secluded enough side of the room. It should work, indeed.
Ordinarily, he does not bother throwing up glamour before vampires, who have shown themselves stubbornly resistant. But when he moves his hand idly this time, it will only make festive sparks erupt out of every flower vase in the room -- all except for the ones closest to them. An easy enough trick, and quickly over; after all, he only needs the guests too distracted to notice his crouching down to slip under the table, intent on pulling his husband with him.
They might as well do it now. He wishes for at least a modicum of privacy.
Once in the relative darkness of their improvised shelter, he will fold himself into a cross-legged position. It feels odd, revisiting this scene. The last time he hid under a table, he was yet a small child, and the revel seemed much more turbulent around him. ]
I think we may have failed to consider what it was they were thwarting, exactly.
[Without any warning from his husband, Liem is just as startled by the sudden fireworks as any of the imaginary guests—but he follows Cardan’s lead, and by the time the illusory diversion is over, he has slipped beneath the broad table and is joining his spouse in sitting on the polished marble floor.
It is strange to be hiding beneath dining furniture this way. The sight of his princely husband sitting in the gloom beneath a dining table like a naughty child would be enough to make Liem smile, in circumstances less dire.]
How do you mean?
[Liem keeps his voice low, not wanting one of the party guests to follow the sounds of their conversation to their makeshift hiding place.]
If there was a pattern I noticed, it was only that everyone I’ve met in this place has demanded my attention. I suppose the one thing I have not been granted is a moment’s peace to think things through on my own.
[ He pauses momentarily, and then takes Liem’s other hand in his. His thumbs stroke the backs of Liem’s palms, a little restlessly. ]
I think, [ muses Cardan, slowly, feeling the words out as he says them, ] that you have pissed off someone quite clever, and that I have grown rusty at riddles. [ This should have been obvious far sooner. Far, far sooner. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so panicked — but that’s no excuse. ]
“May sleep find you quickly and your search be uninterrupted.” I thought it meant that I had to interrupt you — your sleep. And I do intend to do this. But in here… [ He makes a sweeping gesture indicating the room, the music, the din of voices, the (presumably) still threatening windows. ] As you say: hardly a shortage of interlopers jostling for your attention.
But you did not tell her you were searching for sleep. Sleep is what found you. What is the thing you are meant to be seeking, then?
[If Cardan has become rusty at riddles, Liem is a tool that was abandoned while still only half-finished. He never received any education on such topics, and while he has been wracking his brains for a clue to their escape, he will admit that the faerie’s curse itself has not been at the forefront of his mind. After all, the meaning seemed straightforward enough: She cursed him with sleep, and he had to find a way to awake from it.]
I have been seeking a way to wake up. I’d been assuming the dream was throwing up roadblocks to make my search more difficult.
[Is Cardan suggesting that’s not what he should be looking for? Liem cannot imagine what else the mystery thing should be. All he wants in the context of this nightmare is to escape, and return to the struggles and pleasures of the waking world. But if he’s cursed to keep searching without end, is his struggling just making the bindings of the enchantment wrap tighter?]
It was foolish of me to scrutinize her words, but neglect to consider yours. What was it you just said? You have not been granted one moment of peace.
[ Because the dream kept throwing problems at him -- and Liem, of course, can never simply ignore such things, not truly.
Is that why it hadn't liked his shutting up Gusairne, even momentarily? Would it intervene again now? He bites his lip, turning the problem over in his head-- but no. He should at least explain his theory to Liem. Surely there is enough time for this. ]
It's rest. You told her you were in search of rest, and she bid that the search be uninterrupted. But an uninterrupted search is an eternal one.
I think, husband, that we need you to take a nap.
[ A thing he can barely get Liem to do in the laziest and most undressed of circumstances, let alone in this chaotic, tense environment. But he cannot think of another interpretation that fits so well. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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?
no subject
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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But Gusairne transitions quickly from stunned shock to outrage.
How dare you! he sputters. One pale hand flies to his cheek in apparent disbelief of what just occurred. As he fumes, the sense of tension that has been hanging over Liem during this entire dream grows a little heavier, for no immediately clear reason. Does the light seem a little different, perhaps? Has the sky grown just a touch brighter?
Wary, Liem shifts closer to his husband. If he must make a quick exit, he cannot leave Cardan behind.]
Cardan… [Liem reaches for his hand, for the moment completely ignoring the offended vampire.] What are you doing?
[Whatever it is, it is making the sky blush and line the distant trees with gold—and Liem does not like that one bit.]
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Then, as usual, things go awry.
At Liem’s prompt, he will glance at the window, narrowing his eyes against the spike of apprehension. The cresting of dawn feels like a threat — and an admittedly powerful one. He cannot risk Liem, no matter how willing he might have been to risk himself. ]
I don’t think it liked that, [ he murmurs, mildly. And yet… and yet. He cannot shake the thought that a dog bares its teeth when imperiled. Surely, the dream must be fighting them for a reason.
His grip on Liem’s hand is tight — but his gaze focuses once more on the seneschal, and his other hand reaches out to fist in the man’s starched collar, yanking him unpleasantly close to Cardan’s face. ]
If you know aught, vermin, now is the time to speak, [ he hisses, no longer bothering to be particularly cool about it. Better Gusairne read the hatred in his eyes and recognize that he is serious. ] Do not think I am above dragging you out to watch you burn.
[ Gusairne is not real. It wouldn’t be murder. And he’s certain that part of him would find it viscerally satisfying.
Of course, he cannot leave Liem behind, but that’s not the point. ]
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Another petty indulgence. How like you, the seneschal sneers. His hand falls back to his side, and he remains unresisting in Cardan’s grasp, as though daring him to prove him right by dragging him outside just to indulge his anger.
It is more disrespectful than Liem has ever heard Gusairne be with Cardan, but he is too preoccupied to give the exchange his full attention, and continues to stare warily at the steadily creeping encroachment of dawn.
And how like you to demand of others, elf prince, when what you require has always been within you.]
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Regardless, it confirms the one thing he had most hoped for: he already has it, whatever it is. He can break the enchantment. For now, that is enough. His lips quirk; he will tip forward just enough for his breath to hit Gusairne’s pale ear when he whispers, ] Thank you, Gul Gusairne.
[ Then he discards the seneschal’s collar like one would an uncomfortably wet tissue, turning to face his husband, whose iron grip filters through only a little late. Cardan swallows down a wince, lifting Liem’s cool fingers to his lips, instead. ]
Let us go, husband.
[ Preferably to a room with a nice, big wardrobe, wherein he could shove Liem if absolutely necessary. ]
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Not so on this occasion. The banquet hall is set up for a party that appears to be in full swing, vampires in rare jewels and expensive fabrics dancing, eating, drinking, and gossiping all over the well-attired space. Some of them immediately sight Liem and hail him to exchange pleasantries, but Liem, still preoccupied by the watery gold light filtering over the line of trees on the horizon, makes for the nearest banquet table, deeming it large enough to hide behind in case of an emergency.]
Did you learn what you hoped from Gusairne? [Liem asks. What he’d really like to ask is What do we do now?, but that sounds a bit too pathetic to voice aloud, even if it is what he’s thinking. He does not feel any closer to figuring out how to escape this place than he had been before, and the sun’s recent energy is making him think that his intended stay here may not be as endless as he had initially supposed.]
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He almost reaches to snatch a champagne flute off of a serving tray, before thinking better of it. ]
He was more helpful than he wanted to be. [ Which is enough, or so he hopes. It has to be. ] He said the answer was within me, which means we already have it.
The faerie woman. She did not ask you to drink from her, did she? [ His blood would be a laughably easy answer, but incongruous to the puzzle as presented. Something he can give, or something he must do: he turns the options over in his head. What can he do that Liem cannot? Enjoy the sunlight, of course -- but that is a likewise unpoetic answer. Something to do with rest, something that interrupts Liem's search of it...
He eyes his husband, his gaze assessing. ]
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But the banquet table feels reassuringly sturdy under his hand, and the tablecloth draped over its bulk is of a thick, quality weave. They will withstand a bit of sunlight, even if he can’t.
And Cardan’s assessment sounds like good news, if only they can figure out how to capitalize on it. Liem frowns, again trying to puzzle out what the answer to their escape might be.]
No, she was just persuading me to stay longer, and revel with some of her companions… though it might have been useful to sample it, I suppose. Perhaps then I would not have succumbed to her magic.
[Though he assumes Cardan’s blood would have a similar warding property, and drinking it regularly has not stopped him from getting cursed. And anyway, how would drinking from him in a dream accomplish anything of merit? At best, he would just end up feeling intoxicated.]
This is the most frustrating dream I have ever had, [he mutters.] It’s like it was designed specifically to thwart me, no matter what I try to get done.
[That’s supposed to be Cardan’s job.]
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Ordinarily, he does not bother throwing up glamour before vampires, who have shown themselves stubbornly resistant. But when he moves his hand idly this time, it will only make festive sparks erupt out of every flower vase in the room -- all except for the ones closest to them. An easy enough trick, and quickly over; after all, he only needs the guests too distracted to notice his crouching down to slip under the table, intent on pulling his husband with him.
They might as well do it now. He wishes for at least a modicum of privacy.
Once in the relative darkness of their improvised shelter, he will fold himself into a cross-legged position. It feels odd, revisiting this scene. The last time he hid under a table, he was yet a small child, and the revel seemed much more turbulent around him. ]
I think we may have failed to consider what it was they were thwarting, exactly.
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It is strange to be hiding beneath dining furniture this way. The sight of his princely husband sitting in the gloom beneath a dining table like a naughty child would be enough to make Liem smile, in circumstances less dire.]
How do you mean?
[Liem keeps his voice low, not wanting one of the party guests to follow the sounds of their conversation to their makeshift hiding place.]
If there was a pattern I noticed, it was only that everyone I’ve met in this place has demanded my attention. I suppose the one thing I have not been granted is a moment’s peace to think things through on my own.
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[ He pauses momentarily, and then takes Liem’s other hand in his. His thumbs stroke the backs of Liem’s palms, a little restlessly. ]
I think, [ muses Cardan, slowly, feeling the words out as he says them, ] that you have pissed off someone quite clever, and that I have grown rusty at riddles. [ This should have been obvious far sooner. Far, far sooner. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so panicked — but that’s no excuse. ]
“May sleep find you quickly and your search be uninterrupted.” I thought it meant that I had to interrupt you — your sleep. And I do intend to do this. But in here… [ He makes a sweeping gesture indicating the room, the music, the din of voices, the (presumably) still threatening windows. ] As you say: hardly a shortage of interlopers jostling for your attention.
But you did not tell her you were searching for sleep. Sleep is what found you. What is the thing you are meant to be seeking, then?
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I have been seeking a way to wake up. I’d been assuming the dream was throwing up roadblocks to make my search more difficult.
[Is Cardan suggesting that’s not what he should be looking for? Liem cannot imagine what else the mystery thing should be. All he wants in the context of this nightmare is to escape, and return to the struggles and pleasures of the waking world. But if he’s cursed to keep searching without end, is his struggling just making the bindings of the enchantment wrap tighter?]
Are you suggesting that I should stop looking?
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It was foolish of me to scrutinize her words, but neglect to consider yours. What was it you just said? You have not been granted one moment of peace.
[ Because the dream kept throwing problems at him -- and Liem, of course, can never simply ignore such things, not truly.
Is that why it hadn't liked his shutting up Gusairne, even momentarily? Would it intervene again now? He bites his lip, turning the problem over in his head-- but no. He should at least explain his theory to Liem. Surely there is enough time for this. ]
It's rest. You told her you were in search of rest, and she bid that the search be uninterrupted. But an uninterrupted search is an eternal one.
I think, husband, that we need you to take a nap.
[ A thing he can barely get Liem to do in the laziest and most undressed of circumstances, let alone in this chaotic, tense environment. But he cannot think of another interpretation that fits so well. ]
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