They say dreams are reflections of our deepest desires.
The subconscious mind stitching together the impossible shards of reality into a fiction it convinces itself is the truth.
A self-imposed delusion of our most selfish wants.
Asterius isn’t sure how much he believes that. Science and logic clearly point towards dreams being nothing more than your brain processing new memories, a jumbled chaotic mess that was never supposed to make sense to a waking rational mind. But in this instance…. Asterius believes the more fanciful tales of dreams, for he wishes with a desperate fever that this dream be true.
Desperately clinging to the impossibility currently filling his head. Drowning in the illusion until it becomes his new reality and Asterius forgets the truth buried in his own mind – That none of this is real.
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“William?”
Asterius -no William- how could he forget? William is his name. He breathes a small laugh, amused at his odd thoughts, ‘How could I ever think it something else?’
[Silly Host!] The System taunts swirling around his head like an over-excited puppy, [Host should answer Host’s mother!] It advises, coming to hover its holographic screen on his left shoulder as if the floating code needs to rest.
Right! His mother is here!
Asterius - William – turns away from System and smiles at the small, worried frown on his mom. “Sorry about that Mom,” he apologizes, placing a hand over the one she has set on his knee, “spaced out for a second there.”
Her frown melts off her face, crow’s feet crinkling as she smiles at him, giving his cheek a little pinch, “as long as you are back with me now,” she chuckles, letting him go before William can grumble his complaints too loudly. “Well come on my little man, it’s your big day after all!”
William beams back at her, pushing himself up from his bed, pausing only a second to glance in the mirror.
His reflection is… odd, shifting like a mirage, as if the mirror can’t decide what to reflect. He catches pointed ears and eyes a honey brown, but the slope of his jaw changes from sharp to soft, his eyebrows a little higher one breath and lower the next.
At least the mirror can decide what he’s wearing, a bell sleeved top of pale blue that reminds him of his favorite robe, the one Pluma is always trying to get him to wear. There are little flowers sewn into the edges, the embroidery shifting with his every breath to be a new flower. At least he’s back to wearing pants again, comfortable white slacks that trail down to his favorite sneakers. And to top it all off, a familiar only mildly elaborate star hairpin rests atop his long silver hair.
The little angels resting in the hair ornament chime as he focuses on them and William gives them a little wave in the reflection of the mirror, his hand changing skin tones as he does, fluctuating between an unhealthy porcelain and a freckled tan.
There’s an amused snort from behind him, and turning around reviles the arched eyebrow of Vae, “Too busy admiring yourself in the mirror to join us, Spinster?”
“I’m coming,” he grumbles adjusting his hair ornament one last time before following the Muse of Tragedy out his room, “You are as bad as Beth sometimes.”
“Hey!” the familiar yell of his sister echoes from down the crystalline stairway, “I’m much more annoying than her!”
Maria appears behind his sister, hair a frizzy mess of brown curls and a pinched frown on her face as she passes the bottom of the stairs, carrying a stack of flower-themed plateware. “Is that really something you want to argue on?” she asks, setting the plates atop the coffee and paint-stained dining room table.
“Yeah,” Pluma agrees, his little white angel wings fluttering behind him as he races after Maria, being far less careful than Willaim would like with a full balancing pitcher of lemonade in his small hands, “Why do you want master to not like you?”
“It’s called being a sibling, Pluma,” Beth reports sagely, “you’ll understand one day.”
The look on Pluma’s face clearly says he would never like to know, but before the little seraphim can say anything that might start a fight William’s mom swoops in, shoving a handful of napkins and silverware into Beth’s hands.
“Stop teasing Pluma, Beth,” their mom scolds, pointing behind her towards the mostly set dining room table, “now help us get the table ready for your brother.”
Beth sends William a disgusted look, trying to convey the absolute misery of her forced helping. Willaim snickers and doesn’t even offer a false comment about helping her out, they both know he would be lying.
“Well!” Vae announces clapping her hands and nearly pushing William down the last few stairs, “let's get you at the table Mr. Special.”
“I’m going!” he laughs, putting up only a token protest as he’s forced to march to the table and be sat at the head chair, giving him a great view of the cavernous living and entryway into the little magical cottage.
“DING!”
The doorbell rings, and before William can begin to push himself up, Beth races over, abandoning her assigned chore to throw up the door with a cocky smirk. Quickly her smile shifts into a malicious grin. And far louder than she needs to be, she yells into the house, “HEY WILLIAM! YOUR BOYFRIEND IS HERE!!!!!”
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“BETH!” he scolds back indigently. He can feel his face flush a bright scarlet, jumping out of his chair and shoving his embarrassing sister out of the doorway. She laughs as she trips, nearly smacking herself into the wall, and William would be concerned if that didn’t make her laugh harder, doubling over with mirth that almost makes him concerned his sister isn’t breathing enough.
Cadeyrn gives his own small chuckle at Beth’s antics, before turning to William, red-slitted eyes softening in the glow of the sunset behind him. The demon raises his hands, offering Asterius the bouquet in his hands, Divinus Vigil. William takes them with a blush, cradling the flowers gently to his chest, eyes catching on the matching star pin on Cadeyrn’s vest.
He feels his face get impossibly redder, “thanks, they're beautiful.”
Cadeyrn smiles, reaching up to pluck one of the blooms before tucking it behind William’s ear, “not as beautiful as you.”
William gives a surprised little gasp as Beth makes a gagging noise behind him and Vae snorts.
He flashes his demon boyfriend a bright smile before he turns sharply, glaring at his sister and her best friend, “Shut up before I make you regret it.”
They both send him smug grins but scatter, allowing him to at least pretend he’s talking alone with Cadeyrn.
“And I wanted to offer my congratulations,” his boyfriend says, stepping closer and gently looping his hands around William’s waist, “for getting into that art school. I knew you could do it.”
William snickers using his free hand to reach up and tangle his fingers in the dark black curls he loves so much, “well I did have a great boyfriend being supportive.”
“Sounds like a great guy,” Cadeyrn agrees with a chuckle, “maybe he should be…,” and the demon trials off as she leans closer, the intent for a kiss clear to see in his glittering red eyes, “rewarded for all his hard work-,”
“CLICK!”
“Mom!” William protests, nearly jumping away from Cadeyrn as they turn to face the flashing lights of his mother’s beat-up old camera, “You don’t need to be taking photos every moment!”
“But the scrapbook dear!”
“Yeah, the scrapbook willy-bear!” Beth agrees popping up behind their mother with an evil grin, “We need all the photos of everyone!”
William glares at his sister, more embarrassed than genuinely angry, he never thought she would stoop so low as to dig up that old nickname, “I swear-!”
“Oh, what a wonderful idea Bethany!”
His sister flinches from the use of her full name, glancing worriedly up at their mother as she pulls Beth to stand next to William and Cadeyrn. They all share a confused look as his mom begins rounding everyone else up to gather together.
“Okay!” his mother calls as they all get arranged so everyone is visible as his mother sets up her camera, “remember to smile! I will keep all of you here as long as it takes to get a good one!”
William knows from experience that she means that as a threat, but even without the threat he would be smiling. Everything is perfect, more than perfect. His whole family is here, he has an amazing boyfriend, and he’s going to the school of his dreams- what more could he want?
“William,” Cadeyrn whispers in his ear. He risks a glance up, silently telling the demon to go ahead, “I know I don’t say it enough but I lo-“
And the words static in his ears. Willaim blinks shaking his head, a weird disjoint feeling overtaking him.
“I’m sorry what-,”
Cadeyrn just smiles at him, that same fond smile William cherishes and so rarely gets to see. “Master?” he asks in a soft tone, so different from how he had called his name earlier.
It takes Asterius - ‘William!’ – no, Asterius, that’s his name now, he hasn’t been William in over 20 years. Cadeyrn’s mouth isn’t moving but he’s still hearing him speak and the space around his distorts and shatters before his eyes.
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“Master,” the real Cadeyrn whispers, as Asterius forces his eyes to open.
It’s pitch dark in the bedroom. A familiar weight nestled in between his arms, Pluma happily sleeping, making tiny huffs and snorts as he dreams.
The darkness hangs over them like a blanket, trying to ease Asterius back to sleep, but he blinks his eyes open once more, focusing on the dim light he can see. The soft glow of the sleeping stars resting in Asterius’s long silver hair and Cadeyrn’s eyes, red as a flame, pupils daggers of black. Most people would be terrified to wake to such a sight, but Asterius has long shaken any fear at the sight. He smiles instinctively at the demon, pleased to see him, even if he’s a bit grumpy about being woken up, he was rather enjoying that dream, as silly and idealist as it was.
Cadeyrn gently reaches forward for a second, just cradling Asterius’s cheek before brushing some of the silver hair stuck to Asterius’s face behind his pointed ear. The demon’s eyes crinkle in a look of fond sadness, eyes tracing Asterius’s face as if it’s the last time the demon expects to see him.
Warning bells start to ring in Asterius’s head, and he pushes himself up, careful not to jostle Pluma to much as he reaches out, placing a mirroring hand on Cadeyrn’s cheek, brushing curly black hair over his own rounded ear.
“What’s wrong?” the false God of Fate asks softly, leaning closer to the demon bound to his service. Cadeyrn stiffens, clearly caught off guard, but a moment later his shoulders untense and he leans into Asterius’s palm, eyes closing briefly as the demon bends forward, gently bumping their foreheads together.
Something warm pools in Asterius’s stomach, as for a breath they just share the same space, breathe the same air, content to hold each other in the pitch dark of night. There’s a giddy feeling zinging through his veins, a happiness and contentment he can’t fully describe, a fullness that threatens to break out his chest, but the dark curl of fear keeps him too alert to drown in the warm embrace or sink once more into the dancing memories of his impossible dream (a dream where he was allowed to have this and not be crushed by guilt or fear).
Asterius brings his left hand up to tangle with the calloused fingers still resting on his own cheek, leaning gently into the demon’s palm, and in the dark of the night he asks softly, “Cadeyrn?”
The demon startles, body jolting as if he was just hit, flinching away from Asterius’s touch and backing up so they are both in their own separate spaces.
It’s only about 3 feet of space, but it feels like an uncrossable chasm, a line firmly drawn in the sand. It tastes like rejection on his tongue and burns with regret in his veins. Asterius immediately misses the gentle warmth, and giddy peace that had settled into his body as if it was always meant to be there, but the dawning sense of something being wrong pushes the selfish thoughts aside.
“Cadeyrn?” he asks softly once more, instinctively reaching out to comfort before he reminds himself and instead forces his hand down to tangle with Pluma’s soft feathery fur.
The demon watches him carefully, something guarded and pained in his eyes. Asterius wishes he knew how to help, what to do, but sleep still clings to his edges, taunting him with fragments of the dream swimming through his head.
Slowly, as though afraid Asterius would reject him (as if he ever could, it's honestly a hilarious thought, as if Asterius could ever deny Cadeyrn anything when he looks at him like that. As if Asterius is the only reason his heart still beats.) The demon inches back closer, reaching forward and resting his hand a hair’s breadth from Asterius’s own. It aches more than the startled retreat, but Asterius knows this is a quiet apology, Cadeyrn trying to convey he didn’t mean harm, but clear enough to also say that the line still holds.
“I’m afraid it's time, master,” he reports gravely, “All of the heavens have been summoned to the royal palace.”
The memories of yesterday slam into him hard, almost dizzying with the sudden rush of information, right, Sanctus - the High Seraphim was here, Asterius given a new role.
“Something has happened to Messis.”
As the words process, a blinking dark green screen statics in front of his face, warping the image of Cadeyrn with a green glow.
[Mission 5 assigned.] The System says without its usual cheer. [Mission Objective – become the tyrant of Celestia.]