#we got Dreamling but at what cost ?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kydrogendragon · 4 months

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Dreamling fic idea I'll probably never get around to:

Dream is the highest ranking cleric in the city. His gifts are sought after by all and the cost of his services reflect it. He has treated and healed everything from Kings to Demi-Gods. But he is tired of his position. Those he cares for and treats are grateful, yes, but his services are almost expected. And the one time he fails because the bishop was too far gone, even for Dream's skills, he was berated for his failure. Whispers echoed through the kingdom that the High Cleric Dream was losing his touch, that the gods that favored him so are losing interest.

Dream begins to think that maybe they are right. Then he meets Hob - a necromancer that works out in the battlefields, mostly. Someone who he would normally never cross paths with until he does. His sister had advised him that a change of scenery could be good for him and his soul. To recharge and rest a moment and reconnect with his divine gifts.

Hob is helping carry in the wounded and sick from the most recent skirmish in the outerlands. Dream hovers, watching as this captivating handsome man, covered head to toe in grime and blood and dirt, gently guides his fellow soldiers towards the healers bay. And then he walks towards the bodies of those that had not made it.

Hob kneels by the dead, and Dream watches with curiosity. Necromancy was not viewed highly. Most necromancer positions were ones of war, raising the dead so that they might keep fighting. Dream wonders what possible reason this one might have for raising them here in the city. He freezes, thinking perhaps Hob was a traitor or spy and is planning to unleash an attack.

But no. No, as the young man's body beside him jolts to life, a wheezing, gasping noise releases from the cold dead lips. And Hob just smiles. He grabs the corpse's hands, giving it a gentle pat, and says, "Easy there. It's okay. The pain is gone, yeah?"

The corpse just nods.

"Good. Good," the Necromancer says. "You asked me, said if you died on the field-"

"That you'd bring me back, I remember." The corpse speaks, his voice rough. The sight is unsettling to Dream.

"That's right," the Necromancer says, smiling still. His voice is warm and low. Dream strains to hear it from his hiding spot. "What did you want me to say and to who?"

Dream furrows his brows in confusion. What odd game is this man playing at?

"Tell my parents... that I loved them. That I'm glad I got to serve my kingdom as I had. I... I did, right? I did good?" Dream's heart clenched at the quivering in the young soldier's voice. They remembered. They preserved their memories and thoughts and feelings. But...

Dream shook his head. No, corpses brought to life by necromancy are just reanimated. There should be no soul left within them. That is what every teaching has said before. The only exception being a corpse that is reanimated within mere minutes if dying. But this soldier died on the battlefield. He died days ago, at the least. So how?

"You fought so well," the Necromancer says. Dream sees tears fall from those warm brown eyes. "You saved many lives out there. You served king and country well."

"Good," the soldier says with a sad laugh. "Good... then. Then tell them that as well, please? And... and if you can find my brother, his name is Calrose, tell him I'm sorry for all the shit I gave him when we were young. And tell him that he was right about the ale. He'll know what I mean."

Dream feels he ought to turn away from such a seemingly private moment but he finds he cannot. He's transfixed on the sight.

"And tell my girl, sweet Alice, tell her I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise after all. Tell her I tried and that I-" And the young corpse bursts into tears. Or sounds like it, at least. There are no tears to be shed but the pained wail that is drawn forth from his throat couldn't be mistaken for anything else. The Necromancer leans toward and holds the young boy in his arms, ignorant of the rotting flesh and stale blood.

"I'll tell her. I'll tell them all. Don't you worry," the Necromancer whispers against the man's skull. There is a large gap in his head, Dream realizes now. His skull looks to have been smashed by something strong and heavy. It is most likely how he died. "You can rest easy now, lad. Be at peace. You've earned it."

And as the Necromancer lays the young man back down, Dream watches as the boy takes a final, shuttering breath in and sees the light in his eyes fade as the air is released. He is still once more but with the barest of smiles on his lips.

Dream is dumbfounded by this. By all of this. Everything he feels he knows has been turned upside down by a single man. So he follows him. He watches his movements through the city and witnesses many times his strange version of necromancy. He also witnesses the joy and sadness that it brings to the loved ones he tells each corpses last words to.

It's in a tavern, down by the ports, that Dream officially approaches the Necromancer. Hob, of course, picked up on his newest shadow that first day. It wasn't until just recently that he realized who it was that had been tailing him. And he's petrified. Hob well knows that necromancy within the walls of the kingdom is forbidden unless authorized. He thinks Dream is there to arrest him.

But no. Dream just wants to talk. And he doesn't ever mention his position as High Cleric either. And guessing by the black hooded cloak he wears, Hob is guessing Dream doesn't think he knows who he is either.

So they meet more often. Hob tells Dream of his life, of his experiences. He tells him of his experiences with Necromancy, specifically, and how he's found that more clings to a corpse than you might think. Especially if they had things they still wished to say.

Then one day the kingdom is attacked. The forces manage to breach the outer walls. Dream is darting all around, healing as best as he can, trying to help bolster their offenses. He sees Hob in the chaos of it all, rising corpses to help the fight. It is the first time he has seen this type of magic used in battle. It is the first time he sees Hob wield his skills for a fight.

Then Hob is shot at, an arrow sticks out of his chest and blood is running down his chin as it floods his lungs. The corpses he commanded fall to the ground as his focus breaks. Dream runs to him, ignorant of the continued onslaught. He holds Hob's hand as he calls forth every ounce of his drained power to breathe life back into damaged cells. But the arrow was poisoned. Death magic clings to the arrowhead and infects Hob's body from the inside out. He removes the arrow and allows his magic to flow inside, coating Hob is a warm, white light. He is healing, but it is slow. And with Dream drained as he is, he cannot overwhelm the opposing magic as he might normally. Still, he continues. And he is winning, slowly.

And then more arrows strike the pair. Dream covers Hob's body with his own but the thick cloak he wears only protects him so much. The garb he wears marks him as a Cleric and he has heard enough stories and read enough tales to know that picking off the healers early on is a prime battle stategy.

Hob tries to push him off, to cover him instead, but Dream holds him down, even as the venom embued in each strike weighs him down, Dream continues. Hob begs him to stop. That he'll kill himself if he keeps this up. And Dream knows that he is correct. He will die. But, he finds, as he summons forth the last reserve of his strength, he does not mind dying if it means Hob gets to live.

Besides, there are still words he would say to Hob. He will see him one last time before he goes for good after all.

He pushes all that is left of him into Hob and the death magic fades away. There is only light and love left in his cells. No more poison. Hob is safe.

Dream collapses. Hob scrambles up and drags them both out of the line of fire. Most of the enemy soldiers have left, continuing up through the kingdom. There is a clashing of steel and iron and the sound of magic being flung in the distance. But all Hob can see is Dream. His face lax in his lap. It makes him want to laugh and cry all at the same time because the first time Hob gets to see that beautiful face this calm is when he's dead...

Hob pulls the arrows from his body, discarding them in a pile and pulls the man's body close to his chest. He wishes, not for the first time in his life, that his gifts were of healing instead. Hob bows his head and kisses the soft skin of Dream's forehead and he whispers the words he has heard Dream speak before. Healing words. Hob feels a strange tingle within him. It responds differently than the magic he is used to. And then it is gone.

Hob frowns. And, going off of instinct, he speaks the words that he knows like breathing. His normal powers flood through him but they are also different. It twirls within him, mixing with some sort of foreign piece. But he continues, calling forth for Dream's spirit in the Ether and guides it back to his body. A soul cannot be reattached once the link between is broken. But it can reside there for a time. This is what Hob has learned over his years of study.

And today he is proven wrong. He watches as the chain that links them heals. It glows in a brilliant white light as Dream's soul is guided by golden hands that he knows are his own magic.

Hob looks down.

Dream's eyes open. And he smiles.

The best they can figure, once the kingdom is secured and the people and healed and tended to, is that Dream's own magic stuck with Hob and allowed him to perform both Cleric and Necromatic Magic simultaneously, effectively bringing Dream back from the dead.

It is something that needs further research and is happily agreed and funded by the Crown. Hob is promoted and works side by side with Dream now as they continue their research. They still go down to the healing bays on the weekend. Dream assists with the wounded and Hob still gathers the dead's last words. Life is good. Better than is has been. And Dream finally feels like he's rediscovered his sense of purpose. And Hob? Well, Hob's finally found what he thought he's never get: Love.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #the sandman #ky writes #cleric!Dream #necromancer!Hob #au idea

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