Objects of Desire: a Sandman/Revolutionary Girl Utena crossover, Chapter Six:
Title: Outside Eternity
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count: 3986
Chapter 5 here.
Objects of Desire: Chapter Six - Outside Eternity
They reappeared in the throne room of the castle at the heart of the Dreaming, standing before the steps that led up to the high-backed throne. The colors of the stained-glass windows and sky overhead had faded to shades of grey, casting a bleak light over the room. The flames flickering in the edges of Morpheus’s robes seemed to hold the only color to be seen.
Utena stood with one arm around Anthy’s shoulders, supporting her; the other woman seemed hardly able to stand. She leaned, murmuring, her face strangely pale, her breaths quick and ragged. Utena looked at Morpheus, her questions clear on her face.
“She is not herself,” Morpheus said. “Not completely. Akio’s influence still lingers.”
“But she left him,” Utena protested. “Shouldn’t that mean she’s free of him? If she was able to go when he didn’t want her to. . . .” She trailed off, looked at Anthy again. Her eyes were still closed.
“Would that it were that simple.” Morpheus frowned, his lips pressing tightly together. “Anthy is a dream, and subject to influences differently than most mortals. The same could be said of you.”
Utena steeled herself, and nodded for Morpheus to continue. Whatever came next, she knew she wouldn’t like it, but if it could help them find out how to break Akio’s hold over Anthy, then it would be worth any pain.
“It doesn’t happen often, but when my siblings and I choose, we can exert an . . . unusual kind of influence on each others’ domains, on the rules that bind us all.” His frown deepened. “Not long enough ago, Desire toyed with mortals who were part of a recurring instance within the Dreaming. Its meddling could have torn apart my entire realm.”
“What did it do?” Utena asked, her voice quiet and filled with awe. She’d seen siblings fight before, but for one of them to try to destroy the other . . . it was hard for her to grasp. She’d only seen part of the Dreaming, and she could tell that it was larger than she could ever know. What could happen to destroy the entire place?
Morpheus made an impatient gesture. “It’s not important now,” he said. He took a few steps closer, and looked closely at Anthy. After a moment, he reached out and touched the side of her face. “Anthy.”
Anthy opened her eyes, slowly, as though she’d held them closed for a long time. Utena watched for any sign of recognition, for something that would show Anthy knew Morpheus in any way. Tears lingered in Anthy’s eyes, and after a moment she closed her eyes again.
“You don’t remember me, do you,” Morpheus said. Whether he was angry or disappointed, Utena couldn’t truly tell; perhaps both. When he spoke again, his voice had the same commanding tone he had used on Akio when they spoke at Ohtori, though it was softer, kinder. “Tell me what you remember.”
“A road,” Anthy whispered.
Utena nearly sagged with relief at hearing her voice again, after so long. The single word she’d spoken in Delirium’s realm hadn’t been enough.
“I remember a road. I remember someone taking me there, telling me that I wanted to be there. I remember wanting it I remember. . . .”
Anthy raised a trembling hand to her face, traced her fingers around her eyes as though searching for something. The glasses, Utena realized. What had Akio said - the glasses had been part of it, had been part of what made Anthy forget.
Utena gently covered Anthy’s hand with her own and took it away from her face. Better for her to know, Utena thought, that she didn’t wear the glasses anymore. She didn’t have to forget, no one wanted her to. She could be who she was supposed to be.
“I remember years,” Anthy continued, her voice loose and dazed. “I remember being the bride he wanted me to be. I remember duels, endless duels, all with a different victor over and over and different people until--”
She paused, and looked at Utena. Recognition swept across her features. “I remember you. I remember everything you said and did and why it was different. I remember leaving.”
Anthy closed her eyes and leaned against Utena once more, her breathing steady, her color restored. She seemed to be at peace.
And maybe, Utena thought, that was enough.
Morpheus looked more agitated than before. “So you were stolen,” he said, stars flaring and going out in the darkness of his eyes. “My sister-brother . . . took advantage of my absence in more ways than one, and took you for one of her own creations.” He glanced at Utena, who did her best not to scowl. “I will settle this with Desire personally, at a later time. First, I must determine how to remove Akio’s influence.”
He placed one fingertip on the small mark on Anthy’s forehead, his brows drawing together in what seemed to be an effort of will. The peaceful look fled from Anthy’s face, and she clenched Utena’s hand. She pulled away from Morpheus, shook her head quickly, once, twice. Her breathing quickened again.
“Do you remember being a dream now, Anthy?” Morpheus asked.
Anthy raised her free hand. She tensed, as though putting forth some kind of invisible effort, and a rose appeared in her palm, stars drifting across its jet-black petals. The rose floated forth from her, toward Morpheus, and attached itself to the front of his cloak, where the breast pocket would be.
Morpheus’s frown softened. “I see.”
Utena stared at Anthy, looked to Morpheus, then back at the other woman. “How did she do that?”
“As I said, Anthy has some limited influence over the Dreaming.” Morpheus took the flower from his cloak and held it before himself, looking into it. “This is part of why we must remove Akio’s hold upon her. If he controls her, and Desire controls him, then Desire has a hand in the Dreaming.”
Morpheus clenched a fist, and the rose ceased to exist. “I will not allow this.”
Utena nodded slowly. “I think I understand,” she said. “What can I do?”
He gave her a considering look, though there was some kindness in it. It seemed, Utena thought, that he truly did care for his creations, even if he didn’t often show it. “Help her to find herself again,” he said. “She trusts you, that is clear. Do what you can.
“Now, you must excuse me; I have much to do. I will summon you both when there is news.”
He raised his hand in a familiar gesture, and Utena held Anthy close as the strange cold
enveloped them.
* * *
The two of them reappeared in Utena’s room, standing before the fireplace. Flames burst to life among the stacked wood as they arrived. Utena loosened her hold on Anthy, and looked down at her. Anthy’s eyes were still closed. Utena guided her over to the bed, and the two of them sat down.
“Anthy,” Utena began. “It’s all right. We’re safe now, he can’t get to you here.”
Anthy opened her eyes. “Do you know?” she asked. She turned to Utena, a questioning look on her face. “How do you know?”
“I just . . . I thought, since this is his realm, Morpheus wouldn’t let anyone he doesn’t want in here.” Utena fell silent. There was still so much she didn’t know. “Isn’t that true?”
“It should be. But he was gone for so long. I think.” Anthy bowed her head, and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know when Desire took me. I don’t know how long I was in Ohtori. But it seemed like so many years.”
Utena thought back to what Anthy had said a few minutes ago. She’d talked about many duels, about being the bride for many people, and how there’d been a different victor every time. What, she wondered, could that have been like? How could she have-
“He wants me back,” Anthy whispered, her voice strained. “He wants me to come back to him.”
Utena looked at her. Anthy’s eyes were open wide now, her breathing growing ever faster, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her feet, dangling over the side of the bed, twitched as though they would take her somewhere without her permission.
Utena reached out and put her hands to the sides of Anthy’s face, gently turned her, made herself the object of Anthy’s gaze. “Anthy,” she said, quiet but firm. “Look at me.” Anthy’s wide eyes met hers, the whites around the brilliant green clearly visible. “You’re safe here, all right? Morpheus isn’t going to let you leave.”
Anthy held up her hand again, as she had when the rose appeared. Utena shook her head, then lowered one of her hands and placed it in Anthy’s.
“I’m not going to let you go,” Utena said. “No matter what happens.” She watched Anthy’s eyes, watched her expression go from fear to disbelief.
“How can you say that?” Anthy asked quietly. “After everything that happened . . . everything I did, all the lies I told you. . . .”
“Did you want to?” Utena asked, keeping her voice calm. She remembered this, or something much like it, the time she’d kept Anthy from throwing herself from the top of the tower at the center of Ohtori. They’d both said they’d lied, both said they’d used the other. In the end, it had brought them closer together, led to them promising not to leave the other’s side when the time came.
It seemed like only days ago, and yet so much had changed since then.
Anthy said nothing, but half-closed her eyes, and looked down at her hand and Utena’s. She clasped Utena’s hand between both of her own, and lowered them to the bed, between the two of them.
“Sometimes,” Anthy began, barely more than a whisper, “I remembered who I used to be.” She toyed idly with Utena’s fingers as she spoke.
“I don’t know how I remembered, and I didn’t know I was a dream, but I knew there were things I could do. So I . . . played, with people. People who’d hurt me, people who’d hurt you. I’d do things, so they would . . . so that strange things would happen to them, and they’d never know it was me.”
Utena managed a small smile. “That explains a few things. I never really understood how some of that stuff happened.” She paused. Maybe Anthy would know. “Akio kept us from remembering things, didn’t he? He kept us from wondering about things that seemed strange.”
“He did,” Anthy said, still looking down at their hands. “It was easy for him, but he never stopped enjoying it. If something went wrong, or someone didn’t go with his plans, they would just . . . go away, and everyone would forget about them. There’d be rumors for a few days, but not for long.” She paused. “That was happening with you, when you disappeared.”
“You knew I was gone?”
Anthy nodded.
Utena frowned, looked out the window at the stars passing by. “How did you get here before me if you left after me?”
“You might have drifted,” Anthy said. “If you didn’t know where you were going, you might have been nowhere for a while.”
“And you came here right away.” With her free hand, Utena pushed a few locks of wavy purple hair back from Anthy’s face. “So maybe you led me here.”
Anthy shook her head. “I don’t remember. I don’t even know how I came here. I just remember . . . I stepped past the gates, and I was lost, there was nothing there.”
Utena remembered the image of Ohtori in Morpheus’s scrying pool, the utter nothingness beyond the edges of the school. She shivered, and squeezed Anthy’s hand. Looking at it had been disturbing enough, walking into it willingly must have been horrifying.
“I don’t know how I came here,” Anthy continued, her voice shaky. “There was something familiar, something calling me, but I couldn’t know what it was. I found the forest, and when I started walking, the roses grew all around me. I don’t remember anything else until Delirium found me.
“I should go back to her.”
“No!” Utena exclaimed, before she could think anything else. “I know she kept you safe, but. . . .” She squeezed Anthy’s hand again, bowed her head and leaned closer. “I don’t want you to go away again.”
“Utena,” Anthy whispered.
Utena looked at her. She saw the fear in Anthy’s eyes, naked and pure, heard the trembling in her voice. More than anything, Utena understood why it was so important for her to be the prince.
“I can’t let him take you back,” Anthy said, blinking back tears. “I can’t. I’ll go before I let you.” She gestured with one hand, trailing streams of purple light. “I’ll make it so you can’t leave. Please don’t make me do that.”
“I’m not going back to him.” Utena gave Anthy a firm look. “Morpheus took me back to Ohtori, before I started looking for you.”
Anthy’s mouth opened, slightly. “And you. . . ?”
“He told me everything,” Utena said, looking down at her ring. “He told me that he made me, that he gave me the memories and the ring, that he was the prince all along. He made himself Dios, because he wanted to fall.”
Anthy lowered her eyes again. “I remember Dios. Akio would . . . pretend to be him, for a while. Whenever he finished, he’d laugh for so long, mocking everyone who thought they were noble. He even made something like Dios, there in the tower, so he could have someone to feel like he was competing with him.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Utena said quietly, “but it sounds like something he’d do.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Anthy. I know Akio made me, I know there wasn’t really a prince. But he made me what I need to be.”
The look Anthy gave her was wary, hopeful but concerned that things might go badly again. Utena wondered how often Anthy had felt that way, with the dozens of people fighting for her over the years. Over time, she must have given up hope over and over only to find it again and have it dashed away once more.
Utena raised her hand, turned it so Anthy could see the ring. “Dios gave me this. Akio thought he’d make me want to be a prince so he could turn me into his princess. But he couldn’t make me fall.” She looked away for a moment as unpleasant memories intruded. “Not for long. Not for what he wanted.”
They sat in silence for a moment. When Utena continued, she looked Anthy in the eye, making every word a promise.
“I know that I have to be the prince. For you. That’s what this is all about, that’s what the ring means to me now. I thought I’d be a prince so I could save princesses, but you’re the one who needed saving the most. I still want to be your prince.”
“Can you be?” Anthy asked.
Utena blinked. Not what she’d been expecting. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“He wants me back,” Anthy said plainly. “He wants you back. You’re the only one who’s ever turned against him. Nobody else ever left, they just . . . disappeared. He was so angry with you, even before you left, he. . . .”
Anthy trailed off, tears threatening again. Before Utena could say anything, Anthy stood, and faced the window. She approached it and placed her hand flat against the glass. Utena stood and walked to Anthy’s side. She started to say something, then froze, watching the changes take place.
On the other side of the glass, the pale stone of the castle outside reshaped itself, flowing outward to form a balcony. The stone rose and swept outward, rising into short pillars, shining in the starlight. When the change was complete, the window shimmered and became a doorway, the facets in its square glass panes catching and twisting the stars in their patterns.
Anthy pushed gently, and the door swung open. She walked out onto the balcony. Utena followed.
They stood out there for a long moment, long hair blowing gently in the breeze. Utena looked out across the Dreaming, at the myriad lands all washed white and blue by the moonlight.
“What’s it like to be a dream?” she asked.
“I don’t remember,” Anthy said absently. “Some things, some people, just . . . fragments.” She walked to the rail and leaned forward, resting her elbows against the stone. “I remember seeing Morpheus for the first time, when he created me. He told me I was an experiment, a guess.”
“A guess?” Utena asked.
“He guessed that a dream that could change the Dreaming would be interesting,” she said. “I don’t know if he was right.”
Utena walked to her side. “I think he was,” she said. “Lucien seemed to remember you pretty fondly.”
“I don’t remember him,” Anthy said, shaking her head. She turned to Utena, a serious look on her face, the stars overhead reflecting in her eyes. “Utena. Do you remember, the last time we did this?”
Utena turned and faced her. “Of course.” She leaned over, peering out over the edge. The ground seemed very, very far away; the road leading to the castle’s gates was less than a finger’s width to her, down past the myriad towers and keeps below. “Are you going to try to jump again?”
“I don’t know.” Anthy wrapped her arms around herself. “I can still feel him, Utena. He made me forget . . . he made me wear the glasses, so I would forget, and when he was sure I was his, he made me take them off and still . . . still be his. I don’t--” She stopped when Utena put a hand on her shoulder.
“Anthy,” Utena said. “He’s not here. There’s nothing he can do to you here. You took off the glasses when you left - you did it for yourself, right?” Utena watched her and hoped she was right.
Anthy nodded, barely. “I’d never done that before,” she said quietly.
“That’s why,” Utena said with a smile, “I don’t think you’ll try to jump again. And I’ll pull you back. As many times as it takes.”
“Utena. . . .” Anthy placed one of her own hands over Utena’s on her shoulder, her skin soft and warm. “. . . thank you.”
They walked back into the castle room, and Utena shut the door behind them. Once it was closed, the balcony became part of the castle once again, only the patterns in the window’s glass showing that anything had changed.
* * *
“Desire. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. I would speak with you. Now.”
Morpheus knew Desire would hear his tone of voice and laugh. Such was Desire’s way; threats were for lesser beings, as manipulation was so much easier and more enjoyable. But there were times for subtlety, and this was not one of those.
When Desire’s voice came to him, it was somehow subdued, lacking the mockery he’d expected. “Why the demand, brother dear?”
“Show yourself here and I will explain,” Morpheus said. It might have been easier to speak only through the sigils, but there were protocols to be observed, and the questions he had to ask would be easier asked looking Desire in the eye.
A sigh from the other side. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
A lazy cloud of smoke billowed forth from the heart sigil once again, and Desire stood there, clad all in black save for a bowtie so red it nearly shone with its own light. Desire’s eyes held a similar shine.
“Speak, then, and make it quick,” Desire said. “I’ve no time to waste with your accusations again.”
“Akio has corrupted Anthy,” Morpheus said, simple and flat. “You will undo this.”
Desire stared at him for a moment, something between disbelief and amusement in its yellow eyes. After a moment, Desire said, “So, she’s here.” It paused. “To be honest, I expected to hear from you nearly a week ago. This couldn’t be nearly as important as you make it seem if it took you so long to find her. Shouldn’t you take better care of your own?”
“That means little coming from you, who take so little care with your own.” If Morpheus was at all upset at Desire’s words, his face showed nothing of it. “The time taken is unimportant, as it was necessary. What matters is that Anthy still suffers from Akio’s influence. As his creator, it falls to you to remove his influence.”
It shrugged. “No.”
“You would defy me?” Morpheus asked, his voice falling to nearly a whisper.
“I,” Desire said, stretching the word as it leaned forward slightly, “have nothing to do with this.”
Morpheus frowned, stars flashing in his eyes. “You took Anthy from the Dreaming and gave her to Akio. You have everything to do with this.”
“Is that what she told you?” Desire tilted its head a bit and gave Morpheus a pitying look. “And where did you find her?”
“Delirium had taken her to her realm,” Morpheus said. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
The laugh Morpheus had first expected came then, Desire clearly finding great mirth in the situation. “Honestly, dear brother. The girl went through Delirium’s realm, spent who knows how much time there, and you expect her to remember what happened years ago?”
“My dreams cannot lie to me.”
“It’s not a lie if they think it’s true,” Desire fired back. It folded its arms across its chest. “Is that all?”
“Not at all.” Morpheus frowned, and struck the same pose as Desire. “This is all irrelevant. I’ve asked you here to remove Akio’s influence on Anthy. He is your creation and therefore your responsibility--”
“He’s my creation and therefore his own being,” Desire interrupted. “He does what he wants.” It smirked. “It’s incredibly freeing, you should try it sometime.”
Morpheus looked at Desire as though from a great distance. “I have responsibilities,” he said. “And one of those is caring for my own.”
“You care about them?” Desire asked, the tone of its voice suggesting both surprise and doubt at once.
He scowled, and took a step toward Desire. “More than you could comprehend; do not suggest otherwise again. Now. Either remove Akio’s corruption from Anthy, or leave. You’ve wasted enough of my time already.”
Desire said nothing, but gave Morpheus a sly, sharp smile, and disappeared. He frowned at the metallic heart sigil once Desire was gone. That had gone about as expected, though not as well as he’d dared to hope.
It seemed he would have to take another approach, one considerably more difficult.
* * *
High atop the tower at the center of Ohtori, an envelope appeared from nowhere and fell toward Akio’s desk. He caught sight of it before it landed, and snatched it up. The envelope’s seal was a deep red wax, a heart stamped into it.
Akio slit the wax with a manicured fingernail, slowly opened the flap, let the unmistakable sense and scent of his master wash over him. Some of his students perfumed the messages of love they gave to others; Akio knew none could possibly have the same effect.
The note inside was brief, written in a pointed yet elegant hand. Akio read the message once, then again, to be sure he had read it correctly.
Akio.
Anthy is at Morpheus’s castle. He called upon me, demanded that I undo your hold on her. He seems quite upset.
I trust you’ll come up with something to do about all this.
Enjoy yourself.
Akio leaned back in his chair and laughed, kicked his feet up on the desk and reveled in the news. Anthy was found, and now, she would be his again. All it would take was a single note, a simple challenge.
And he even knew the right messenger.
Rating: PG-13ish
Word Count: 3986
Chapter 5 here.
Objects of Desire: Chapter Six - Outside Eternity
They reappeared in the throne room of the castle at the heart of the Dreaming, standing before the steps that led up to the high-backed throne. The colors of the stained-glass windows and sky overhead had faded to shades of grey, casting a bleak light over the room. The flames flickering in the edges of Morpheus’s robes seemed to hold the only color to be seen.
Utena stood with one arm around Anthy’s shoulders, supporting her; the other woman seemed hardly able to stand. She leaned, murmuring, her face strangely pale, her breaths quick and ragged. Utena looked at Morpheus, her questions clear on her face.
“She is not herself,” Morpheus said. “Not completely. Akio’s influence still lingers.”
“But she left him,” Utena protested. “Shouldn’t that mean she’s free of him? If she was able to go when he didn’t want her to. . . .” She trailed off, looked at Anthy again. Her eyes were still closed.
“Would that it were that simple.” Morpheus frowned, his lips pressing tightly together. “Anthy is a dream, and subject to influences differently than most mortals. The same could be said of you.”
Utena steeled herself, and nodded for Morpheus to continue. Whatever came next, she knew she wouldn’t like it, but if it could help them find out how to break Akio’s hold over Anthy, then it would be worth any pain.
“It doesn’t happen often, but when my siblings and I choose, we can exert an . . . unusual kind of influence on each others’ domains, on the rules that bind us all.” His frown deepened. “Not long enough ago, Desire toyed with mortals who were part of a recurring instance within the Dreaming. Its meddling could have torn apart my entire realm.”
“What did it do?” Utena asked, her voice quiet and filled with awe. She’d seen siblings fight before, but for one of them to try to destroy the other . . . it was hard for her to grasp. She’d only seen part of the Dreaming, and she could tell that it was larger than she could ever know. What could happen to destroy the entire place?
Morpheus made an impatient gesture. “It’s not important now,” he said. He took a few steps closer, and looked closely at Anthy. After a moment, he reached out and touched the side of her face. “Anthy.”
Anthy opened her eyes, slowly, as though she’d held them closed for a long time. Utena watched for any sign of recognition, for something that would show Anthy knew Morpheus in any way. Tears lingered in Anthy’s eyes, and after a moment she closed her eyes again.
“You don’t remember me, do you,” Morpheus said. Whether he was angry or disappointed, Utena couldn’t truly tell; perhaps both. When he spoke again, his voice had the same commanding tone he had used on Akio when they spoke at Ohtori, though it was softer, kinder. “Tell me what you remember.”
“A road,” Anthy whispered.
Utena nearly sagged with relief at hearing her voice again, after so long. The single word she’d spoken in Delirium’s realm hadn’t been enough.
“I remember a road. I remember someone taking me there, telling me that I wanted to be there. I remember wanting it I remember. . . .”
Anthy raised a trembling hand to her face, traced her fingers around her eyes as though searching for something. The glasses, Utena realized. What had Akio said - the glasses had been part of it, had been part of what made Anthy forget.
Utena gently covered Anthy’s hand with her own and took it away from her face. Better for her to know, Utena thought, that she didn’t wear the glasses anymore. She didn’t have to forget, no one wanted her to. She could be who she was supposed to be.
“I remember years,” Anthy continued, her voice loose and dazed. “I remember being the bride he wanted me to be. I remember duels, endless duels, all with a different victor over and over and different people until--”
She paused, and looked at Utena. Recognition swept across her features. “I remember you. I remember everything you said and did and why it was different. I remember leaving.”
Anthy closed her eyes and leaned against Utena once more, her breathing steady, her color restored. She seemed to be at peace.
And maybe, Utena thought, that was enough.
Morpheus looked more agitated than before. “So you were stolen,” he said, stars flaring and going out in the darkness of his eyes. “My sister-brother . . . took advantage of my absence in more ways than one, and took you for one of her own creations.” He glanced at Utena, who did her best not to scowl. “I will settle this with Desire personally, at a later time. First, I must determine how to remove Akio’s influence.”
He placed one fingertip on the small mark on Anthy’s forehead, his brows drawing together in what seemed to be an effort of will. The peaceful look fled from Anthy’s face, and she clenched Utena’s hand. She pulled away from Morpheus, shook her head quickly, once, twice. Her breathing quickened again.
“Do you remember being a dream now, Anthy?” Morpheus asked.
Anthy raised her free hand. She tensed, as though putting forth some kind of invisible effort, and a rose appeared in her palm, stars drifting across its jet-black petals. The rose floated forth from her, toward Morpheus, and attached itself to the front of his cloak, where the breast pocket would be.
Morpheus’s frown softened. “I see.”
Utena stared at Anthy, looked to Morpheus, then back at the other woman. “How did she do that?”
“As I said, Anthy has some limited influence over the Dreaming.” Morpheus took the flower from his cloak and held it before himself, looking into it. “This is part of why we must remove Akio’s hold upon her. If he controls her, and Desire controls him, then Desire has a hand in the Dreaming.”
Morpheus clenched a fist, and the rose ceased to exist. “I will not allow this.”
Utena nodded slowly. “I think I understand,” she said. “What can I do?”
He gave her a considering look, though there was some kindness in it. It seemed, Utena thought, that he truly did care for his creations, even if he didn’t often show it. “Help her to find herself again,” he said. “She trusts you, that is clear. Do what you can.
“Now, you must excuse me; I have much to do. I will summon you both when there is news.”
He raised his hand in a familiar gesture, and Utena held Anthy close as the strange cold
enveloped them.
* * *
The two of them reappeared in Utena’s room, standing before the fireplace. Flames burst to life among the stacked wood as they arrived. Utena loosened her hold on Anthy, and looked down at her. Anthy’s eyes were still closed. Utena guided her over to the bed, and the two of them sat down.
“Anthy,” Utena began. “It’s all right. We’re safe now, he can’t get to you here.”
Anthy opened her eyes. “Do you know?” she asked. She turned to Utena, a questioning look on her face. “How do you know?”
“I just . . . I thought, since this is his realm, Morpheus wouldn’t let anyone he doesn’t want in here.” Utena fell silent. There was still so much she didn’t know. “Isn’t that true?”
“It should be. But he was gone for so long. I think.” Anthy bowed her head, and folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t know when Desire took me. I don’t know how long I was in Ohtori. But it seemed like so many years.”
Utena thought back to what Anthy had said a few minutes ago. She’d talked about many duels, about being the bride for many people, and how there’d been a different victor every time. What, she wondered, could that have been like? How could she have-
“He wants me back,” Anthy whispered, her voice strained. “He wants me to come back to him.”
Utena looked at her. Anthy’s eyes were open wide now, her breathing growing ever faster, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her feet, dangling over the side of the bed, twitched as though they would take her somewhere without her permission.
Utena reached out and put her hands to the sides of Anthy’s face, gently turned her, made herself the object of Anthy’s gaze. “Anthy,” she said, quiet but firm. “Look at me.” Anthy’s wide eyes met hers, the whites around the brilliant green clearly visible. “You’re safe here, all right? Morpheus isn’t going to let you leave.”
Anthy held up her hand again, as she had when the rose appeared. Utena shook her head, then lowered one of her hands and placed it in Anthy’s.
“I’m not going to let you go,” Utena said. “No matter what happens.” She watched Anthy’s eyes, watched her expression go from fear to disbelief.
“How can you say that?” Anthy asked quietly. “After everything that happened . . . everything I did, all the lies I told you. . . .”
“Did you want to?” Utena asked, keeping her voice calm. She remembered this, or something much like it, the time she’d kept Anthy from throwing herself from the top of the tower at the center of Ohtori. They’d both said they’d lied, both said they’d used the other. In the end, it had brought them closer together, led to them promising not to leave the other’s side when the time came.
It seemed like only days ago, and yet so much had changed since then.
Anthy said nothing, but half-closed her eyes, and looked down at her hand and Utena’s. She clasped Utena’s hand between both of her own, and lowered them to the bed, between the two of them.
“Sometimes,” Anthy began, barely more than a whisper, “I remembered who I used to be.” She toyed idly with Utena’s fingers as she spoke.
“I don’t know how I remembered, and I didn’t know I was a dream, but I knew there were things I could do. So I . . . played, with people. People who’d hurt me, people who’d hurt you. I’d do things, so they would . . . so that strange things would happen to them, and they’d never know it was me.”
Utena managed a small smile. “That explains a few things. I never really understood how some of that stuff happened.” She paused. Maybe Anthy would know. “Akio kept us from remembering things, didn’t he? He kept us from wondering about things that seemed strange.”
“He did,” Anthy said, still looking down at their hands. “It was easy for him, but he never stopped enjoying it. If something went wrong, or someone didn’t go with his plans, they would just . . . go away, and everyone would forget about them. There’d be rumors for a few days, but not for long.” She paused. “That was happening with you, when you disappeared.”
“You knew I was gone?”
Anthy nodded.
Utena frowned, looked out the window at the stars passing by. “How did you get here before me if you left after me?”
“You might have drifted,” Anthy said. “If you didn’t know where you were going, you might have been nowhere for a while.”
“And you came here right away.” With her free hand, Utena pushed a few locks of wavy purple hair back from Anthy’s face. “So maybe you led me here.”
Anthy shook her head. “I don’t remember. I don’t even know how I came here. I just remember . . . I stepped past the gates, and I was lost, there was nothing there.”
Utena remembered the image of Ohtori in Morpheus’s scrying pool, the utter nothingness beyond the edges of the school. She shivered, and squeezed Anthy’s hand. Looking at it had been disturbing enough, walking into it willingly must have been horrifying.
“I don’t know how I came here,” Anthy continued, her voice shaky. “There was something familiar, something calling me, but I couldn’t know what it was. I found the forest, and when I started walking, the roses grew all around me. I don’t remember anything else until Delirium found me.
“I should go back to her.”
“No!” Utena exclaimed, before she could think anything else. “I know she kept you safe, but. . . .” She squeezed Anthy’s hand again, bowed her head and leaned closer. “I don’t want you to go away again.”
“Utena,” Anthy whispered.
Utena looked at her. She saw the fear in Anthy’s eyes, naked and pure, heard the trembling in her voice. More than anything, Utena understood why it was so important for her to be the prince.
“I can’t let him take you back,” Anthy said, blinking back tears. “I can’t. I’ll go before I let you.” She gestured with one hand, trailing streams of purple light. “I’ll make it so you can’t leave. Please don’t make me do that.”
“I’m not going back to him.” Utena gave Anthy a firm look. “Morpheus took me back to Ohtori, before I started looking for you.”
Anthy’s mouth opened, slightly. “And you. . . ?”
“He told me everything,” Utena said, looking down at her ring. “He told me that he made me, that he gave me the memories and the ring, that he was the prince all along. He made himself Dios, because he wanted to fall.”
Anthy lowered her eyes again. “I remember Dios. Akio would . . . pretend to be him, for a while. Whenever he finished, he’d laugh for so long, mocking everyone who thought they were noble. He even made something like Dios, there in the tower, so he could have someone to feel like he was competing with him.”
“I didn’t know about that,” Utena said quietly, “but it sounds like something he’d do.” She paused, took a deep breath. “Anthy. I know Akio made me, I know there wasn’t really a prince. But he made me what I need to be.”
The look Anthy gave her was wary, hopeful but concerned that things might go badly again. Utena wondered how often Anthy had felt that way, with the dozens of people fighting for her over the years. Over time, she must have given up hope over and over only to find it again and have it dashed away once more.
Utena raised her hand, turned it so Anthy could see the ring. “Dios gave me this. Akio thought he’d make me want to be a prince so he could turn me into his princess. But he couldn’t make me fall.” She looked away for a moment as unpleasant memories intruded. “Not for long. Not for what he wanted.”
They sat in silence for a moment. When Utena continued, she looked Anthy in the eye, making every word a promise.
“I know that I have to be the prince. For you. That’s what this is all about, that’s what the ring means to me now. I thought I’d be a prince so I could save princesses, but you’re the one who needed saving the most. I still want to be your prince.”
“Can you be?” Anthy asked.
Utena blinked. Not what she’d been expecting. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“He wants me back,” Anthy said plainly. “He wants you back. You’re the only one who’s ever turned against him. Nobody else ever left, they just . . . disappeared. He was so angry with you, even before you left, he. . . .”
Anthy trailed off, tears threatening again. Before Utena could say anything, Anthy stood, and faced the window. She approached it and placed her hand flat against the glass. Utena stood and walked to Anthy’s side. She started to say something, then froze, watching the changes take place.
On the other side of the glass, the pale stone of the castle outside reshaped itself, flowing outward to form a balcony. The stone rose and swept outward, rising into short pillars, shining in the starlight. When the change was complete, the window shimmered and became a doorway, the facets in its square glass panes catching and twisting the stars in their patterns.
Anthy pushed gently, and the door swung open. She walked out onto the balcony. Utena followed.
They stood out there for a long moment, long hair blowing gently in the breeze. Utena looked out across the Dreaming, at the myriad lands all washed white and blue by the moonlight.
“What’s it like to be a dream?” she asked.
“I don’t remember,” Anthy said absently. “Some things, some people, just . . . fragments.” She walked to the rail and leaned forward, resting her elbows against the stone. “I remember seeing Morpheus for the first time, when he created me. He told me I was an experiment, a guess.”
“A guess?” Utena asked.
“He guessed that a dream that could change the Dreaming would be interesting,” she said. “I don’t know if he was right.”
Utena walked to her side. “I think he was,” she said. “Lucien seemed to remember you pretty fondly.”
“I don’t remember him,” Anthy said, shaking her head. She turned to Utena, a serious look on her face, the stars overhead reflecting in her eyes. “Utena. Do you remember, the last time we did this?”
Utena turned and faced her. “Of course.” She leaned over, peering out over the edge. The ground seemed very, very far away; the road leading to the castle’s gates was less than a finger’s width to her, down past the myriad towers and keeps below. “Are you going to try to jump again?”
“I don’t know.” Anthy wrapped her arms around herself. “I can still feel him, Utena. He made me forget . . . he made me wear the glasses, so I would forget, and when he was sure I was his, he made me take them off and still . . . still be his. I don’t--” She stopped when Utena put a hand on her shoulder.
“Anthy,” Utena said. “He’s not here. There’s nothing he can do to you here. You took off the glasses when you left - you did it for yourself, right?” Utena watched her and hoped she was right.
Anthy nodded, barely. “I’d never done that before,” she said quietly.
“That’s why,” Utena said with a smile, “I don’t think you’ll try to jump again. And I’ll pull you back. As many times as it takes.”
“Utena. . . .” Anthy placed one of her own hands over Utena’s on her shoulder, her skin soft and warm. “. . . thank you.”
They walked back into the castle room, and Utena shut the door behind them. Once it was closed, the balcony became part of the castle once again, only the patterns in the window’s glass showing that anything had changed.
* * *
“Desire. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. I would speak with you. Now.”
Morpheus knew Desire would hear his tone of voice and laugh. Such was Desire’s way; threats were for lesser beings, as manipulation was so much easier and more enjoyable. But there were times for subtlety, and this was not one of those.
When Desire’s voice came to him, it was somehow subdued, lacking the mockery he’d expected. “Why the demand, brother dear?”
“Show yourself here and I will explain,” Morpheus said. It might have been easier to speak only through the sigils, but there were protocols to be observed, and the questions he had to ask would be easier asked looking Desire in the eye.
A sigh from the other side. “If you insist.”
“I do.”
A lazy cloud of smoke billowed forth from the heart sigil once again, and Desire stood there, clad all in black save for a bowtie so red it nearly shone with its own light. Desire’s eyes held a similar shine.
“Speak, then, and make it quick,” Desire said. “I’ve no time to waste with your accusations again.”
“Akio has corrupted Anthy,” Morpheus said, simple and flat. “You will undo this.”
Desire stared at him for a moment, something between disbelief and amusement in its yellow eyes. After a moment, Desire said, “So, she’s here.” It paused. “To be honest, I expected to hear from you nearly a week ago. This couldn’t be nearly as important as you make it seem if it took you so long to find her. Shouldn’t you take better care of your own?”
“That means little coming from you, who take so little care with your own.” If Morpheus was at all upset at Desire’s words, his face showed nothing of it. “The time taken is unimportant, as it was necessary. What matters is that Anthy still suffers from Akio’s influence. As his creator, it falls to you to remove his influence.”
It shrugged. “No.”
“You would defy me?” Morpheus asked, his voice falling to nearly a whisper.
“I,” Desire said, stretching the word as it leaned forward slightly, “have nothing to do with this.”
Morpheus frowned, stars flashing in his eyes. “You took Anthy from the Dreaming and gave her to Akio. You have everything to do with this.”
“Is that what she told you?” Desire tilted its head a bit and gave Morpheus a pitying look. “And where did you find her?”
“Delirium had taken her to her realm,” Morpheus said. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
The laugh Morpheus had first expected came then, Desire clearly finding great mirth in the situation. “Honestly, dear brother. The girl went through Delirium’s realm, spent who knows how much time there, and you expect her to remember what happened years ago?”
“My dreams cannot lie to me.”
“It’s not a lie if they think it’s true,” Desire fired back. It folded its arms across its chest. “Is that all?”
“Not at all.” Morpheus frowned, and struck the same pose as Desire. “This is all irrelevant. I’ve asked you here to remove Akio’s influence on Anthy. He is your creation and therefore your responsibility--”
“He’s my creation and therefore his own being,” Desire interrupted. “He does what he wants.” It smirked. “It’s incredibly freeing, you should try it sometime.”
Morpheus looked at Desire as though from a great distance. “I have responsibilities,” he said. “And one of those is caring for my own.”
“You care about them?” Desire asked, the tone of its voice suggesting both surprise and doubt at once.
He scowled, and took a step toward Desire. “More than you could comprehend; do not suggest otherwise again. Now. Either remove Akio’s corruption from Anthy, or leave. You’ve wasted enough of my time already.”
Desire said nothing, but gave Morpheus a sly, sharp smile, and disappeared. He frowned at the metallic heart sigil once Desire was gone. That had gone about as expected, though not as well as he’d dared to hope.
It seemed he would have to take another approach, one considerably more difficult.
* * *
High atop the tower at the center of Ohtori, an envelope appeared from nowhere and fell toward Akio’s desk. He caught sight of it before it landed, and snatched it up. The envelope’s seal was a deep red wax, a heart stamped into it.
Akio slit the wax with a manicured fingernail, slowly opened the flap, let the unmistakable sense and scent of his master wash over him. Some of his students perfumed the messages of love they gave to others; Akio knew none could possibly have the same effect.
The note inside was brief, written in a pointed yet elegant hand. Akio read the message once, then again, to be sure he had read it correctly.
Akio.
Anthy is at Morpheus’s castle. He called upon me, demanded that I undo your hold on her. He seems quite upset.
I trust you’ll come up with something to do about all this.
Enjoy yourself.
Akio leaned back in his chair and laughed, kicked his feet up on the desk and reveled in the news. Anthy was found, and now, she would be his again. All it would take was a single note, a simple challenge.
And he even knew the right messenger.