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wyvernquill · 2 months

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Another Dreamling Anastasia AU Snippet

So, this AU somehow gained some new traction over the past few days, and I remembered I still had this in my drafts! It's a direct continuation from the last post - the first time their paths cross, though I think I'll save their actual first conversation (already written!) for the next part. Mostly a lot of background and exposition, but I hope it'll be enjoyable nonetheless! Thanks everyone for your enthusiasm for this AU!!!

(Masterpost here!)

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

(I don't know why it just won't let me do the proper tag sometimes... I hope the people Tumblr refuses to let me tag will see the post anyway, I'm very sorry...)

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There is a fight just about to break loose at the White Horse Inn.

It will happen because of a man; a pale, stick-thin skinny thing of a man, barely more than an ashen, grimy face under a mop of coal hair balanced on top of a ragged black coat, loitering close to the fireplace and trying not to be too obvious about soaking up its warmth. At his feet, half hidden beneath the torn hem-line of his coat, there is a bird, some sort of corvid, following the other guests - and their purses in particular - with its beady little eyes.

The bird’s master is watching, too, watching the inn’s staff collect coins and shove them into their pockets, watching the plates and bowls of food being carried about, hungry, starving-

And then he’s noticed watching, a barmaid muttering a word or two to the innkeep over by the beer caskets - and the moment the man’s eyes find the stranger, they narrow.

And in turn, the moment the stranger notices the hostile eyes on him, he seems to brace himself, something feral in the way his lips draw back from his teeth as the innkeep makes a beeline for him through the crowded pub.

Words are exchanged.

Words are exchanged, loudly.

An arm is grabbed - and the bird jumps up with an angry caw, beating its wings at the innkeep’s face, and the scullery boy runs over to help, as does the burliest of the barmaids.

(There’s that fight now.)

The stranger shouts and scratches and twists as he is dragged through the common room, towards the door, growling profanities in a hoarse, dark voice, while his bird squawks, wrapped in the scullery boy’s apron.

It’s a right mess, but perhaps not an unusual one - the White Horse makes quick work of unruly drunkards (and those who are here to pilfer money rather than spend it), and even as some guests are following the fight in fascination and with half a mind to join in just for the pleasure of throwing a punch, most of their clientele barely spares them a look. Soon, the stranger will be cast out into the cold and the night again, far away from the warmth of a fireplace, or the smell of food, or opportunities for thievery. Nothing special. Soon, it will be just a quiet evening, like any other…

If it weren’t for the fact that, over in the far corner, a familiar man, and a familiar something-altogether-else still managing a rather sound impression of one, have been nursing their drinks for a good hour already, trying to drown their failures in ale.

(The humans have robbed Destiny of his powers, torn his realm from him, burned his book - but destiny still shapes the lives of mortals and immortals alike; and it is that power, which makes Robert Gadling look up from the sad remains of his beer, and, for just a fraction of a second, lock eyes with the vagabond currently in the process of being removed from the premises.

That is enough.

With just one look, the wheels of fate are already set in motion, and our story can begin in earnest.)

"Hey, Gil." Hob nudges Gilbert's arm, not taking his eyes off the struggling, furious stranger. "Over there. Look."

"Hm?" Gilbert blinks owlishly, following Hob's nod to the commotion behind him. "Oh, yes, yes. Ghastly, isn't it? Disgraceful, that some hoodlums cannot conduct themselves in public houses with the appropriate decorum - in my days, I tell you, when the Endless were still-"

"No, look!" Hob cuts him off. "The hoodlum. Look at him, really look."

"Hrmmm," Gilbert makes a sound of polite displeasure, and fiddles with his circular little glasses, peering through them and across the room, where the haggard stranger is spitting abuse at the innkeep even as he is in the process of being shoved out of the door.

And then, "oh, good lord!" Gilbert gasps, and drops his glasses.

"You see it too, then?"

"I… yes. Gracious, yes. Like a ghostly apparition." Gilbert gropes for his glasses with one hand, eyes never leaving the stranger. "The physical resemblance - most uncanny. A good deal more malnourished and, ah… rather grimy, it seems… and yet, overall…"

"A dead ringer for Dream of the Endless, isn't he?" Hob finishes, nodding. “Better than any of the men that auditioned for us, certainly.”

“Heaven help,” Gilbert’s voice is weak with emotion, “even knowing it isn’t him, I feel like… ah, Robert, if he were only given a bath, some better garb… it would be as if His Lordship walked again!”

“Would be?” Hob’s grin is bright and hungry, like a hunting dog smelling his prey, as he pushes himself up from his seat. “Will be!”

“-and if I see either you or yer blasted bird thievin’ in here again," the innkeep snarls, tossing first the haggard stranger, and then a squawking bundle of black feathers, out into the snow. “I’m callin’ the coppers! Y’hear?”

The word the stranger spits back, gathering all his limbs and his dark coat around himself as he staggers to his feet and off into the night, is so filthy even Hob would blush upon saying it. A bit rough around the edges, this man, not exactly the model of a fairytale king - but such things can be taught, can’t they. Hob’s seen a production of Shaw’s Pygmalion, years ago, and if Higgins can make a fine lady out of a flower girl, then Hob and Gil can make a Dream Lord out of some vagabond.

“Begging your pardon, good man.” Hob leans against the doorframe, watching the stranger’s dark shape angrily stomp off through the snow, bird hopping along at his side. “Howsabout this, a shilling for anything you can tell me about the man you just tossed out of your establishment.”

“Whot, Murphy!?” The innkeep blinks.

Holds out his hand.

Hob dutifully deposits one of his last few shillings in it.

“Thank you kindly, sir, much obliged.” A tip of the hat, and the coin disappearing in the innkeep’s pocket. “Murphy’s one of the local beggars. A filthy thief, too, and no mistake. He’s trained that raven of his into it - heard the city even pays him some little pittance to control the birds in the area! They wouldn’t do it if they knew what he was doing with ‘em. I don’t like seein’ him around the Horse, not with the trouble he’s causing. Stealing leftover scraps from tables I can forgive, might even give him a full meal now and then in the name of charity - but if he goes for the pockets of my regulars, the regulars don’t come back, understand? Can’t have that.”

“Course not.” Hob agrees readily. “Bad for business, a pickpocket.”

“Just so, sir. He’s been in the London area for… oh, eight, nine, maybe ten years? Hasn’t got a trade, not very willing to do an honest day’s work in any case, can’t hold down a job for the life of him as a result. Still thinks himself better than the rest o’ us, anyway. I’d leave him alone, if I were you - he’s vicious as all Hell, bit the kitchen boy once and the lad needed to get his arm stitched up afterwards. And that raven - the thing’s a demon, swear to God. A familiar, like witches have. If we were livin’ in a less civilised age, they’d’ve strung old Murphy up for witchcraft and devilry years ago!”

Hob hums thoughtfully. “Do you know if he has fallen in with that crowd? Not idle hearsay, mind, but facts. There’s still some men in London who practise the Old Arts, does he meet with them?”

(Hob has heard that the old Magus of Wych Cross died perhaps a year or two after his greatest accomplishment; for all his powers that tore Endless spectres from their lofty thrones, in the end he couldn’t defend himself against his own son finally snapping, smothering him in his sleep, and running off with the gardener. Good riddance to the old goat, in Hob’s opinion - but he had a good handful of supporters in every major city, and they can’t all have died with him.)

The innkeep takes his time answering, staring out into the softly-falling snow.

“...not that I know of, sir.” He finally says, cautiously. “He doesn’t meet with anyone, really, ‘xcept the birds. Solitary type, is our Murphy, with no family, and no-one to miss him if he freezes himself to death some night. But.”

A pause.

“There’s something wrong about that man, if you ask me. He has a look in his eyes… whatever it is, it’s not natural. Might be magic. Might be madness. I really couldn’t say.”

“I see.” Gears are turning in Hob’s head, puzzle pieces slotting into place, plans unfolding.

A man sleeping rough, with nobody to miss him or know much of him, fierce and angry and constantly on the brink of starvation, looking just like Dream. A diamond in the rough, and quite possibly desperate enough to actually agree to their mad plan just for a few weeks of guaranteed food and a roof over his head.

Dear God. He’s perfect.

“One more question, about Murphy.” Hob beams, half-giddy. “Where do you think I could find him, say… tomorrow?”

The innkeep’s eyebrows rise up into his hair.

“Can’t see why you’d ever want to,” he mutters into his beard. “But very well. On your head be it.”

He names a nearby small park, where Murphy often goes to feed his birds, and is rewarded for it with another tuppence; and then Hob saunters back to his and Gil’s table, already feeling like he can almost taste the promise of eternal life on the tip of his tongue.

(“We cannot know for certain that he will agree, Robert. He sounds like a most prideful young man - he is much like His Lordship in that regard as well, I suppose.”

“Oh, he’ll agree. I’ve been where he is, Gil, and there were times I would’ve sold my own mother to the devil for a warm meal and a bed to sleep in. Not that the devil would’ve taken the old bat even if I’d paid him, of course, but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“That hardly makes it much better. We’d be taking advantage of the poor man’s unfortunate situation!”

“Everyone’s situation is unfortunate these days. And we’d be improving his, on the whole, along with ours.”

“Let it be noted, dear fellow, that I am voicing my ethical and moral quandaries.”

“I really don’t think our plan to scam the Endless is very ethical in the first place, Gil.”

“...now that I cannot possibly argue with.”

“There we are then.”

“However! You will have to be the one to suggest it. I will help you instruct him and present him to the Endless if you do convince him - but for now, I wash my hands of the matter.”

“Fair enough.”)

#WyWrites #dreamling #the sandman #anastasia dreamling au #i hope i will put the next part up with less delay instead of just forgetting it in my drafts again...#my tumblring habits truly are atrocious sometimes #but i really like the next bit so i have some motivation to share it soon!#especially because there's been so much new interest in the past 24 hours or so #thank you everyone! it made me really happy!!!#the least i can do is provide some actual hob-murphy interactions in the next bit (plus some matthew because he's lovely)

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paigemathews · 3 months

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For the pairing thingy can I get Simon Marks and Paige at the wedding of one of his kids to one of hers? I think that would be funny

Pairing: Simon Marks & Paige Matthews Background Pairings: Henry Mitchell Jr. / Anna Marks ( original character ) ; Paige Matthews / Henry Mitchell

It was at times like this that Paige wished she could drink. Clutching her glass like it was a potion vial and she was going up against the Source again, she was a little surprised it didn't even crack. She'd say grateful, but it would've been a valid excuse to disappear for a minute so. Unfortunately, that left her with no excuse as Simon Marks appeared on her side.

"I always did say that a pairing between the Warren line and the Marks line would be splendid," he bragged. Eying the couple, he admitted, "Perhaps a more... distinguished Warren, but splendid nonetheless."

Paige would like to say it was the knowledge that it was her son's wedding - and that Piper had spent hours decorating (after Paige, Henry, Leo, and Phoebe had been vanished after trying to help while Coop successfully pleaded his care for helping while Piper and Alicia, who played surprisingly nice for the typical haughty witch, argued about decorations for their nephew and younger sister's wedding respectively) - that kept her drink from ending up in Simon's face.

It was actually because she already finished it unfortunately. Gritting her teeth, she said, "I think that Henry is fine as he is."

Distinguished, he said, as if Anna didn't remind Paige of a significantly more rich version of herself as a teenager. Still, Anna, like Alicia, had a soft side to her, even if someone like Paige never saw it.

Across the hall, Paige watched her son smile as Anna smoothed one hand over her younger sister's hair. Lily was gesturing more emphatically than Paige had ever seen Simon's youngest daughter act, but she was adorable in her bridesmaid dress. For how fast everything went, Paige had to admit that Simon had spared no expense on his middle daughter's wedding.

"Peculiar though, isn't it?" Simon mused. "It seems that Anna's courtship with Harvey went by so quick. She didn't tell me about it until they were engaged even!"

"I wonder why," Paige said, just barely masking her tone from something more harsh. "and it's Henry, Simon."

Simon waved off of her comment with one hand, frowning. "It does seem a bit quick, but then again, it does seem to be a Marks' family trait!"

If he brought up his onetime pursuit of her, forget Piper's outrage, she was gonna spar him herself this time.

"After all, I knew that you were the Charmed sister I was destined to wed at first sight!"

Paige knew for a fact that there were swords in Marks Manor; she just had to find them first. Besides, wasn't it a Warren tradition that something happen at everyone of their weddings? Piper's had been hijacked by astral Prue, Phoebe's - well, what hadn't gone wrong with Phoebe's first marriage? Or her second? Paige's had been her and Henry's commitment issues and the Triad. Junior's would just be his mother kicking his father-in-law's ass.

"But even after you rejected my courtship, it took little more than a few moments in my dear Alyssa's company for me to fall in love," Simon reminisced, something softer in his voice.

Against herself, Paige couldn't help but feel her annoyance drain away. Alyssa Marks nee Wells had married Simon not even a year after his proposal to Paige, and despite the quick timeframe, the two had seemed utterly devoted to one another. From what she'd seen and heard from the Marks, Alyssa had been just as devoted, and significantly more hands-on than Simon, with their three daughters until the day she died when the girls were barely teenagers.

Paige missed her parents everyday, but it had been a special ache that neither of them had ever been able to meet her husband. It had been bearable with her sisters by her side, but still.

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see them together," Paige offered hesitantly. She hadn't known Alyssa very well, but she seemed like a kind person and had more Simon significantly more bearable when he was unavoidable.

Simon patted at his eyes with a handkerchief, and chuckled. "Oh, she'd have been ecstatic for our Anna. I'm sure that you two would have gotten along swimmingly over time as well!"

Paige wasn't sure about that; they hadn't seemed like they had much in common, but she wasn't going to disagree. The music started up again, and couples began swarming the floor.

Straightening, Simon turned to her and offered his hand, "Shall we dance, Miss Matthews? It does seem somewhat traditional on an occasion such as this, that the groom's mother and the bride's father should have a dance."*

Paige had never been one for tradition, but took his hand anyway for the sake of family unity and all that. (Also, if she went back to the sword idea, there were two crossed over the fireplace on one side of the dance floor.)

Twirling out on the floor, Paige tried to follow the steps while Simon chattered away in her ear about the planning process and how it had compared to his and Alyssa's wedding so many years ago.

Narrowly avoiding stepping on his foot, Paige tuned back in when Simon commented, "I must say, Anna never did tell me how they met and their courtship went. Did Hugo tell you?"

"Henry," Paige emphasized and then faltered. She actually wasn't totally sure when the two had gone on a date. It had been a bit quick, but could she say anything when her marriage had been similarly fast?

"Yes?" her husband said, with a cheeky smile. Paige could've kissed him as he asked Simon, "Isn't this the part where they switch partners?"

Simon, flustered, said, "Why, I don't think-"

"Father, please?" Alicia requested, already reaching for her father. She tilted her head just so, eyes flicking from Paige to Henry. It was as close to a signal as Paige was going to get, and she fully intended to take it.

It was more Alicia's elegance that allowed her to slip into her father's hold while Paige grabbed Henry's hand, but if it worked. As the music continued, Alicia smoothly led her father into the next stage of the dance until he began leading once again.

Meanwhile, Paige and Henry swayed for a moment, not following any steps besides their own. She pressed her forehead to her husband's shoulder and groaned while he let out a little huff of laughter. "That bad, huh?"

"It's Simon," Paige bemoaned.

"And to think, now we're related to him."

Paige gave her husband a dark look. "Don't remind me."

"Hey, who just saved you?" Henry grinned down at her, shuffling side to side before spinning her.

Paige pressed into his chest after, a smile on her lips, before she remembered Simon's last comment to her. "Did Junior tell you when he and Anna went on their first date?"

Henry opened his mouth and then faltered, eyes glazing over momentarily. He shook his head as if to dislodge something, and then said, "I mean, he must have told us about it at some point?"

Paige couldn't remember, and based on Henry's expression, he couldn't either. She couldn't quite master the feeling of unease.

That was about the time that Lily started shouting and Penny punched her brother in the face.

By the end of the night, the spell had been broken and Paige no longer had to worry about being related to Simon Marks. Sinking down on the stone steps next to Henry, she groaned, kicking off her heels. He lifted one arm around her shoulder on instinct as the two watched the clean-up of the former wedding venue. On one side, Anna and Junior were talking to a Marks' family lawyer about if "we were under a demonic spell" was a valid reason for an annulment.

On the other side, Lily and Patience, the babies of the Marks and Warren lines respectively, were both beet red from all of the praise for figuring out that their sister and cousin respectively was spelled. The two girls, who Paige was pretty sure had the same powers, seemed to be becoming fast friends as Lily grabbed Patience's hand to show her something on her palm.

Down from them, Alicia, somehow still picture perfect despite Paige personally seeing her electrocute a demon and then behead one in heels and a floor-length dress, was mid-conversation with her cousin Jonathan and Chris. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, and turned away from the boys to check on her sister. What she missed, and Paige didn't, was the way that Chris and Jonathan exchanged looks.

Henry, watching the same thing as her, said, "What are the odds of us not actually ending up in-laws to Simon Marks?"

Paige groaned against his shoulder, wondering if she could sic her brother-in-law on her niece and nephew. Surely, Coop could steer them away from a Marks love interest, right?

Patience looked up beneath her lashes shyly at Lily while Jonathan tugged Chris into his side by his belt loops.

At least it wasn't her kids this time.

*I don't actually think this is a thing, but idc.

#charmed #asks #paige matthews #simon marks #paige & simon #paige x henry #henry mitchell jr.#february ficlets #i genuinely was planning on all of these being kind of short c'mon #also! you get a ton of next marks lore in here bc i love them! like the marks are one of my favorite next gen families #that said i do think that paige's kids are probably the most incompatible with simon's kids #bc none of them quite match up in just the right way and also i thought this ending was kind of hilarious #but i did try to give you that warren x marks vibe with patience and chris so #but also seriously i wasnt trying to write a ton how is this like 1500 words???

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