Fairytale?

Chapter 42- Some Constants

Wept for myself, and so was purified,
And in their simple mirth grew glad again;
For as I sailed upon that pictured tide
The strength and splendour of the storm was mine
Without the storm's red ruin, for the singer is divine,
-

The flowers were suffocating her, and she couldn't help but think that this was a truly beautiful way to die.

All Sanya could see above and around her were blossoms- red, purple, blue, pink, yellow, green, orange, and every other colour imaginable. She couldn't see what was beyond them- she didn't even know if there was anything beyond them- and she was drowning. When she closed her eyes, she saw galaxies- but she opened them, and saw only flowers. Perhaps it was a flower-bed that she was lying down on as well.

A floral grave. A prison of flowers.

Wait, she thought, as she began to choke.
A prison- a prison of- flowers-

She wasn't dying. She was dreaming.

The room she had been imprisoned in Neráida- with the kaleidoscopic walls, and the floor of grass and flowers. She was, for some reason- dreaming of something similar.

"Very good." A voice she desperately wanted to forget said, and she felt her breathing ease as the coffin of flowers evaporated.

Sanya sat up, now in a plain field bordered by tulip and rose bushes- there were trees in the distance, too- and glared at the Faerie Queen.

"Thought it would take you longer, little Psyche." Rhiannon said, smirking at her from where she lay. She was utterly naked, her green skin glowing in the bright sun, and her wings were unfolded under her, protecting her from the dirt and soil of the field. "Your intelligence was never quite impressive."

Could people have headaches in dreams?
"What do you want, Rhiannon?" She asked tiredly, staring at the rosebush directly in her eye-line. The other options were staring at the sun, or at Rhiannon's bare form, and both of those did not appeal to her. "I thought I was rid of you for good."

"Ah, well, I saw you dreaming of bathing in flowers, and I felt I would like to enjoy the dream, too." She said lightly- Sanya glanced at her for a moment, on instinct as she'd begun to talk, and the faerie spread her legs wide. "Only, I tweaked your dream somewhat."

Paranoid fear gripped her throat, and Sanya's eyes blazed blue.
Of course- she had her powers in her dreams.
Yet another reason to love dreaming.
"How often do you do that?" She demanded, itching to grab her by the throat. But she wasn't going to go anywhere near her. And she doubted she could kill her in a dream, no matter how much she wanted to. "Tweak my dreams?"

What if- what if she had- what if she had lost control, and she'd had sex with Rhiannon again? What if she had been in a dream where Edmund was still gone- and she sought solace in Rhiannon's viridian arms?

She knew that whatever happened in dreams, did not matter. She had probably done far crazier things than kissing someone in dreams.

But if it was a dream where she was conscious of her waking reality- if she knew who she was, and if it was a dream where she was wholly herself- and she had still been with Rhiannon-

"Calm yourself and your lovely tits, this is the first time." Her ivory eyes were mirthful, and Sanya hated the fact that she could recognise emotion in Rhiannon. "I have watched broken bits of your dreams from afar a few times before- but this is the first I have stepped into your dream."
She sat up, absently twirling a lock of hair, and her wings folded themselves politely behind her.
"Dream-walking is no easy business, even for me. And your dream-self is powerful- she knows and shares your waking hate for me- and so, I am not welcome in your dreams."