Archive of Our Own

Whatever Black Swan might have anticipated for her return to Acheron’s room, it certainly hadn’t been as an intruder rather than as an invited guest. And yet, as her mimetic form took physical shape inside that very room, she was reminded that reality often was stranger than fiction.

As she set about the task that brought her here, she had to hold back the impulse to laugh at the absurdity of the scene she’d created. She, the esteemed Memokeeper of the Garden of Recollection, rummaging through someone else’s room like a common petty thief? It sounded like the punchline for a pitiful joke.

Ridiculous though it may have sounded, though, it remained the truth. As much as she’d wanted to wait for Acheron to open up of her own accord, she was running out of time, and her normal methods of acquiring memories had ranged from useless to outright disastrous where the Galaxy Ranger was concerned. With no other options at her disposal, she was reduced to this - scavenging for memories off of her belongings - as a last resort. 

And, somehow, this last resort of hers had borne fruit. The music box received by the Annihilation Gang was present in the room, and she’d been able to extract a number of memories from it. She’d even been contacted by, and was still speaking with,  one of their number through the memories - Constance, she called herself. 

Still, it wasn’t enough. Neither those memories nor her ongoing conversation had given her an answer to her most pressing questions. Just who was Acheron? How had she become a Galaxy Ranger, and what was it that brought her to Penacony? Those answers remained maddeningly elusive, coming just into her reach before being snapped away time and time again. More infuriating still was that she got the impression that this Constance knew the answer to at least some of her questions, but was keeping them to herself for reasons unbeknownst to her. 

By the time the room’s phone rang, signaling the end of their irritating conversation, Black Swan found herself grateful. Even though she knew she shouldn’t leave any sign that she’d been here, some impulse inside her saw her walk over to the phone and answer. She picked up but said nothing, allowing whoever was on the other side to speak first.

She didn’t have to wait long. The caller, whose voice inflected with a twang, began speaking. “Long time no see, Acheron. Having fun in Penacony?”

Seeing as she was not Acheron and that she had yet to learn what this caller was after, she remained silent.

After he realized no answer was forthcoming, he continued. “Though I don’t know exactly what you are or what you’re up to, my bullets will find you. Until then, you best find a casket store on Penacony, and ask the owner to reserve a good quality casket for you, imposter!”

Even were it not for his explicit threat, there was no mistaking how this man felt about Acheron - the enmity in his voice was palpable. Black Swan didn’t know what she had done to raise his ire, but she had no doubt that the unknown caller would see her dead if he had anything to say about it. 

Still, she now had enough information to know how to approach this caller. She leaned over the phone and asked, “Who are you?”

“Huh?” Whatever he’d expected from this call, he clearly hadn’t expected to hear from someone other than Acheron. “Did I make a mistake? Who the heck are you?”

She saw no reason to keep her identity a secret. After all, there was no saying what disclosing an inconsequential detail such as that might yield her. “I’m the Garden of Recollection’s Memokeeper.”

“Heh! Not bad. This is the kind of tough challenge I like. Are you that imposter’s bodyguard? Never mind. It’s fine. I’ll leave a round for you, so get that forehead clean and wait for me!”

Bodyguard wasn’t the term that Black Swan would use, but she doubted he would be much more receptive if she labeled herself as Acheron’s lover. More importantly, however, was that name he kept referring to her as - ‘imposter’. How exactly did he mean that? 

In order to find that out, she needed him to keep talking. For that, she needed to get him thinking that she was on his side. “I don’t know what you’re talking about - but you know Acheron, the Galaxy Ranger, yes? I have something to ask you.”

Her response amused him, as a hoarse laugh sounded through the phone. “Are you asking me to write your will? Sure, go ahead.”

“Not quite. I only want to ask, how exactly did she become a Galaxy Ranger?” She figured it was the question he would be most likely to answer.

Despite that, his hesitation was unmistakable. From the sound he made, she could almost picture the grimace upon this mystery man’s face. Pressing harder, she said, “She’s clearly not a Pathstrider of The Hunt. But you are, aren’t you? Tell me, what’s Acheron’s deal?”

His enthusiastic laughter made it clear that she’d hit the mark. “Sure! Heck, never thought I’d come across an ally. What a stroke of luck!” 

An ally? Hardly. Still, she once again opted to let his faulty assumption go without correction. She began twirling her hair, waiting for him to finish.

He chuckled to himself one final time, then said, “I’ll be on Penacony soon. Memokeeper, go buy a bottle of Asdana’s White Oak and warm it up, and I’ll raise a glass to you. That lady’s past? Nobody knows. But if all you want is a simple answer, sure, you best get a chair and take a seat. That woman named Acheron…is an Emanator who should not exist.”

An Emanator? Black Swan supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. For the time being, though, that part of his answer was of secondary concern when compared to the other. What did he mean that she should not exist?

As much as she wanted to ask for clarity, though, she was reminded of her tenuous position. Acheron could be back at any moment, and Black Swan needed to not be in her room when she did. “Thank you, whoever you are. You certainly have given me much to consider. Rest assured, I’ll have your White Oak ready when you arrive.” She hung up before the man could answer, looked over the room as best she could in the scant moments that she could spare, and took her leave.

Flipping the lock back in place as she left, she began making her way back to her own room. It would have been faster to take advantage of her mimetic nature and appear there, just as she’d done to arrive in Acheron’s room, but the walk gave her time to think, to ponder all that she’d learned. The pieces of the puzzle surrounding Acheron had finally started to take shape, but she was certain that there were still missing pieces. There was so much mystery about the enigmatic Ranger - no, Emanator - and each answer only seemed to spawn more questions.

As each echoing step brought her closer to her destination, she kept circling back to one core question. “Just who are you, oh beautiful Emanator?”

When Acheron stumbled through the door to her hotel room in reality, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. In order to convince Welt of her intentions, that she was indeed of no threat to the Astral Express and its crew, she’d had to prod at old wounds. At scars that, while healed, still were tender to the touch. Every clouded memory from her past that came into focus was another thorn to prick herself on, and as they spoke, she waded through rosebush after rosebush of those memories. 

By the time their conversation had ended, she’d been mentally exhausted, borderline numb. However, even after she’d returned to reality from the Dreamscape, her thoughts still continued to race - so much so that rest was impossible. In an effort to clear her mind, she had roamed the halls of the hotel until those thoughts, circling like so many vultures, faded away into oblivion.

Now that she’d returned, all she could think about was sleep. Muscle memory more than thought guided her as she removed her sword, scabbard, and boots from her person, and placed them beside a table not far from the bed that would deliver her to a wonderful, well-deserved sleep. 

Acheron was about to turn away to throw herself onto that bed when a particular scent, faint yet distinct, caught her nose. She stopped her in place, jolting awake from the smell filling her nose. It was one even she couldn’t forget, etched deep into her porous memory along with a rush of emotion. “The Memokeeper?”

Black Swan had been here, that was the only explanation. And recently too, from how strongly it still permeated through the air. For all she knew, she could have left mere minutes before Acheron had returned. 

But why? What had she hoped to gain? Why had she come over in secret when she could’ve just asked to visit when Acheron was there? It didn’t make any sense. 

Not unless there was a reason she wanted Acheron to not be there.

That assumption wasn’t one to be made carelessly, she knew that much. She needed to be certain that it wasn’t her imagination playing tricks on her. Acheron scoured the room, looking for clues that might allow her to glean either a motive, or at least confirm that the Memokeeper had indeed made her way into her room.

At first, no such evidence showed itself. She couldn’t trust her memory enough to say whether anything was out of place from how she’d left it. Even if she could, she doubted Black Swan would have been so incautious as to leave any notable trace of her presence here. Searching the room was an uphill battle, and one that she was in no condition to wage.

Just as Acheron was about to chalk the search up as fruitless, though, she caught sight of a single strand of hair on the table by the phone. It was lilac - the same memorable shade as Black Swan’s hair. She held it up before her eyes and stretched it taut, confirming the length to be a perfect match as well. As she let the strand go and watched it fall to the ground, she asked, “Memokeeper, just what have you been up to?”

She didn’t know. But she intended to find out. Exhausted from the day’s events though she might have been, she no longer felt so fatigued that she couldn’t make a slight detour to educate her lover on the importance of boundaries.

She just hoped she wouldn’t forget where she was going, how to get there, or what she was doing along the way.

Black Swan had been in her room for around half an hour, partaking in the memories stored in some of her favorite light cones while she sifted through the enigma that was Acheron, when she heard the chime of someone ringing the doorbell, followed by a few knocks. The sound startled her - the hour was late, and she hadn’t been expecting a visitor. The shock was only momentary, though, and by the time she rose to her feet to answer, one would hardly have been able to guess that she’d been surprised in the first place. 

A quick glance through the door’s peephole showed her visitor to be the very subject of her thoughts. The timing of her visit was odd, and as she opened the door, she wondered if Acheron had somehow caught wind of her intrusion. 

Whatever thoughts Acheron had remained concealed behind that inscrutable visage that so commonly adorned that breathtaking face of hers. Acting as naturally as she could, she said, “Well, hello there, beautiful Ranger. I must admit, I hadn’t expected the pleasure of your company tonight, so your presence is a most welcome surprise.” She reached out her hand to caress her cheek.

Or tried to, anyway. Her hand was intercepted by Acheron’s own well before she made contact. She offered no explanation, only saying, “Come with me.” Securing her hold on Black Swan’s hand in a firm grip, she brushed past her into the room, and half-led, half-dragged her in the direction of the Dreampool. 

Hopelessly caught in her wake, all Black Swan could do was go along with whatever Acheron had in store for her. She got swept along into the Dreampool, and in short order had entered the Dreamscape along with Acheron. 

They’d emerged atop the dream version of the Reverie Hotel’s roof amidst a downpour - a rarity in the dream world. Acheron took a seat on the ledge despite the heavy pattering of rain, bringing Black Swan down with her. 

Only then, once both were seated looking out across the Golden Hour, on this dreary night, did she relinquish her hold on Black Swan. Seeing as she’d yet to explain anything - the reason for her visit, why she was so insistent on bringing them here - Black Swan thought it only fair that she start asking questions. “So, this is where you sought to wrangle me towards? It is a marvelous sight, but I must admit that I’m left rather befuddled.”

Acheron didn’t answer at first. She reached behind her, raised a vermilion oil-paper umbrella that Black Swan only now noticed that she’d brought along with her, and opened it such that both were sheltered from the rain. Heavy droplets drummed against its as she stared off into the distance for a few seconds. “Would you believe me if I were to tell you that I was fond of rain such as this?”

“I would, yes. However, I don’t see how that answers my question.”

“In the rain, I’ve always found serenity, if only for fleeting moments. That’s something I could use right now.” Acheron looked at Black Swan for the first time since she’d made her way into her room. “I don’t remember if I’ve told you this before or not. With my memory being as it is, I rely on emotion to capture that which memories cannot.”

“Where exactly are you going with this, Acheron? It isn’t like you to be so evasive.”

“I suppose it isn’t.” She clicked her tongue and sighed. “Very well. I know you entered my room while I was gone, without my knowledge or permission. I would ask why.”

“I must admit, I hadn’t expected you to figure me out so soon, if at all. Consider me impressed.” Black Swan wondered what exactly it was that had given her away. Now wasn’t the time to pursue those questions, though, not as Acheron’s glare bored into her eyes. “As much as I love and cherish you, I know next to nothing about you aside from the precious little that you’ve shared. You do remember me saying that I want to learn everything about you during our first meeting, yes?”

“What more of me do you need to know? You know my nature, remember my deeds…thus, I am Acheron.” In her gaze, there was now only hurt. “If that was not enough to sate you, though, you could’ve simply asked, and I would’ve answered.”

Black Swan found that she could no longer hold Acheron’s eyes. Given how guarded she had seemed, Black Swan had written that option off within moments of their first encounter. And yet, there was no denying the sincerity in her words. 

Acheron wasn’t finished, her voice now straining as she spoke. “And even if that was insufficient, you are a Memokeeper, are you not? Why not just take a look for yourself? I’m sure you could find the answers you seek somewhere in my memories.”

A cold sweat broke out across Black Swan’s brow as memories of her first attempt of doing just that flooded her mind. The things she had seen - the things that she had felt - would haunt her so long as she existed. Being a Memokeeper of the Garden of Recollection, Black Swan seldom encountered someone more powerful, more awe-inspiring than she. 

On that day, though, she had been the prey, wandering into the den of a fearsome predator. Never before had she been so helpless, so utterly devoid of agency. The pain of her memetic form being torn asunder time and again as she struggled to escape had almost been more than she could bear.

Acheron cocked an eyebrow as she studied Black Swan. “You seem nervous. Should I take that as a sign that you’ve already tried doing that before?” Acheron may have phrased it as a question, but the glare she fixed upon Black Swan left no doubt that she knew the answer just as well as Black Swan did.

Since lying wasn’t an option, that only left her with the option of confessing the whole truth. “Yes. During our first dance. It was easy to guess what had brought you to Penacony, but the how and why were enshrouded in mystery, especially since you had come in place of the Annihilation Gang. When I first approached, it was with the intent of learning the answers to those questions, along with perhaps a few others as well.”

“Is that so? And what did you find?”

“Nothing but an endless abyss. I believe you already know that, though…Emanator.”

“So, you learned what I am.” Acheron shifted in place along the roof’s ledge. “I see.” 

She averted her gaze from Black Swan’s own, opting to look down upon the spectacle of the Golden Hour once more. Her voice dropped to a level barely audible over the rain and the ruckus from the streets below. “An abyss? Yes, I suppose it is.”

A single mascara-stained tear rolled down her cheek, blending with the water droplets that remained from before she’d raised her umbrella. She wiped it away with her thumb, clearing her throat as she did. “Regardless of what you found, though, it just solidifies the point I was already going to make. I’m not mad at you, but that makes it three times that you’ve gone behind my back. I had thought you’d learned your lesson after that little scheme you’d concocted with Aventurine, but it seems I was mistaken. Don’t worry, though. Once I’m through with you, I’ll make sure that there’s no doubt that it’s taken root.”

“And what lesson was it that I ought to have learned?” 

Acheron cracked her neck one way, then the other, rising to her feet as she did. Black Swan scarcely registered Acheron’s hand reaching behind her back to her scabbard before Acheron replied with a single word. “Trust.”

And then the Dreamscape faded to a blinding white.

It took Black Swan some time for her vision to clear. Spots danced before her eyes from the brilliant light, and only blinking repeatedly saw them reduced enough for her to take in the scene around her.

She was no longer in the Dreamscape - or, at least, not the one she’d been in moments ago. Gone were the dazzling lights of the Golden Hour, the spattering of the rain, and omnipresent cacophony that surrounded the Reverie Hotel. In their place was something that could only be described as a void. A gigantic black hole loomed on the horizon, and she was standing on a motionless sea that stretched in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Only faint ripples distorting its surface as she moved her feet distinguished it from an endless plane of glass. Even the air itself was stagnant. 

Desolation was the first word that came to mind to describe the scene she’d opened her eyes to. As she stood, she could almost feel the oppressive atmosphere weighing her down.

The only thing which moved at all was a figure standing before her - familiar, yet different. The pallor of her skin had lost all its color, resembling the void around them. Purple hair had similarly faded to white, and red irises burned in place of their natural violet. Vibrant red tattoos, almost demonic in appearance, stretched across her body where none had been before, and the black of her sleeved glove had changed to match. “Acheron? What happened? Where are we?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing happened to you, and nothing will happen to you. This is a dream, nothing more. Once we’re finished here, you’ll return to your body in the waking world, unharmed. As for where we are…I suppose you could consider this my origin, as well as my end. And, this form you see now, my true self.”

A black hole and nothingness all around, her origin? That could only mean… “You’re an Emanator of Nihility?” 

“Mmm.” She nodded. “This is me putting forth all that I am before you. I have no secrets greater than this. Were you to divulge this to the right people, my time on Penacony would become rather more…complicated.”

“Yes, so I can imagine.” Those touched by the Nihility, willingly or not, were seldom welcome with open arms, much less in a planet overseen by those who followed the Harmony. It was possible that was the very reason why she’d had to seize the Annihilation Gang’s invite to Penacony by force, rather than receiving one of her own. “But why? Why share this with me?” 

“As I said in the Golden Hour - trust. This is me showing you the depths of my trust in you, even if you have abused it a few times now. In return, I would ask you whether you are willing to do the same.”

“How?”

“By making a choice.” Acheron gestured to the black hole behind her. “That will return you to the waking world as you approach. If you want to go there now, I won’t stop you. I’ll even help see you along your way, if that is what you wish.”

Every fiber of her being yearned to escape, here and now. The void of Nihility was a dangerous place for anyone, but exponentially so for a mimetic being such as herself. Just as memories were absorbed into its depths, so too would an entity such as herself. This facsimile may only have been a dream, but to one whose existence was anchored to memory and little more, a dream was but another form of reality.  If she lingered here too long, fading away into nothingness was an eventuality defined by when it would happen, not if it would. 

A fact which Acheron no doubt knew, given that she’d understood the implications of Black Swan being a member of the Garden of Recollection from their first meeting. No doubt there was some catch to her offer.

Sure enough, Acheron hadn’t finished speaking. “However, if you do, I will consider that the end of…whatever you wish to call our relationship. When our paths next cross, it would be as former acquaintances, nothing more.”

Such a parting was unacceptable for Black Swan. Regardless of the secrecy she maintained around her plans and actions, she treasured the bond she’d formed with Acheron since her arrival on Penacony far too much to discard for the sake of mere self-preservation. Any alternative - every alternative - was preferable. “And the other option?”

“Stay here with me until I decide it’s time to leave. Devote yourself to me entirely, and do as I say without question. I won’t be any more specific than that. As I said - trust.”

Never before had that word sounded so ominous in Black Swan’s ears. Trust that Acheron wouldn’t abuse the faith that she would need to place in her. 

That she would ensure their return before the shadow of Nihility snuffed out her existence. 

That Black Swan could put her life in Acheron’s hands without fear of consequence, just as Acheron had done by bringing her here. 

No matter how her heart raced from trepidation, though, the fact remained that there wasn’t a choice to be made. She strode forward with as much confidence as her quivering legs would allow, closing the gap between her and Acheron. Her voice wavered as she began to speak. “From the moment I first laid eyes upon you, you have been my chosen dance partner. Unless fate demands that we part, I have no intentions of changing that.” 

Now close enough to touch, she put her hands in Acheron’s, shaky though they were. “I am yours, Acheron. Now, and forever.”

The beginnings of a smile showed on Acheron’s lips. She ran her thumbs across the back of Black Swan’s hands and stepped closer. Even in this dream within a dream, her breath smelled of peaches. “A beautiful promise, indeed.” She leaned in, giving Black Swan a peck on the cheek. “But a promise without action is just so many empty, flowered words.”

“How would you have me show the sincerity behind them, then?” Black Swan pressed her forehead to Acheron’s, brushing their noses against each other.

“Hmm. Give me some time to think that over.” Acheron closed her eyes and bit her lips, then took a single step forward to close the remaining distance between their bodies. Husky notes crept into her voice as she said, “In the meantime…I think we’ve talked enough tonight. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Pressing together as closely as they were reminded Black Swan of the sensual intimacy of their dance.That thought alone was enough to make Black Swan’s heart skip a beat. “I could never tire of your company, or of hearing your voice. However, if you’re suggesting what I think you are-” 

“I am.” 

“-then who am I to disagree?”

“Good answer.” Acheron took one hand out of Black Swan’s and used it to hook her left leg around her waist. The other went behind Black Swan’s head, firm and insistent, pulling her into a deep kiss that saw Acheron swirl her tongue with her own. As they kissed, Black Swan’s own hands went to their clothing - unbuckling and unzipping what she could given her position.

By the time their lips pulled apart, a hint of red had risen to Acheron’s cheeks, its vividness highlighted both by the ghastly tone her skin had taken on, and by the blazing embers of her irises. From how her cheeks burned, Black Swan imagined she was no different in that regard.

Each of them was in a state of partial undress, and each was familiar enough with the other’s clothing at this point to see them out of their remaining attire without delay. Greedy hands took liberties with the other’s body as they stripped themselves bare.

When both were naked, Acheron wasted no time laying Black Swan down on her back. Just as she had been able to walk on the water here, so too was she able to lay flat on it without sinking. Were it not for Acheron’s lips brushing against her collarbone, or her fingers teasing at Black Swan’s pussy, she might have spared a moment to consider the secret behind it. This world was scintillating, and while she had no intent of remaining a second longer than she had to, she couldn’t deny wanting to know more about it.

As it was, though, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Like slipping her knee between Acheron’s legs, rubbing it against her entrance, savoring the growl that she made at the friction. 

Acheron rolled against her once, twice, letting out a hitched breath each time before saying, “Playing dirty already, are we? Fine.”

In Black Swan’s eyes, it was hardly fair to say that she had resorted to dirty tactics first. A harsh tug of her hair saw her unable to voice her complaint, though, especially when Acheron began sucking on the exposed nape of neck at the same time she slipped a single finger inside her. Her skin prickled with every press of Acheron’s lips, with every teasing curl of that damned finger. 

This teasing proved just a warmup, though - the opening act for a greater performance that Acheron had in store for her. She settled in astride Black Swan’s legs such that each had a thigh pressed against the other’s pussy. As she began moving her hips, Black Swan found herself doing the same, matching her slow, gentle cadence. 

Not content with that alone, Acheron caressed Black Swan all over as each of their gyrations gradually sped up in time with the other’s. While her hands roamed freely, she leaned in, her white hair tickling Black Swan as it draped across her face. In a low voice, she said, “I think I’ve decided-” She paused to nibble at Black Swan’s earlobe. “-how I’d like you to prove that you meant your earlier promise.”

“Oh?” There was an ominous quality to her voice - one that put Black Swan’s hairs on end, even more than the tingling of her skin wherever Acheron touched had.

“Enter my memories, just as you did when we first met. Once you’ve done that, focus on holding out, both here and in there, until I’m satisfied.”

“...And if I were to decline, or suggest another option?” If there was one place that Black Swan found more unsettling than this void, it was Acheron’s memories. Being ripped apart was one experience she wasn’t keen to repeat, if at all possible.

Acheron didn’t respond at first, trailing kisses from her ear, across her cheek, until she arrived at Black Swan’s lips. She bit down, hard enough that Black Swan tasted iron. When she pulled away, she said, “What gave you the impression that I was asking?”

In her eyes, Black Swan saw not a hint of mercy. Acheron had decreed that this was her preferred demonstration of trust. All that remained to be determined was whether Black Swan would yield. 

And yield she would, for she couldn’t stomach the cost of defiance after Acheron’s earlier ultimatum. Steeling herself, she sighed and asked, “How will I know when I’ve passed your test?”

“Let the music be your guide.”

It was a hopelessly vague clue, but Acheron clearly had no intention of expanding upon it. Black Swan could only hope that its meaning would become apparent by the time she needed to understand it. 

Glimmering light coalesced around her fingers as they glided up Acheron’s sides. She’d done this countless times before, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this anxious about hopping into someone else’s memories. Her throat ran dry as she performed the final touch, and the pounding of her heart grew deafening to her ears. Her mimetic form disentangled from her physical body, and delved into the waiting abyss.

Black Swan found herself on a familiar dance floor when she entered Acheron’s mind. Her heart, already pounding from her lovemaking with Acheron in her physical form, raced further still at the sight. A silent prayer uttered to Fuli did little to settle her mounting nerves.

It was the same scene she had seen before upon entering Acheron’s memories…except it wasn’t. 

The scenario itself was identical, she could say that much. She held Acheron in her arms in the prelude to a tango, just as she had when the gentle start of their dance had transitioned to the horror that had concluded it. The other woman’s appearance was how she looked in the empty dream that she’d left in - a strand of crimson adorning a colorless world. 

However, the backdrop to the dance was clearer, sharper, more in focus than it had been previously. Where muddled figures had been now stood distinct people, and the details of the hall itself were more vivid. It was almost as though Acheron had regained her memories since then, though Black Swan could only guess as to how she would have managed such a feat.

As a lone positive that she could think of in her frazzled state, she supposed she had her clarification on Acheron’s clue from their setting.

The trills of the violin began resounding throughout this illusory hall, marking the start of their tango. At the sound of the first note, the mimetic version of Acheron she held in her arms sprung into action, taking the lead in their dance and whipping her about with abandon. Soon after, the void of the Nihility Acheron carried within her began tugging at Black Swan, threatening to hear her apart where she stood. Haunting visions assailed her one after another, fragments of Acheron’s past all.

Countless blades, shattered only to be reforged anew.

A fleeting world, destined for oblivion.

An origin and an end, so thoroughly intertwined as to be entirely indistinguishable from one another.

When Black Swan had first entered Acheron’s memories as they danced, this had been the moment when her resolve had fractured. The moment that her bravado had yielded to panic, when her thoughts had shifted towards escape and nothing more, futile though her attempts had proven to be.

Now that she knew what lied in store for her, though, she vowed this time would be different. Prey though she might remain, she would hold her ground - remain cautious, but steadfast. Winning in this dance with the devil was impossible, she’d learned that much last time, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still play her part. Endure the agony even as it built ever higher.

And-

-endure the ecstasy she would. 

So Black Swan told herself, anyway. Acheron had only just begun fucking her in earnest, and she was already a panting wreck. In attempting to withstand the pleasure running through her physical body while keeping pace with the dance of her mimetic one, she soon found herself slipping on both ends. The still water around her rippled as she threw her head back into it. She put a hand to her mouth, clamping over it as a groan threatened to ring out from her lips.

Only to earn a reproachful glare from Acheron as she peeled that hand away. “There’s no need to be quiet here. Moan, beg, scream for me if you want. It’s just the two of us, after all, no one else. Let me hear the depths of your passion.”

She didn’t need to wait long for that desire to come true. An off-tempo grind of Acheron’s thigh against her pussy saw a moan roll out of Black Swan’s lips, echoing throughout the silent void unmuffled. It was the first of many, her pitch rising along with the growing intensity of the flames of arousal as they were stoked inside her. 

“Yes, exactly like that. I want to hear every lovely noise you can make.” Acheron’s hand slid down her body, the featherlight touch leaving goosebumps in its wake as it trailed across the swell of her breasts, down her abdomen, and stopping just above her clitoris. “Show me how much you want this.”

“Acheron, please-” A firm press of Acheron’s thigh between her legs wrung a moan out of her mid-sentence. “Please, I need you.”

“Your wish, my command.” 

That hand began teasing Black Swan’s clitoris, sending jolts throughout her body with every touch. Her back arched even further into the waters that supported her, and her hips bucked against Acheron’s leg. The motionless air hung heavy with the scent of arousal, and while some of it could be attributed to Acheron - she could feel her dampness against her own leg, after all - she was well aware that much of it was coming off of her.

Not to be outdone by the hand between Black Swan’s legs, Acheron’s other hand ran up to her neck, ghosting over it before-

-roughly seizing hold of it, squeezing such that Black Swan could only manage a small trickle of air with every breath. The constriction of her windpipe made her gag, and every instinct screamed at her to pull away however she could. 

To try and break her grip would require interrupting their dance, though, and the anguish from the consequences of doing so had been far too engraved upon her being for her to risk that. Besides, it wasn’t as though it would make a difference, what with the ease that Acheron threw her about this way and that in their dance. Instead, she focused on maintaining her form as best she could, knowing what would happen if she allowed herself to slip up.

Only after some time spent in this new paradigm of their dance did Acheron speak in this mimetic nightmare. “So, you’ve returned. Was last time not enough for your liking?”

Black Swan could only manage a choked gasp as their next step saw her bent backwards across Acheron’s knee, hand still squeezing her neck as Acheron glared down at her. She doubted it mattered what she said, though. The world of her memories had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt just how hostile it was to the Remembrance. In all likelihood, there wasn’t anything that could be said that might appease the manifestation of that hostility.

After one final squeeze that saw her vision go black, air flooded Black Swan’s lungs, the hand removed from her throat as their dance continued. While the hand had left, though, that expression, full of loathing and hatred, remained on Acheron’s face. “No matter. I’ll break you as many times as needed for you to learn.”

This was the first of many taunts that she would utter throughout their dance. Black Swan did her best to ignore her goading remarks as she kept pace with the increasing tempo of the music. Their dance was building to its crescendo, that much was apparent, and she didn’t want to slip up now. 

It soon became evident that her best was not enough, however. Between Acheron’s increasingly aggressive lead, the pleasure that her physical body was receiving, and the chaotic memories that continued assailing her, her concentration faltered. Her missteps became more frequent, and she felt as though she would fall apart at any moment as-

-the ecstasy within her built higher and higher, threatening to topple over at a moment’s notice. Too many conflicting sensations were coursing through her all at once, and every nerve in her body was going haywire as a result. Acheron was tearing her apart, piece by piece, layer by layer, and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop it, even if she wanted to. Her eyes welled up, distorting the void around her as she struggled to blink the tears away.

Ever present through it all was Acheron moaning and whispering into her ear, praising her as she pleasured her. “You’ve been so good. Just a little longer, alright?” Her thumb teased Black Swan’s clit in time with every syllable she spoke, and she began rutting against her leg with greater force.

“I don’t…know that I can.” Choked gasps broke up Black Swan’s words as she struggled to speak straight.

A lone finger raised her chin so that she looked right into the depths of those crimson eyes above her. “I believe in you, darling. Just look at me and breathe.”

She tried. Oh Fuli, did she try. But Acheron’s thigh between her legs robbed her of breath with every movement, and looking into those burning eyes, radiant with passion, pierced her to her very core. 

It was too much, and even as she tried to withstand the onslaught of pleasure, she could feel herself growing nearer to the precipice of her orgasm. It was only of question of whether she could hold on long enough, or-

-whether she would topple over before the end of their dance. The relentless tempo of their movements, increasing further as the music built ever closer to its crescendo, was enough of a challenge on its own. When paired with her escalating lack of coordination, she stumbled on more than one occasion, with only timely adjustments keeping her upright. 

Even as she caught herself once more, though, she wasn’t sure it would be enough. At this point, she was quivering with every step as more of the pleasure seeped into her mimetic form. The haze of lust made it difficult just to remember the steps that lay ahead, much less perform them. She was sure she would falter, that much was certain. It was only a question of whether that would happen before or after their dance reached its peak.

As it turned out, they happened at the same time. Her foot caught on the illusory floor right as the music reached its zenith, causing her to fall right into Acheron’s waiting arms. Her embrace left Black Swan no room to escape, trapping her as though she were prey locked in a predator’s jaws.

Even without looking up at the condescending sneer, Black Swan knew this was how their dance would end. She just hoped it had been enough, that she’d held out long enough to fulfill Acheron’s wish.

Acheron leaned in close, the heat of her breath washing over Black Swan as she whispered, “Tell me, little bird, can you fly with broken wings?” She whirled her face-down onto the ground without allowing her the chance to respond, then pinned her down with a knee on her back as she wrenched Black Swan’s arms upwards. “Let’s find out.”

The pressure on her shoulders grew and grew, going well past the point of excruciation. A final pull as the music came to its conclusion saw her-

-unravel, climaxing just a moment ahead of Acheron as the pleasure of her physical body and the agony of her mimetic form overwhelmed her. The spell which allowed her access to Acheron’s memories blinked out as her concentration shattered. She lay there, limp and panting, as a wave of disorientation washed over her when her two existences merged back together.

By the time her vision straightened out, Acheron appeared to have already recovered, kneeling beside her, a deep frown upon her face. Her mouth was moving, but her words were barely audible over a buzz in Black Swan’s ears that she’d only just then noticed. “Black Swan? Black Swan, can you hear me?”

“Hmm?” She opened her mouth a few times, as though popping her ears. The buzzing faded into the background, and Acheron’s words grew more distinct. “Oh, yes. Yes, I can. Sorry if I worried you.”

Acheron shook her head and let out a sigh of relief. “There’s no need to be sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She laid an affectionate hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Absolutely peachy. I did just have your lips upon my own, after all.” A smirk crept onto her face as Acheron made an exasperated noise at the quip.

“If you’re fine enough to make jokes, then I’ll take you at your word. At the very least, the Nihility doesn’t seem to have touched you yet. Good.” Acheron glanced back over her shoulder at the black hole in the distance, then looked back at Black Swan. “As much as I’d love to make this a bit more romantic, I don’t think it’d be wise for you to linger here - never know when that might change. Here, I’ll help you up.”

She offered a hand to Black Swan, who gratefully accepted it. As she rose to her feet, though, she nearly fell back down, only remaining upright thanks to Acheron’s help. The black hole which marked their exit seemed impossibly distant as she looked at how far the waters stretched before them. 

“I don’t think I can walk that far, Acheron.” Her legs wouldn’t allow her to even stand upright without wobbling, let alone move. “I’m sorry.”

“I put you through a lot, didn’t I?” Acheron cradled one arm around Black Swan’s shoulders and used the other to sweep her off her feet, lifting her with ease. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Just rest, alright?”

Black Swan had no intention of complaining about that, especially if it meant being held in Acheron’s arms. 

It was as Acheron was carrying her back, taking care not to jostle her in her arms as she walked, that it clicked. This was the answer she’d been seeking all this time. Everything else she’d asked along the way - what Acheron was, how she’d gotten to Penacony, all those questions that had resulted in her sneaking into Acheron’s room - didn’t matter. This was her Acheron. So strong. Dependable. Loving.

Hers. 

She buried her head into Acheron, totally at ease. As she leaned into the warmth of Acheron’s chest, she felt herself drifting away. The last thing she could hear before sleep claimed her entirely was a softly spoken, “I love you.” She opened her mouth to repeat it back. 

Whether she succeeded, she couldn’t say.

Black Swan awoke to find herself not in the Dreamworld, nor even in the Dreampool itself, but tucked away in her own bed. Not far away sat Acheron, who seemed to be watching over her in silent vigil. 

Her appearance had turned to normal, and even a glance made it evident just how exhausted she was. Drooping eyelids, hunched posture, visibly nodding off - all clear signs of her fatigue. Even more telling was the fact that she’d yet to notice that Black Swan had woken up. In all likelihood, she hadn’t moved an inch since she’d brought her back to reality and tucked her in bed, however long ago that had been.

Fortunately, Black Swan knew just how to fix that. Not straight away, though. If she was right, if Acheron had indeed remained motionless for what had to have been hours, then she was clearly concerned about her. Until those concerns were alleviated, she doubted any admonishment would register.

So did she choose to sit upright in bed, feigning as though she’d just then woken up - yawning, wiping at her eyes, pretending to look around in a daze until she saw Acheron. “Oh, good morning. I hope you haven’t been waiting for me to wake up for too long.”

Acheron bolted upright at the sound of her voice. When she looked and saw Black Swan sitting up, she knelt beside her, embracing her as she did. “Black Swan! Good, you’re alright.” 

Black Swan returned the hug, patting her on the back until Acheron pulled away. “Your concern is unfounded, I promise, but I do appreciate it.” It was as natural an opportunity as she would get to segue into her concerns about Acheron, and Black Swan had never been one to turn a blind eye to good fortune. “I’m not sure that I can say the same for you, though, I’m afraid. Acheron, dear, have you slept at all? You look like death warmed over.”

Acheron hesitated, then shook her head.

“Care to explain why not?”

“I was worried about you.” She lowered her head onto Black Swan’s lap and turned so that she held eye contact with her. “I…couldn’t recall what it was that happened, and I still can’t even now. I just remembered feeling that you were in danger, and that it was my fault. So, I stayed awake as best I could. Watching over you. Making sure that nothing bad would happen to you as you rested.”

So, her suspicions as to why Acheron had remained by her side had indeed been correct. Black Swan’s earlier intent to chastise her for her disregard for her own well-being had evaporated, though. How could she be upset in the face of such simple, genuine concern?

She couldn’t. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t coerce Acheron into doing that which she’d refused to do herself. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the gesture. However, rest assured that I was never truly in harm’s way. Still, if you truly wish to make amends, I have one simple request for you.”

“Name it, and consider it done.”

“Join me.” Black Swan didn’t give Acheron the chance to give her answer before she pulled her into bed and snuggled against her, stroking her hair as she did. “There, isn’t that so much better?”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.” Her voice grew smaller with each word, and her eyes fluttered shut. Within a matter of seconds, her breathing settled into a regular cadence. 

As she crossed that threshold into sleep, Black Swan pressed a tender kiss upon her forehead and whispered, “I love you too, Acheron.” Thus comforted that she had indeed finished what she’d started saying in the dream world, she lay back down, content. 

Sleep may not find her again, but that was ok. Laying like this here - with Acheron - was a far more precious memory, anyway.