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As the morning sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, Nightmare lay curled in the corner of the bed, wrapped tightly in her quilt like an airtight cocoon.
She hated the sunlight. What she hated even more was that the light was gold—the exact same color as the wings of the sister who had betrayed her.
"Get up."
Dream’s voice drifted from across the room—low, steady, and carrying that sense of righteousness that made Nightmare feel sick. Nightmare buried her face in her pillow and let out a muffled protest.
"No. I didn't get to sleep until three in the morning."
"You were rummaging through classified files in my study until three," Dream corrected, her tone devoid of emotion. "That constitutes theft."
"It was my right to know!" Nightmare threw off the covers and sat up abruptly, her long black hair cascading in a messy tangle over her shoulders. "You founded that damn 'Justice Reigns' organization and hunted me across the world, yet here I am—locked in your bedroom? What is this, Dream? Private imprisonment?"
Dream turned around, the morning light tracing a golden outline around her figure. Nightmare involuntarily held her breath; even after all these years, and despite the hatred filling her heart, she could not deny Dream’s beauty. Her long golden hair flowed like liquid sunlight, and those eyes—a pure, brilliant gold—seemed capable of seeing through everything. But most dazzling of all were the massive golden wings at her back, every single feather shimmering with a divine luster in the morning glow.
A gift bestowed by the Golden Apple. A reward for a traitor.
And what of Nightmare herself? She looked down at her own body. Skin so pale it was nearly translucent; a frame so gaunt the outline of her ribs was visible; a body mapped with countless scars accumulated over the years. The world had left Nightmare with nothing but a curse—with the negative emotions that clung to her like a shadow, and with the fear, pain, and despair that surged in from every direction each night.
She had no wings. She possessed neither the holy plumage of Dream nor the tentacles wielded by that "other self" from a different world. She possessed nothing but a cursed shell of a body and a heart that had been betrayed.
"You need to eat," Dream said, closing the file in her hands. She was wearing a white silk shirt today, the collar slightly open to reveal the faint, golden markings at her collarbone—the outward manifestation of the Golden Apple's power.
"I'm not hungry." Nightmare lay back down, turning her face toward the wall.
"The last time you ate was two days ago." Dream walked to the bedside; her tall figure cast a shadow that enveloped Nightmare. "Do you want to starve yourself to death?"
"Perhaps that’s exactly what you want." Nightmare sneered. "If the Guardian of Negative Emotions dies, the world will be left with nothing but goodness and joy, won't it? Your 'Justice Reigns' could disband, and you could become a true savior."
Silence.
Nightmare didn't turn around, but she could sense Dream's breathing grow heavy. A faint rustling sound came from those golden wings—the telltale sign of feathers bristling. Dream was angry.
Good. Let her be angry. Let her rage. At least that way, Nightmare could still feel a shred of triumphant satisfaction.
Yet, the expected outburst never came. Instead, the mattress dipped as Dream sat on the edge of the bed, reached out to grab Nightmare's shoulders, and forcibly turned her over.
"What are you—"
Nightmare’s words were cut short. Dream had leaned in and kissed her.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was predatory, possessive—an intrusion laced with punishment. Dream’s tongue pried open Nightmare’s teeth, driving deep to sweep across every corner of her mouth. Nightmare struggled, pressing her hands against Dream’s chest, only to feel the soft, full curve of a bosom.
She froze.
Dream pulled away from her lips, though they remained close enough to feel each other's breath. Swirling within those golden eyes were emotions Nightmare could not decipher. "You..." Nightmare's voice trembled slightly. "When did you..."
"One of the Golden Apple's side effects." Dream's voice was low, carrying a hint of a rasp Nightmare had never heard before. "It changed me. Inside and out."
Nightmare's gaze involuntarily drifted downward. Dream's shirt was indeed tighter than she remembered, outlining a dizzying curve at her chest. They were full, heavy breasts that rose and fell gently with Dream's breathing; their silhouette, visible beneath the silky fabric, made Nightmare's mouth go dry.
"Pervert." Nightmare turned her face away, though she could feel her cheeks burning.
"Say what you want." Dream placed a hand on Nightmare's chest, right where the black lines of the curse were slowly shifting beneath the skin. "But you have to eat today. Eat with your mouth, or I'll feed you another way. You choose."
Nightmare turned back to meet Dream's eyes. There was a dangerous, almost manic glint in them. Nightmare suddenly realized that her once-pure sister—after consuming the Golden Apple, founding Justice Reigns, and enduring years of pursuit and imprisonment—was no longer that simple guardian of positive emotions.
The Golden Apple had changed her. Just as the Black Apple had changed the Nightmare of the other world.
"I..." Nightmare swallowed hard. "I want blueberry pie. And hot cocoa."
The corners of Dream's mouth curled up slightly—an expression somewhere between a smile and a sneer. "Good."
She stood up, her golden wings unfurling behind her to block out most of the window, casting the room into a hazy golden shadow. Nightmare watched Dream walk toward the door; her silhouette was tall and poised, her waist slender beneath the shirt, and her hips beautifully contoured. As she moved, her ample bosom swayed slightly, creating a mesmerizing ripple.
"Dream," Nightmare spoke up suddenly.
Dream paused at the doorway and looked back at her. "Your... that thing." Nightmare struggled to find the words. "Did the Golden Apple give you that, too?"
Dream fell silent for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "It gave me everything. Power, wings, and... wholeness."
"Wholeness?"
The door closed in front of Nightmare.
Nightmare collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She shouldn't have asked that question. She shouldn't have been curious about Dream's body. She shouldn't have felt... longing... after that kiss.
But that was the nature of the curse. It amplified every negative emotion—including desire.
Especially forbidden desire.
---
Breakfast was more lavish than Nightmare had expected. Blueberry pie, hot cocoa, toast, fresh fruit, and even a small dish of honey. Dream sat across from her, elegantly cutting the food on her plate; her golden wings were folded behind her like a magnificent cape.
Nightmare looked down and took a bite of pie, trying to ignore the burning gaze fixed upon her from across the table.
"What are your plans for today?" she asked tentatively. "More hunts? More dispensing of 'justice'?"
"Resting today," Dream said, taking a sip of tea.
"Resting?" Nightmare nearly choked on her cocoa. "The big boss of Justice Reigns... takes a day off?"
"Because the prey is already in the cage." Dream looked up at her, her gaze tracing over Nightmare's body as if it were a physical touch. "Why go out hunting?"
A chill ran through Nightmare. "I am not your prey."
"Then what are you?" Dream set down her teacup, stood up, and walked around the table to Nightmare's side. "My sister? My prisoner? Or..." Her hand rested on Nightmare's shoulder, sliding slowly downward. "A part of me?"
Nightmare wanted to object, but Dream's fingers had already slid to her waist, gently caressing the skin there. The touch was incredibly tender—a strange contrast to the rough kiss from earlier. Nightmare felt her breathing quicken, her body involuntarily stiffening.
"Don't touch me," she whispered, yet she didn't push Dream's hand away. "Why?" Dream leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of Nightmare's ear. "Don't you like it?"
"I hate you," Nightmare said, her voice trembling.
"I know," Dream replied softly. "But hatred is an emotion too, Nightmare. And I can feel it. Every moment, every second, the hatred in your heart nourishes me."
Nightmare jerked her head up. A golden glow shimmered in Dream's eyes—the surging power of the Golden Apple.
"You... you're absorbing my emotions?"
"I always have been," Dream admitted, his hand sliding down to the outer side of her thigh. "Negative emotions, positive emotions—all of them are my sustenance. The Golden Apple taught me that. It made me whole."
Nightmare tried to flee, but her body felt pinned to the chair. Dream’s hand caressed her thigh through the fabric; the sensation was at once humiliating and electrifying. She felt her cheeks burning and her body betraying her will, reacting to his touch.
"Let me go," she struggled to say, though her voice was too weak to be convincing.
"No." Dream refused flatly, then suddenly pulled her up and pinned her down onto the dining table.
Plates overturned, a blueberry pie rolled onto the floor, and hot cocoa splashed out, leaving brown stains on the white tablecloth. Nightmare lay on her back, watching as Dream loomed over her; his golden wings unfurled fully, blocking out the light and enveloping her in a golden shadow.
"You're insane," Nightmare gasped.
"But," Dream began undoing the buttons of her shirt, "you're the only one who knows it. My Justice Reigns doesn't know; my followers don't know. Only you, Nightmare—only you have witnessed my fall."
Her shirt was pulled open, revealing her pale chest. Black cursed markings snaked across her skin like living vines. Dream’s fingers traced the lines; with every touch, a shiver like an electric current raced through her. "You hate me," Dream whispered, her fingers resting on the wound in the center of Nightmare's chest—a wound that would never heal. "Because I ate the golden apple first. Because I betrayed you. Because I founded Justice Reigns, hunted you across the world, and locked you away here."
"Yes," Nightmare spat out through clenched teeth.
"But you want me." Dream’s hand slid lower, undoing the fastening of Nightmare’s trousers. "Even with that hatred, you want me. I can feel it."
Nightmare tried to deny it, but Dream’s hand had already slipped inside her trousers, grasping the part of her that was beginning to stir. All her protests dissolved into a stifled moan.
"Look," Dream said softly, a triumphant smile in her voice. "Your body is far more honest than your mouth."
"You bastard..." Nightmare closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pleasure that hand was eliciting. But Dream was far too skilled; every squeeze was perfectly placed, and every stroke found her most sensitive spots.
"Tell me," Dream asked as she continued her movements, "when you hated me the most, did you ever think about this? Did you ever imagine us together like this?"
Nightmare bit her lip, remaining silent. But the answer was yes. During those long, lonely nights—in those moments when the curse tormented her and sleep wouldn't come—she *had* thought about it. She had thought about Dream’s hands, Dream’s lips, Dream’s body. She had thought about the different future they might have had.
"I imagine you did," Dream said, as if reading her mind. "Because we are twins, Nightmare. We share the same blood, the same soul. You hate me because I love you. And I hunted you down because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
Nightmare opened her eyes and looked at the sister hovering over her. Dream’s shirt was wide open, revealing her full breasts to the air, their tips a tempting, soft pink. Her golden wings fluttered gently behind her, stirring up a warm breeze. "That isn't love," Nightmare said. "That's possessiveness."
"Is there a difference?" Dream leaned in, taking Nightmare's earlobe between her lips. "For beings who have lived for millennia, love *is* possession. I want to possess all of you—your body, your emotions, your soul. I want everything that is you, Nightmare. In exchange..." Her hand quickened its pace, drawing a stifled whimper from Nightmare, "...I will give you everything of mine, too."
Pleasure surged like a tidal wave; Nightmare felt her sanity crumbling. She wanted to resist, to stay lucid, but Dream's touch was too intense, too familiar, too intoxicating. This was her sister, her twin, her only bond in this world.
Even after the betrayal, the imprisonment, and the hunt, she could not deny that fact.
"Dream..." she gasped, her fingers clutching Dream's long golden hair. "You..."
"Call me *Brother*," Dream whispered into her ear. "Just like before."
"Brother..." Nightmare's voice broke; pleasure peaked, and her body spasmed as she surrendered to the release in Dream's hand.
She lay sprawled across the cluttered dining table, gasping for breath, her limbs weak. Dream straightened up and looked at her hand—stained with the traces of Nightmare. Then, under Nightmare's shocked gaze, she—Nightmare was certain now that "she" was the right pronoun for this form of Dream—slipped her fingers into her own mouth and licked them clean.
"Not bad," Dream remarked, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "It holds the bitterness of the curse, and... the taste of *you*."
Nightmare felt her cheeks burn. "You... you pervert..."
"We are each other's only one, Nightmare." Dream began to unfasten her own clothes. "In this world, on this timeline, only we understand each other. So, stop thinking about running away. Stay, and be mine—just as I am forever yours."
Garments slipped away one by one, leaving Dream’s body fully exposed to the morning light. It was a beauty so perfect it took one's breath away—full breasts, a slender waist, long, shapely legs, and...
Nightmare’s breath hitched.
Between Dream’s legs, there stood more than just female anatomy. There was also a golden, faintly glowing male member—stunning in size and exquisitely shaped, as if forged from pure gold.
"The Golden Apple granted me a complete form." Noticing Nightmare’s gaze, Dream gently caressed that part of herself. "Able to receive and to give; able to bear life and to sow it. I am a perfect being, Nightmare. And you..." She leaned forward, pressing that golden member against the space between Nightmare’s legs, "...will be my partner."
Nightmare felt a surge of both fear and desire. The golden heat radiating through the fabric made her want to flee—and yet, it made her want to lean into it.
"You’ll tear me apart," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I don't have your regenerative abilities."
"I’ll be gentle," Dream promised, her voice impossibly soft. "I’ll bring you pleasure, Nightmare—pleasure far greater than anything you could give yourself. I swear it."
Nightmare looked into Dream’s eyes. They held madness, obsession, and a hunger born of a thousand years of solitude—but deep within, there was still a trace of the tenderness she knew so well. It was the old Dream—the sister who used to share secrets and chase away nightmares in the dead of night.
"If you lie to me..." Nightmare whispered, "I’ll hate you forever."
"You already hate me." Dream smiled, a sad smile. "So, let me give you something else—something beyond that hate." She leaned down and kissed Nightmare, while the golden part of her slowly pushed inside.
The pain was expected. Nightmare gritted her teeth, her fingers digging deep into Dream’s shoulders and leaving red marks on that golden skin. Dream’s wings wrapped completely around them, creating a warm, enclosed space that shut out the rest of the world.
"Relax," Dream whispered against her lips. "Let me in. Let me become a part of you."
Nightmare tried to relax her body, allowing the intruder to penetrate deeper. A golden radiance emanated from their point of union—warm and divine—forming a stark contrast to the black curse within her. She felt two forces clashing inside her: negative and positive, darkness and light, curse and blessing.
And Dream, within her, was both intruder and savior.
"Look." Dream gently lifted Nightmare’s chin, guiding her gaze to where they were joined. "We are merging, Nightmare. Just as we were meant to, so long ago."
Nightmare watched the golden form moving in and out of her, watched Dream’s full breasts sway gently with the rhythm, and saw her own reflection in those golden eyes. She felt a strange sense of wholeness, as if a missing piece from a thousand years ago had finally snapped into place.
"Why..." she gasped. "Why do this?"
"Because it’s the only way for us to become one." Dream’s movements quickened, and the golden light grew more intense. "The Golden Apple gave me power, but it didn't give me *you*. I founded Justice Reigns and hunted you across the world—not because I wanted to destroy you, but because..." Her voice choked with emotion. "...because I couldn't bear not having you by my side. Because every time you ran away, it felt like my heart was being torn apart."
Nightmare stared at Dream in shock. She had never imagined that such deep emotion lay behind those ruthless pursuits.
"You... idiot..." Nightmare whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks unbidden. "You could have just told me..."
"Would you have listened?" Dream gave a wry smile and leaned down to lick away Nightmare’s tears. "Back when you hated me?" "...at the moment you thought I had betrayed you?"
Nightmare fell silent. She knew the answer. Over the long ages, the pain of betrayal had taken deep root in her soul; she could no longer trust a single word Dream spoke. Only this primal, instinctive union could pierce through that barrier of hatred.
"And now?" Dream asked, her movements turning gentle yet deep. "Do you... still hate me?"
Nightmare gazed at the sister pressing down upon her—the golden wings, the voluptuous body, the flawless face, and the pain and longing hidden deep within those eyes. She recalled their shared childhood, remembered how Dream had watched over her when she was ill, and remembered the struggle in Dream's eyes on that night of betrayal.
She remembered it all.
"I hate you," Nightmare said, reaching up to caress Dream's cheek. "But I love you more. You... bastard."
Dream paused for a moment, then laughed aloud. It was a clear, genuine sound—the kind Nightmare hadn't heard in a thousand years.
"You too," Dream replied, leaning down to kiss her.
This time, the kiss was tender. It held a thousand years of longing, unspoken love, and the joy of two souls—torn apart by fate—finally reuniting.
Dream’s movements grew deeper and more forceful; every thrust struck the most sensitive depths of Nightmare’s body. Nightmare felt pleasure surging like a tide, a mixture of pain and fulfillment, hatred and love, curse and blessing. She clung tightly to Dream, her fingernails leaving marks on that golden skin, her legs wrapping around Dream's waist to welcome every deep, possessive thrust.
"Nightmare..." Dream gasped, her voice trembling. "I... I'm going to..."
"Give it to me," Nightmare whispered into her ear. "Give me everything. Your power, your curse, your love." "...Everything..."
Dream let out a low whimper, and a golden radiance erupted between them. Nightmare felt a surge of warm, potent energy flood into her body, mingling with the dark curse within to forge a strange, unprecedented power. It was a balance of positive and negative, a harmony of light and darkness—proof that two souls had finally become whole.
When the moment finally subsided, they lay upon the cluttered dining table, locked in a tight embrace. Dream’s golden wings still enveloped them, forming a warm, sheltering nest.
"Can you feel it?" Dream asked softly, her fingers combing through Nightmare’s long, dark hair.
"Feel what?" Nightmare asked languidly, her body still basking in the lingering afterglow.
"The curse... it’s eased," Dream said, her voice filled with wonder. "Your curse. It... it’s fading."
Nightmare paused, then looked down at her own chest. The wound that would never heal remained, yet the surrounding black markings had visibly paled; they no longer writhed with that same menacing intensity. She felt a long-forgotten sense of relief, as if a massive boulder that had weighed upon her heart had been shifted just enough to let her breathe.
"This is..."
"The power of the Golden Apple," Dream explained. "It is not merely a blessing, but a purification. And your curse..." She planted a gentle kiss on Nightmare’s forehead. "It needed love to neutralize it. For a thousand years, I searched for a way. Now I realize the only solution was to make you a part of me."
Nightmare remained silent for a long time. Then, she let out a soft sigh and buried her face in the crook of Dream’s neck.
"You... selfish bastard," she murmured. "Just to cleanse my curse, you imprisoned me and forced me to do things like this..."
"Didn't you like it?" Dream asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.
"...Shut up." "Nightmare spoke in a low, sullen voice, yet she did not push her away.
Dream laughed softly; her golden wings fluttered gently, stirring up a warm breeze. She lifted Nightmare into her arms, rose from the dining table, and walked toward the bedroom at the far end of the suite.
'What are you doing?' Nightmare asked warily.
'Continuing,' Dream said simply. 'Purifying the curse takes time—many, many times.'
'W-wait! I...'"
'I’ll be gentle,' Dream promised, laying Nightmare onto the soft bed before hovering over her.
Her golden wings unfurled once more, blotting out all light. Bathed in that warm, hallowed shadow, Nightmare ceased her resistance, surrendering herself to the tide of love and desire.
Perhaps this was their destiny: the cursed guardian and the blessed guardian, a tangle of hate and love, a game of pursuit and captivity. Yet, in this moment at least, they were one.
Just as it should have been, long ago.
---
The morning light grew stronger, casting dappled patterns through the gaps in those golden wings. Within the room—encircled by the headquarters of Justice Reigns—two ancient beings continued their entwined existence...
—at once punishment and redemption; possession and giving; a continuation of betrayal and the beginning of love."