The scene begins on a Friday morning of the last week of the month of Hammar, the first month of the year, within Arias's room in the Internal world. Aria has chosen to stay within her internal world because he can change the weather to whatever she wants, unlike the real world, which follows the current seasons and is currently winter. From what we can see, it is morning, and an artificial sun shines to illuminate the internal world. Aria is on her bed, currently monitoring several holographic screens using the Allspark UI. Pictures of Dream are displayed from his purple flame to his now human form.
Suddenly, the smooth ui interface ripples, and the digitized face of her AI, Horace, manifests in the feed. "Morning, Master? Dream told me to tell you breakfast is ready. He is currently in the dining hall setting up with your Black Silverium Guard, Talon...... What were you doing?" Horace's digital avatar leans in, his eyes darting playfully as he looks at the pictures of Dream. "Nothing," Aria snaps, her fingers dancing across the UI to dismiss the screens.
Horace's hologram flickers with amusement as he studies her master. Arias' face, usually a mask of cold resolve, is flushed crimson. "Wait a minute... do you like Dream? Like... like like?" his image glitches and zips around her head in a teasing loop. "No... well may be... I don't know!" Aria stammers, her composure momentarily shattered. "Give me a moment. I am teleporting to you with my true body," Horace declares as his holographic avatar vanishes and is replaced by a sudden, violent surge of blue data streams that knit together his true body beside her master.
As the light dissipates, Horace stands in the room. His hair is a breathtaking cascade of silver-white, flowing like liquid moonlight down past his shoulders. He is draped in his signature long, flowing white coat, its edges embroidered with intricate star-patterns that shimmer with actual, shifting constellations.
"Master Aria, tell me what aches your thoughts. Ever since Dream became human, you two have been acting weird whenever you meet. What's going on, you can tell me. Perhaps my wisdom will shed light," Horace says as Aria looks at him, unconvinced. "What wisdom? After seeing your Android robot clothing collections, you seem more like a perv than anyone, wise?" Aria says, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Hey, don't change the subject, come on, seriously, I may not look it, but during my time as Administrator of the allspark god kingdom, I had been called to act as mediator to different pinnacle races of the allspark god kingdom. I Pinky swear I won't transmit a single byte of this to Dream," Horace said as he patted Arias's head, who was still in her adult form.
Aria sighs, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Okay, fine. The truth is... I like him. Not just as a soul-servant or as a friend, but something more." She pauses, her voice trembling slightly. "He's been with me since the moment I reincarnated into Toril, always helping me out whenever I needed him. But I feel like I'm holding him prisoner. He has no memories of his past, yet he is tethered to my soul forever. After seeing what he can do, learning he was once a god of Faerûn, it feels like a rift has opened between us. Not just of power, but of being."
She paces the room. "I was a Queen in my former life, but he was a literal deity. What if he recovers his portfolio? What if he remembers who he was and realizes he's better off without me? He's a natural genius. Unlike me, he is naturally talented. He has an amazing photographic memory capable of remembering thousands of books he has read with ease. Magic to him is just basic; for me, I usually just use his understanding to cast spells faster, plus with his Configuration ability, which allows him to weave unique powers into devastating new skills effortlessly, he is perhaps my most reliable asset." Aria says as she sits back on her bed.
She looks at her hands, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes I feel like a parasite, It feels like I am just taking advantage of his abilities compared to him I just got lucky, I got a body that can utilize aura, magic, and shadow magic, genetic and spiritual energy with ease, thanks to my strange black golden heart, as for my other allspark heart if it wasn't for you choosing me, I doubt even with my own strength I would compare to Dream," Aria says to Horace.
"I see, I now begin to understand what's going on between you two. Let me show you something," Horace says as he waves his hand, and a new projection flickers to life in the center of the room.
The holographic screen within Aria's room hums with a soft violet light, projecting a live feed of Dream within the sterile, high-tech confines of his laboratory. He is a study in focused intensity, his brow furrowed as he leans over a simmering alembic. His hands move with a fluid, clinical grace, the hands of an artist, yet guided by the precision of a master arcanist. He is painstakingly attempting to decipher the complex alchemy manuals Bhaal bestowed upon Aria. He works, driven now by a singular, fierce devotion to become a servant worthy of her master.
Beside the working Dream, the physical form of Horace manifests, his constellation-woven coat shimmering as he watches the silent labor.
"Dream, you are a peculiar being," Horace begins, his voice echoing softly against the glass vials. "Why don't you relax? You work as if your current abilities are a failure, yet you already outshine even the most brilliant geniuses of the Allspark Kingdom. Is this relentless pace truly necessary?"
Dream doesn't look up, his eyes fixed on a drop of glowing blue liquid. "Why do you ask?"
"Curiosity," Horace replies, his cybernetic eyes pulsing with a faint blue light as he runs a real-time bioscanner. "My databases show you are more focused than normal. Furthermore, your interactions with Aria have shifted. My sensors detect that whenever you speak of her, your heart rate spikes and your dopamine receptors flood your consciousness with chemical signatures of affection. You don't have to answer, of course. Whatever you choose, I will respect your decision."
Dream slowly sets a row of test tubes into their rack, his shoulders finally dropping from their rigid tension, his wizard robe shifting as he turns to look at the advanced AI and begins to speak. "Something changed after I gained this body, Horace. Every time my power grows, I gain something. When I got my body, my emotions returned. These new emotions... they are heavy at times. At first, I protected her because our lives are now eternally tethered; if she dies, I die, but now she is eternally immortal. I'm happy I don't have to worry about her dying, but now, I feel unworthy to even stand in her shadow. My previous purpose was to protect her, but now that task seems meaningless since she is immortal and possesses the Allspark inheritances. I want a purpose similar to how you were with Primus, and now with Deny. I know I was once a god, but what kind? What if I am like her father? What if my current state is a punishment for some ancient evil I committed?"
He turns to look at Horace, his eyes filled with a raw, human vulnerability. "I shudder at the thought of her hating me. I work this hard so that when the truth of my past finally surfaces, whether it is holy or horrific, she might still find me useful enough to keep at her side. Dream when I gaze into her soul... it shines so bright that my heart feels as if it might burst, and with her new adult form, the gravity of her presence is harder to resist."
Horace steps closer, his moonlight-silver hair catching the laboratory light. "Silence and secrets breed only misunderstandings, Dream. If you continue to withdraw into this lab, a rift will form that no alchemy can bridge. Tomorrow, go to the dining hall. Ask Talon to help you prepare a meal. Sit with her, with 'Deny', and let the words find their way out. You cannot serve a Queen, you are afraid to speak to. After all, you two aren't children. If you have something to tell her, just do it," Horace says to Dream.
"But... I am not exactly good at cooking as Talon, who usually handles matters relating to food," Dream admits, his eyes drifting to the complex, bubbling alembics that were far more familiar to him than a kitchen hearth.
"I am well aware," Horace replies, a playful glint in his cybernetic eyes. "That is precisely why you will be working alongside Talon. With her guiding you, I'm sure the food you will make will be at least edible. I shall inform Aria of the arrangement. Leave the monitoring of Joon's vitals to Yinrou and me for the morning. Oh, and I have already synthesized a custom purple suit for you. Ensure you look like the legend you are becoming." Horace says to Dream.
"Why are you doing this, Horace? Why go to such lengths?" Dream asks Horace. "A distracted rival is an inefficient partner. We both strive to serve our queen in our own way," Horace says, his form flickering with a surge of blue data. "I cannot have your mind wandering while we serve the Master. Besides, I am curious. If our powers were truly measured against one another, who would emerge as the victor? I am a creature of logic, technology, and Primordial Force Energy, though I find magic too volatile for my tastes, too random if not calculated with absolute precision. I still acknowledge its potency."
Horace paces the lab, his constellation-woven coat trailing starlight. "But to you, magic is second nature. I have watched you weave spells without a single syllable of a chant, a feat that humbles even the Primordial Transformers who practice magic. If you were to step into the Mansa Musa Primordial Miniature Universe, you would probably be hailed as a genius among geniuses since most beings from that universe are generally mages, sorcerers, knights, clerics, and monks. who use magic in one way or another."
Horace stops and turns to Dream, his expression becoming uncharacteristically solemn. "Dream, let me pose a question? Imagine two worlds at war: one of Advanced Technology, bristling with railguns, armored tanks, and world-ending nukes, versus a world of High Magic, teeming with Aura masters, Archmages, and Divine Magic users. In your estimation... which world survives?"
Dream remains silent for a long moment, the blue neon lights of the laboratory reflecting in his eyes as he contemplates the intersection of cold steel and burning mana. He finally begins to speak, his voice carrying a weight that feels far older than his current form.
"That's quite an interesting perspective. Most people usually think of magic as weird hand gestures and mumbling nonsense words to throw fireballs. To a logical mind like you, it probably makes zero sense. Apples fall because of gravity, boats float because of buoyancy, and I trip because I'm clumsy.
Everything has a reason. But let's brainstorm for a second. Dream says as he puts down the test tubes on a nearby stand. Imagine a parallel universe where normal laws of physics don't exist. Instead of gravity or electromagnetism, the universe is filled with mana. In that world, throwing a fireball isn't a miracle; it's just basic chemistry. One uses the laws of physics, the other uses the laws of magic: same logic, different operating systems.
Think about it. A wizard chanting a spell to cast a light spell isn't that different from a coder typing a script to turn on a pixel. To you, I'm the weird one. Magic has rituals, science has protocols. It's just two different systems that do the same thing, but aren't usually compatible.
Here's what I find interesting. If magic has rules, then magic is science. It's just a science we haven't fully studied yet. In Toril, for example, most mages aside from sorcerers don't just get magic. They go to mage schools to master their craft. Potions class is just chemistry. Alchemy is material science. In a magic world, scientists are just supreme mages and sorcerers.
"So, who wins the war? Magic or Tech?" Dream's eyes flash with a sharp, tactical glint? A normal mage can yell Incaritus in kal dreni fos to cast fireball. But by the time he finishes that sentence, I've already pulled out a Pistol and shot him. Sorry, Mage, but kinetic energy travels faster than you can speak. You have a flame sword? Cool. I have a flamethrower. The mage may have a forbidden meteor spell, but the one from the world of technology has orbital nukes. Ultimately, it's not about which world is stronger. It's about how they use the rules of their universe.
If a magic civilization survives long enough, it'll end up just like those of the Allspark. They'll invent quantum magic to study the micro-universe. They'll build mana shielded spaceships to explore the galaxy. Whether you use a fusion rocket or a mana-infused broomstick, the goal is the same. To reach for the stars." Dream says to Horace, who looks at him in awe, amazed by her insight because he had explained the allspark god kingdom in the simplest language, a universe of multiple powers that strive to reach stars.
"Impressive analysis," Horace says, his silver-white hair catching the ambient violet glow as he nods in genuine respect. "I for one believe you are more than worthy to stand beside 'Deny,' as you call her." He begins to dissolve into a shimmering veil of blue data. "I am heading to the Z1 Fortress for a period. Remember: be ready for tomorrow. Just act as you always have—I am certain she admires you exactly as you are." With a final rhythmic hum, the Administrator teleports, leaving the laboratory in a silent, humming stillness.
The perspective shifts back to Aria's private chambers. Horace dismisses the floating holographic screens with a flick of his wrist. " To me, both of you guys have different views on your current situations. You deny, you feel as if you have enslaved Dream and are only using him for his abilities. Dream, on the other hand, does not feel trapped or enslaved but rather feels as if he is not worthy of serving you; thus, he works diligently to be of use to you. I can tell that he has great admiration and respect for you. Deny that you are a soul that has lived for 24 years; on the other hand, Dream is a soul that has existed for 1,601 years. The age gap is huge, but both of you are adults and are fully capable of making your own choices. Whatever decision you choose, I will respect it if you love him. Just tell him? " Horace says as he hovers within the room.
"Also, I have finalized a new outfit based on the dress you took from my collection. I call it the Silver Regalia." Horace says to Aria as he removes a dress from his storage, and a hologram appears next to him showing the item description of this dress.
From the data, this is the information that can be seen.
The Silver Regalia is a masterpiece of science and fashion, generically silver in colour except for the sleeves and choker. Engineered with nano-technology, the fabric possesses a breathtaking, metallic luster that seems to pulse with a faint, internal hum. The regalia is designed to instinctively recalibrate its structure, expanding or contracting with absolute precision to match the wearer's physiology, even during drastic shifts like the Temporal Shape Shift.
Drawing inspiration from the advanced designs of the Allspark God Kingdom, the dress mimics the quality of liquid moonlight, featuring a surface that ripples and flows like water. The garment provides a regal, form-fitting silhouette that transitions seamlessly from a delicate gown into any form of cloth design Daenerys wishes. ensuring that majesty remains unassailable regardless of the environment
Beneath its shimmering surface, the dress is laced with advanced nanites that sync to the wearer's biological signature, allowing it to maintain its perfect form and modesty even in the heat of combat or transformation.
"Deny the fabric is designed to instinctively recalibrate and modify its structure to match your physiology whenever you activate any humanoid Shape Shift skill, thanks to its advanced nano-technology, among other reliable features such as cloth shift which allows you silver regalia to take on the shape of casual, exotic, trendy, business-casual, street classic, vibran, preppy, elegant, bohemian, artsy, gothic outfits etc. Thanks to this, you now don't have to worry about having another wardrobe malfunction ever again, since it is now linked to your ring storage, allowing you access no matter the location." Horace says as he hands Deny the dress.
Horace pauses, a mischievous, high-definition glint dancing in his cybernetic eyes as he leans in toward Aria. "Now, Deny, listen closely," he whispers with the mock-seriousness of a digital gossip. "Dream has poured his entire soul into this morning. Try not to break his heart, mostly because he only has one of those.
He gives a nonchalant shrug, his constellation-woven coat shimmering. "On the other hand, if he starts acting like a total dork or manages to piss you off, feel free to break his bones. He's got 206 of those bad boys to spare, and with his 10th-tier healing, he'll be good as new by lunch. It's a win-win, really."
The AI's expression shifts to one of genuine, albeit geeky, fascination. "But seriously, he's been muttering about a 'special gift' for hours. I'm dying to see it. I mean, what exactly does a 10th-Tier Archmage, a man who can literally rewrite the laws of physics on a planetary scale using magic, get for his Queen? Is it a galaxy in a bottle? A sentient sword? By the Allspark, the suspense is actually eating my processing power."
Aria's eyes widen, her breath hitching. "10th-Tier? Horace, how is that possible? When did he reach such a level?" Aria asks. "Aria, the man was once a god," Horace reminds her, his voice echoing with a slight metallic reverb. "Is it truly so shocking? He has already stabilized as a Planetary-Level Cultivator. Within the Allspark God Kingdom, mages of that caliber are rare sights, living legends who can influence entire worlds. His progression is not an anomaly; it is a restoration of what was always his."
"I see..." Aria says, the weight of Dream's growth settling over her. "Thank you for doing all of this, Horace. It truly means a lot." "Think nothing of it, Deny," Horace replies smoothly. "I am merely assisting my new friends. Plus, give this to dream, I am sure he will like it." I suspect he will value it more than you know." Horace says as he extends a hand, and within it lies a shabby, poorly stitched purple handkerchief.
Aria freezes, her hand halfway to the purple handkerchief. "Deny? Since when did you start calling me that? "It is Dream," Horace explains with a soft, knowing smile. "Ever since he got his physical body, he has referred to you as 'Deny' in every conversation. I can revert to 'Master' or 'Aria' if the familiarity offends you." Horace says to Aria.
"It's okay, I actually like the nickname. Aria says as he looks at the purple handkerchief on her hand. "Where did you find this? I tried to sew it for him, but as you can see, my talents do not lie with a needle." Aris says to Dream, who looks at him with a warm, genuine smile.
"I know that ever since Dream became human you wanted to give a special gift, I saw you visiting the various storage facilities looking for a particular gift, you looked at the vehicles, and the other treasures, but you did not choose any of them, instead I saw you on friday evening near your golden tree Orelia sewing something as Joons clone gave you his report on the meeting held by the red scarved elite core, after Joons clone finished his report, you threw the thing you were sewing in the nearby dust bin, sorry for spying but curiosity took a hold of me, I went to the dustbin and found out that you were trying to sew a handkerchief bearing the name of Dream.
Not gonna lie, you suck at sewing. I washed the handkerchief and later put it in storage just in case you ever needed it, plus the Allspark kept nagging me and told me to help you and Dream. It has never been this caring. Even when I had it, it was actually the one that told me to assist you; the Allspark system has changed its care for you; it is rather strange." Horace says to Aria
"But I have kept you long enough. If you require my presence, the Allspark UI is always at your fingertips." With a final surge of data, Horace vanishes, leaving Aria alone with her thoughts, holding the dress and purple handkerchief in her hands, and she goes to prepare herself.
The scene shifts to Aria walking within the vast palace, dressed in the silver regalia. Aria traverses the grand corridor of her main palace within her internal world. Massive crystal chandeliers, each faceted with thousands of precision-cut gems that catch the morning light, hang like frozen stars from the gilded centerpieces of the roof, casting a warm, shimmering glow across the polished marble floors.
As she nears the dining hall, the grandeur intensifies. The golden trimmings along the baseboards and cornices appear to pulse with the same faint, blue energy that flows through the walls connecting to various electronics. Aria's footsteps echo softly on the marble floors as she finally reaches the main dining Area. "By the gods, Dream everything is fine, not everything has to be perfect," Talon says as she opens the dining hall's doors, finding Aria standing in front of the door. "Morning, my lady?" Talon says as he takes a polite bow. "Morning, Talon," Aria replies. " Your breakfast is ready. I will leave you and Dream for now. Should you need me, feel free to call," Talon says as she bows and leaves, heading for the shipping bay where Arias' ships are stored.
As the dining room's doors sweep open, Aria is met with the breathtaking grandeur of a dining room. Standing amidst the shimmering gold and deep purple drapery is Dream, and for a moment, the air in the room seems to catch. He has traded his usual wizard attire for a lavish purple suit. The suit is intricately embroidered with black floral damask patterns, layered over a sharp black silk shirt. A heavy gold cloak, draped with calculated elegance over his right shoulder, catches the morning light, while a stunning amethyst-and-gold necklace rests against his chest. His dark hair is styled with a soft, modern edge that frames a face of striking, almost ethereal beauty, his gaze fixed on Aria with a devotion that feels ancient.
"Deny... you have arrived," Dream says, his voice a low, melodic resonance that vibrates through the golden-trimmed hall. He moves toward her with an almost angelic grace, eventually sinking to one knee in a gesture of profound fealty. As he takes her hand, his touch both firm and impossibly gentle, and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles before rising back to his feet.
"Morning, my lady," Dream says, his voice a low, velvety resonance that seems to vibrate through the very air of the golden hall. He takes Aria's hand, his touch warm and steady, and guides her toward the sprawling dining table with the practiced grace of a seasoned courtier. Aria follows, her heels clicking softly against the marble, though internally her composure is fraying; she fights to maintain her royal mask even as a traitorous flush creeps up her neck, and her heart thunders against her ribs like a caged bird.
As she is seated, the Silver Regalia ripples with a soft metallic hum, its nano-fabric adjusting to her posture with a shimmering liquid grace. Dream moves to the opposite side of the table, his royal purple blazer and gold-draped shoulder catching the crystalline light of the chandeliers as he sits. Between them lies a breakfast spread of impossible perfection, steaming porcelain dishes, exotic fruits, and delicate pastries, all meticulously prepared by the hands of a man who, only hours ago, was mastering 10th-tier alchemy to ensure this moment was flawless.
A heavy, charged silence falls between them, thick with the unsaid words Horace teased out in the lab. They lock eyes across the table: Aria, the Queen, draped in living silver, and Dream, the Archmage, draped in a purple suit that makes him look like a prince.
The faint circuit blue energy in the walls pulses in time with their shared tension, a rhythmic heartbeat that echoes through the vast palace. The breakfast is set, the world outside is forgotten, and in the quiet of the Internal World, what will happen next, I wonder.