Chapter 1: Inverted Dreams

Sense of time and place was lost on him as he drifted between sleep and waking states. One moment, he was on the battlefield, fighting a futile war, his people falling around him, falling for him as they shielded him from the enemy. The next moment, he was in a tent filled with corpses and half-corpses, the smell of gore so heavy in the air he felt like retching. Yet he was rooted to the spot, the sight of a bloodied figure on the ground transfixing him. The figure was himself, blemished and almost unrecognizable, but still very much himself.

He couldn't tell whether they were dreams, memories, or reality. What he knew was that he was on the brink of death, that he had finally managed to get himself into so much trouble that there was no getting out of it this time. Well, with his streak of bad luck, he was surprised he had lasted that long anyway.

But for some reason or another, he was still here. He was feeling things, even if most of it was an incredibly annoying amount of pain, but he was feeling. So, he couldn't be dead. He wasn't done for yet.

The next dream was familiar. It was the recurring dream of being locked up in a room made of rocks with drawings and maps adorning the walls. He was lying in bed, a warm blanket covering him. His pillow smelled freshly laundered. Everything else in the room appeared to be out of use, though. The neatly stacked scrolls on the table had accumulated several layers of dust as if they hadn't been touched in a while. The air was stale with the smell of his sweat. All this felt so real, as if it wasn't a dream at all. Compared to any other dream he ever had, everything in this room was just too tangible.

Yet the most astonishing thing about this dream was Tanya. She was sitting at the side of the bed, her face turned towards the window, as she was looking somewhere far off into the distance.

In this dream, she looked different than he remembered. She wore white garbs, her hair was pulled back in an orderly manner that was foreign to the Wahan women, and golden ornaments adorned her ears and arms. She looked so mature, no sign of her usual perkiness to be found. Still, it was unmistakably her because the elegance of no Arthdal dress could hide the girl he'd known for the better part of his life.

He had seen her in dreams before, but never like this. Never this detailed, real, different. It would make him wonder if this wasn't a dream at all, but before he could make sense of it, he'd get sucked into another dream.

In between his dreams he tried to remember who he was. He could remember Tanya, the times they spent running through grass and woods with the sun and stars shining down above them. He could remember the people of Wahan, hunting with them, arguing with them over things that seemed petty in hindsight. He could remember the people of the Ago Tribe, how they danced and celebrated after freeing their fellow slaves. He remembered his promise to protect all those people from Arthdal. But who was he, what was his name, where did he belong to? Dozens of names swirled around in his head, but none of them felt right. Inaishingi. Purple. Dream. He tried to remember, but he kept failing, and after some time he concluded that none of these names belonged to him.

"Saya?"

Before he knew it, he was back to that dream again, only now Tanya was not looking away, but right at him.

He stared back, or tried to at least, as he had trouble keeping his eyes open. Still, seeing her this close, looking at him with those eyes, he couldn't help the grin spreading over his face. If dying meant the last thing he'd get to see was Tanya, then he could die happy now.

"You almost died and yet you still can laugh?" the Tanya of his dream said, scoffing. "Is this fun for you?"

Although he had trouble remembering even his own name, the answer to her question came as naturally to him as breathing. "Hmm, yes, it's fun," he said. His voice sounded funny to his ears. No surprise, though, as his throat was sore, and speaking was exhausting. He must have been out cold for an eternity because he sounded like Yeolson, that old man. "It must be an illness or something, Tanya."

Tanya. He had wanted to say that name so badly, and being able to do so now brought another grin to his face. How could he be having fun when Tanya was looking so worried, though? He always had this particular problem—one would call it illness—having fun at the wrong time and making everyone mad.

As she listened to him, Tanya's concerned expression changed to shock. For a moment she just continued staring. She looked turmoiled, about what, though, he couldn't tell.

At last, voice hesitant, she asked, "Eunseom?" She sounded as if she couldn't believe her own words. "Eunseom, is this you?"

Eunseom.

That was it. His name was Eunseom. For some reason, the name sounded as right as anything. He was Eunseom, the son of Asa Hon. Eunseom, the outsider of Wahan. Eunseom, Wahan's dream. Tanya's dream.

But he was also Eunseom, the cursed boy who had brought misfortune to anyone he had ever met. His mother, the Wahans, the Ago Tribe. And Tanya.

The Tanya of his dreams was still looking at him, studying him and his features, almost frantically now. He had to admit that he liked the attention even though he didn't like seeing her this upset. Then again, this only was a dream and it would end soon enough.

"Eunseom. It is you, isn't it?" Tanya said.

He realized he had to respond, or he would upset her even more. "I guess? Who else would I be?" Because what kind of question was that? The Tanya he knew—whether it was a dream Tanya or the real one—would recognize him the instant she saw him…or not?

Before he could ponder on this thought, Tanya closed in, and he felt warm arms wrap around him. She was so close he could smell her everywhere. Her appearance may have changed, but her scent did not: warm earth, sunshine, and the soft fragrance of the lonicera honeysuckle. For a second, he was back in Iark, before everything had gone wrong, lying in the grass with Tanya at his side and breathing the earth beneath them.

But then, he noticed something wet where her face was buried in his neck. Something was wrong. He could feel Tanya shaking against him and her breathing was heavy. He didn't know why she was crying, but he wanted to squeeze her in comfort and make it stop.

"Tanya?"

"Thank you," said Tanya, "Thank you, Eunseom, for being alive. I can't believe it, it's really you. You're here. You're alive. I thought I'd never see you again," she muttered between hiccups, seemingly unable to stop now that she'd started.

She looked up at him, lashes wet, and he was relieved to see a smile on her face. He could get drunk on that smile; this was a good dream and he wanted it to continue forever. If only Tanya would look that happy if they ever met again. But it was much more likely that she wouldn't be glad to see him, that she would curse him for what he'd done to the Wahans. But he decided to be selfish for this one dream and keep the illusion going that he was still Wahan's Dream to her.

Tanya's smile didn't falter. Was he under one of her spells? He was getting lost in her eyes and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. Thump, thump, thump, it made. It would jump out of his chest at any moment.

The spell was broken when Tanya tightened the embrace and pressed down on what could only be a broken arm. Just like that, all senses returned to him and he became aware of his body, uncomfortably so. "Ouch," he said, grimacing, but probably still grinning like an idiot because Tanya still looked really pretty. But why was he feeling like Helper had run him over one too many times?

"Oh no, I'm sorry," said Tanya, a guilty look on her face. She removed her arms. "How bad does it hurt?"

It was odd. Now that he was aware of the pain, everything became sharper. Looking down at himself, he noticed that he was covered in bandages. No wonder he felt like shit because he definitely looked like it. And gods, was he thirsty. His throat was raw and scratchy.

Tanya seemed to catch on. She picked up something from the table and guided it to his mouth. "Drink. It's water."

He gulped down the water until he choked on it and ended up in a coughing fit. The coughing irritated his injuries and made him want to curl up. Couldn't life give him a break for once, at least in his dreams?

"This sucks," was all he could say between gasps for air.

Tanya withdrew the cup of water and huffed. "Look at you. What did you get yourself into again? You stupid—" He could see a curse forming on her lips, but then she seemed to think better of it, seeing his evidently pathetic state. But he had the feeling that she was right about him being stupid. He just needed a little more time to recall what kind of stupid thing he'd done this time around. Tanya sighed, as she gave his not-broken hand a gentle squeeze. "Never mind," she said. "The doctor should take a look at you. I'll go fetch him." She stood.

His eyes followed her movement. All this felt too real to be a dream. Could it be? Was he really reunited with Tanya?

As she walked towards the door, he tried to reach out to her, but his hand made a valiant attempt at moving, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

He drifted off again, hoping he would wake up at this place again, not in that tent with his bloodied body. Please don't let this be a dream.

The next time he woke up, it was to the sound of voices.

"I'm here to visit my son and you won't let me in?" said a male voice. It sounded familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Don't you see that he needs rest? Please come back another time," said another voice. This one he recognized as Tanya's. "And since when do you care about his wellbeing anyway?" There was a thick layer of spite in her voice. He liked it when Tanya talked like that to other people—as long as it wasn't directed at him.

The male voice barked out a laugh. He knew that laugh. "You have become bold, Tanya Niruha," the voice said.

He opened his eyes. He wanted to know whom the voice belonged to.

At the door stood a man, tall and dressed in black fur. The man seemed to notice he was awake, as his eyes were now trained on him. He gave him a smile.

He remembered that face.

Tagon.

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A/N: Welcome and thank you for reading!

This is an ongoing longfic exploring the possibilities of events after the first season of Arthdal Chronicles, mostly based on the teaser video they dropped at the end of season 1! It's going to be Eunseom and Tanya centric because I really need more content for the two of them, but Saya, Tagon, Mubaek, Taealha and some other characters will play important roles as well!

Before reading on, please take into consideration that there will be some depictions of violence and mature themes (no actual sexual content, though). Also, aside from the main F/M relationship, there will also be a one-sided M/M relationship much later on in the story, although it will be mild and not the focus of this story. But just for you to know!

Anyway, I hope you liked the first chapter, it was more of a short prologue, to be honest. :D New chapters will be posted every two weeks.

Comments and feedback are welcome!