𝗥𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗠𝘂𝗹𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲 | LOTR & Marvel Crossover ✓

15 | Lothlórien ft. Family Issues

15 | Lothlórien ft. Family Issues

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Location: Unknown, Middle Earth

Time: September 2941 T.A

Dreams are said to be images of wishes or impulses from childhood. Wishes such as wanting a favourite toy and meeting your favourite storybook character in real life, or perhaps wishing to have superpowers such as flight or superstrength. Maybe turning into a mermaid or having your very own fairy wings.

In the case of Illyria Strange: she never had those dreams.

Ever since she remembered up to this point: her nights were spent reminiscing scenes that were not her own. One of the more occurring dreams was a city, hidden under a surrounding landscape of mountains – and in the centre where the great white walls of the white city. How each gate she arrived at was of a different colour, and how in the centre was a beautiful palace adorned with jewels, paintings, and a tall tower.

She also dreamt of a forest-dwelling, with houses built atop treetops and figures wearing green holding spears. Mixed amongst them were those who wore red, who played with children and the blonde-haired figure chased them around – laughter filling her mind.

However, she also dreamt of the valley. A valley that never faltered its beauty, with waterfalls cascading down cliffs and houses dotted across with bridges connecting each dwelling. It was then that the dreams she thought she imagined from the books she read were not her own.

As her knowledge grew, dreams became visions. Visions of a past, present or future Illyria neither knew nor made up. When she began learning of the existence of possible alternative realities, it was then she knew that some higher being or even connection to some other higher power was giving her these visions.

Or sometimes Illyria just thought she was going crazy.

But if she did go to a therapist, she believed that they'll just wonder why a bunch of monks adopted a random child they found.

In conclusion, Illyria never went to a therapist for the dreams and decided to conduct her own research. She thought that the Ancient One might provide the answers she sought out once her dreams began to get realistic in times of the year – but all the Ancient One said was this.

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"Why do you believe someone is giving you these visions, little one?" The Ancient One asked her back.

A nine-year-old Illyria didn't know how to respond.

The Ancient One took one of her hands into their own and gazed down at her. "I know that you are young, Illyria. Far too young to know the vast realities." They said with sympathy. "But I assure you that neither any higher being can control you. We dictate our own paths, and those visions are your own."

Illyria – still so young and afraid – wept. "But why? Why do I have them?" She questioned them before crying out, "I don't want to see them! They hurt her so much!"

"Who?" The Ancient One asked?

Illyria answered, "The blonde-haired lady." She spoke, "Everything she sees, she loses. Her family, her friends." Tears littered her cheeks as she clenched her eyes.

Illyria felt the pain for the blonde-haired woman. The sorrow which the blonde-haired woman endured; watching the fires burn as a blonde knight fell into the abyss or the red-haired man toss themselves into the fiery chasm.