[Originally posted to oldestbeloved and theatrical_muse for a prompt response. Probably comes in just under 2000 words. Critique very much appreciated.]

He comes to her as a dream of a man, when she's a little girl and he no more than fifty. Never mind that he doesn't know who she is, her dreams are rich and full and provide him with more stimulation than he's had in years. He has a full and flowing pale blonde mane, blue eyes that slide from dark to light with his mood, and he is every little girl's fantasy. A prince in a castle with mysterious goblin servants and glittering ballrooms and pretty dresses for his chosen princess to wear.

She's not suspicious at all when he appears in her dreams, not night after night, but with something approaching regularity. For two years he appears, and then she verges on puberty and her mind slips away and is lost to him.

A little while later he realizes she was always there, only the landscape has changed. It's grown steel and tenements and is rainy all the time, mossy and wet. Sad.

His hair darkens, shortens a little but not too much, hovering at about shoulder length. After the first disparaging comment about color-changing eyes he settles on something more normal: mousey light-brown and hazel. He keeps the same lean frame and she walks around with her hands in her jeans' pockets, slouched over. It's not until near a score of months goes by that he realizes how old she is, and by that time they've already had more than their fair share of erotic dreams.

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An old little fic drabble thingy I wrote for Hobbie Klivian of the Star Wars fandom. I don't recall anyone ever commenting really on it and I always liked it so I figured I'd toss it in here as the first post. :)