This Acheron Parthenopaeus did not know what a difficult question he was posing.

The simple answer would have been the he was Dream of the Endless, king of the Realm of Dream and Nightmare... but to say this out loud would have felt wrong, almost like a lie. Dream of the Endless was older than the gods, older than the universe, and nearly as old as time itself. He was far from perfect, but he was powerful, sometimes terrible, he commanded respect... and he knew exactly who and what he was. He did not allow himself to feel weak or intimidated, he did not nervously fidget with the folds of his robe, and if Acheron Parthenopaeus had asked him the question "What are you?", he would not have hesitated.

But that aspect of the Dream King was dead and gone, and the new one - the youthful white-haired man who until recently had been an ordinary human child, and who did have an occasional tendancy towards nervous fidgeting - was not feeling particularly regal at the moment. Instead he felt inept, awkward, and a bit foolish. But regardless of how strange or wrong it might have felt to say it, he knew that it was the truth, and that he would eventually have to get used to the idea.

"I am Dream of the Endless." He lifted his chin slightly, his starry-black eyes looking into the other man's strange silver ones. "If I may ask you a question, Acheron... what is this place, and why was I brought here? I have obligations elsewhere, which require my attention, and if I am kept away from them it would be... inconvenient." There was no reason to go into details... and what was more, Dream hoped to return soon enough that his absence would not become more than an inconvenience.