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cuckoo-on-a-string · 4 months

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Persephone's Devotee (Hello, Mr. Monster AU, I)

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Summary: In the age of Spiritualists and magicians, wyrds winds in different ways to link Dream of the Endless and Aisling Hunt. AU of Hello, Mr. Monster beginning in the 1920s. (Alternatively titled 'We All Hate Roderick Burgess')

Warnings: Implied child abuse/neglect, child left to travel solo, manipulating children for profit (non-sexual trafficking)

A/N: Your bird just got diagnosed with a life changing chronic condition (in addition to being put back on depression meds). We'll see how this post does. Have four chapters planned. The last scene is based on personal experiences with heat exhaustion/borderline heat stroke.

Dream’s tools brought many things to Fawney Rig. Wealth and prestige. Admiration, gifts, and influence. Nearly everything the magus wanted and only a fraction of what he thought he deserved. Roderick’s dreams of power and riches drew another tool to his hand, or perhaps Destiny drew the magus to her. The girl who saw strange things in the dark and found answers to strange riddles in her cards. But her wyrd would always draw her to old house and its shrouded dungeon, in any world or time. All because of what the Burgesses kept there.

In the eight years since the fateful evening he summoned and caught one of the Endless, Roderick had become a man much desired. He found himself with an invitation to Lord and Lady Werthrope’s party, a guest of honor at a soiree at their country estate. They promised a night of occult mysteries and foreign prizes. Bits of people and places from across the empire and beyond. Mummies from Egypt and fragments of Greek antiquities to gasp and shriek over with glasses of champagne and brandy.

Roderick carried himself as Lord Werthrope’s equal, and at least for that night, surrounded by ancient mysteries of all kinds, he was seen as such. He was an expert, a guide, someone to hold in reverence rather than an oddity to gawk over. He told them with his bearing, his dignity, and the ruby he wore on a golden chain around his neck. His wishes became dreams and so became real. He stood like a stronger god beside the broken figure of Apollo and scoffed at the mistranslations of texts he’d only ever read secondhand.

Beside the wonders kept under guard at home, what were these paltry things? He could have any of them he desired, and he’d already claimed better.

His sense of superiority carried him through the party’s early hours, moving from acrobats in elaborate costumes, to fire eaters, to ghost stories and flights of fancy spun by swindlers far below his consideration. He had an answer or alternative for everything. And then he met the girl.

She sat at a bare table with no long cloth to hide rolling ankles, clever fishing lines, or knocking accomplices. Only a candle and a deck of cards separated her from the guests, and she’d drawn quite a queue. Her feet didn’t even reach the floor, swinging idly between the legs of the chair as she read the cards of a distraught-looking dandy.

Taking his arm, Lady Werthrope said, “This one you really must see, Magus. She’s made quite the splash in New York and London.”

The Magus offered a tolerant smile. “And what is the trick? Does she blow out the candle? Bend spoons?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” The lady practically vibrated, eager to impress as she led them to the table, scattering the line. “She sees things, and she reads fortunes like no one I’ve ever seen, and I’ve had more than a few pet psychics in my time. This one’s a bit of a sad story.”

The magus clenched his jaw until the muscle in his cheek twitched. He could make whatever sob story the girl shilled much worse. Of all the frauds and liars who feigned knowledge of the occult, Roderick Burgess hated mediums and ghost whisperers the most. The tantalizing promise of connection with Randal – always waved in his face, always ultimately denied – it clawed open the rotting wound in his heart, and he let the poison drip back on any fools who tried his patience.

Let this one try to pull the wool over his eyes, and he’d unmask her in front of this glittering audience. She’d be a penniless sad story when he was through.

“Those people,” the lady said, nodding to a couple flanking the child, “are just the adoptive parents. Saw her family murdered, poor thing. They say that’s what cracked her open to the other world.”

“Do they indeed.” He kept his smile, showing his teeth as his grip flexed over the cane in his free hand. “Then I look forward to her performance.”

The Magus and the lady sat across from the faux family, and the girl looked at them. The people who weren’t her parents did not manage her well, Burgess couldn’t help noting. They’d painted her up with rogue and kohl that made her look even more like a child playing grownup games, and the feather in her headband hung limp and lifeless. She barely managed to grimace through a smile, and she spoke with all the enthusiasm of a student reporting on Ovid to the class.

“What are you asking?” A child’s voice really shouldn’t be so dull. Now that he was nearer, the Magus couldn’t help wondering if she was even younger than he’d first assumed. Not even ten, he thought, and already so exhausted.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. He kept his guard, but curiosity stirred beneath. She was no great performer.

Lady Werthrope leaned forward, eager to take the first reading as the girl shuffled her cards. They were nearly too big for her to manage, but in this at least she clearly had much practice. Her handling of the tarot was the most natural element of her demeanor he’d yet to see.

The lady talked about her dog Moxy, a cocker spaniel much loved and terribly spoiled. It was getting on in years, and, well, ought she prepare for anything dreadful? Only, her friend had just lost her terrier, and she couldn’t chase it from her thoughts…

The cards appeared on the table. One by one. The Six of Cups. The Two of Swords. And, lastly, the Nine of Swords reversed.

“Moxy is well-loved.” The child pointed to the first card. “That’s the foundation. But she’s getting older, and she may go blind eventually. She’s accepted it, though, and you will, too.” She smiled a little, hesitantly, like a pet used to getting kicked when she barked at company. The Magus noted how her gaze flicked to her pseudo-father.

Lady Werthrope clucked and reached over to squeeze the child’s hand. “You’re very honest. And very sweet. Now, won’t you show the Magus what you can do?”

Obediently, she gathered the cards and folded the deck, shuffling them with the fresh energy of her next customer. “What do you want to know?”

Roderick considered. It was a little below him to ask anything specific of a child spiritualist, and he still meant to test her. Hate stirred the old thorn in his heart, and although she didn’t speak with ghosts to earn her bread, he didn’t need to justify himself.

“I’ll leave the question to you.” He squinted in a way that may seem affectionate, but it was only sharp, a predator focusing on little fawn to see how quickly it might run. “What do you see?”

She flinched, lifting her eyes from the cards to meet his in a fleeting, startled glance. Like he’d come near to guessing something she didn’t say out loud. But then she bent over the deck, back to her work as the woman behind her set a hand on her shoulder.

“Be good, Aisling,” the adoptive mother said. “Show the Magus your skills. Don’t embarrass us.”

The child rolled her lip between her teeth, sorting the task quickly. One card. Two cards. Three cards. Tap, tap, tap on the bare table. The Magician’s face glowed in the candle light, and Roderick blinked. A good tarot reader must have good luck in order to draw the appropriate cards – or a marked deck. But he’d watched those little hands like a hawk, and he’d seen nothing. It wasn’t definitive proof by any means, but Roderick Burgess knew himself to be cleverer than a child.

Pointing to the first card, the Magician, the girl said, “You’re the Magus. The Magician is your creation of yourself.” The second card was the Nine of Cups. “Your cups all overflow, and you enjoy the plenty you already have.” And then there was the Ace of Pentacles. Roderick wondered for a moment if she’d laid the cards out of the intended order, but she simply said, “There is new wealth coming. You’ve just found something that will bring you more good fortune. The benefits will grow in the months and years to come.”

“You’re very sure of yourself.” He looked for cracks, and there were many. Fatigue clouded her eyes and weighted the end of every sentence. Not a sign of a lie, though. She couldn’t even pretend to be happy for the audience.

He turned the interaction over in his mind through the rest of the night, wearing away the questions and presumptions like the rough edges of a stone, and by the later hours, he thought he might hold a jewel.

The adoptive parents made themselves easy to find. They hadn’t left the table. Neither had the girl. The lord and lady hired them to entertain, and they stayed at their posts. They’d gathered refreshments, but no cup or plate sat on the table, and he wondered if they had any idea children needed things like water after a long night of speaking with strangers.

Really. The scheme was too transparent. The only lies hid in any manner of affection the parents pretended for the child they claimed.

The Magus marched up to the table, rapping the top with his cane to seize the drowsy girl’s attention. She blinked, started licking her dry lips, caught herself, and pinched her mouth closed with her teeth.

“Aisling, wasn’t it?” He nodded to her, encouraging her to echo the motion. “I would like a word with you. No cards. No reading. Just a conversation. Alone.”

The father stepped forward, ready to defend his meal ticket. “Sir, I’m afraid we can’t just –”

“The girl and I will sit here, at this table,” he tapped it again to make his point, “and you will both stand over there.” The cane swung to point towards the bar, which was well within sight but well out of earshot.

When the man moved to protest again, Roderick pulled out his wallet, and the father’s mouth snapped shut. A few pounds bought the adults’ willing compliance, and they went off in search of drinks with barely a backwards glance. Roderick settled into the seat he claimed earlier, watching the girl squirm. Her hands fluttered restlessly between her lap and the table, clearly used to the cards, uneasy without the form and ritual of a reading to guide the conversation.

That was well enough. Roderick had his own plans.

He signaled one of the roving staff, and as the waiter approached, he ordered, “A lemonade for the young lady.”

With a bow, the server hurried off, and the Magus smiled, lips closed, tilting his head as his legs crossed under the table. He was not a client. He was an adult who noticed, who might be moved to care, and in the few hours of their acquaintance, he was already offering more than anyone else.

“So, you see things?”

Her eyes snapped from him to the people who managed her. Then back again, and down to her lap.

“I’m not supposed to upset people.” She picked at the fringe on the garish frock she wore – entirely unsuited to her age and clearly uncomfortable. “It upsets Mr. and Mrs. Foster when I see things. Or when I talk about them.”

The Magus nodded, unsurprised. He wondered if the people who adopted her even realized her talents were genuine when they snatched her up. They had too many connections and too much showmanship to be anything other than experienced con artists. This little Aisling must be very sensitive, and the truly sensitive didn’t see strictly good, kind, or encouraging things. How she must terrify the fools.

The server returned with a cut crystal glass rattling with ice. The girl thanked the server, then thanked her benefactor, and wrapped her hands around the condensation-slicked sides. She sipped carefully, and Roderick could see the tension ease from her posture as she drank. Desperate as she was, she didn’t gulp, and with clear regret, she set the drink on the table still two-thirds full. But she kept her hands on the glass, lest some waiter assume she was finished and spirit it away.

“I won’t be upset, and I’d like to believe you.” Angling his head down to peer at her meaningfully, employing a look he’d once used when his son misbehaved, he asked, “What have you seen tonight that would upset people?”

The girl looked around, shifting so her chair creaked. This time, it wasn’t her adoptive parents she feared. Any ears may be a threat. When she leaned in, the Magus copied her, silently assuring her the secret would be safe with him.

“There’s a guest who’s not a guest, and he isn’t a man, either.”

The Magus hummed. “Say I believe you. Could you prove it?”

Seduced into the invitation of an adult confidant, and revived by the lemonade, she rushed to answer. She wanted to prove herself. She wanted to be believed and heard. The Magus was listening, and he was beginning to believe as well.

“The man paid the footman with holly leaves,” she hissed in a loud whisper. “The footman folded them like bank notes, and the spines stabbed his palms, but he didn’t notice. Look for the one with blood on his gloves.”

“And the man who isn’t a man?”

Shrinking back, the girl shook her head until the headband went crooked. Her hand pressed over her heart, rubbing hard circles as her face creased.

“He’d know I saw him,” she said. “I don’t let them know I see them anymore.”

Now there was a tale and no mistake. A child with enough power to annoy things beyond the veil – one that survived an encounter – was rare indeed.

“What happened?” He lent his tone a shade of concern. Facts, he found, traveled swiftest to a sympathetic ear, and he needed to know everything. Curiosity was growing into practical fervor as the first dreams of a plan grew into place. “Are you ill?”

She crumbled just a little bit more, folding into herself to protect the place she rubbed from some invisible threat. “Sometimes I see things that don’t want to be seen. One of them – hurt me. There’s no scar, but it hurt me, and now it aches.”

The Magus donned a solemn expression, though he felt a thrill at the prospect sitting before him. The little girl had unusual skills, and though she wasn’t handled well by the adults governing her, they must still turn a pretty penny showing her in salons and private homes. He’d confirm what she’d said, of course, validate her little proof, but she was either a better liar than he’d ever met or she was childishly honest. He knew where he’d put his money.

Where he might very well invest it, actually.

He didn’t say goodbye, only nodding as he rose and went in search of the servant with bloody gloves.

Of course, he found him. When he demanded to see what the footman had in his pockets, the boy paled, stammering excuses, only to pull out a handful of forest detritus. As the young man fell into a whirl of confusion and disappointment, the Magus truly smiled. The first real smile since Lady Werthrope brought him to the child’s table.

He must have a proper conversation with the girl’s current guardians.

Aisling clung to her bag, drowning in the heat as the train pulled away from the Wych Cross platform. Men and women fanned themselves with hats and newspapers, desperate for a breeze in the dead summer stillness. Ladies shed their gloves. Men loosened their ties. Propriety mattered less when the air was trying to suffocate them, a crushing, inescapable oven scalding the usually damp countryside.

A miserable day to travel.

Sweat dripped down her back, soaking the neck of her dress, gluing her hair to her skin. But she didn’t have a free hand to stir a breeze. Her bag was too heavy, full of everything she would need in her new home, or at least everything the Fosters thought they couldn’t sell for a profit. Mrs. Foster took her to the train station and dropped her at the door.

“Here’s your ticket. You’re heading to Wych Cross, and then to Fawney Rig. Don’t forget, and don’t miss your train,” she’d said. Then she climbed back into the cab beside Mr. Foster and disappeared into the flow of London traffic.

They’d sold her on to someone else, and now they were free of her.

She peered around the station, but it was really just a platform. In London, there were helpful adults in uniforms and suits who pointed out the right train and the right stairs to reach it. Nothing here told her how to find Fawney Rig, though, and the only adult in a uniform seemed to be the man in the ticket booth.

She’d find her way. She wasn’t a baby after all. She was eight. And she could read very well, and no one was coming to help her, so she better figure it out.

She stood in line for the ticket man’s attention. Surely, he could give her directions. The Magus was rich, and a little famous, she thought, so his neighbors must know where he lived. If the man in the booth didn’t know, she’d keep asking until she found someone who did. While she waited her turn, she set down her suitcase and sat on it, taking deep breaths that tasted like salt. It could be worse. What if it rained instead? Well. Actually. Rain sounded very nice.

Soon enough, she took her place in front of the booth, and the man frowned under his mustache like she’d arrived with a bill or a letter from someone nasty. She smiled prettily, the way the Fosters told her to, and tried to make herself look like less of a problem as she clutched her case again.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but do you know the way to Fawney Rig?”

He physically recoiled, and his frown hooked deeper with glowering doubt as he scanned her. “Fawney Rig? That devil worshiper’s house? Why do you want to know?”

“I’ve been sent to live there, sir. I’m expected, but I don’t think they’ve sent anyone for me.” Manners made things easier with adults. Good manners and clear words – the fewer the better.

But the man wasn’t swayed. He looked thunderous. Like she’d broken something valuable and ought to pay for it with a lashing.

“Do you have money for a cab?”

The Fosters didn’t own her anymore, and they’d given her nothing but cards, and costumes, and a hairbrush. All the cash stayed warm and safe in their pockets.

“No, sir.”

“Then walk down the main road. Go east from the village, and keep going until there are no more houses you can see from the street. There’ll be a path on the left with a big iron gate. Follow that and you’ll find your devil worshipers.” He waved her off like he’d slap her if not for the glass. “Next!”

Manners got her what she needed, at least. “Thank you.”

The other adults all moved aside as she trundled through with her case. It made it easier to avoid clipping ankles and shins with her luggage, but she wondered if they hated her the way the ticket man hated her – because of Fawney Rig – or if she simply smelled after the long, stuffy ride in third class. Not that adults needed an excuse to dislike her. The nice ones called her uncanny and gifted. The mean ones called her a witch, and a bastard devil-spawn, and other names a mother should wash out of their mouths with soap.

She wasn’t sure which ones were telling the truth.

She knew the way forward, though. To Fawney Rig. That was good, even if the other adults didn’t think so. The Magus may not be a nice person, she hadn’t known him long enough for the usual adult lies to wear thin enough to see through, but he was smarter than the Fosters, and he’d given her a lemonade, so maybe she wouldn’t be as hungry or thirsty under his guardianship. She’d still have to work. Adults only wanted her if they thought she could give them something. But everything was more bearable with a good dinner and cold drinks.

She hoped he’d give her another cold drink, even water with some ice, when she reached his home. The train ride left her terribly thirsty.

Leaving the shaded platform, she bowed away from the sun’s violent touch and started on her journey. The village only kept a cobbled road in the center of town. It led up to the train station, linking it to a clutch of shops and offices. A parish church sat a little way back from the road, separated from the secular world by a field of tidy tombstones in heat-bleached grass. People noticed her. They looked. They whispered to each other. But no one waved or offered a hand. Gossip didn’t move fast enough to beat her here from the train, and she wondered how people could tell she was odd. Society had so many rules beyond manners, but no one would tell her what they were, and she never guessed right.

By the time the cobblestones ended, she was struggling to hold onto her suitcase. The handle kept trying to slip from her fingers, even when she held it with both hands, and she had to work harder and harder to keep it out of the dirt. If she knew anything about the world, it was that good children didn’t drag their luggage, and bad things happened to those that did. She’d travelled enough to learn, and she wanted to make a good impression on her new keeper and his household.

The road outside of town went a very, very long way. The ticket seller’s instructions made each step sound the same length: go through town, pass the houses, go down the long drive past the gates. Her imagination had lied to her, though. Every time she thought she’d passed the last house, there came another. Each handed her down the chain of cottage gardens and small homes full of families who pretended not to see. They all knew she’d done something, like she had a brand on her forehead, and she wasn’t allowed to stop. She didn’t try to.

Everything looked sickly yellow in the midday glare. Dust hung in the air, stirred by passing cars, lingering without a breath of wind to dispel the choking clouds. Everything looked flat and dead, so much so she almost missed the gate. Another leg of her trek done. Still too far to go, and the private road leading to the Magus’ home was longer than it had any right to be.

She didn’t feel well. The trees gave her a little protection, but her stomach and lungs felt hard, strained, the way her arms ached with carrying her suitcase. Only they were parts that shouldn’t feel that way, and she thought maybe she should sit down.

But she was almost there.

Even if she walked slowly, and her feet didn’t land quite where she told them to.

She just wouldn’t think about those things. Complaining was just making excuses, and she was expected.

The house appeared out of nowhere, or she was too dizzy to see it through the leaves before the last turn in the drive. It loomed, a very final-looking destination, and her suitcase escaped her grasp. The case was slippery, and her fingers didn’t curl the way they should. She bent to pick it up, and when she straightened, the whole world spun.

She stood very still until it stopped, and she found herself shivering as she approached the front door. Very strange. Was she afraid? No. That didn’t sound right. She felt terrible, too terrible to worry, and none of it made sense.

But she’d nearly made it. She had made it. Almost.

Knocking summoned a young man, and the door creaked open as he glanced down with a quizzical expression. “Hello? Can I help you?”

She tried holding her suitcase with just one hand, but it slipped away again, barely missing her foot. Maybe a handshake was a bad idea. The stranger hadn’t held his hand out for a shake, after all. She was just confused. He might not want to touch her. And she must look a picture after her walk.

She should’ve done something differently. If she were smarter, or taller, or…

“I’m Aisling Hunt, sir. The Magus sent for me.”

“Oh.” The young man’s eyes popped wider, and she wondered if he was younger than she thought at first. Stepping back, he pulled open the door to usher her inside. “I’m sorry. I’d heard someone was coming, but I’d thought you’d be… well, older. And I’m just Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. I’m Aisling.”

He nodded and plucked her bag from where she’d dropped it. “Yes. You said. Are you feeling alright?”

She didn’t know. And grownups didn’t really like it when she was unwell anyway. Before she could come up with a suitable lie that would get her what she needed without stepping on any toes, a familiar face appeared at the end of the hall.

“Ah! You made it.” Out of formal dress, the Magus still brimmed with authority. Aisling had met many adults who wore costumes and pretended to be something they weren’t, but the Magus seemed like he’d somehow stitched his chosen persona into his skin. “Welcome to Fawney Rig.”

She wobbled. “Thank you, sir.”

“Magus,” he corrected.

“Thank you, Magus, sir.”

At last, what he was seeing overshadowed his enthusiasm, and the old man frowned. “Did you walk here? From the station?”

“Yes, Magus.”

“The Fosters didn’t even give you money for a fucking cab?”

“Just the train ticket, sir. Magus.”

She blinked, and the whole room turned blue, like peering at the world through stained glass. It looked so pretty she didn’t realize the Magus was asking her another question until his hand settled on her shoulder.

His voice came from far away. “Can you hear me?”

Yes, she wanted to say. Yes, Magus, I walked, and I found Fawney Rig all on my own, and I’m not useless, please don’t throw me away yet.

But everything looked cool, and blue, and lovely. She was floating in it. Floating and so awfully heavy at the same time. The color slipped in with her breath, eroding her control until it slipped from her grasp like the suitcase had.

The world went dark, and she didn’t see, hear, or say anything more.

And deep below, in the belly of the house, Dream of the Endless waited in his cage, as senseless to the world above as she.

#morpheus x reader #fic: persephone's devotee #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x oc #fic: hello mr. monster

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sporadically-writing · 2 years

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Lady of Tales

“And you remained here... all this time?” The Lord of Dreams slowly approached the guest in his realm.

“As soon as I heard and found the state of the place” The Lady of Tales responded.

“Why? This realm is not your own.”

“I am well aware of that Lord. I do not have a realm at all. I am no queen or ruler of any type. However, I will remind you, sir, that your realm is where many tales either begin or find their home. I refused to sit idly by and not lend a hand where I could.”

Dream of the Endless glanced around Lucienne’s library. While most of the Dreaming was in ruin when he returned, the library was nearly perfectly preserved. Aside from the occasional cobweb, cracked window and broken tile, not a story was out of place.

The wandering woman grazed a hand along the shelf closest to her. “Lucienne knew more of this realm than I did. She knew best how to keep things throughout the realm while I saw to her beloved library.”

“I am certain that your fondness for it helped matters” Morpheus said, remembering the being across from him’s favorite place from her many visits prior to his imprisonment.

She chuckled, a light and free type of sound that the King of Dreams and Nightmares vaguely remembered with the smallest hidden beginnings of a smile. It was nice to know that not all things changed in the course of a century.

“It is a relief to know that the king has returned to his kingdom. There is much work to be done, I know. But the worst the Dreaming has seen is hopefully behind it. I do not wish there to be any more trouble here.”

“That journey starts with the reclaiming of my tools... If I am to fix things here, I will need them.”

“You could always take me with you” she suggested.

“No.”

The Master of Stories however had already opened one of the books from her centuries old backpack, one she had made for herself since the beginning of humanity. A place to keep her things as she traveled, collecting and preserving the stories of humans.

The journal was old, not nearly as old as any of the tools Morpheus needed to seek out, but it was an impressive old thing. The pages that held words, featured the names of various places in beautiful calligraphy, the ink shimmering slightly. The woman procured a pen from one of the old holsters on the side of her bag. She quickly wrote a word and smiled at the King of Dreams.

“And when has an utterance of that word ever stopped me?” She did not wait for the Endless to answer, instead sending him a smile and wink. “Give Lucienne my goodbyes and my best. I’ll being seeing you soon.”

The journal closed and she was gone in the blink of an eye.

Morpheus sighed, what would come would. He’d see her again on his journey, that was certain. There were other matters to attend to at the moment.

---

Series Masterlist

#master of stories #courier of fables #lady of tales #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x oc #dream x oc #morpheus x oc #the sandman x oc #the sandman oc #the sandman #x reader drabble #oc drabble #drabble

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

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The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 13: The King of Nightmares

TW: emotional distress, guilt, blood, violence, choking, needles, non-consensual surgical procedures (not described in depth), depictions of death and decomposition, confrontations, trust issues, feelings of doubt, smut (rough kissing, ripping clothes, biting, penetration, a surrender of control), arguments, harsh words, ANGST Buckle up guys this ones a doozy!

Morpheus.

Dream of the Endless.

I invoke your name.

I held the ring in the palm of my hand, watching as the moonstone cracked each time I sent out the desperate plea. My heart tightened painfully as I forced myself to speak again. "Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name."

Silence, deafening and cold swirled around me. The mark was filled with phantom sensations, fleeting anger and pain. With each passing hour the ugly, dreadful fear itching at the back of my mind grew stronger and stronger. He hates you. The thoughts told me. After what you said, can you blame him? My hands shook more. He's abandoned you, just like all the others. "Morpheus… Dream, please!"

Another crack spread across the stone and I let out a quiet, strangled sob. "I invoke your name! Morpheus! You promised you'd come…" I curled my fingers tightly around the ring, holding it against my chest. "Don't leave me here. You promised…"

"Still pleading, my dear?" His voice, old and smug, sent chills up my spine and forced my body to tighten uncomfortably. "From the little I've heard of the great King of Dreams, he'll not be coming to save you."

I clenched my jaw painfully tight. "Then you know very little about him."

The coughing fit filled the room, echoing off the walls of the glass cage that held me. "He does not owe you anything. No law binds him to aid you. The simple fact, my dear, is you are nothing to him."

Nothing. It was pathetic, how such a simple word could send my mind spiraling so quickly into the carefully carved chains he'd spent six years constructing for me. I could recognize the absurdity of it, could recognize that it was just a word and yet I fell anyway. I let the chains of the word shackle me without a fight, dread and hopelessness filling my lungs with each breath I took. Nothing.

"It doesn't have to be like this." The softness of his voice made it sound like a sincere statement. "We need not be enemies."

"You plan to rip me open and tear me apart from the inside, all for your own vanity." I spat, refusing to even look at him. "Tell me in what world would such things be done by friends?"

"You always had such a limited view on things. My dear, you need only cooperate and my research can be done without resorting to such senseless violence." He coughed a bit more, drawing in a few deep breaths before speaking again, "I need only a few hours of collection and then you'd be able to heal and do as you wished until the next procedure."

Do not bend to those unworthy.It is there stained hands that seek to tear your wings from your back and watch you crawl and wither. The words offered me little comfort, but helped me lift my head higher as I replied, "To live within the confines of this horrible place while you and your fanatics play god… No. I'd rather die."

"Then it seems your own foolishness demands blood." He said coldly. "I had hoped that after The Marquis you'd see reason." Tears streamed down my cheeks as I clamped my eyes shut. "He died because of you, after all, died for nothing."

Nothing. The freezing cold emptiness grew until only the ring in my hands held any warmth. You are nothing. "Fuck you."

With a weak click of his tongue the wheels of his chair scraped against the floor. "It will all be over soon, my dear. And once I have what I need… Well, I'll try to make the end quick."

The door closed and the empty room flooded with my quiet sobs. "Morpheus…" Useless. "Dream of the Endless…" Mortal. "I invoke your name." He hates you. "Please…" He owes you nothing. "Please come." Nothing. "You promised."

You are nothing.

Hours turned into days, trapped within the confines of the glass cage. Hunger and thirst clawed at my body, but I did not relent. During the day the room was full of people, all exchanging files and photos and planning on what part of my body needed to be harvested first. I tried to use the threads, but whatever magic they'd used to bring me here had cut me off. I could see them, the tangled and knotted fraying threads of faded color, not black but something else, something wrong. Dark mist plumed around each thread, filling the air with the pungent tang of twisted magic.

They'd cut larger holes in the glass for their hands to gather blood samples and administer drugs. Blood stained my dress and the glass beneath me from the fingers and flesh they'd lost each time one of them dared to get close. My mind was hazy from the mild drugs they had managed to give me, but still I refused to bend. I quietly repeated the words, clutching onto the ring even as it began to crumble in my hands. Day after day the doctor returned, asking me for cooperation and day after day I refused.

Normally it would have been impossible to tell just how long I'd been poked and prodded at, but the doctor was more than happy to remind me of how long I'd been here… How long my call had gone unanswered. Nine days. Nine days of starvation and dehydration. Nine days of cramped muscles and aches. Nine days of bloody fights against their testing. Nine days of needles and drugs and missing patches of skin. Nine days of pleading.

When they did finally cut me from the glass cage on the tenth day I did not go quietly. Even with my blurred vision and heavy limbs I left my cage with fire and force. In one hand I held what remained of the moonstone ring and with the other I tore chunks of hair from those closest to me, scratched and clawed and bit any that tried to grab me. It was a fine attempt, but when The Bull walked through the doors and shoved his way to the front my fight shifted from one of futile survival to one of vengeance. If this was to be my final stand I was going to take the bastard down with me.

His arms and neck were scarred by the flames he had doomed my Pierre to, but he still had the nerve to smile at me. Everything in me roared to life as I grabbed one of the saws they used to breach the glass and lunged at him. I dug the serrated blade into his chest, forcing it as deep as it could go while he wrapped his hand around my throat and threw me against the wall. I could feel the bones snap inside me, but I didn't care, I just pushed the saw blade deeper and deeper as my throat constricted under his hand.

"Dominic," the doctor called out just as the black spots had begun to fill my vision. "We need her alive."

His hand loosened but the unfiltered desire in his eyes didn't. "Apologies, Doctor Shenton."

He held me still while they stuck me full of needles, pumping the all too familiar cocktail of drugs into my veins. My head swam, shapes and shadows twisting in my eyes like they'd all melted and my already weak body went limp as they laid me down on the stiff cot. The wheels squeaked as they pushed the cot through the doors, blinding white light filling my vision and then white walls glistening and twisted with faces rolled past me. Laughter, faint and manic echoed down one of the halls and as we rolled past I could have sworn I saw red hair twisted with rainbows. De…

My heart hammered in my chest as my eyes darted around, the sounds of the other patients echoing in my ears. The doorknobs giggled and cackled as we passed, whispering incoherent words. White walls, endless halls, pools of blood and bone. Doors rattled and slammed as the other patients grew louder, restless. White walls, endless halls, screams and wails consume you. The sound of gloves being donned and medical carts clanging with tools filled the air when we finally reached the too familiar surgical room. White walls, endless halls, nothing can save you now.

Every sound echoed in my ears as they cut away the fine fabric of my gown, tearing my necklaces off and tossing them into a tray. Red blood on every floor. Red walls painted over. Tears stung my eyes as they strapped my limp arms to the table, their hushed voices full of excitement and anticipation. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Sucking in a shaking breath I made one final plea, clenching the remnants of the ring, the only piece of home, of myself, I had left. "Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name." A weak sob left me. "Please… answer my call."

The doctor's smile came into view beside my head as he smoothed a frail shaking hand down my cheek. My body curled at the feeling of his touch, but no matter how hard I tried to move, to thrash against the restraints I couldn't. "He's not coming, my dear. No one is."

My whole body shook. I closed my eyes tightly. "Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name. Bring them fear and darkness. Show them the King of Nightmares."

There was no answer, no feeling through the bond, there was nothing. I felt the moonstone ring finally shatter into dust in my palm as they secured the muzzle over my mouth. He didn't answer. The pain of the drill cutting through my skin burned with the hollow echoes of the past, but it didn't hurt, not when all I could feel was the crushing pain that filled me as the reality set in.

He wasn't coming.

***

"Morpheus."

"Dream of the Endless."

"I invoke your name."

He heard her voice calling to him, heard the desperation in every soft whisper of his name. All that he could feel of her was fear and pain and an unmistakable, undeniable thought that filled his lungs with regret and guilt. "He hates you." He knew his words had been cruel, knew that he'd hurt her... But had it been so bad that she thought he hated her? Morpheus searched, chasing the echoes of her soft pleas, but he found nothing. There was no sign of her in the Waking World, no trace of where they'd taken her.

"Please. Please come."

Dreams' hands tightened painfully at his sides as he stared down at the spot she had stood before vanishing from his side, slipping from his fingers once again. He replayed their argument over and over in his mind, the image of her flame filled eyes, eyes he'd seen aimed at so many others turned on him, scorching him to the bone.

"You promised."

He felt Lucienne's presence before she spoke. "Is there any word?"

"No, my lord. I'm afraid there's not." Her voice was soft, sorrowful. "Everyone has looked high and low but they've found nothing."

"Keep searching." He ordered, turning to look at the sad face of his librarian. "I'll not abandon her."

She bowed her head. "Of course, my lord."

Morpheus sighed, his eyes returning to the spot she stood in just days ago. His mind filled with the vile words he'd used against her, the words that made her so certain that he hated her. Closing his eyes and letting the tears slide down his cheeks he listened to the sound of her voice as she continued to brokenly call out to him.

"Please… answer my call."

"Brother, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil." Destiny? "Will you come to my garden and speak with me?"

Dream quickly steeled his emotions and moved to answer. "Of course, brother."

The garden was uncharacteristically dark as he entered Destiny's gallery. He sat at the head of the long table, as he always did, but this time Death stood beside him. She offered him a sad smile. "How are you holding up, little brother?"

He chose to ignore her question, instead getting to the point of this odd encounter. "Why have you called me here?"

Destiny looked down at the open book. "So you can do your duty."

Dreams' eyes narrowed at the words. He never involved himself in any conflict when humans were involved. "Why?"

"It is written. Those that have stolen your soul bound, taken my Weaver, have upset the laws of the universe and caused imbalance within our world."

Death had moved to his side, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, offering what comfort she could. "What these scientists are doing… What they've already done it's changed them, twisted them into something unnatural. They're dangerous now in a way that demands action."

"You are involving yourself in this matter?" He asked his brother.

"By proximity," he answered. "I will tell you where they are, where she is, so you and our sister can right this wrong."

Dream turned to Death, eyes wide with shock and hope. "You would stand beside me? You would kill them?"

Death sighed. "I know humanity fears my gift and many have fought against it over the years, but I come to them all in the end. These creatures have not only refused my gift, but have performed horrible acts to your beloved, my future sister, to do so. I can no longer endure seeing them do it without being justly punished."

"I thank you my sister," he said softly. "And you, brother."

"I'm just doing what's demanded of me," Destiny said, closing his book. But in a softer voice he said, "And what is right by Penelope."

Dream straightened his back. "Where is she?"

Destiny stood, moving to join him and Death. "They have not left the asylum. Using the same book Roderick Burgess did to ensnare you, they've fortified it, shielded it from view. You will need your strongest nightmares to pierce the barrier."

For a moment Dream allowed himself to miss The Corinthian, his greatest and most powerful creation. Having him at his side now would ensure that this would end quickly, would ensure that Penelope would return home safely, but he forced the feelings of betrayal and regret down into him and nodded. "They are ready."

His brother placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go then. Right this wrong."

Death followed him to The Dreaming and stood by his side as he gathered his army of shadows and fear and ruin. Turning his head he regarded his sister's sorrow. "Are you ready?"

With a nod she took hold of his hand. "No, but I will do what I must."

"Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, I invoke your name. Bring them fear and darkness. Show them the King of Nightmares." As her final call echoed around them followed by her screams Morpheus slid his helm over his head, his eyes filling with the view of the asylum.

It was nightmares she asked of him and it would be nightmares he delivered. When they arrived outside the empty dark field Dream was filled with a cool tempered rage as the hum of the magic binding this place rolled over his skin. The nightmares of smoke and shadow slammed against the thin barrier, clawing at it with their talons until they at last tore through it. The veil baring it from the sight of the Endless rippled as it fell and the dark brick building came into view.

The mark on Dreams arm blazed, flooding with every thought, plea and feeling of hers that had been denied him over the last ten days. Penelope's anguish nearly made his knees buckle as the screams mingled with her cries for his help filled him. Death steadied him with her arm as he looked to his nightmares with a dark and foreboding command. "Consume their every thought. Show them the power of dreams and darkness but leave the doctor… Leave Elias Shenton untouched."

They moved through the shadows of the night, slipping into the asylum and filling it with the screams of the white coats instead of their victims. Dream and Death walked through the front door, greeted with a hallway full of dazed and terrified faces. Death placed her hand on their shoulders, offering them one final moment of peace before the life faded from them, the bodies of those that had cheated his sister's gift for too long decayed instantly beneath her hand.

As they moved through the space, Death looked at the bodies that littered the ground and sighed. "It saddens me greatly to know that some fear my gift so much they'd go to such lengths."

"They have been greatly misguided to reject your gift in this manner my sister," Dream said, hoping his words would bring his sister some relief. Death's remorse was palpable in the air, but she never once faltered in her duty and Dream found himself glad that his sister was at his side, keeping his rage in check as they came to the door. He felt the mark pull him forward. He felt the quick, panicked, beating of her heart. But it was the muffled noises of pain, choked words and screams that made him open the door.

One of his nightmares hovered over the surgical cot, engulfing Penelope's body in misty storm clouds and letting loose a bestial screech of thunder aimed at the now cowering associates of the doctor. Blood dropped idly off the sides of the table, the dripping sound all he could hear. There in the corner, hunched in his chair sat Elias Shenton, smiling up at him. He dares meet my eyes? Dream thought coldly. He dares smile as if he's won?

As Dream took a step forward the nightmare moved away from the body of his lady and his blood ran cold in his veins at the sight of her. He slid the helm from his head, handing it to the nightmare as he stood beside her. She was shaking, fists clenched and bound at her sides and her abdomen half cut open with holes drilled into her flesh. Blood pooled in her palm, shattered pieces of her moonstone ring grinding into dust and piercing deep into the skin. His eyes slid up her pale form until at last he looked upon her face. Half conscious, tear filled eyes looked at him past the muzzle, and a muffled sob met his ears. With soft gentle hands he pulled her arms free of the ties and slowly lifted the muzzle away from her face.

"You're here," her voice was weak as she looked up at him. "You came."

He stroked the tears from her cheeks and whispered, "Of course I am. You called."

She breathed out a sob as Death came to his side, smoothing her hair from her face. Her tired eyes met his as she asked, "Will you help me?"

Dream knew what she meant as he spared a dark glance up at Elias. "Always."

***

The pain had been excruciating as I helplessly cried out against the muzzle and clenched my hands so tightly I could feel the jagged pieces of the ring puncture the skin along with my nails. My eyes grew heavier and heavier as I felt my grasp on the conscious world beginning to slip. A loud crash of thunder filled the room and a hand of swirling black clouds and lightning tore every last one of the people holding blades away from me. When the darkness of the storm clouds overtook my vision I thought I'd finally passed out, died even, but there in the midst of the storm two eyes formed and the structure of a face followed.

The dark figure's head bowed slightly. "Do not be afraid, my lady. The Dream Lord has heard your call and his army of nightmares has answered."

Relief filled my chest as the cold mist of the nightmares clouds washed over me. I didn't know how long I lay in the comforting embrace of darkness before the door opened and his power rolled over me, shaking the room around it. The darkness slid away and through my hazy teary vision I saw the strong silhouette of his helm as the lean black of his body moved to my side. He removed the helm and took the last step toward me, his glowing eyes focusing on every new cut, slowly sliding up my body and settling on my eyes.

I cried harder as his soft cold hands released me of the ties and pulled the muzzle away from my mouth. Through soft gasping sobs I somehow managed to speak. "You're here… You came."

Morpheus filled with remorseful pain as he brushed his fingers against my cheek and answered, "Of course I am. You called."

"Will you help me?" It was all I could say, and luckily he knew exactly what I meant. I nearly sobbed as Death smiled gently down at me, smoothing her warm hand over my hair. This had to be the end of the doctor, his associates and all the horrors they brought with them. I needed to end this. For the Stewards, Isabel, Pierre, all of them.

"Always," he said, turning his dark gaze to the corner where the doctor sat smiling.

Dream waved his hand, wrapping the wounds I had and helped me up off the table onto my shaking legs. Death wrapped a warm, soft blanket around me and helped ease me into Dreams' waiting arms. It hurt, every movement, but I forced myself to turn, to move in front of the old man. "It appears I've underestimated you, my dear."

"It would seem so."

"Now what?" He asked with a chuckle. "You bury those famous blades of yours in my throat and go on about your life? You at last kill me as you swore to do hundreds of times over the years?"

With a quick shake of my head I sighed. "No. Not yet."

He coughed, the smile only growing. "Don't have the stomach now? After all those threats?"

I willed the threads up, weak and strained as it made me, and looked at his hideous frayed dull thread. "I want you to feel it. Every second of pain you caused, not just mine, but that of all those you tore apart… All those you ordered to die… Every last person you hurt."

Holding his weak thread in my silver wrapped hand I Iet the cold frost fill my palm. I watched it spread up his thread and twist around his hands, the cold swirling with the memories of not just my pain but the pain that haunted the very foundation of this place. His face twisted in agony and fear as I pushed the memories through the thread and into him. The Steward family flashed in the cold, then Isabel and last Pierre. My pain poured into the thread as tears slid down my cheeks.

Blood ran down the doctor's nose as he coughed and wheezed out silent screams. Every inch of his frail decrepit body shook and writhed as blood began spilling from between his lips. It only took two or three minutes but when I was certain he'd known the pain, felt every last second of it, I squeezed the frozen thread in my palm until it snapped and said, "Now this world is finally free of you, Elias."

He choked and twitched, clumps of his skin decaying straight off his bones as all his stolen life left him. I stood, staring for a moment longer, an odd sense of apprehension and relief filling my lungs full of air as he stayed dead. The threads fell away and I began to fall with them as the pain grew too great. Dream's cold arms wrapped around me and he lifted me up, holding me tightly against him. Death pressed a kiss to my head and the soothing night sky of The Dreaming filled my vision as I faded into unconsciousness.

***

The Bulls heavy footsteps echoed through the lifeless halls of the crumbling asylum. He looked down at the decay and death that surrounded him with an uncaring gaze, but when he finally found Elias he couldn’t help but smile. "Well I'll be damned, the little bitch actually did it."

He stood for a moment, admiring her handy work before the gloomy presence filled the room. The dark feminine voice asked, "Had your fill?"

"I spent eighty years held back by his foolish ideals and morals." The Bull kicked the wheelchair over and nodded. "Yeah, I've had my fill."

"Great!" The man's cheerful yet equally dark voice echoed off the walls as he leaned in the doorway with a lopsided grin. "You ready to finally have some fun?"

The Bull reached down to one of the fresher bodies, plucking the eyes out of the girl's sockets and handing them to his companion with a newfound sense of joy and anticipation for the hunt. "More than ready."

***

Soft silk caressed my body as I twisted and turned, the pain only just starting to dull as the wounds stitched themselves back together. It was always uncomfortable, but the warm hands that gently stroked my arms and combed through my hair eased the feeling considerably. When I finally managed to open my eyes Death’s face was bathed in the rainbow of the stained glass windows. A weak gasp left my dry throat as I looked around the room, Dreams room. I was home.

As I moved to sit up, Death helped me. “Slowly, your body heals quickly, but you’re still hurting.”

The hazy memories of what had happened slowly grew clearer and clearer. The doctor… Elias Shenton was dead. I looked at Death with a weak smile. “How long have I been out?”

“A day, almost two.” She said and as if she could predict my next question she continued, “Cain stitched your wounds, Abel helped as best he could. Merv stopped by for a bit to check in. Lucienne has been running back and forth between you and the library and Matthew-”

“Has been sitting right here since they brought you back,” the raven interrupted, hopping down onto the sheets beside me. “How you feeling Penny?”

I lifted a slightly shaky hand to smooth down his feathers. “I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse.”

Matthew sighed, resting his small head in my hand. “Don’t ever do that again. You scared us. The whole of The Dreaming went into a frenzy trying to find you.”

“Where’s…” I hesitated, looking back up at Death. “Where's Dream?”

“He stayed with you all night,” she told me with a soft smile. “This morning when you started coming too he left, grumbling about needing to work.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Death moved closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and squeezing me into her warm side. For a moment the world of threads hummed to life, the bright comforting light of her glowing white thread seeping into my body where her hands touched me. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but whatever it was has really got him in his moping mood.”

“We had an argument,” I admitted freely. “We both said some pretty terrible things. And then immediately after I got sucked into a glass fishbowl and tortured for nine days… So yeah…"

"Just because you two are bound together doesn't mean you're not going to fight. Dream is stubborn and hard headed. He thinks his way is the only way. You, while just as hard headed and stubborn, are an open book. You aren't afraid to say what you feel and you're open minded."

I fiddled with my fingers, gently running the tips along the bandages. "He hates me."

Death turned, looking down around me with furrowed brows. "You don't really think that, do you?"

Tears welled in my eyes as I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Oh, Penelope," she whispered. "He doesn't hate you. It's just… This is new for him. He doesn't do well with change, he'll fight it and deny it until he's blue in the face. I know it probably feels like you've both taken a huge step back from where you were, but it's just the opposite. You've opened him up, forced him to acknowledge feelings he's been running from and denying for centuries. I know it's hard and I know he hurt you. Just give him time… Give both of yourselves time. You'll find a way through this together, I know it."

"Thank you," I said softly. "For listening, and for coming for me."

"You should be thanking Destiny. If he hadn't called and told us where you were we might not have made it in time." She admitted. "Besides Dream and his nightmares did most of the heavy lifting, I just did my job."

I held her hand tightly. "I know how difficult it must have been for you. Thank you, Death."

She pressed a kiss to my head and stood. "As much as I'd love to stay, I've got work to do."

"You're by far the busiest of the Endless," I said with a smile. "Will I be seeing you again?"

"Maybe," she chuckled. "Bye Penelope."

"Bye Death, don't be a stranger."

Once the warmth of her faded from the room the threads forced their way back to the surface with a sharp pain in my head. Pressing a hand to it with a wince I sighed. Matthew's weight shifted beside me. "You okay?"

I waited for the pain to dwindle before answering, "Yeah. Just a thread headache. It's probably from coming off all those drugs."

"You're not gonna vanish right?" He asked, the threads blinding me for a moment as I turned to look down at him.

The changing thread glowed strong against the white. Green with tiny tints of orange. I offered him a smile. "No, I'm fine on that front. Your colors come in by the way."

He sat up straighter. "Oh? Is it bad? It's bad isn't it? I mean I can't say I'm surprised I-"

"It's fine, Matthew." I laughed a little. "Green with a little bit of orange."

"And that's good?"

"I think so. Everyone I've seen with green threads was a good person at heart. It symbolizes change, or at least that's my best guess. Pierres thread was orange and everything I've read about it has been positive so I'm pretty sure you're good."

He sighed with a relieved chuckle. "I gotta say I'm a little relieved. When you told me I lost color I thought I was dying again or something!"

"I think Dreams tendency for dramatics is rubbing off on you."

"Probably," he agreed. "Speaking of the boss, what are you gonna say?"

There was so much that needed to be said between us. He had started it, had let whatever feelings he'd kept hidden from me fuel the outburst of anger, but I too had responded with fire. We were both wrong and had both hurt one another. "I don't know."

"Death's right, you know," he said. "You two had a fight, a pretty bad one yeah, but that doesn't mean you don't love each other."

"I know."

"You’ll work it out," the raven assured me. "Knowing the boss it’s not gonna be easy, but if anyones gonna get through that thick head it’s you.”

A soft knock on the door echoed and Lucienne tentatively entered, a bright smile replacing the worried furrowing of her brows as she saw me. “My lady!” She called out, rushing to my side and pulling me gently into a hug. “We’ve been so worried!”

I pressed myself into her embrace and breathed in the smell of books. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled away, examining me closely. “You’re home now, that’s all that matters.”

“Have you spoken to him?” I asked after a stiff moment of silence.

Lucienne nodded, a sad look filling her eyes. “Lord Morpheus has been busying himself with the search for the missing nightmares. He asked that I keep a close eye on you in his stead.”

Of course he did. It was just like him to act avoidant of me, while simultaneously keeping tabs on me every second he was gone. I moved my legs off the edge of the bed and groaned as Lucienne helped me to my feet. “Where is he?”

“My lady…” she began.

“He doesn’t get to avoid me,” I said sternly. “He doesn’t get to run from the discussion we need to have.”

Matthew and Lucienne shared a long look before the librarian sighed. “He’s in the throne room. I’ve not spoken to him since this morning.”

“Then that’s where I’m going.” My legs were weak, but they were steady enough that I could continue walking forward with little issue. My vision switched between normal vision and that of the threads, the headache growing into a dull but constant pinch. Lucienne walked with me, ready to reach out and steady me should I falter, but once we reached the throne room she stopped and let me go on my own.

The beautiful cosmos filled sky cast the room in pale blue light as I entered. Morpheus stood in the center of the throne room, his hands clasped tightly behind his back and his eyes glued to the spot in front of him, the same spot of our argument and the spot I’d disappeared from. He didn’t turn, but the stiffness that sent him standing even straighter than before told me he knew I was here. “You should be resting.”

I moved closer, standing at arm's length away from him. “Probably, but you and I have a lot to talk about.”

“It can wait-”

“No.” The word didn’t sound harsh or cold, but perhaps a bit desperate. “I don’t want to wait until later.”

He sighed, only turning his head ever so slightly to the side. “Very well, where would you like to start?”

“First, I would speak to the nightmare…” I hesitated. “The nightmare that pulled them away from me before you got there.”

Dream didn’t respond, he merely waved his hand, uttering a soft name that I didn’t hear. The room filled with the echoes of thunder as the familiar dark storm clouds circled above for a moment, lightning and black shapes twisting into a more human form.

The nightmare bowed lowly, speaking in a dark voice that sent a tremble through me. “You have summoned me, Dream Lord?”

He didn’t speak, allowing me to guide the conversation. I appreciated the gesture, but the rigidness of his back and the steeled calm of his emotions had me worried. “I wanted to speak with you.”

The nightmare lifted its eyes to me, its hard features and flashes of lightning softening a bit. "My lady."

"Do you have a name?"

"The humans call me The Gathering Storm," it answered.

I took a step towards it with a soft smile. "That's a lovely name. Gathering Storm, I wished to thank you. Had you not pulled them away from me… I would have been in far worse condition."

Its head bowed lower. "I did my duty."

"I would see you rewarded," my voice was soft as I came to stand in front of The Gathering Storm. "Any reward you wish, simply name it and I shall grant it to you."

Stormy eyes looked over my shoulder to Dream before moving back to mine. "My only wish is to serve The Dreaming… To serve you, my lady, if you would permit it."

I could feel the weight of the offer settle in the room, and though I felt Dream's power coil around him I felt a soft sensation pulling me to accept. "Of course I would permit it."

The Gathering Storm knelt down fully, holding a vial of clouds and lightning that matched its appearance out to me. "With this token I shall always be by my lady's side. So long as there is breath in your lungs I shall heed your command and answer your call."

Holding the vial in my hand I could feel the raging power of the storm within it. I smiled, grasping hold of its hand for a quick moment, an action that seemed to calm the storm clouds. "Thank you."

With a final bow the nightmare rose through the ceiling and disappeared in the endless expanse of stars. Now all that remained was Dream and I. As I turned to him, my heart dropped to find him still facing away from me, still tense and silent. For a long moment I stood waiting for him to speak, but as the minutes passed it became clear he'd not intended to. "Will you not even look at me, Morpheus?"

"I do not deserve to gaze upon you," he finally said, voice raw and barely above a whisper. "I failed you."

"Look at me," I commanded. His rigid form turned and his glistening eyes met mine. "I am sorry for the words I spoke to you in anger."

His face tightened as his head tilted to the side. "You need not apologize. It was my words, my callousness, that began all this."

Taking a step towards him I sighed. "It doesn't matter who started it. We both said terrible things to one another and it matters to me that you know I regret it." I fought against the tears in my eyes. "I never should have brought your family into it… Nor should I have made it seem like your capture was their fault or yours."

"I should never have called you those things," he whispered. "You are none of them. Not just another mortal and certainly not useless. I made your suffering inferior to mine and if I could go back…" He closed his eyes, tears sliding down his cheeks. "You were right. You were the only thing that kept me from succumbing to the hopelessness in the years of our torment."

I resisted the strong urge to go to him, to melt into his arms. "Will you open up to me now? Will you tell me what caused you to say the things you did?"

"I…" He sighed. "I was jealous of my people's love for you, but more than that I was, am, afraid."

"If you've changed your mind..." I breathed in deep before forcing the words out. "If you don't want this anymore it's okay…"

"If I don't want this?" He questioned with furrowed brows. "You've misunderstood me, my love."

Finally meeting his eyes I wrapped my arms around myself. "Then explain it to me."

"For as long as I can remember I have been alone. I have my family and my subjects but that's not... They aren't the same. There have been lovers, moments of wishful thinking but nothing concrete. I'd resigned myself to the fact I'd spend this eternal existence alone. I'd taken full control of every aspect of this realm and those within it, thought I'd perfected my function and then..." Morpheus looked away from me, tears and a century of pain and sorrow I knew all too well swelled in him. "I was captured, torn away from the only thing I had that was completely my own. I was held captive by lesser beings, left in silence to fester and twist from my own pain and anger. Then I saw you… A light in the vast darkness and in that moment I realized just how pathetically lonely I'd been all the eons of this world."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as his eyes met mine again. "And I had to watch you from a cage of silence, unable to offer you anything… No kind words, no answers, not even a glimpse of the hope you freely gave me. I had to watch them beat you and degrade you, had to spend every waking hour without you in my sight fearing they'd taken you away, defiled you, killed you..." His voice trailed off as his hands clenched at his sides. "I spent every day of those two years fearing that my one chance at the companionship I so craved would be ripped away from me, only to then watch that fear come alive. And for the five years you were gone from me and every day after that I thought you were gone forever. Finding you alive... It was the happiest day of my entire existence and every day, every moment with you that has followed has brought me more joy than I've ever known."

"Then why do you hide from me?" I asked softly. "Why are you still so afraid to let me in?"

"I am not good at this, I never have been," he admitted. "After so many centuries of relying on myself, my power and the control I had over my realm, intimacy such as ours is difficult. For the first time I cannot hide away, cannot bury these unwanted things inside me and ignore them because you know. Without any words exchanged you know."

I took a step towards him. "I understand that. It can be a lot for me too sometimes, but why didn't you just talk to me?"

Guilt filled him. "I was angry with you. Jealous of you. My subjects have never felt for me what they do for you… Not for eons."

"They respect me," I said. "Is that not what you wanted?"

"It is." He clarified with a sigh. "I want them to respect you, to love you, but seeing them do it so freely, so easily… It made me question what I did to make them view me so coldly."

From what little I knew of the subject the residents of The Dreaming had always respected Dream, but more so they feared his anger. "I understand your rules are important, but I think the dreams and nightmares began to see themselves as second to them."

After a moment he nodded. "Perhaps, but I cannot abandon my rules. Not even I am above them. If I let myself succumb to the entirety of the unconscious world I would be consumed."

"You don't have to forgo all the rules. You just need to show them that you value them and the rules." I advised gently as the topic I'd dreaded bringing up became unbearable in me. "I… You've said before that we're equals."

"We are," he answered earnestly, though his body grew stiff.

My fingers tightened in my sleeves. "How? How can we be equals when I anger you by doing the duties of Lady of The Dreaming?"

Morpheus looked down for a moment. "I do not know."

"I want to do my part here, but I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to replace you." I set a hand on his chest, drawing his eyes up to mine. "It was never my intention to make you feel replaceable."

His cold hand settled over mine. "I know. This fear is my own, one that has driven me for far too long. And I will have to work through it on my own."

"Morpheus," I sighed.

"You have done nothing wrong, have offered me every opportunity to lessen my burden and still I forced my anger onto you." He shook his head. "The only one that can overcome this is me."

"Will you come to me if things get as bad as before?" I questioned, leaning into him.

The feeling of his forehead pressing to mine lifted a lot of the weight between us. "Yes. However, until these feelings lessen I'm afraid I must ask that you refrain from performing duties of the lady." Sensing the implications I'd assumed he continued, "You are The Lady of The Dreaming. You always will be. But, seeing the response to you and your work… It's difficult for me at present."

It felt like a step back, a large one, but Death's words of reassurance eased the feeling. "Okay, I'll take a step back. Just promise me you'll work through it?" I looked up at him. "Promise you won't try to bury it again."

Dream pressed his lips to my forehead. "I promise."

The majority of the hurt had settled as we stood close, almost holding each other but not quite, but there was still a tenseness there. It was something I'd expected. A lot had changed in a short amount of time, it would take more than simple apologies to adjust. As the silence soothed over us both Dream seemed to set himself to ask a question that still nagged at him as his hands smoothed over the bandages on my hand. "Penelope, did you truly believe I would not come for you?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I thought after what I said to you…"

"I could never hate you," he said firmly before I could finish. "And I would never abandon you."

"I'm sorry," I said as the emotions of the past nine days finally filled me. "I'm sorry for worrying everyone."

He held my hand tightly, but gently. "You sacrificed yourself for me. It is I that needs to apologize. You never should have had to make such a choice."

"I'd make it again," I assured him, lifting my head and pressing a hand to his cheek. "I would do anything for you."

"As I would do for you."

As I stared into his eyes my mind and my body finally let the death of Doctor Shenton settle in. He was gone. I breathed out a relieved laugh, something that seemed to make Dream smile. "It's really over isn't it? It's finally over."

Morpheus nodded, a proud smile spreading on his face. "You are finally free, my love."

I closed my eyes at the words, relief filling my lungs and a weight lifting from my shoulders. Free. Tears of joy wet my cheeks as I smiled. "Thank you, for helping me finish it."

"He deserved far worse, but I want you to know how proud I am of you for facing him in the end." Dream wiped my tears away. "Pierre would be just as proud, they all would."

For the first time in seventy years the ghosts of my past, the friends I'd lost and the people I'd killed, were silent. For the first time I felt free. "Thank you."

Dream held my hand and led me toward the library. "You need to rest now. I know you won't return to bed, but the least you can do is sit."

Lucienne had stopped pacing and pretended to be busy stacking books when we entered. Her eyes drifted to our joined hands and she hid the tiny relieved smile. "My Lord, my lady, I trust all is well."

I settled into one of the chairs, hand pressing to my abdomen as the painful tugging of the stitched flesh began to ache. "Alls well, Lucienne."

Dreams' eyes settled onto one of the books sitting on the table, his entire body stiffening. "How did this get here?"

"Your sister," Lucienne answered. "She thought it would be safer here instead of in the Waking World."

I looked at the black book with furrowed brows. "Is this the book they used?"

"Yes," Lucienne answered. "It was in possession of Roderick Burgess before passing through a woman, Ethel Cripps and then onto Elias."

Wordlessly I reached across the table and grabbed it, Dreams' eyes followed me curiously as I held the book between my hands watching as the threads wound around it, magic pulsing through each one as they glowed. I pulled the threads tight and watched the book unbind and turn to dust. My eyes met his, a shared understanding humming between us as I whispered to him. You are finally free, my Dream.

***

In the two months that followed my return things were… Tense. Morpheus had poured himself into his work, spending all his time on his throne looking through book after book after book all in search of answers pertaining to a Vortex. When Lucienne had brought the rumors to him, he already knew and was watching the girl that held such power. He hadn't explained much to me when I asked, but Lucienne had been very informative on the subject. The Vortex, a random occurrence, held the power to draw people's dreams together… To effectively end both The Dreaming and Waking World if left unchecked. "So, he has to kill her?"

Lucienne hummed softly. "Unfortunately, yes."

"There's no other way?" I flipped through the pages of the book. "No loophole or… Magic spell?"

"I'm afraid not," she answered.

I felt for him, killing was never an easy thing and the life he had to take was an innocent one. This girl, Rose Walker, hadn't asked for any of this and likely didn't even know. The whole situation was less than ideal, and the added stress of the missing arcana was too much for one person, even one as powerful as Dream. He stopped joining me for walks or dinner, stopped coming to bed, stopped everything that wasn't pertaining to his work.

In turn I'd grown restless. I stayed clear of the town, not wanting to add to Dreams' already full plate by doing things that I now knew caused him to feel upset. So I spent time with Cain and Abel, tending to their garden and reading beneath Pierres statue, but even that had begun to feel lonely. Eventually I turned to helping Lucienne and Matthew in the library, sorting books and helping her reorganize things.

If I was lucky Dream would come by looking for a book, but things between us remained distant. He'd ask me if I was well, ask about my day and then he was gone. There were no soft touches or heated back and forths like I was used to and that I longed for, just small conversations. I tried to keep Death's words in mind, tried to give him the benefit of the doubt… This was new and it was a lot for him but damn it all if I wasn't frustrated. It didn't help that everything I tried to do to help out and pull my weight around The Dreaming just seemed to upset him.

Things had gotten so tense that I’d spent most of my time far from the palace and the town and everyone. It was lonely, and The Dreaming seemed to sense it, letting dark storm clouds fill the sky above me, but where I’d expected rain I’d gained a new friend instead. The Gathering Storm had come from the big black clouds and stood beside me, offering up the companionship my days had been lacking. Ever since we’d meet at the lake and talk. For a nightmare Storm was quite pleasant company.

I laid back in the grass looking up at the clear skies and soaked in the warm sunlight as the day lazily rolled along. After a while of the birds whistling and the gentle sounds of water lapping at the edge of the lake, thunder echoed in the secluded meadow and a cold wind rushed over me as Storm took a more human shape by my side. “Morning Storm, how was your night?”

“It was as it always is,” the nightmare answered. “Are you well, my lady?”

“I’m how I always am.” I answered just as cryptically and shrugged, looking up at them. They nodded their head, turning and looking out at the shimmering lake. As I watched them I couldn’t help but notice how sad it seemed they felt. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed such in the nightmares. Their purpose and duty seemed to weigh heavily on them. “Storm? Do you enjoy being a nightmare?”

Their endlessly deep eyes met mine and the storm clouds billowed and rolled. “I am what the Dream Lord has made me to be.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

There was silence for a moment as they thought about what I’d asked. “I take no pleasure in bringing fear to the minds of men, but I am what I am meant to be.”

I sat up. “What if you could be something different?”

Storm smiled a little. “It would be nice to inspire instead of frighten… to know what the warmth of the sun feels like.”

“Why don’t you give it a try then?” I wondered.

“Nightmares cannot become dreams,” they answered.

“Why not?”

“It is the Dream Lord will,” they said solemnly.

Oh. I sighed and set a gentle hand over the mass of clouds and lightning. “I’m sorry.”

They merely smiled. “Do not be, my lady. I am what I am. It is my hope that serving you shall provide me with the things I feel lacking.”

I laughed a little. “I’m more than happy to help, sorry if it just turns out to be sitting by the lake all day.”

“Even such a simple thing as this brings me great honor.” They didn’t look away from the lake as they said, “It is good to have a friend, my lady.”

“You’re a good friend, Storm.”

When the sun had begun to set Storm left to prepare themselves for the night ahead and I slowly made my way back to the palace just as Merv had returned from the town. I smiled at him. “Busy day?”

“Yeah, lots of simple repairs. Built a few new houses,” his big pumpkin head tilted to the side. “How bout you kid?”

I shook my head. “A whole lot of nothing.”

Merv’s eyes narrowed as he lifted a finger to his mouth. “You could come by my workshop for a bit. I’ve got a few small projects I could use an extra hand with.”

My eyes lit up and I bounced on my feet, excited. “Really?!”

“Calm down kid,” Merv said with a chuckle. “It ain’t that fun.”

“It’s better than nothing,” I said, following him toward the palace and through the maze of hallways until we reached a simple door and a medium sized room. It was filled with tools and wood shavings, the large workbench that filled the center of the room had a few carved pieces strewn about while other bits were half carved. “What are you building?”

“This is all gonna be a table, eventually. And that bit over there is gonna be a personal book shelf for Lucienne so she doesn’t have to walk all the way through that library of hers to keep grabbing books she wants to read.”

“She’ll love that,” I said, moving through the space and admiring his tools. “You have an impressive workshop.”

He bowed his pumpkin head. “The highest of compliments, my lady.”

“Penelope, please!” I begged. “Or kid, that’s fine too.”

“Whatever you say, kid.” He moved to the table and grabbed a tool, showing it to me. “You got any experience with woodworking?”

“None!”

He laughed. “This’ll be interesting then. Let's get to work.”

Woodworking was, as it turned out, not as simple as weaving threads was. I struggled for a good hour and a half before Merv moved me to a simpler task. He assured me that I’d done a good job for my first try, but that he didn’t have all night to spend on one table leg, which was fair. So I sat in one of his stools, mostly sanding the legs a little and adding a few coats of polish before moving to the next. It felt good to finally be doing something, even if I was bad at it. Merv was polite about correcting me, always making sure to show me the right way before letting me loose again. For the first time in weeks I was having fun.

The door opened and Dream's black clad figure moved through it slowly. For a minute I thought he’d come looking for me so we could spend some time together, but as I looked up at the tight annoyance in his face that hopefulness was gone. Frustration bubbled up in me as my shoulders slumped in defeat. What now?

"What are you doing?" His voice was cold and his eyes were darkened with poorly concealed frustration.

I looked at the pieces of wood in my hands. "Helping Merv."

"Mervyn is meant to be fixing damages, not entertaining you."

That's it. I set the pieces down roughly. "He's not entertaining me. I'm helping him build something for one of his projects."

Dreams jaw clenched. "You are pulling his focus away from more pressing matters. This is not what you should be doing."

"Then what is?" I demanded. "I can't go help out around town. I can't help Cain and Abel. I can't help Lucienne. I can't help Merv. God knows I can't help you. So what is it I'm meant to do, Morpheus?" He took a step forward, anger unfurling from his chest and mine.

"Watch your tone, Penelope."

"Or what?" I pressed, taunting. "You'll banish me? Maybe it would be for the best if I did leave."

"You'll do no such thing."

"Won't I? Am I your prisoner now?" I knew I was testing the limits of his anger but I didn't care. This was the most I'd spoken to him in weeks. I was angry... Hurt by his absence and constant dismissal and complaints. I was done. "Do you intend to chain me, lock me up like some pet so I'm here but out of your way?"

"Do. Not. Test. My. Patience." His voice was low and lethal. I struck the exact nerve I wanted and though I regretted stooping so low I refused to back down now.

"Then give me a real answer."

Merv was visibly uncomfortable as he cleared his throat. "The, uh, the damages are this way, my lord. I'll fix it right now, I just needed to show you something before I did."

Dreams' eyes didn't leave mine and he didn't make any move to answer Merv or leave. I stood from my chair and regarded Merv with a stiff smile. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"You weren't a bother, ki- my lady." He assured me as I walked past him and Dream.

The door didn't budge when I tried to push it open. Dreams' power filled the room, dark and heavy mist slithering from his shadow. "We are not finished talking."

I turned and met his dark eyes, grabbing the threads that made the door and pulling until it tore off its hinges and clattered to the ground around me. "Yes we are."

"Fuckin hell," Merv muttered.

"Sorry about the door," I said as I turned on my heel and stormed off.

I avoided all the main roads, following my feet through the tall grass and thicket of trees until I stood in front of the gemstone lake. The setting sun cast over the water and lit up the jewels at the bottom beautifully, but the sight didn't ease the painful burning in my chest as tears streamed down my cheeks and a loud, angry scream tore through my throat. The ground trembled and my scream seemed to make the leaves on the trees curl. For a while I sat in the grass and cried quietly as the sun continued to set.

Watching the water ripple with the orange light was relaxing and the chilled water seemed to lull my anger. I swam through the slightly chilled depths, letting it sink beneath my skin letting the water of the gemstone lake help cool the burning in my chest as I sank lower and lower to the bottom of the lake. My lungs burned for air, but I ignored them just a minute longer, two, not ready to let go of the quiet the water provided. The gemstones glistened as I slowly rose back to the surface, smoothing my hands down my face as the fading sunlight warmed my cheeks.

The feel of his tempered anger filled the meadow long before he came into view, and with a soft sigh I let my own anger refill my lungs with the deep breaths of air. If he wanted a fight then I'd give him one. "I do not like leaving our conversations unfinished."

I looked at him over my shoulder, his stiff figure standing just at the edge of the lake. "Well sometimes it's best to take a step back when the conversation isn't going anywhere."

His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. If I hadn't known better I would have thought he ran here. I turned toward him and his eyes slowly slid down my body, his hands clenched into fists at his side. What is his problem? I questioned quietly as I moved closer to the edge of the lake, the white material of my dress growing heavier and heavier as I rose out of the water.

Looking down to gather some of the soaked fabric in my hands, an attempt to make moving easier, a blush rose to my cheeks as I found the wet material stuck to my form was now completely sheer. The chilled air caused my nipples to peek beneath the thin material and the way the dress hugged me left nothing to the imagination. Oh. Still knee deep in the water I looked back up to Dream, the steady sharp tug of both our anger was joined by that familiar hungry need to feel each other's skin. It had been weeks since the apologies, weeks since I'd healed, weeks since we shared a bed or felt the intimate touch of the other's hands.

Our eyes locked for a moment, both of us still angry but now we had to decide which we wanted more. To continue our argument or… As I swallowed thickly at the thought of his hands on me, Dream seemed to make the decision for us. He strode forward into the lake, not bothering to strip himself of his boots or his coat, not caring about anything as he grabbed my face and pulled my lips to his in a searing hot kiss.

I whined into his mouth as he forced my lips to part for his tongue. My hands fisted into his sleeves, both pushing him away and pulling him closer. One of his hands moved to my throat, holding my head in place as the other moved to my back. His blunt nails dragged down the wet material for a moment before deftly undoing the buttons. His lips pulled away from mine, the hand at my throat squeezing a little as he breathed out, "Don't ever walk away from me like that again."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd stop being such an asshole for one second." My hands pushed the coat off his shoulders and into the lake. I pulled his hair, forcing our lips back together, roughly biting and tugging them between my teeth.

The cold of his hands on the bare skin of my back sent a shiver up my spine and a soft mewl out of my throat and into his mouth as he roughly pulled my arms free of the sleeves and forced the top of the dress down to my hips. He lifted me out of the water, turning us quickly back onto solid ground. His hand fisted in my hair, tugging my head back and opening up my throat to the onslaught of his lips. It felt good to finally feel something other than his annoyance or my own frustration, and I cherished every second of it.

When the scratchy tree bark clawed at my back I gasped, arching into Dream. He panted against my skin, biting into my neck and down my chest, swirling his tongue and fingers over my nipples. "Do you have any idea how infuriating you are?"

My hands grabbed the collar of his shirt, tearing it open and forcing it off him. "Stop. Talking."

He growled at my command and tore the rest of my dress off me, moving me away from the stability of the tree and lowering me to the ground, a soft blanket meeting my skin instead of the damp grass. When his body draped over mine he was completely naked, biting and kissing up my stomach, tugging one of my nipples between his teeth harshly before my hands dragged him back up to my lips. God this felt good.

Wasting no time with words he pushed into my wet cunt, one thrust bringing his hips flush with mine and seating himself snugly inside me. I moaned loudly at the sudden burn and stretch of him, my nails digging into his arms as he set a fast and rough pace that left me breathless. I could feel the smug satisfaction in him as he watched me, hands gliding against my wet skin and squeezing my hips tight enough to bruise. It wasn’t a surprise when I came, nor was it one when he didn’t relent in his movements.

I lifted my hand to his head, trailing my fingers over the crown of his thread. Dream groaned into my mouth, every inch of him tensing and slowing as he tried to calm himself down from the sudden pleasurable feeling. Taking the opportunity I squeezed his hips with my legs and rolled us over, the ground startling him as it met his back. He sat up against me, hands digging into my flesh as his wide, wild eyes looked up at me, an uncomfortable feeling smoldering in his chest at our position. We stared at one another for a moment longer before I rolled my hips down, his eyes shutting and a blissful expression replacing the furrowed brows and tight lips.

He kept his hands firmly on my waist, holding onto a tiny shred of control as I continued to move against him. I’d rode him before, but it had never been like this… he had never let me be this in control before. That feeling alone lit a fire in my core, pushing me to move faster, to nip and suck marks into his neck as he threw his head back with a moan. It wasn’t the control that made this moment, this feeling, so intense. It was the warm feeling of trust that hummed through him. For the first time in months I could feel him put his trust in me. For the first time in months I felt like his equal. His breathing grew heavy as his shining starry eyes met mine, the anger and annoyance and everything in between fading away with each snap of our hips. We came together, foreheads pressed to one another's.

Dream had collapsed back, his arms keeping me firmly locked against his chest as we both caught our breaths. For a moment we were just content to hold each other, to feel the love that had been smothered and covered up by everything else. I set my chin on his chest, looking at him bathed in the moonlight beneath me. “I missed this.” His eyes opened and he looked at me. “I missed you.”

With a gentle breath he pulled me even closer. “I missed you as well.”

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“There has been a lot to do.” He shook his head a little. “I have been frustrated and angry with everything as of late and I did not want to risk taking it out on you again.”

I set my head in the crook of his neck and pressed a light kiss to one of the hickeys I’d left. “While I appreciate the gesture, avoiding me doesn’t feel much better.”

Dream kissed my head. “I realize that now.”

Lifting my head and looking down at him I spoke, “Let’s make a promise then. No matter how angry we are, no matter how busy things get, we’ll always go to bed together.”

He smiled. “That sounds like a good promise.”

“I love you,” I said, stroking his cheek.

“I love you too,” he replied, leaning into my touch.

As we lay together, curled up in each other I sighed. “How mad is Merv about the door?”

Dream chuckled. “Quite.”

“Fuck.”

***

I walked through the hedges and into the small courtyard of Destiny’s garden, happy to see him already waiting for me. “Good evening, Penelope.”

“Hey, Des,” I replied, taking my seat. “How have you been?”

The last time I’d seen him was when Lyria, or rather the thing possessing her, had attacked him. From what I could tell his wounds had healed, the physical ones at least. He regarded my question with a tiny smile. “I should be asking you this question.”

Right, the last he heard of me was when I’d returned to the asylum. “Thank you, for helping them find me. If it weren’t for you-”

“You would have been found,” he assured me. “I merely sped up the process and gave my brother the permission to act.”

“He would have done it anyway,” I said with a laugh.

“I know,” Destiny agreed. “But this way he does not have to face any unpleasant consequences.”

We sat in silence for a moment before I worked up the courage to ask him the question I came here for. “Can we save her?”

His misty eyes met mine and a sad look filled his stoic face. “I do not know.”

“But you know everything.”

“Not this.”

“The book doesn’t say anything?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. It does not.”

That wasn’t good, I knew it and so did he. If the book didn’t know what was going to happen to her then what hope did we have at it? “What was the book that you’d trapped this thing in? If I can find it then I might be able to figure out a plan.”

“You do not need to trouble yourself with this,” he answered. “It is my doing.”

“I told you I’d help you,” I answered firmly. “And I intend to. I’m not going to just set this aside, not while there's still a chance to save her.”

“How do you know there is one?”

I looked over toward the statues, to the place the thorned throne had been that day. “She fought it. Took control to try and give me time to kill her. I have to believe that means she’s still in there and still capable of being saved.”

Destiny smiled at me. “Thank you, Penelope.”

I shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet, just spill the details on that book. You can thank me when she’s home.”

He told me what he could, all of it vague and not very helpful, as was normal for him. It was enough though. When I returned to The Dreaming I sought out Lucienne in the library, giving her the details he could provide and asking her to keep her eyes open for anything. I took notice of her stress immediately as she shuffled through stacks of books and sighed to herself. “What’s going on?”

“What?” She asked, looking back up at me with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me, my lady. It’s the Vortex.”

“Has she started doing whatever it is she does?”

“Yes and no.” Lucienne shook her head. “Her brother is missing from The Dreaming.”

“How?”

“That is what we are trying to figure out.” She nodded to the door. “I am going to meet Lord Morpheus to discuss possibilities now, if you’d like to come with me.”

Things had been better between Dream and I ever since our night at the lake. He upheld his end of our promise and so did I. It seemed to be helping, at least it was with keeping him from bottling up his anger and frustration. I smiled a little at the thought of his creative ways to rid himself of such things, before nodding to Lucienne and joining her in walking to the throne room.

Dream sat on the bottom steps, Matthew beside him and a cold and stressed look set on his face as he looked up at me with a tense smile. “How is my brother?”

“As good as he can be,” I answered, moving to sit beside him, offering him a featherlight touch. “Lucienne tells me you’ve had no such luck.”

“Jed Walker is still in the realm of the living, but I cannot find him.”

Lucienne sighed. “No. Nor I, my lord.”

“All humans are connected to the Dreaming. They spend a third of their life here. Breaking that connection would require knowledge and power.” He said stiffly.

“Then it may interest you to know that the last nightmare Jed Walker had before he disappeared was of Gault.” Lucienne said tactfully.

Dreams brows furrowed even more. “You think she severed him from the Dreaming?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s not just any child, is he?” she asked. “He’s Rose Walker's brother. She is the Vortex.”

As he took in her words an odd sensation rolled through the throne room. “Excuse me?” All eyes turned toward the sound of the new voice as a young woman walked toward us, her head held high and a light confusion in her eyes. “I’m Rose Walker. What do you know about my brother, Jed?”

Beside me Dream looked far more astonished than I expected of him. The ceiling above us swirled with bright cosmic light as Rose Walker stood before us, completely unaware of the fact she had just waltzed into a kings throne room. Dream stood from my side, subtly offering me a hand to help me up. “You are welcome here, Rose Walker.”

“Who are you?”

Lucienne stepped toward her, a wary look in her eyes. “You have somehow dreamed your way into an audience with Lord Morpheus. The King of Dreams. And now you must go.”

“Lucienne,” Dream warned.

“She shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” he answered with a hint of a smile. “But I should like her to stay.”

I took a step down from Dreams' side, looking intently at the girl as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. The world fading into the darkness of the glowing threads as I examined hers. Yellow with strands of purple and pink interwoven together, beautiful and very fitting of what little I could see of her personality. Rose herself was clear as day, like Dream and Destiny and Death with a dazzling swirl of cosmic light surrounding her. She watched me closely, looking me up and down before speaking, “Are you some kind of goddess?”

I laughed, shaking my head quickly. “No, I’m not. Far from it actually.”

She gestured to my clothes. “You just look… regal. You’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You and your thread are quite the sight as well.”

“My what?”

“Right, I forget most people don’t know about this stuff,” I chuckled. “I can see your universal thread. The things that make you, well you.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re not a goddess?”

“Not a goddess. Human, just with a complicated job.”

“This is weird,” she said softly.

“I know,” I answered, hoping I'd be able to offer her some kind of reassurance.

“What is this place?”

Dream answered this time, voice soft and elegant. “You’re in The Dreaming, the place where people come when they sleep.”

“So, I’m asleep right now? I’m dreaming?”

“Yes, and I should like to know how it is you found me.”

“I heard you talking about me brother,” Rose answered, looking around again. “Is he here?”

“No.” Dream said, slowly descending the steps and moving around her.

“Do you know where he is?”

“No.” He looked up at the windows as the image of Gault filled them with blue and purple hues of light. “But I think he might be with one of my missing Nightmares.”

Rose’s head tilted to the side. “She’s a nightmare? What would she want with Jed?”

He had a gleam in his eyes as he looked down at her with a peaked curiosity. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it has something to do with you.”

“Me? Why? What did I do?”

“It is not what you did. It is what you are.”

She shook her head, fighting a laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand any of this.”

Dream smiled a bit. “No. Dream vortexes are largely incomprehensible.”

“What’s a dream vortex?”

“You are,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile, trying my best to find some way to ease the obvious swell of confusion in the poor girl.

“You see, once every few thousand years, a mortal is born with a dreaming ability so powerful, she can travel through the dreams of others. Apparently all the way to my throne room. “

She winced a little. “I was just looking for my brother.”

“If you can find me in The Dreaming, you can find your brother. No matter where Gault has hidden him.”

“How?” she asked. “How do I do that?”

“For now, keep looking for your brother in the waking world. Matthew will watch over you there,” he said, turning to the raven as he hopped down the stairs and looked up at Rose.

“At your service, Rose.” He said with a bow.

The look on her face made me laugh. “Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

“When he is with you, I am with you. Then tonight when you sleep you and I will go in search of Gault and your brother together. In your dreams.

“She’s just a nightmare, right?” Rose asked tensely. “She can’t hurt him, can she?”

Dream didn’t answer, so I set a hand on her shoulder, a hum of whatever power lingering in her pulsing through me. “If he’s anything like you I doubt one nightmare will be enough to scare him.” Rose smiled at me, but I could still see her worry and fear. “Why don’t I go with Matthew to watch over you? And help you look for your brother in the waking world?”

Dream’s head turned to me. “That is hardly necessary.”

“No, but if Gault is already looking to capitalize on the vortex’s power then maybe the others will be too.”

“Others?” Rose asked. “How many nightmares are looking for me?”

“None,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean you won’t need help.”

“She did get attacked in an alley the other night,” Matthew said.

Rose’s brows furrowed, but she didn’t ask the question I knew she had. Dream sighed. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

I took a step towards him, brushing my fingers against his hand. The doctor and his cult are gone. “There's nothing in the waking world that I can’t handle.” I’ll be safe.

He breathed out and nodded. “Very well. Just… exercise caution please. If you see one of the others return to The Dreaming and let me handle it.”

“Yes, Dream Lord, sir,” I said with a sarcastic salute.

Rose watched the interaction with an arched brow. “So, how exactly are you going to help me? No offense, you just don’t look like someone that's good at finding people.”

I smiled widely. “I’m full of surprises, Rose Walker. You’ll see when you wake up.”

“I’m staying at-”

“I’ll find you.” I said confidently. “Popping up is kind of what I do.”

Once Rose vanished, Dream looked at me with a huff. “I mean it, Penelope. If you see any of the missing arcana, come home.”

“I’ll be fine, Dream.” I assured him. “I’ll take my things just in case.”

He leaned forward, touching his forehead to mine for a moment. “Be careful.”

“Relax,” I smoothed a finger down the lines between his eyes before nodding to Matthew. “You want a ride, smokey?”

He flew up to my shoulder. “Just don’t get us lost in some alternate dimension, yeah?”

“Shut up.” I teased focusing on Rose’s thread and letting it pull me to the house. “I’m getting way better at this Weaver shit.”

“Yeah it’s impressive when you don’t fuck it up.”

“I should have made you fly.”

***

Dream poured over the books scattered on the table, a persistent headache plaguing him since Rose Walker had left. Since Penelope had followed. Lucienne’s light steps echoed to him. “My lord, may I help?”

“Is this everything we have on Rose Walker?”

“And Jed Walker. But I shouldn’t think theres anything in those you don’t already know. Except perhaps-”

“Except perhaps why she was able to wander into my throne room.” He cut her off with a sigh. “What do you think? Why did Gault target her brother and not her?”

“Did you read about Unity Kincaid?” She asked moving toward another book away from his pile. “The day you were imprisoned there were people all over the world who fell asleep and could not wake up. Unity Kincaid is the sole survivor of what they called the “sleepy sickness”. The day you returned, she woke up. Rose Walker is her great-granddaughter.”

He took the book as she offered it to him. “Which would seem to suggest that my absence caused the birth of a vortex.”

“Is that not a possibility?”

“Vortexes are naturally occurring phenomena. No one knows why they happen. Not even I know. But I do know they are not caused or created. They simply happen.”

She shook her head, brows furrowing with confusion. “Then this is all a coincidence? And not an imminent threat?”

Dream sighed. “My instinct says no, but tonight when Rose Walker sleeps, I shall see it more clearly. May I?” He asked, walking away with the book in his hand.

The headache persisted all through the morning, the only moments of relief from it were when he looked through his raven's eyes and watched Penelope move through the humans. She was relaxed, far more than she had been in a long while, and though he wasn’t there he could feel the unburdened relief that filled her. She was finally free. Free of looking over her shoulder, free of running, free to at last do as she pleased. He quietly smiled at the bright butterfly shirt she’d worn, his eyes skimming down to her thighs where both her daggers were tightly secured.

She is more than capable of handling herself. He reminded himself, but it did little to lessen the fear he felt. If she was correct in assuming Rose Walker had already begun drawing his nightmares to her then there was a chance… slim as it was that The Corinthian was lurking about. She was capable, far more than anyone else he knew, but his creation was as monstrous and fearsome as he’d intended for him to be and he worried for her, should they cross paths.

***

Rose had been a bit surprised to see Matthew and I waiting outside the house that morning, but she contained it well. Flyers in her hands and a tall man with black and white hair following her steps she gave us a small wave before moving through the town in search of her brother. As we followed a ways behind her I couldn’t help but feel lighter. This was the first time in sixty years I’d not been nervous to walk around so publicly. It was weird, but in the best way.

The beach was warm and full of regular people having fun. They wore roller skates and slid past me listening to music, they set up umbrellas and towels and settled beneath the sun comfortably and content. Matthew had left my side, flying around the area before settling beneath a pavilion a ways ahead of both me and Rose. She and her friend handed out flyers, walking and making light conversation before her eyes glued to a crow perched on a railing. I smiled, refraining from laughing at the no doubt fit Matthew was about to have.

When she moved to follow the wrong bird I stayed put, long enough to catch a glimpse of the blonde man in the white coat with thick black glasses as he stared after her, moving to follow. He got close, but when he noticed Matthew his confident steps faltered and he turned away with a look of annoyance on his face. The longer I looked at him the more certain I was that he was one of Dreams' missing nightmares. I looked to Matthew as he and Rose spoke, before following the man down the beach. He took a flyer from her friend and then quickly moved into the thick crowd, trying to blend away into it, but I would not be lost so easily.

I cut across the beach, moving through the stalls of people selling things and into the old building, some old tourist attraction by the look of it. I waited, patient and quiet as the sound of his heavy footsteps echoed down the alley. The door to the abandoned building opened beside me and he stepped into the room with a frustrated curse. My blade was at the back of his neck in a second. “The Corinthian I presume.”

Ignoring the sting of metal against his skin he turned his head to me. "The fair Lady of The Dreaming, it's about time our paths crossed. I've heard all about those pretty little teeth of yours," he smiled wide as he slid the dark glasses down his nose, revealing the eyes of pearly white teeth that seemed to smile with him. "But, I've got teeth too, your highness."

“If you want to keep them I suggest you behave.”

He laughed. “Sorry, my lady, good behavior is not something I was made for.”

I moved around him cautiously. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then it seems you are vastly different from my creator after all.” He set his hands in his pockets. “How’s that going by the way? I can’t imagine Dreams too keen on sharing the spotlight.”

Damn he’s good. I tried to keep my face passive, tried not to think about just how right he was in the assumption. “Does that really matter?”

He shrugged innocently. “Not to me, but I have a feeling it doesn’t feel so good for you. Knowing that he’ll never quite get over himself enough to let you in.”

“Did he make you to be this annoying or was that something learned yourself?”

“Oooh,” he laughed. “You’ve certainly got some spunk. Too bad it’s wasted on him. Dream won’t change. Not for anyone, not even you. All that fire of yours is gonna do is piss him off more and more every day until he finally has had enough of you. You wouldn’t be the first lover he cast out.”

“He has changed,” I told him. “So have you.”

“Me?” This seemed to take him off guard, a moment of uncertainty causing his smile to falter before it twisted into a sneer. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about me.”

I shrugged. “Don’t I? Dream made you, you’re part of him just like everything else in The Dreaming. Does that not give me, his soul bound, a little insight into you?”

“I’m not his pet,” The Corinthian growled. “And I sure as hell ain’t yours.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” I said, relaxing my stance a bit. “Neither would he.”

The Corinthian shook his head. “You really think that don’t you? Tell me, how are you any different from a pet to him? He keeps you on a short leash, never letting you do what you want, never giving you any say in any of it. Does that sound like an equal to you?”

I frowned at his words, more so at the way they managed to twist inside me. “He’s trying.”

“Eons too late,” he said. “I won’t go back. And the time for chit chat is over, my lady."

A wave of black energy slammed into me, throwing me across the room and trapping me against the floor. Lyria, the beast inside her, smiled down at me. “I’m disappointed in you, Weaver. I thought you’d give me more of a fight, like last time.”

The Corinthian tipped his glasses to me with a grin. “You know, had things been different I think I woulda liked having you as my lady. Don’t worry, I’ll say hi to Jed for ya.”

He wandered lazily out of the building leaving me and Lyria alone. The power that held me was strong and unmoving as the creature moved towards me with a sigh. “It’s painful, being forced to ally myself with such temperamental creatures, but so long as I get Destiny’s head I don’t care what I have to do.”

In my pocket I felt a rumbling echo of thunder and everything relaxed. I looked up at the creature with a smile of my own. “You’re a fool if you think you have any chance at winning.”

“With you out of the way it will be easy. The Dream Lord relies so heavily on you.”

Dream? Why would it want Dream out of the way? “I thought it was Destiny you wanted.”

“It is, but I'll have to get rid of Dream first.” It said softly, appearing deep in thought for a moment. “They’ll only offer their aid if the Dream Lord bends.”

“Well, this is sounding far more elaborate than I thought. Thank you, for the information, but now I’m afraid I’ve got to get back.” I smiled at the creature as its black eyes glared down at me. “The Gathering Storm, answer my call.”

The vial in my pocket rumbled and raged as storm clouds filled the room, lighting striking all around Lyria and the creature inside until their power faded from me and they were forced to flee once again. Storm took shape quickly, their eyes examining the empty building and then turning to me. “Are you hurt, my lady?”

They helped me to my feet and I shook my head, flexing my sore muscles. “No, I’m alright. Thanks for coming.”

“Shall I hunt the creature down for you?”

“No,” I answered looking out at the beach of people through the broken windows. “Whatever they have planned is bigger than I thought. I don’t want to waste time trying to find them when we could be hunting down the book.”

Storm nodded. “I shall ask the other nightmares if they’ve seen anything that may be of use to your search.”

“Thank you.”

I found Matthew and told him to stay with Rose while I returned to The Dreaming and though he wasn’t too fond of stake out duty he agreed. Once I’d gotten back I sought out Lucienne immediately and poured over every book she had found for me on this creature that Destiny had locked away. Taking the books back up to the bedroom with me I searched for hours, looked for anything that could potentially help me understand exactly what this thing was and why it wanted the Endless gone.

There was very little, old myths and stories mostly, but one thing that felt like something was a description of some realm, old and long dead now. If this thing had such a place to hide away in then it was more than likely where I'd find the book. If I was right and it was still bound to it then this could be the key to beating it. It wasn't long after night fell that the palace shook with power for a moment before it settled. Dream had to be back, and if he was making entrances like that it probably meant he wasn’t having a very good night. I hurried down to the throne room, just in time to catch Lucienne and enter with her. There in the center of the room stood Gault and Dream, the tension and anger palpable between the two. Moving to Dreams' side I moved to touch him.

“Are you alright?” He didn’t speak, merely turning away from me and the nightmare to move towards his throne. “Did Rose find Jed?”

“We will discuss it later.” His voice was dark, tense and full of restrained rage.

“Do you have any idea what his life is like in the Waking World?” Gault suddenly demanded as Morpheus moved to ascend the stairs.

“Humans cannot live in dreams. As long as he stayed there, the child had no life nor the chance for one.” He looked over his shoulder at her.

Lucienne pulled me from between the two and was stiff by my side as Gault scoffed up at Dream. “The boy is being abused. He’s suffering.”

“You abused that suffering to build a Dreaming you could rule.”

“I had no wish to rule.” She said forcefully, tears building in her eyes. “I merely wish to be a Dream and not a Nightmare. To inspire rather than to frighten.”

Her words echoed in my ears, shifting into Storm's voice as they once told me the same. I looked at Gault, truly looked at her, and I saw echoes of the same sorrow that filled my friend and others in The Dreaming. Dream, however, did not see it the same way. “The choice is not yours to make. We do not choose to be created. Nor do we choose how we are made.”

“That is true. But we can change.”

“No. We are, each of us, born with responsibilities. Even I am not free to choose to be other than I am. Nor is anyone.” He won't change. Not for anyone, not even you.

“If that were true, why did all the other Dreams and Nightmares choose to leave this place when you had gone away?” She demanded, the gleam in her eyes enough to tell me… each of us standing in the room, that she had no intention of bending beneath Morpheus’ power.

Lucienne spoke beside me. “Not all of us chose to leave and nearly all have returned.”

“Do you think they came back out of love? Or because they were afraid of what you would do to them if they did not?” She smiled, a joyless and defiant smile. “Because I am not afraid.”

Morpheus turned, power and anger and hurt swimming in his eyes. “You should be. A Nightmares purpose is to reveal a dreamer's fears, that they may face them. Perhaps a few thousand years in the darkness will reveal your fears.”

I watched his shadow stretch, moving closer and closer to Gault as she remained tall. This is wrong. My body moved on it’s own, standing between the growing shadow and Gault, light casting over the floor and halting his shadow as my head lifted and my eyes met Dreams. He stared down at me, not resembling the Dream I knew… no, this cold and callous face was that of the King of Nightmares. "Enough of this, Morpheus."

"Stand aside."

"I do not agree with your punishment." I answered firmly.

"You do not have to. I am the king and ruler of this realm. My word is law."

"Then what is my word? I cannot be your equal if you refuse to hear any voice but your own."

"You would defy me?" He questioned, every ounce of his anger and disbelief filling me.

"Defy you?" I huffed angrily. "All I've asked is that you hear me... That you treat me as the equal you claim I am, but still you would say I am defying you?”

"You hold no authority to question me."

I shook my head. "If you would earnestly rule over this realm with fear and chains then you are not the man I thought you were.”

He took a step down from the stairs. “I am not a man. I am Dream of the Endless and I will not bend my rules for anyone, not even you.” Not even you.

I held his cold gaze, tears building in my eyes as I spoke, one last warning in hopes he’d listen. “If this is how you would choose to rule then you shall do it alone."

His voice was solid and dark even with the tears building in his eyes. "I have ruled alone for millennia, I shall continue to do so."

Holding back the tears I nodded, closing myself off from him completely. The action drew a near inaudible noise from him and the pain in his eyes was evident as I bowed to him. "Very well then. Forgive my insolence, Lord Morpheus. It won’t happen again." I turned and looked at Gault, offering her a sad smile. "I'm sorry Gault."

"Do not be," she bowed her head, not just a show of her respect and gratitude but of defiance. "My lady."

Without another word I walked away, walked straight to the bedroom and stood with silent tears streaming down my cheeks. Resting atop the duffle bag beside my wardrobe a butterfly beat its wings. The fear and the powerful urge to run filled me. It's what I knew, what had always felt safest in situations like this, full of fear and uncertainty. I grabbed the bag and tossed it over my shoulder, leaving the palace. I moved quickly through the crowd that gathered in the town, ignoring their hushed whispers and making my way to Cain and Abels. Their garden was slowly withering, the ground icing over as I got closer.

"My lady!" Abel cried, taking in my appearance. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I said quickly. "I just..."

Cain emerged from his home with a worried look on his face. "What's happened?"

I sighed. "Nothing."

"You're leaving?" He asked, eyes glued to my bag.

“For a little while, just until things calm down a bit.”

Cain’s face curled up in anger. “This is his doing isn’t it?”

Setting a hand to his cheek I shook my head. “I just need some space, I think we both do.”

He leaned into my palm. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“We don’t want you to leave,” Abel corrected, setting his head on my shoulder. I smiled, pulling away to wrap both of them in my arms.

“It’s not forever. I’ll be back.” They said nothing else as I wiped their tears and tapped Goldie's nose before looking up at the statue. I squeezed the bag in my hand and pressed a kiss to the cold marble. “Watch over them for me.”

When I arrived in the Waking World it was pouring rain. Normally I would have loved this weather, danced and skipped in the puddles, but tonight it just felt heavy and cold. I hurried to the door, knocking lightly. Hob Gadling looked surprised to see me, more so he looked worried as he took notice of my deflated expression. “Penelope?”

My lips wobbled as I tried to smile. “Can I stay here tonight?”

He pulled me into his warm embrace. “Of course you can. Come on, lsts get you dried up."

***

Penelope held his eyes, tears evident within them as she spoke again, “If this is how you would choose to rule then you shall do it alone."

“I have ruled alone for millennia, I shall continue to do so." Dream said, strong and stoic, but filled with repressed fear at the mere thought of being alone once again.

He felt her close herself off from him completely, her steady hum of emotion and thought gone… the heartbeat in his chest slowed and slowed until it finally ceased. He felt empty, alone just as she said he would be. Watching her bow to him, acting as though she was nothing more than another of his subjects cut deep, but her words cut even deeper. "Very well then. Forgive my insolence, Lord Morpheus. It won’t happen again." She turned to the Nightmare. "I'm sorry Gault."

"Do not be, my lady." Gault bowed to her, the action spurring his anger.

Penelope didn’t turn back to him, didn’t offer him anything more as she walked away. Lucienne looked down at her feet, eyes glossy with repressed tears. The sound of her feet moving through the throne room died down and he was left with nothing of her to reassure him that her love was still there.

At the base of the steps Gault held her head up high. “I shall take comfort in knowing I am not the only one no longer afraid of you. Better darkness than a life of making others afraid. Even a Nightmare can dream, my lord.”

He watched Gault fade into the nothingness of his shadow, the fire in her eyes reminding him of the way Penelope’s looked whenever she saw Roderick or Alex. The thought made him twist with an unsettled feeling as the mark on his arm felt numbed by the loss of her. Lucienne hadn’t moved or said a word, but Dream could feel the discontentment within her. “Do you feel her punishment was unjust as well?”

“I used to be something else, before you made me your librarian. We all change, sir, even you perhaps. One day.” Though her words were spoken softly, the fear within Dream made him tighten the ever slipping grip he had over his power. His realm.

“Lucienne, I realize that in my absence, you were compelled to make decisions in my stead, and I am grateful to you. But I am back now. You may return to the library.”

All the hope that had been in her eyes faded as she turned away from him and slowly fading from view. For a while longer he stood in his throne room, for the first time in months consumed by the utter silence that surrounded him. He felt like he had before his capture. Strong, powerful, in control… alone. Drawing in a deep breath he turned, moving quietly through the halls until he stood at the doors to his room. She would be angry with him. He expected that. What he did not expect was to push the doors open to find the room completely empty.

Dread filled him as he looked around, the balcony, the washroom perhaps? His eyes landed on the spot beside her wardrobe, the spot that the ugly duffle bag had once been sitting in… the spot that was now empty. No. He told himself. She wouldn’t have left. Surely it had not come to that yet. His feet moved quickly, carrying him through The Dreaming with haste.

He checked the lake, empty.

He checked the library, empty.

He checked Mervyn’s workshop, empty.

He checked the town, empty.

When at last he’d made his way down the path toward Cain and Abel’s homes The Dreaming had started to tremble beneath his feet. The two brothers were already outside when Morpheus crossed the bridge, looking sadly at their garden. What had once been vibrant and beautiful, full of butterflies and life was now… Dream felt his heart clench as he looked at the withering flowers and trees. The Dreaming curled around him, growing colder and colder the further he walked into the garden.

Cain brushed dead leaves off the marble statue as Abel took notice of him with a sad gaze and bowed his head. "Lord Morpheus."

Dream didn't say anything as he examined the growing frost, but he took note of Cain's stiff posture as he continued cleaning the statue without even sparing him a look. A tremor ran through the ground beneath his feet as bright light filled the night, drawing everyone's gaze upwards. Tears filled his eyes as he watched the stars fall from the sky, each blazing across the sea of night until none remained and darkness cast over The Dreaming. His realm was consumed by dark skies and chilled winds as The Dreaming reacted to the loss of its lady, but unlike the times before, Morpheus had nothing… no one to blame but himself.

***

Hob Gadling had been very accommodating, offering me his spare room and cooking excessive amounts of food in an attempt to cheer me up. We watched movies all through the night when sleep had eluded me. He was a good friend, but I knew I couldn’t stay here forever. Being around Hob reminded me of the man we both loved… the man that would surely come here looking for me. And at present I didn’t want to be found.

I had finished repacking my bag and as I held the key in my hands decided that it was finally time to see what Pierre had left to me. Perhaps whatever it was would ease the loneliness that grew in me every day. When I stepped out of the guest room Hob was pulling on his coat with a smile. “I’m coming with you.”

“Hob, you’ve done enough for me already. You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he said, holding a hand out to me. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you go out in the middle of a storm in the dark?”

I shook my head with a sigh of feigned annoyance and smiled at him. “You are an insufferable degenerate, Hob Gadling.”

“You must stop talking like that, Strange Penelope, or I might think you like me.”

With Hob beside me the task ahead didn’t feel as daunting. We sat in the cab, he told me stories of course, and insisted that I come to meet his students one day. Offered to dedicate an entire class to me, insisting that I’d certainly be more interesting than he was. The old office space slowly came into view, two large men standing out in the rain beneath an umbrella, smoking quietly. Beside me Hob tensened, the sight was probably quite ominous to a normal - or more normal - person. I squeezed his leg. “Don’t worry, they’re quite lovely.”

“You have odd friends,” he said.

As soon as I got out of the car they turned to me with smiles and praises in French and Italian. “Penelope! It has been far too long!”

“Luis, Maddock,” I addressed them both, pulling them into hugs. “It’s good to see you.”

Maddock, big and burly with dark curls of hair nodded to the building. “We left everything exactly as he did.”

Luis, slightly shorter and less burly than his partner, took a long drag of the cigarette. “You ready? We can wait if you’re not. There’s no rush.”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” I said softly. "What is this place?"

Maddock's eyes were gentle as hell spoke, "The empire of The Marquis."

The key slid into place in the lock, clicking quietly as it opened. The two men stood away from the office door, letting me into the building with slightly bowed heads. I turned to Hob, who stood beside the cab underneath his umbrella. “I’ll be right back.”

Boxes filled the space, old paintings in ornate frames and glass cases of jewelry and gems. I looked at the things Pierre had gathered over the years with a lonely sense of fondness. Everything here was all the things he considered important enough to keep. A box had already been set on a small table, my name written in Pierres messy handwriting labeled the side. I ran my fingers along the faded writing before opening the box. On the top of a pile of covering an envelope read Ma moitié. I forced myself to open it, to keep breathing despite the burning ache that tightened in my throat.

Ma moitié, my half, my lovely Penelope,

If you are reading this it means I've paid my debt at last. I can only hope I left you in good hands and that you will be safe and loved in my absence. Maddock and Luis are my most trusted associates, and they will do as you tell them. They will protect you and watch your back in my place. I leave you my empire, all the things I've collected in my travels as well as all my accounts, it is yours, it always was.

This box holds that which I valued above all else, the things I loved, it too is yours. I hope these things are enough to bring you comfort. I am sorry, Ma moitié, for the pain I have caused you. It is my hope that I died as I lived, foolish and reckless, and that you are safe as you read these words. Goodbye, my heart, my goddess, my everything, my Penelope.

P.S. Tell the witch that even though she's a cunt that for a Constantine she's a good person, the best among them, and that I enjoyed every near death experience at her hands.

I was crying quietly, glad that the others had stayed outside, as I pulled myself together and lifted the covering out of the box revealing what Pierre held closest to him. The first thing was a silver locket, a small braided lock of both our hair inside with a small picture of us. Then there was his jacket, the old one that he stopped wearing years ago. I lifted the smooth black leather to my face, inhaling the familiar scent of his cigarette smoke. Beneath his jacket was a tiny box with a small marble stone, a piece of Greece, a small reminder of a large chunk of our time together.

An old shoebox was filled with various trinkets, some from the years he lived before me, but most were small memories of our travels. There were a few old loose photos of his brother, a man Pierre had looked up to and lost long ago. And two wreaths of dried flowers from both his mothers wedding and her funeral. His old camera, something he used to constantly have with him, sat idly and covered in a thin layer of ribbon, ribbon from the first gift I'd ever given him. And there at the bottom of the box was another thick envelope titled what I love most in French.

The second I opened it I began to cry in earnest. It was full of pictures… Pictures of me, of us. I shuffled through them, smiling at the memories we had together, at the photos he'd written messages on, until I found one that filled the hole in my heart his absence had left. It wasn't the best one, not flashy or elegant, but it was real and it felt the most like him. I'd stolen his camera one morning, wearing his pajamas and smiling wide. Pierre was beside me in his jacket and a torn apart shirt, hair messy, cigarette loose between his half smiling lips and his hand lifted finger extended flipping off the camera. Scribbled in the corner was: you were a bitch that day, I loved it.

I carefully set everything back in the box except the photo, his jacket and the locket, closing it with a soft kiss. "Merci. Au revoir, mon Pierre."

I slid the locket over my head and put the jacket on, curling into the lingering warmth it seemed to hold and carefully put the photo in my pocket. Looking around one last time I moved toward the exit and back out into the rain. Maddock and Luis stood side by side sharing an umbrella, quietly speaking to one another in French while Hob stood off to the side, awkwardly waiting beneath his own umbrella.

Maddock and Luis looked at me with smiles. "Need anything boss?"

I shook my head. "Not at present.”

"Call if you need us and we'll be there." Luis handed me a small card with each of their numbers. "No matter what."

"Thank you, both of you."

Hob waited until they got in their car before coming to stand beside me. "We should get out of this rain."

I smiled up at him. "I appreciate you coming with me and letting me stay the night."

"You're leaving," he said, with a sad look. "Where will you go?"

Shrugging I stepped out beneath his umbrella and smiled. "I don't know."

He sighed, seeming to sense he wasn't going to be we to convince me to stay. "Will I see you around?"

"Maybe," I laughed. "In a hundred years."

"Goodbye, Strange Penelope."

"Goodbye Hob Gadling."

As he moved back toward the cab he hollered over the rain, "A hundred years! Don't be late!"

For a while I walked through the rain, my heart heavy and my mind exhausted. I thought of home. The warmth of The Dreaming, the bickering of Matthew, Lucienne's wise words and books, Mervs sarcasm… Dream. How I wanted to curl up in his bed and press myself into his chilled skin. I closed my eyes tightly, the familiar sinking feeling consuming me. I could hear echoes of waves beating against wooden walls, the creaks and groans of the ship as it moved.

This time when I opened my eyes to find myself on the broken steps of the museum I wasn't confused or afraid. I simply walked through the broken door and moved past the destroyed art and whispering weapons to the back room. The hole in the floor was still there from my last visit, wind whistling loudly through it, but I didn't mind. I walked around it, tossing my bag on the feather covered bed and sitting down on it with the heavy loneliness filling the silence. Laying down and curling into the smell of smoke and the warmth of my jacket I silently cried. I wanted to go home… if there was a home left to go back to. But all I had was the crushing weight of nothing.

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#the sandman and the girl without dreams #dream of the endless #sandman morpheus #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x oc #dream of the endless smut #the sandman series #sandman netflix #the sandman fanfic #dream the endless #morpheus imagine #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman x you #dream of the endless x you #dream the endless x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus smut

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dyns33 · 2 years

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Flufftober 1 - Dream

Dream x Reader Hob

It’s not good, but I really don’t have the time to write lately, I’ll try do to better for the next stories this month. I also want to write more about this pairing later.

Y/N Y/L/N was born in the 1300s, and she expected nothing from life.

Yet she loved life, she would have liked to see everything, hear everything, do everything, and for that she would have liked never to die.

One night she was discussing it with some friends, saying it was ridiculous to have to die, when there was so much beauty in the world, so much possibility.

"It's decided." she declared proudly, holding the glass of wine she had stolen from a neighbour's cellar. “I will not die !”

“You are funny, Y/N. Even if you couldn't die, you are a woman. It would be hell for you.”

“Nonsense ! It was much harder before, and I'm sure it can only get better. One day, women will be equal to men, and I could do whatever I want ! You just have to wait a bit, and I'll be there to see it !”

"If you say so."

"Excuse me." then said a man who had approached. "I thought I heard you had no intention of dying."

Y/N and her friends were silent, to stare at him. She might have been scared, wondering if he was going to mock her or take her for a witch, but the stranger seemed different from the others.

Almost inhuman. Dreamy.

Very proudly, she replied that it was true, that she was going to live forever, which made him smile.

"So let's meet in the village pub, a hundred years from now, Y/N Y/L/N."

"Very well ! I will be there !" she proclaimed, not realizing he knew her name.

It was strange for her to discover that she did not age, and that she could not die. She hadn't thought it would work. For a hundred years, she hid to avoid trouble, before going to the pub, where the stranger awaited her.

“... You are not human.”

"And you're still alive." he noted, as if he was surprised.

"Of course, why not ?"

"I thought you would have wish to be dead by now."

"No way, I don't want to die at all ! I was a bit lost and scared, but that doesn't mean that I'm not happy. I just have to adapt, find out how to do it. Are you going to help me ?”

"No. This is your life. I only want to talk with you, once every hundred years, to find out what has changed.”

He didn't give her his name. Obviously, he wasn't there to talk about himself, but only to see how Y/N was going to live her endless life.

That changed a bit during their second meeting. She had a lot to say to him, and he listened with great interest. It was during this period that she was burned for witchcraft. People seemed to believe that the fire was the cause of death, but it was actually the smoke, which suffocated her very quickly. That remained painful. Coming back to life was painful too. After several 'deaths', she learned to be more careful.

Y/N had travelled, visiting several cities and countries. She had met many people, first not daring to approach them since they were going to die, before deciding that it was not so bad.

“Not so bad ?” asked the stranger, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, even if I wasn't immortal, they're going to die, so they might go before me anyway, and I'll be sad. So even though I know I'll lose them at some point, I can enjoy their presence while they are there. It would be stupid not to talk to them just because it's not going to last."

The stranger looked impressed. He still didn't give her his name, but they stayed in the pub very late, before parting for another hundred years.

Things were a little easier. As she predicted, although it wasn't perfect, women were gradually gaining more rights. She had several jobs, relatives, a few lovers.

But in a corner of her mind, Y/N often thought of her stranger, looking forward to their next date. It was probably stupid to feel that way for an inhuman being whose name she still didn't know after all this time, but if they never got close, she wanted to at least believe they were friends.

She told him on their fifth meeting, a little shyly, not knowing how he was going to react.

Secretly hoping that he would tell her that he loved her more than just a friend.

Instead, her stranger turned very cold, his face taking on an angry expression.

"You dare. You dare to imply that I need you, that I have attached myself to your company in this way."

"Yes." she said, surprised. "Yes, I dare."

"So I have to go, to prove you wrong !"

Following him down the street, Y/N tried not to cry, shouting to him that she would be there in a hundred years, waiting for him, and that if he came, it would prove that they were friends, that he liked her, that he cared.

It was a real slap in the face when she waited for him all day, and he didn't come.

Maybe he was a lot angrier than she thought. Maybe she wasn't that important to him. Y/N stayed anyway until closing time, when she learned that the bar was soon to close for good, bought out by property developers to make housing.

“But... This is where we always meet !” she cried.

"You and your friend who didn't come ?" asked the bartender.

“It's... I don't know if we're friends. We had a fight the last time we saw each other. It was my fault. I have no way to contact him, we always meet here. If he comes back next time…”

“You can wait for him in front of the building, or somewhere else. And if you're not friends, then he's an idiot. No one would wait all day and freak out thinking they would never see the person again, if they weren't friends, and a good one. Maybe even more."

He gave her a wink with a sad little smile, before offering her a last drink and cleaning the bar.

Y/N didn't know if she would want to wait stupidly in front of a building, so she simply found another bar, leaving a clue to the location of the first, in case the stranger passed by, looking for her. We never knew. Even though it might sound silly, Y/N wanted to keep hope alive.

He would come back, at least to see if she was still alive, even if he didn't stay long.

Reading a book while sipping a beer, she still didn't look up when someone entered the pub. She had been doing this for hours and her neck was starting to hurt.

The person approached the table before stopping in front of it. Y/N could feel being stared at, but she took the time to finish her page before looking at him, ready to ask what they wanted.

No sound came out of her mouth when she saw her stranger.

She had wanted this moment so badly for two hundred years, imagining what she would say, what she would do, but she was so surprised, so happy, that she sat there not knowing how to react.

It seemed unreal. He was still as beautiful and mysterious as before. Maybe a little paler.

"You... You're late." she managed to articulate after a while.

"I am sorry. I know it's rude to keep friends waiting."

"Oh. You don't have to... I know I offended you last time saying that."

“My reaction was deplorable.” he replied, sitting down. "I'm not used to humans getting attached to me. Or that they want to be my friends.”

“Have you ever had any human friends ?”

"No. I'm not even sure I ever had a friend. On the other hand, I had a few human lovers.”

“Oh.”

“I had hoped...”

"Yes ?"

"No, nothing."

"Hmm."

They remained silent for a while, visibly embarrassed. Y/N couldn't figure out what he wanted, but he was there, he didn't hate her, and he accepted that they were at least friends.

A raven then tapped frantically on the window with its beak, staring at the stranger.

"... Matthew thinks you want to be more than friends with me."

“Matthew ? It's his name ? He is smart... I mean... It's okay if you don't want to, forget it. I'm just glad to see you once every hundred years. You know, even if it's not the only reason, our meetings make me want to continue. Not just because you're the only person I have around me that's not going to die, it's... I always look forward to seeing you. It was tough when you didn't come last time, but I get it."

"You came." he noted with a small voice. “And you found a new place to wait for me. Nobody had ever done that. I would have liked to come but I had an impediment. I am sorry."

"Not your fault."

Now I'm gonna do something I should have done a long time ago, according to my raven, my librarian, my sister and everyone I've talked to about it."

"What ?"

"I'll kiss you.”

She didn't have time to understand what he had just said, her stranger was already next to her, his hand on her cheek and his lips against hers.

Alright.

More than friends, as the long-dead bartender had said. A relationship of seven hundred years after all.

All she had to do was get a name now.

#the sandman #sandman #sandman netflix #dream #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x oc #morpheus #morpheus x reader #flufftober 2022

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realmsdelght · 3 months

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His everything; Dream of the Endless

Dream of the Endless x oc

Summary: The Lord of Dreams finally finds peace in monsters and the kitchen of his palace

Note: The only physical description I wrote in is the silver hair because I’m fascinated with Velaryons/Targaryens. But anyone can have silver hair, and other than that there is no physical description, I tried to keep it pretty neutral, if I slipped up somewhere please let me know.

I thought about a lot of stories about this oc, I can write more and expand on her if you guys like the story. Also, I'm a little rusty so forgive me if this isn't that good.

Warning: none just fluff

Word count: 1,4k

The universe is full of ironies, the world of gods and monsters even more so.

Echidna, the mother of monsters, had many children, but there was only one of those pregnancies where she was truly haunted. She cursed the Lord of Dreams and Nightmares as the latter plagued her every night, and in her mind that could only mean one thing. So she announced this would be the worst of her children, a monster so ruthless and grotesque that the Olympians themselves would fear the child. Her words traveled from her cave all the way to Olympus, where some of the gods secretly feared the unborn monster, and some mocked its mother, believing the cave had finally taken Echidna’s sanity.

Labor was harder than carrying the child, but once she was born Echidna was surprised. In her arms laid a baby, god-like shape and a head full of silver hair, she was the most beautiful child she had ever seen. Enya, she was named, and her mother hoped naming the child after Enyo would ensure her little monster would wreak havoc around men and gods alike.

As Enya grew up she proved to be completely different from what her mother’s expectations were. She was soft and charming, and the most beautiful creature Echidna had ever seen. Because of that, the mother was very reluctant to let her daughter go, afraid of what the cruel gods would do to her.

The gods were divided when it came to Echidna’s child. Surprisingly, Aphrodite was quite taken with the girl, a monster with a cloak so beautiful it could have come from herself. Zeus on the other hand, masked his fear with contempt, declaring that the girl was the most dangerous of Echidna’s offspring, with her beauty cloaking her monstrosity. With years of roaming the earth, Enya earned the name of Goddess of Monsters, as even the most aggressive of monsters were calmed by her presence.

Just as expected her beauty attracted hundreds of suitors and some lovers, but none were so special and lasting as the very same being that had haunted her mother when she was in the womb, Dream of the Endless.

The salty air calmed her, and she knew her presence calmed whatever resided in the waters in front of her. She heard steps on the sand beside her, and she knew exactly who was approaching. Whether it was his smell that was carried by the wind, or the ruby warmed up on her neck as he approached. The ruby that adorned her neck was the only piece that remained from Dream’s ruby, a gift given to her just before the sleepy sickness started.

“You have no shoes on,” he pointed out jokingly. She loved his voice, as deep as the ocean and just as calm.

“And you are wearing boots at the beach,” she finally opened her eyes and turned to him, moving closer. “Do you ever miss the simpler times?” Her hands went to his chest, “all we wore was silk tunics and dresses, and sandals, vivid colors embellished with gold and silver.”

“And the sheer violet dress you were wearing when we met,” he smiled at his beloved, he remembered that day like it was yesterday.

Her smile grew wider as she remembered their first encounter, “you did like that dress.”

“But I do not miss those times,” his statement made her laugh.

“Of course, the Lord of Nightmares would prefer boots to sandals,” Morpheus smiled, taking her hand into his.

“I do,” he kissed her forehead, “shall we go home?”

The couple walked down the beach, the Lord of Dreams knew there was no need to walk down the beach to reach the Dreaming, but he also knew how much she enjoyed the feeling of the sand on her feet.

The Dreaming was finally rebuilt, and its inhabitants were back to their homes, but even after it was done the Lord of Dreams still had a lot of work to do. He would spend his days working on dreams and nightmares, making sure everything was perfectly in balance. Morpheus enjoyed his duty, but some days he wished he could spend his days with Enya, doing nothing, or whatever she wished to do.

The sky in the Dreaming was dark, their duty was done and its residents could retire to their homes for the day, so their ruler decided to do the same. He quietly searched his palace for his lover, but the silver haired girl was nowhere to be found. Dream’s last stop was the library, he hoped that even if she was not there Lucienne would be able to tell him where she was.

“Lucienne,” his deep voice echoed in the library.

“Sir,” the librarian emerged from in between the shelves.

“Have you seen Enya?” He asked, and he did not miss the small smile on Lucienne’s face.

“I believe she is in her kitchen, Sir,” she informed Morpheus.

Her kitchen, of course, the Lord thought, was the most obvious place, but since it had not been used since he was freed from his captor, the location slipped his mind.

For most gods and immortal beings cooking was mundane, an unnecessary task that was beneath them. But his Enya took great pleasure in the simple act of cooking, so the Lord of Dreams turned one of the lower rooms of his palace into a kitchen, with a large balcony overlooking the waters that surrounded the palace, and a simple table so they could eat overlooking his kingdom.

Dream’s large steps quickly took him to the kitchen, and as soon as he reached the large doors the Endless could smell whatever she was cooking. Once the door was opened he found Enya bent down, taking something out of the oven, but what really caught his attention was the dress she was wearing, the sheer violet dress.

Enya felt the warmth coming from the ruby on her neck before the doors were opened, and a smile appeared on her face once she heard his steps.

“Torta della nonna,” she showed him the pastry on her hands before placing it on the counter.

As soon as the pastry was set down on the counter Dream’s hands found their way to her hips. “Is there a special occasion? You only cook Italian on special occasions,” he pointed out.

Enya was very good at hiding her emotions, but she rarely ever did so. Morpheus could see the love and admiration she held for him For a long time all that love and devotion scared him, but not anymore.

She shrugged her shoulders, “I missed you.” she said before pulling him into a kiss.

The Lord of Dreams melted into her lips, and as much as he could kiss her forever he was still curious. “And the dress? I did not know you still had it,” He asked and she giggled at his interest in the dress.

“It is a beautiful dress,” he laughed at her, “and it was the dress I wore when we first met.”

“At Artemis’ garden,” Dream said and she nodded.

“I wanted to do something special for you,” she explained. “You deserve it, especially after everything,” after Roderick Burgess, she thought but those words were left unspoken.

“Every day I spend with you is special,” The Lord of Dreams brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes never leaving hers.

Enya couldn’t look away, for in his eyes she saw her whole world, she saw a kind of love she had only heard in stories, and she knew she could never let this go.

“Yes,” she nodded, “but lasagna and dessert make this day more special,” Dream chuckled at this.

“And the dress,” he added, and this time Enya was the one to chuckle.

“And the dress, of course,” she finally got out of his embrace, turning towards the counters, she picked up the dessert and nodded to the lasagna on the counter, “ bring that, will you?” Morpheus simply nodded, picking up the hot dish and following his lover outside. The table was already set with plates, silverware, glasses, water, and wine. After all, every dinner with the Lord of Nightmares was a special occasion. Dream watched as she served them dinner, he now understood the beauty she saw in such small acts, but maybe it was not the act he found beautiful, maybe it was her, his everything.

#morpheus fanfic #morpheus imagines #morpheus #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfic #the sandman imagine #fiddlers green #tom sturridge #neil gaiman #dream x oc #dream of the endless x oc #morpheus x oc #tom sturridge x oc #dream fanfi #dream of the endless fanfic #dream

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writing-for-life · 4 months

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I’ll be honest—I thought I wouldn’t finish it in time because the past two weeks have been chaos (sick child), but here it is:

A little one shot I wrote for Christmas as a gift to those of you who are reading/have read “The Light of Stars”. And of course it’s for everyone else as well (you might just not understand all the little references in the same way).

A quick word of warning:

This is a completely standalone fluff piece, but if you aren’t in the vicinity of chapter 22/23 of TLoS yet, you could consider it slightly spoilery, simply due to the fact where Thalia is at this moment in time. So I’ll leave it up to you if you want to read it if you’re not that far in.

I am tagging those of you who I know have read or are still reading, but feel no pressure to read this any time soon (nothing wrong with Christmas feelings in March).

If I forgot you (I’ve had such lovely discussions with many of you on Ao3), it’s just because I don’t know who you are on Tumblr, but this is obviously also for you.

All that’s left to say at this point is: Have a lovely Christmas if you’re celebrating, and thank you for being on this journey with me.

I’m missing these two, and I’m busy writing the sequel, but progress has slowed down a bit at the moment because… life. I promise they’ll be back for good, and up until then, here they are for now:

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Character(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Reader

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Original Female Character(s), Thalia Callaghan

Additional Tags: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Christmas Eve, Christmas Tree, Christmas Decorations, Romance, Female Friendship, Sexual Tension, Grief/Mourning, Love Transcends All

Series: Part 2 of The Light of Stars

Summary:

What happens when it is your first Christmas in the Dreaming and you miss your best friend?

For Thalia, there is only one way to find out…

@marlowe-zara @tickldpnk8 @safeuphigh @bluecsparrot @rey-jake-therapist @moonythesheep @intothesoul

#sandman #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction #lord morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus #dream of the endless x original character #morpheus x oc #morpheus x original character #dream of the endless x oc #sandman fanfiction #sandman fanfic #Thalia my beloved you deserve your own tag #the light of stars #queue crew #christmas gift for my mutuals #and everyone else

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ohraicodoll · 1 year

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Interwoven | Chapter 5

Chapters: 5/6 Fandom: The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating: Mature/Explicit Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual. Chapter Summary: The past and present collide. CHAPTER WARNING: References to Domestic Abuse, Violence, Assault, Graphic Descriptions, Trauma Depictions

As I often did when faced with having to have a hard conversation, I pushed it under the rug and moved on, content to let the unease stay under the surface. Fear and uncertainty won out and it wouldn’t change anything, bringing it all up. Going back to the Waking World was surprisingly difficult but life called. I had work and bills and it’s not like there was cellphone service in the Dreaming so I had to make sure Anissa or Hob weren’t blowing up my phone or freaking out that I’d disappeared. Morpheus eventually fixed that issue through…magic? I wasn’t sure, but he was able to contact people with glowing orbs so it wasn’t too much of a stretch. The orb system wouldn’t quite work for Anissa unless I wanted to spill the news of who he was or give her a heart attack so we went with making my phone reachable in the Dreaming. But life went on. Morpheus didn’t open up about his sisters though I knew something was bothering him and I didn’t bring up Alianora. It was easier to face the insecurity eating me away than the potential argument that would ensue. He was on edge, simultaneously aloof and more protective and I wasn’t sure how to approach him. The holiday months came and passed, one after the other, and time marched ever on. When most people gathered with their families, I stayed in the Dreaming with Morpheus or we’d go to Hob’s flat above the New Inn. Two family-less mortals and an Endless who didn’t seem to care for his. Dream didn’t particularly care if it was a certain holiday, I think using it as an excuse to get away and be with us. Celebrating mostly involved listening to the immortal talk, us bickering, and too much drinking, but for once the holidays didn’t feel as lonely as previous years. Anissa tried to drag me to her family gathering but I declined, not quite feeling like being an outsider and watching what I had lost. It turns out the Dreaming did seem to celebrate certain holidays, or at least some areas of it did. Abel was the main facilitator, going around and decorating furiously and getting the staff involved. Lucienne even wrote out holiday cards for the Dreaming residents. Most of them visited the Houses of Mystery and Secrets for Christmas and ice skating, the large lake nearby frozen over and the area covered in snow. Watching Merv and his Guano Gang of bats try to help hang up lights and decorate trees was particularly entertaining and even if Morpheus didn’t fully participate in all the activity, choosing to work instead, he’d joined for parts of it and stood at my side or watched Lucienne attempt to teach me to ice skate. I knew that even if he seemed disinterested, there was no way the weather in the realm magically became a winter wonderland without his help. It was a small thing, but I noticed it. And as the new year came and went, as I spent time where I could in the Dreaming and Morpheus became a more solid presence in my life, this thing between us felt like an expanding bubble. It was getting harder to ignore, harder to swallow and say we were nothing because we didn’t feel like nothing. We felt like too much. The Dreaming was feeling like home. He was feeling like home. I’d gone from being hollow and going from one empty relationship to another, desperately seeking some sort of affection after Aiden, empty and craving something to make the world less gray. Now life was magic and stories and immortals and people who genuinely cared for me. Anissa, though not his biggest fan, stopped ribbing me about Morpheus and seemed to accept him in a passive aggressive way. Though she didn’t stop giving him shit when the few times she was around him. Hob was quickly becoming a close friend and confidant, someone that understood having a secret and being tied to magic. He’d seen and experienced so much but was still full of light and kindness. Lucienne and Matthew and all of the Dreaming accepted me and seemed happy enough for me to be around. And Dream, he cared. Cared so much that it felt like I would be swallowed whole by the endless stars and sky that burned in his eyes. He hated me being away, I could tell. Each time I left the Dreaming, he seemed to cling tighter and when he would leave, he’d linger longer. I knew he was aware of the bubble growing as well, this building thing between us and I wasn’t sure how he felt. Morpheus was simultaneously desperate to have me at his side and mysteriously distant at times, doing work that he wouldn’t share or expand upon when asked. It felt like he was hiding something and I wasn’t sure how to feel. Complicated. Attached. Mine and his. Words I’d used to describe us seemed too simple now. They didn’t fit. But different words, words that lingered on my tongue when I smiled at him wide with utter abandon or felt his lips on my skin in worship, felt too big. Like I would choke on them if they left my lips. Like he’d vanish if he attempted to utter them. Thus, we stayed in limbo, too big and too small, but knowing something would change soon for better or for worse. A car crash waiting to happen. I chewed my lip as I left my office building, the air outside warmer in the evening now. Spring had come slowly but a few tendrils of Winter still clung, the slight bite in the morning hanging in the air by lunch and now gone entirely by evening. The day had been slow, boring, and I’d spent a dumb amount of time at work arguing about an old collection of fairy tales over text with Hob in between his lectures. I had no doubt it would continue when he came over for dinner with Dream, who would no doubt settle it between us, but I was determined to be right. I had even called the local bookshop I frequented close to my apartment to see if they carried the book I was thinking of. He was stubborn but so was I. Anissa was out on vacation for a week, leaving the office stuffy and boring so I was eager to leave as soon as the clock turned. I sighed and checked my phone before entering into the small bookshop down the street, the bell ringing overhead. I had a bit of time before both immortals came over. Hob was going to be doing the cooking so he had plans to come over earlier to start, Morpheus showing up whenever he deemed he could get away. He didn’t eat with us but usually drank wine while we did, choosing to enjoy the company instead. We’d learned better after making him try the food once, overly excited to see him change his mind and only getting a bland reaction in return. Unless it was on my skin, he wasn’t a fan of human foods. There weren't a lot of people inside, most customers already headed home for the night rather than stopping in to shop. I twiddled with the black stone on my necklace and went to the isle where the book would likely be, skimming over the titles and slightly smiling at myself while thinking of the two men that simultaneously annoyed me and kept me on my toes in different ways. But I was determined to be able to throw this book in Hob’s face if only to see his reaction. I chewed my lip and then made a small noise of satisfaction as the title fell under my fingertips, the book obviously second hand and well loved but the golden foil of the words holding up. I flipped through the pages anxiously, grinning when it found the one I knew had been in this collection. He had been so determined to say it wasn’t included, it was going to be so satisfying to prove him wrong. “I take it you found what you were looking for?” a soft feminine voice spoke behind me and I jumped, hugging the book to my chest and knocking into the shelf. I winced as my elbow connected to the wood and some of the books jostled together. The woman standing behind me was beautiful, dark hair falling around her shoulders and some pinned back in intricate braids. Her brown eyes were warm as she looked on with a slight smile, a white sundress falling to her feet. There was a grace and light that emanated from her, ease and comfort surrounding her like a well loved blanket. I smiled, laughing nervously, and clung to the book in my hands. “Uh, yeah, I was hoping they had this copy. I was needing it for a friend,” I replied, tongue explaining without even thinking. She smiled and nodded, hands clasped in front of her and looking at the title I held, “That is an old one, but a beautiful collection.” I wasn’t sure why I was nervous. Words tumbled from my lips unbidden and I couldn’t help smiling, a little bashful, “I read it a long time ago when I was trying to get a story sorted out, but I think I just ended up devouring the stories instead. I love old folk tales.” In truth, I’d read it all over and over again until Aiden had tossed it in the trash. I had become distracted from him and like most things I loved, he got rid of it. Her brown eyes lit up and a tinge of amusement danced along her lips, “Oh you’re a writer?” I chewed on my lip, shrugging, “Sort of. Nothing published or really finished, more like I write in my past time.” My past time which had been dwindling over the past year, now relegated to when I would spend time in the library with Lucienne or the few times I was alone at home, “I work at the book publisher a few blocks away! It was the closest I could get to working with stories outside of writing and reading them.” That amusement on her face grew but there was a hint of bitterness at its edge. I wasn’t sure why I was telling her this, almost as if it were unbidden. One of my hands went to fiddle with the black stone necklace, the obsidian cool under my fingers. I watched her eyes follow the movement and fixate, her brow furrowing. “A writer and a lover of stories,” she sighed almost sadly even while slightly smiling, warm brown eyes flickering up to meet mine once more, “I could see why Oneiros would take an interest in you.” The name clanged through me, harsh and sharp, severing the connection between us. Almost as if the temperature had dropped, it was instantly colder and I could feel the slight tingling of Dream’s power emanating from the stone necklace. Oneiros, another of Morpheus’ names. My fingers tightened around the book. I was on guard immediately and shut myself off, face becoming stony, “It was nice talking to you but I have somewhere I need to be.” Before she could reply, I took the book and almost walked out of the store, stopping briefly to remember where I was. The cashier didn’t comment on the fact I was shaking, quickly ringing me up and completing my purchase, and then I was pushing the door open to leave the small bookshop with the book shoved into my bag. I was alert, flight or fight running through me. Normal people didn’t know about Morpheus. She couldn’t be human, could be any manner of thing. And I wasn’t about to stick around to find out if she meant to hurt me, maybe even use me against him. Morpheus’ paranoia was rubbing off on me. Dream’s necklace was clutched in my fingers and I wondered if he could feel the sharp tick in my anxiety, glancing up to see if I could spot Matthew anywhere. I wasn’t sure exactly how his connection to the jewel worked, only that it would lead him to me in case of emergencies. Another of his precautions. The door chimed behind me and footsteps raced before a gentle hand grabbed my arm. I whirled and backed up, breaking contact and instantly defensive. The woman held her hands up, face apologetic and beseeching, “I mean you no harm! I did not wish to frighten you at all, I had simply wished to speak with you.” Her voice was gentle, pleading, and there was a calming effect to it that I tried to shake off. It could be natural but could also be magic. I didn’t relax, eyes wide. Even in the brightness of the dying sun with other people around, I was fully on my guard, “You mentioned Dream, you know him.” She let out a huff, half a laugh and half a sigh, while slightly lowering her hands, “Yes, I do know him. I would have said rather well, but I’m afraid not quite so much anymore. My name is Calliope. Do you know who I am?” The world tilted. My breath caught and eyes widened, heart thumping rapidly in my chest. Did I know who she was? Yes, I did. Her name had rattled in my brain for an entire night while I sat in Morpheus’ empty chambers, waiting for him. Wondering what he was doing, running off to his ex-wife, leaving me without even a word. His former lover and wife. The mother of his child. A muse, a goddess. It all fit now that I was looking at her with fresh eyes. She was beautiful, a hint of etherealness underneath her rich tanned skin, with an elegant face and regal-ness. Even in more modern clothing, it fit her and didn’t hide the classic look of her. The calming nature of her made sense. I could only whisper out a reply, eyes quickly cataloging everything about her all the while finding myself lacking, “Yes, I know of you.” Morpheus had loved her once, loved her long enough to marry her and then father a child with her. We had never broached the topic again after our last blow out concerning her, when he’d disappeared to help her, so I wasn’t sure how they had fallen apart, how their marriage had crumbled. I knew it had to deal with their son but that was a dangerous topic and I never brought it up again. But looking at her, I could see why he had been with her. There was tenderness, compassion alongside her beauty, but confidence and a hint of defiance in her eyes. A muse and the Prince of Stories. It was fitting. More fitting than a human and King of Dreams. Her lips pressed together and she tried to smile at me but it was a bit sad and sympathetic, “This is a bit of a mess, is it not? I am sorry. I had heard of you- of both of you and…was curious as to who had attracted his attention. I truly only wished to talk.” She was pleading, hands open as if to show she truly meant no harm. I chewed on my lip, feeling small and awkward in front of her, as I processed her words. She had heard of us which meant word had spread beyond the Dreaming and the Endless. Otherworldly beings turned out to be huge gossips and I was finding myself at the center of that. I knew that would upset Morpheus, either because people were intruding on his personal business or because it meant people knew he was with a human. I wasn’t sure and didn’t know if I wanted to find out which. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. This woman did nothing to me beyond spark jealousy and insecurity but that wasn’t her fault. I knew she had been in trouble, imprisoned against her will for years until Morpheus had at last saved her. Sympathy and jealousy warred until all that was less was awkwardness. “I’m Dahlia. I…don’t really know what to say to you. This isn’t exactly a normal occurrence for me,” I mumbled and almost hugged myself if only to feel some semblance of grounding. “Meeting a former lover of Dream’s?” Calliope offered with a slight smile. I shrugged, “More like meeting a goddess but that too.” We both sort of laughed under our breaths, the tension easing a bit. Sighing, I looked up at her from under my lashes and chewed on my already raw lip, “He didn’t tell me exactly what you went through but…I’m sorry, either way. I’m glad he helped free you.” A shadow passed behind her eyes and she briefly looked down, swallowing visibly, before offering a solemn smile, “It is unnecessary but thank you. I did not believe he would come, that he would help. But he has changed. I can see that now.” “How so?” I asked. I kept hearing over and over that he had changed, but this was the only version of him I ever knew. Everything I’d been told so far had been so different from the man I’d come to be with. She looked me over then looked around us, people walking past on their way home along the sidewalks, “May I walk with you?” In the back of my mind, I reminded myself Hob and Dream would both be at my apartment soon so maybe heading that way wasn’t a bad idea. I could only hope he wasn’t near and didn’t see Calliope. If he was mad at Delirium and Death for being around me, I wasn’t sure how he’d react to his ex wife talking to me. I nodded and she stepped forward, falling into step at my side as we started to walk down the street. “He is no longer the man I once married,” the goddess began, eyes distant, “When he pursues you, he is fire and overwhelming. Almost suffocating with how much he loves, but once that fades, once it all settles, he could be so cold, so strict. It’s a miracle we stayed together as long as we did. Now there is almost a…gentleness to him. Oneiros is not as hard as he used to be. Maybe not as cruel.” Cruel. This wasn’t the first time I had heard that description of him. It’d been said about Alianora. He was fire, bright and burning and all consuming. While I’d been told in the past he would hardly touch anyone, didn’t seem to like it himself and wouldn’t permit it, he almost seemed desperate for contact now. He was always touching me in some form or fashion, even if it was only a simple brush against my side. I couldn’t see this Morpheus she was describing, but then again she was speaking of love. We weren’t like that. Either way, this was probably my only chance to learn more about their relationship. I was learning a lot about Dream’s previous lovers, most likely learning more than I should, and a part of me said that sometimes knowing too much would only hurt. Another part though couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the comparisons or learning how he may one day leave or hurt me, learning the differences. Maybe it was the broken, leftover parts of my previous relationship that made me want to prepare for the worst instead of enjoying what I had. Like I was bracing for impact. But I couldn’t stop it. Fear had a hold of me and said to prepare because he would leave one day like he did with all the rest. Each step felt like it weighed a ton, but I kept walking, glancing at her from the side of my eyes, “But you did stay together for quite a while. I’m sorry if this is intrusive. He just never talks about…anything.” Calliope smiled, almost knowing, letting me guide the direction we walked, “No, he doesn’t. Sharing parts of himself was never something he did. But it’s fine, I understand wanting to know and I don’t mind.” She took a deep breath, breathing in the cooling air of dusk, “We did once love each other, but I wished to keep my life even while we were together. It made each meeting more special in my mind and I did not wish to live in the Dreaming. I lived in the Waking world with my sisters and he stayed in his realm. But once the passion faded, I think the distance became a wedge.” “Oneiros traps himself in his rules and routines and work, desperately clinging to them while also desperate to break from them. I think in the beginning I was a distraction from that work, a distraction from the Dreaming. I tried to be considerate of his responsibilities, was obedient and caring as a good wife is, but it was not enough. I think he became bored of it all, of our domestic life. He slowly stopped visiting and I had to go to him if I wished to see him.” “Wait, weren’t you Queen? Of the Dreaming?” I asked tentatively. I wasn’t sure if that was even a thing, but the fact she stayed outside of the Dream even while married was odd to me. I couldn’t imagine not being a part of the realm while with him. The place was magic and I knew Morpheus loved sharing it. But I wasn’t a goddess and I was sure she had things to do besides being his wife. Calliope shook her head and lifted her head, taking in the dying sun, “No, I was merely his consort. I had my own responsibilities as a muse and let him handle the Dreaming but back then he was less willing to share. Whether it was the realm or himself. It was his burden to bear and only his. Maybe it was partially my fault for not becoming more a part of his life, the distance, not pushing. It wasn’t our way back then to push, even as his wife. I was there to help and serve him.” The thought rankled me, bitter in my mouth. I knew how that was. More a maid and less a partner, there to help and be a decoration. I didn’t see her as being obedient but times change. Even the person I was a few years ago was so different from who I was now. She looked at me as if she knew the comment had annoyed me and smiled. The streets were clearing out as dusk fully settled in. We were walking slowly, taking our time while still headed for my home. One by one, street lamps turned on and we savored the low lights and warmth of the breeze. Sighing, the muse fiddled with her fingers, brown hair cascading over her shoulders, “I had thought perhaps a baby could repair the strain. It was my wifely duty but I wanted something that was both of ours. And for a time, it did. He was a wonderful father, but the distance only grew until it became a chasm.” “I-” the words stuck in my throat, choking, but I pushed on, “He doesn’t talk about your child and I’d prefer if when he does tell me about him, it’s on his terms. If that’s okay?” Calliope paused and the sadness was apparent even in the dim lighting. There was pain there, bright and sparkling as if whatever had happened was fresh. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. If their son had died or something worse had happened. Morpheus didn’t speak of him at all and I could see in her face that whatever had befallen the boy, it hadn’t been good. I didn’t want to learn second-hand. It was too big, too important. I’d wait for him to tell it when he was ready, if he’d ever be ready. And so she nodded, “Of course. It is…difficult for both of us. But it should be something he tells you himself.” We were getting closer to the area of my apartment, but I wasn’t feeling as anxious anymore. Her presence was nice, reassuring even if an air of sadness hung around her, “I must not quite be what you expected. I’m so very human.” She smiled, eyes brightening, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing. Being human is wonderful, but yes I am a bit surprised. I wasn’t expecting him to be with a mortal given-” The muse seemed to cut herself off, looking unsure and hesitant. I raised a brow, confusion coloring my eyes, and she ducked her face away before shaking off the look, “Given who he is. But he has changed so much, even if he doesn’t believe so. Even if I didn’t believe he could. Have you met his family yet?” The change in topic was obvious. There was something there she had wanted to say but stopped herself. It kicked up my anxiety but I didn’t know her well enough to push and let it slide, going along with it, “I met Delirium and Death very briefly, but that’s been it. It was more accidental so nothing formal, but they were nice.” She smiled tightly at the older Endless’ name, nodding, “I was never very close to them. They kept their distance for the most part but were a part of my son’s life. They are…strange. For a long time I blamed them, and maybe Oneiros as well, for the things that went wrong. Their involvement in our lives and the way they acted. Even their help can hurt. But it is their nature to be as they are and they can never truly change from their function. I would keep that in mind for the future.” The warning was clear and my brow furrowed, not sure exactly what had happened with her and the family. I knew some things about how they were. Desire and Dream seemed to butt heads the most, bad blood flowing between them, Despair usually getting dragged into it being Desire’s twin. Death was his favorite and who he was closest to. Delirium was spoken less of as well as Destiny and then Destruction…he had only been mentioned once and bitterness had coated his name. I wasn’t sure what had been done, but they were a dysfunctional bunch. But weren’t all families?

I wasn’t sure. It’d been so long since I had one. The sky was dark as we came closer to the apartment, the air cool on my skin. I was probably late and even if Hob knew where the spare key was, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was blowing up my phone. But it was in my bag, tucked away while we walked. Sighing, I looked at Calliope at my side and the way the light illuminated her features. The insecurity was at an all time high, and had increased since learning of her because standing next to the goddess I couldn’t help but feel lesser. I opened my mouth and asked softly, “Do you still-” “Lia?” The name is a stab, sharp and quick, and my body almost jerked as the sound reached me. I whirled around quickly, looking at the dark street behind me and seeing nothing. Lia, no one called me that. No one was allowed to call me that, not in the years since I’d gotten free. My breathing was quick and shallow as I combed through the area with my eyes, Calliope’s questioning voice muffled under the high pitched whirring in my head. I couldn’t see anything but knew I had heard it. Maybe it was a stranger talking to another, the name bouncing to hit me unintentionally. A hallucination. My therapist had once said that could happen. Swallowing hard, I turned back to Calliope and could see the concern bright on her face, “Are you okay-” The question had just finished when a hand gripped my arm and I was jerked back roughly, another going around my waist and pulling. My brain went into a scrambled panic, her fearful eyes burned into it as I was dragged back and back into the darkness. I could only register her yelling my name, the painful grip of my arm and the sound of my shoes scraping against concrete as I was pulled roughly into a side alley not far from where we stood. The hands shifted and then I was pushed backward, my back hitting brick and head roughly bouncing off the wall with a sharp crack. Pain flared, hot and bright, and white flashed over my vision for a second. It all was happening so fast and I couldn’t get my bearings, couldn’t breathe or process. But then he was there, standing before me like a nightmare made real. Aiden. He was pressed up close, arms barricading me to the wall, but I could still see him clearly. This wasn’t a dream or nightmare or memory. No, those were images frozen in time from years past. He’d changed. His hair was longer, a mess of stringy dark hair falling around his ears and he had a thick coating of hair along his jaw. Dark circles lined his green eyes, puffy and worn, the skin of his face chapped and like leather. While he had been thin with a bit of muscle, now he was bigger, more filled out but strong. His shirt was ragged and torn along the collar, stains along the fabric. No, this was him in flesh. Older and rougher and so angry as he pressed down against me. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see clearly, eyes locked onto his and the darkness there, “Aiden?” Calliope was calling my name from a distance but I couldn’t process it, could only see the hatred and malice in my ex’s face, “Do you know how long it took me to find you, Lia? Did you really think you could ruin my life and leave like you did?” His voice cut through me like an echo through time. So familiar, stripping the years of my freedom down and away from me. Tangible, he was tangible and in front of me and his presence hurt so much more than the nightmare of him had. Fear pulsed through my body like ice sliding along my bones. “I didn’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered, pain still radiating from the back of my skull, “Let me go.” I was twenty four again, standing in that dirty apartment and begging him not to hurt me. I was twenty, clinging to him and pleading to stop being angry. I was seventeen and alone, thinking he was the only person I had left even as he screamed in my face. This wasn’t a nightmare I could pull myself out of or Morpheus could save me from. He was here, standing before me, and I was stupid to think I’d ever be free. “You didn’t tell anyone about what happened, right?,” Aiden mocked and hissed in my face, spit raining onto me, “You fucking liar. Someone sure as hell reported it. I got arrested for attempted murder because they said I stabbed you and even if you didn’t show up, they had evidence connecting me to some other bullshit. Five years, Lia. They locked me up for five years because of you.” A small part of my brain said five years wasn’t enough. Morpheus had been locked away for over a century for doing nothing wrong. Aiden got off easy. But I was shaking, trying to make myself small and sink into the bricks at my back and he was so close and his breath stank of alcohol and rancid meat and I wanted to disappear, “I didn’t, I swear -” “Shut the fuck up,” he yelled into my face and tears unwittingly slid down my cheeks, my body seizing in fear. The urge to beg, to apologize, to try and coax him down was there inside like an old cat crawling from the darkness and I pushed it away. That wasn’t me but I wasn’t even sure who I was. “You left and suddenly I got put away and you think that’s what? A coincidence? And you think you can simply move on and have a happy little life?” The words were mocking and my nails scraped against the brick as I tried to keep myself from sinking into a ball. There was some strength left in me, some part of who I was now after leaving that reared its head forward and forced myself to plant my feet in the ground. I tried to get me to breathe, to swallow the fear and set it aside, to remember all I had accomplished while pushing out the words, “I left because you were hurting me. I didn’t report anything.” His face twisted in anger but he didn’t have the chance to do anything. With a sharp cry Calliope shoved into him, trying to force him off me. Her shoulder rammed into his and he stumbled back a few steps from the effort. But he was so much bigger than us, stronger now. She managed to put distance between us, pushing and clawing while screaming for me to run. There was no time though and he grabbed her shoulder and easily tossed her across the alley, body skittering over the disgusting floor. I watched her roll across the ground, that beautiful white dress now covered in dirt and felt bile in my throat. He had most likely forgotten about her or hadn’t cared if she was there, but she wasn’t nearly as scared as I was. Her face twisted in fury even from the floor, brown eyes dark with anger, as she shouted at him, “Leave her be!” Aiden smirked and advanced on her, all menace and cruelty in his eyes, “She’s mine, I can do what I want.” I could see it then, in his steps as he walked closer to the goddess, that he’d hurt her. There was no hitting him and getting away with it. There was always punishment but Calliope had already been through so much. She’d been caged and tormented and then thought to seek me out, not out of jealousy but some sort of common thread. I couldn’t let more happen to her, couldn’t let her be dragged into my mess. My head screamed at me but I launched myself forward at Aiden. There was no plan, no reason, only one thought pulsed through my head and that was to get his attention off Calliope. He could direct his anger at me, I could take it. I’d taken it before for years and years, knew the brutality of it. But she didn’t deserve to be hurt, especially not because of me. I tried to leap onto his back, arms wrapping around his neck and nails sinking in. It was a clumsy attempt but I managed, putting all my strength into pulling him backwards. Back and back and away from her, scratching and clawing and trying to bring him down. I think I screamed at Calliope to run, to leave, but couldn’t remember doing so. Skin tore under my nails and Aiden hissed. He growled and tried to grip my wrists, stumbling and turning as I dangled from his back. In one quick move he rammed us both against the wall, my breath leaving me in a single exhale as my back impacted with all his weight against me. My lungs were on fire, desperately trying to refill as all the air left me and I dropped to the ground hard and wheezed. I wasn’t a fighter, had never been strong, but I had tried. He kneeled and then his hands were on my neck, squeezing and squeezing while I kicked and flailed. The darkness encased us, the lamps not reaching where we were in the alley and hiding him thoroughly. I would die by his hand in the end, like I had always believed. For so long I thought he couldn’t do worse but he’d always proved me wrong. This was always going to be end game. Maybe there really was no escape. My hands clawed at his wrists while pain blossomed from my throat, air unable to choke through his grip. I kicked and bucked but he was so heavy on me, unmovable. One of my fingers had hooked into my necklace and it tangled in my fingers while I scratched at Aiden’s arms. I couldn’t leave like this, on a dirty alley floor so close to home while Dream and Hob waited for me. Would Dream know when I died? Would Death come to me first or would she tell her brother? Would I even get to say goodbye? Tears leaked down my cheeks while my lungs burned. Stars and colors danced in my vision and in the haze…I thought I could see a door. Almost like in the Dreaming, it stood in the middle of the alley, plain but luring. Waiting. It was fuzzy along the edges, flickering slightly with the pain and colors, but it was there. I gasped whatever little air I had, whispering out a single word like a plea. “Morpheus.” The word was strained, broken, lost in Calliope’s cries as she tried to get up and to me. But it left my lips, painted my tongue. My dreamlord. The door vanished as darkness began to creep in. Then there was lightning along my skin. It crackled and split the air even while the darkness pulsed and writhed like a living thing. The hands were gone from my throat, air rushing back in as the body above me was jerked away. Aiden was thrown brutally to the ground a few feet away and his body audibly bounced off the floor from the force of the impact. I gasped in the air desperately and touched the tender skin of my throat, coughing through the burn.

Hands -different hands, fingers long and thin, touched the skin of my neck and I blinked up into Dream’s starlit eyes as he softly urged me to breathe. His power coasted along my skin, gentle and soothing, and I knew he was holding it back from me. He was angry, furious, but kept that away from me. He cupped a hand against my check, forehead pressed to mine, and slowly helped me sit up, his skin cool against my heated skin. It was like trying to swallow nails, my throat painful and raw. I was crying, clinging to him, as he righted me against the wall. “You- you’re….here,” I stuttered out with a wince, the words dragging from my lips like sharp edged glass. “I am,” Dream whispered, sorrow and pain and rage lining his voice. He brushed the hair back from my face, from my neck, and seemed to be inspecting the damage. His rage grew. Aiden shifted not far from us, orienting himself on the ground, clumsily trying to sit up. Like an angry storm cloud made of nightmares and power, Morpheus stood and moved before him with a look so furious I couldn’t believe the man was alive. There was no solid edge to him, his cloak merging and shifting with the shadows around his, eyes pure black and stars red. His skin glowed in the darkness and he was purely Dream of the Endless, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms in that moment. Aiden groaned and blinked, trying to scramble to his feet in front of the dreamlord. The impact had hurt but he wasn’t fragile, could no doubt take the blow. But I could see the fear in his eyes, creasing in his brow as he took in the being before him. The Nightmare King slowly advanced and the air was thick with his power building, each step a warning bell. He was fear made flesh, darkness and the things hiding under your bed made real. And his eyes were solely on Aiden now, fingers clenching at his side. Calliope’s voice rang out, closer now, slightly pained, “Oneiros, stop! You cannot kill him!” His head quirked ever so slightly as he registered her voice, making him pause. The shadows slid along the ground and twisted in the air like a cat’s tail angrily flicking in distaste. Aiden took the opportunity to get to his feet, eyes glued to the Endless being in front, but some semblance of self coming back. He was evaluating the situation, taking in the distance to the end of the alley, to me, to Morpheus. I wheezed and attempted to climb to my feet, stumbling forward, knees pressed into the dirty concrete. I was so weak. I couldn’t do anything. Dream started to advance again and stopped almost like he was fighting with himself. Calliope was close now and the dim light reflected off her white gown enough that I could make out her form. She was taking him in, taking in the rage and Aiden before him, and yelled out, “He is not a threat to your realm, you cannot take his life! You cannot break the rule!” Aiden’s confidence was building at the words, his eyes swiveling to find mine briefly. Even when faced with something like the Dream King he still thought he had a chance and could win out in the end. I could see it, the confidence growing in his stance. “There are worse things than Death,” Morpheus growled and looked back at the goddess. The move was a mistake maybe. I could see it in Aiden’s stance like a memory. I could always read his body language, had committed it to memory to know when he’d strike, when he was buying time, when he was lingering in the hopes to draw out the anticipation. Maybe he’d run. Morpheus wouldn’t abandon me to chase after him, wouldn’t leave me. In the few seconds I had my eyes flicked to the ground and I could almost feel time pause. Not far from my scraped knees within grabbing distance were a stray plank of wood and a chipped, broken brick. Even in the scramble of the moment Delirium’s words echoed back clearly. “Oh we can ask if bricks or planks would be better!” It couldn’t be a coincidence. It had been a small offhand comment in her ramblings, but what were the odds? Yet everything clicked into place as I watched the turn of Morpheus’ head, the shifting in Aiden’s feet, the slight lifting of his lips into a smirk. He’d get away and would forever haunt me, would continue to lurk in the darkness. Escaping hadn’t been enough to be free of him. The world was an echo chamber. Silent. We were frozen in place as if time had fallen still and then in a blink everything was moving so fast. And like watching a movie, disassociated from the action, I watched as I picked up the brick and threw myself forward. I swung, it connected. Aiden’s head jerked and I could hear a crunch. I watched separately from my body almost as momentum carried me forward and I was stumbling, but not fully down. The man was bleeding, disoriented, and I swung again though the blow had less power. I swung again and again and a body hit the ground. I wasn’t sure if it was his or mine but then the brick was wrenched away and arms wrapped around me even as I kicked and screamed and cried. I was a wild animal, howling and snarling and pleading to let me finish it. It wasn’t happening to me, it was happening to her. The broken girl who thought she had survived her abuser. I watched as the dreamlord solidified and wrapped the shadows around her, muffling her sobs as he set her down on the floor against the wall. Tears and blood poured down her face and her neck was ringed in purple and red, breath coming out in gasping pants. Hyperventilating. Calliope was rushing over, crawling along the ground under she was at the broken girl’s side calmly urging the girl to breathe. She was having a panic attack and couldn’t be soothed. I was having a panic attack? I thought I could feel my lungs constrict and air try to push in and out but it was all muffled and numb. I was in my body and not, feeling everything and feeling nothing. Existing but watching from the outside. It couldn’t be me, couldn’t be me crumpled on the ground like a broken doll. But even so, she looked like me, had Morpheus’ attention as he combed back her hair and whispered that he was there and it was okay and I needed to breathe. In the distance, I thought I heard a raven’s cry. I could hear their words like they were in my ear. Dream hissed angrily at the goddess, “What are you doing here with her?” and I tried to force my hands to move, to grasp onto him and get his attention. I didn’t want him to be angry at her, I couldn't allow it.

Sobs poured from my lips, hindering the air trying to get in, and with a scratchy voice I attempted to beg him not to be angry. I watched myself do it and felt it too. She had tried to save me. Perhaps had saved me if I had been alone. None of it was her fault. “I promise, we were only speaking. I did not know this would happen,” Calliope tried to explain, her hand clenching mine tightly to ground me, “Is your sister coming?” He turned from her and focused solely on me, black pits having slid back to human icy blue. He didn’t answer. The tight fist in my chest was starting to ease, whether it be time or the soothing touch of Morpheus’ fingers in my hair or Calliope gripping my hand. Breathing became easier if not still painful and I slid back into my own skin. Everything hurt and my brain felt like jello, sloshing around my skull. I think there was blood soaking the back of my head. I tightened my fingers around Calliope and she forced a soft smile at me, “You are okay. He won’t hurt you any longer. You are safe.” She turned to the Endless at her side, both of them hovering over me and smiled sadly, “Take care of her, Oneiros. She needs you now.” His lips turned down and he nodded, but he didn’t meet her gaze. The anger aimed at her lessened, disappearing from the furrow of his brow. The muse moved to stand up but I gripped her hand, swallowing through my pain and tears, “Calliope.” She froze, eyes soft, and I continued, “Thank you.” I don’t remember her reply. The world shifted and turned, darkness blanketing me. I felt like a gravity sinkhole, weightless while also being too heavy. I think I passed out but at the same time, I remembered bits and pieces of what was happening around me. Arms lifting me up, tucking me close, as we climbed a set of stairs. The chest against my cheek emanated warm power, my necklace echoing it back. Hob’s panicked voice as fingers poked at a painful spot on my head. Him shushing and consoling, “darling” and “sweetheart” whispered into my ear and coated in pain and heartbreak. Water, cool and shocking, running through my hair as calloused fingers tried to untangle the matted blood. Morpheus’ own hands brushing the water or tears from my cheeks as he did so. I was held between them, cradled almost. Dream and Hob’s voices going back and forth, tense but resolute. Words like “done it before” and “take care of it” and “for her” stuck in my head before the door shut with a loud bang. Lips pressed against my forehead. The immortal man urging me to focus on him and stay awake, arms wrapped around my small frame and holding me to his chest as he sprawled us out on the couch. Morpheus wasn’t there, his absence noticeable. He talked and talked, voice wavering underneath the false cheer. Hob was gone and I was wrapped in shadows, warm and protective while long fingers skimmed over the bruises on my neck. I think we were on the bed, my cheek pressed against Dream’s chest and his cloak spilling around us like ink. Or blood. Any attempts at holding a normal form in the Waking were gone and I was wrapped in the King of Dream’s arms. His lips were against my temple and I could feel how he wished to hold me tight but was afraid it would hurt me. Could feel him holding back but was unable to stop touching, assuring both of us that we were safe and whole. In the twilight, he whispered that I was okay. That he was sorry for not being there sooner. His words were soft promises in the shadows of the room, pledges, and he told me how important I was, how he would never leave me, and that no one would ever touch me again. I’m not sure if he knew I was conscious, if the words were for my ears or for himself. But they lingered in the air nonetheless. Then I fell into darkness.

#dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x oc #dream of the endless x ofc #dream of the endless x fem!reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless #morpheus #sandman fanfic #the sandman fanfic #sandman fic #the sandman fic #Series: Fragments #fic: Interwoven #OFC: Dahlia

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eleonore-songeve · 2 months

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Fleeting Embraces ( Part 3 )

Link to the first chapter for those who haven't read it : https://www.tumblr.com/eleonore-songeve/742247693659897856/fleeting-embraces-part-1?source=share

Link to the second chapter for those who haven't read it :

https://www.tumblr.com/eleonore-songeve/742596527039692800/fleeting-embraces-part-2?source=share

Summary : The story follows Aveline, a woman living in a village. She meditates on her relationship with Morpheus, a being linked to the world of dreams. Then, Hugo, Aveline's childhood friend, arrives at her house, soaked by the rain, seeking comfort and much more.

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As the raindrops hit Aveline's window, she pondered the world in the downpour, wondering when this tireless rain would stop.

Three years had already passed since she began this strange relationship with Morpheus, an adventure that challenged the limits of reality and fantasy. She never thought she would experience such a rich love story. Of course, their journey hadn't been without complications, and moments of doubt had woven themselves into the sweet fabric of their romance, but they had always stayed together, savoring every precious moment.

She remembered the day she had suggested Morpheus meet the villagers. The idea of bringing their story out into the open had germinated in his mind, a desire for transparency towards his family and a desire to stop lying to them. However, he had politely declined the invitation, leaving her torn between understanding and a touch of disappointment.

She then reflected that she was enjoying the company of the inhabitants of the dream more and more, and among them, Lucienne occupied a special place. This secret complicity between them, where Lucienne had taught him the art of reading behind her king's back, had become a joyful surprise. Morpheus, far from feeling betrayed, had been pleasantly surprised and delighted for her.

Aveline also thought about the fact that Morpheus, despite his apparent silence, had deeper thoughts. She perceived the latent desire in his eyes, the desire to ask him the crucial question on several occasions: was she finally ready to abandon her life as a human ? Aveline, torn between two worlds that seemed incompatible, was not yet ready to make this irreversible choice.

Suddenly, a light knock sounded at his door. Intrigued, she headed towards the entrance of her modest country home.

When she opened the door, a familiar figure emerged. It was Hugo, his childhood friend, whose face was marked by the dirt of the fields and the drops of rain that had accompanied him here. A mixture of joy and concern took hold of Aveline's heart at the sight of her friend.

- Hey, Aveline. Hugo articulated with a shy smile. I hope it won't cause any trouble, but the rain is beating hard outside. I thought, near the fields, that here I could warm up a bit.

Aveline, delighted to see him, but worried about his condition, warmly invited him to enter.

- Obviously, Hugo, come in. Don't stay there to bear the downpour. Come, warm yourself by the fire.

She closed the door behind him, hoping that the warmth of her home would soothe the shivers caused by the cold rain.

As Hugo took off his muddy boots at the entrance, she hurried to the kitchen area to prepare two glasses of light beer, also looking for something comforting to snack on. Returning with the two mugs and slices of bread, she placed everything on the rustic wooden table where he had sat. She gave him a caring smile.

- How was your work in the fields ? Certainly, it was difficult in this stubborn rain.

He shook his head, his wet hair throwing drops of water around him.

- Ah, you can hardly imagine. The fields are now a real quagmire. It seems that the rain has no intention of stopping its fall.

She nodded, settling down opposite him, understanding the harshness of farm life under such conditions.

- Never mind, it will get better soon. In the meantime, drink, it should invigorate you and revive your courage.

He gratefully took the cup, dipping the slice of bread inside, before eating it.

- Thank you, Aveline. You are truly a dear friend.

She smiled at him, raising her cup to toast.

- To friendship and less watery days.

- Friendship... He said, returning the gesture, with a sad look, before putting the glass back on the table, looking down. Aveline, you know, many villagers think that it is high time that I asked you to marry me. They are really insistent on this.

Aveline, taking this lightly, burst out laughing.

– Ah, that’s really absurd. We've always been around each other, as friends, but marriage ? This is a very crazy thought.

She shook her head, unable to help but find the situation absurd. Hugo, however, looked into his eyes, his expression more serious.

- Is it really so far-fetched ? He asked softly, a hint of sincerity tinging his words.

- What is it ? What do you mean ?

The murmur of the rain outside seemed to accompany the uncertain heartbeat that echoed in the room. Hugo, after a moment of silence, let out words that hung in the air like suspended drops of water :

- Aveline, you know, now that you have passed the age of marriage, with your 28 years, some people imagine that no man will take any interest in you.

The truth in his words was as clear as water running against the window panes. Aveline, however, did not let herself be disturbed. She smiled gently, responding in a calm voice :

- Not important. I am satisfied as I am, well surrounded by those I love, leading a life that is meaningful to me.

- I know that well, but... By the Holy Peace, Aveline, I... I can't help but worry about you, you've been a huge part of my life since we were little.

- And I thank you for so many things. She said smiling, grateful. We have always walked together and many times, one has covered the other with his protection. Do you remember those days when the village rascals made fun of my absent lineage ? Only you dared to approach, to become my faithful friend. That day remains engraved in my memories, you are most precious to me. And I know that the lady you choose will be most satisfied. Besides, we are the same age, you would do well to hasten your steps. Why not Isabeau ? She has reached the age to marry and beget, and despite her youth, she has wisdom. I am assured that both she and her relatives would be joyful that you ask for her hand and that she becomes the mother of your offspring.

- ...You're right, but...

- But ? Aveline asked curiously, putting down her cup.

- But I know very well that with her, my joy would not be complete, my happiness would not be.

- Why is that ? I have heard that she does well the work of the home, the management of the house. She is praised for her moral virtues, chastity, modesty, fidelity. I have seen her a thousand times plowing in the fields with zeal and with the offspring. Isabeau has become the village's exemplary little girl over the years.

- I know it, but I have a feeling it won't work...

She looked at him more seriously, detecting that there was a deeper reason behind it.

- Hugo, tell me the real motive. You know that you can tell everything, without fear.

He looked down, seeming hesitant to share something more intimate with her. He turned his cup in his hands, before taking a deep breath.

- Aveline, it’s difficult to portray. Isabeau is a worthy woman, there's no denying it, but... It's you who haunts my thoughts. Since childhood, you have been my inflexible companion, my confidante. And over the years, those feelings have changed. I cannot imagine being with others, because it is you who I see at my side.

Aveline's astonished look quickly turned into an attempt at relaxation, as if she hoped that Hugo's words were only a joke.

- Go then, Hugo, no such jokes towards me. She said, a forced smile stretching her lips.

However, the lingering seriousness in the man's gaze left no room for doubt as to the sincerity of his words.

- Ah, Aveline, no joke in my words. Since our young years, my feelings for you have been engraved in the stone of truth.

A silence settled between them, charged with a heavy atmosphere, tinged with unrequited emotions. Aveline, searching for the appropriate words, finally replied, her voice imbued with gentleness and firmness :

- Well, you words touch me, I confess. You are a rare gem, and our friendship is pure honey for my soul. But I have to be frank, what you feel, I can't reciprocate in the same way.

The tense atmosphere persisted in the room, the rain continuing to hit the windows, sounding like an echo of the tension between them. Faced with this statement, Hugo's face darkened, a shadow of disappointment clouding his gaze. Despite the palpable uneasiness, she tried to save the situation.

- Your words caress my heart, and I am sorry if it puts you in a difficult situation. She said frankly. If I can be of support to you through this ford crossing, I will do so with a good heart. You are precious as a companion, and hurting your heart is far from my will... This is why I express myself in complete frankness.

However, despite her gentle words, he remained silent, absorbed in his own thoughts and emotions. Then, suddenly, he stood up. Aveline, thinking that he was getting ready to leave, got up in turn to retrieve a small blanket. She thought he might need it to weather the rain on his way home. However, instead of leaving, he grabbed Aveline's arms with unexpected intensity, causing a feeling of discomfort. The woman's green eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment.

He stared deeply into Aveline's eyes, desperately searching for a glimmer of hope or understanding.

- Please don't dismiss my feelings so quickly. I know it's not what you planned, but give me the opportunity to show you how much I can love you, to prove that we could go beyond our friendship.

Aveline, although still surprised by this sudden intensity, felt a touch of compassion for her friend. She gently removed her arms from his firm grip and said gently :

- I don't want to cause you pain, but the truth must prevail. Feelings can neither be forced nor bent as we wish. I value our friendship, and I don't want to sacrifice it for something that wouldn't be fair, either for you or for me.

Hugo's gaze turned away, a glint of bitterness crossing his face.

- Maybe I went off the rails, maybe I should have shut up my mouth. But keeping this buried inside me was like holding back the storm. I thought you should have the truth, nothing less.

She placed her hand on Hugo's shoulder, trying to comfort without sowing false hope.

-I am grateful that you opened your heart. It doesn't change how I feel, but you're dear as a friend. We'll face this together, okay ?

The man's gaze darkened further, and he gently withdrew Aveline's friendly embrace.

- Aveline, I need to know. Is there another who occupies your heart ? Is that why you can't feel the same way about me ?

Looking away, she felt a pang of guilt at her friend's direct question. She blushed slightly, hoping to hide the truth.

- No, Hugo. There's no one else. My feelings remain simply friendly.

He stared at her, searching her eyes for answers. He couldn't help but notice the slight blush on Aveline's cheeks.

- I don't understand. You've seemed happier lately, and now you're telling me there's no one in your life. Why then ?

She bit her lip, fighting the growing uneasiness.

- It has nothing to do with that. I only see you as a friend, almost a brother. My romantic feelings are no longer for anyone else. It's just not how I feel about you.

He clenched his fists, his gaze shifting from incomprehension to irritation.

- You're lying to me. I can see like through a stained glass window. There's someone else, right? Why can't you just be honest ?

- I'm not lying to you... She lied, her anger being fueled by the situation and her own guilt, but knowing that she could never be honest, being convinced that he would never be able to believe her, calling her crazy .

Hugo, still bubbling with frustration, did not seem willing to accept Aveline's denials.

- Confess, if you reject me, it’s because you’ve lost your innocence, right ? You've already given a kiss, already shared love, right ? With who then ? And when ?

The words were judgmental, hurtful and unfair. She felt the dull anger increase within her, but also a touch of humiliation. Without thinking, she replied in a way that surprised both of them. The slap echoed through the room, leaving a tense silence. She had reacted impulsively, her fingers leaving a red mark on Hugo's cheek. The eyes of the one who did not back away from his gesture flashed, reflecting both rage and vexation.

- I forbid you to judge me ! And don't bring up the question of my purity or my dignity ! Our friendship matters, but that doesn't justify such accusations without proof.

Hugo, his face, torn between surprise and pain, remained silent.

- It's better that you leave.

Caught off guard, he shook his head stubbornly.

- No, I don't want to...

She cut him off, her voice cold and determined.

- Go away, Hugo. Before everything gets worse and my resentment awakens.

A hesitation floated in Hugo's eyes, but ultimately, instead of doing what she ordered, he took a firm grip on her arms, forcing their gazes to meet.

- I don't want it to end like this. Losing you is not my wish.

Aveline, her eyes shining, gave him a firm look.

- My friend, please let it end in these places.

However, Hugo, letting himself be carried away by his emotions and the fear of losing her, leaned down and placed his lips on Aveline's. It was an impulsive gesture, full of contradictory emotions. The seconds stretched out in electric silence as she stood frozen, her eyes wide with surprise. A shiver of disgust ran down her spine, and she instinctively pulled back, pushing him away violently.

- What's wrong with you, aren't you in your right mind ?! It has to stop, it's over ! I don't want to meet you anymore, do you understand? It's frenzy, not love !

Despite Aveline's anger, he did not let himself be discouraged. He grabbed the young woman's arms again, too hard making her wince in pain.

- No, I can't endorse this ! You are a crucial part of my life, and I don't want to lose you. I'm ready to change, to do what it takes to make things prosper between us.

Aveline, feeling the pain increasing in her arms, tried to free herself.

- Hugo, love shouldn't sting like a bee. What you feel isn't love, it's relentlessness. You have to understand, we can't be together like this.

Desperate, he admitted with a mixture of sadness and resignation :

- Maybe you're telling the truth. Maybe it's stubbornness. But I can't just let you go. I can't imagine my life without you.

- You need to understand, I can't be with someone who doesn't respect my emotions. You have to let me go.

Nevertheless, he plunged into silence, making the woman hope that he would leave her alone. That was before he tightened his grip, making her cry out.

- Stop, it hurts ! She begged.

Ignoring her words, he forcefully kissed her again.

- No, stop ! I don't want that ! She screamed, crying, incredibly afraid of the one she had trusted since she was young.

Hugo, insensitive to her refusals, continued his advances, putting pressure on her, arguing in an inappropriate manner :

- No, if you can't love me, at least allow me to be your first. You will remember it all your life. And so, I would know if you are corrupted by others. To find out if you're right.

Aveline's breath suddenly stopped when Hugo's hands tore her clothes. She felt a mixture of panic and betrayal as the once peaceful room transformed into a place of terror. Aveline's pleas, faint whispers in the growing darkness, fell into nothingness. The realization of her helplessness in the face of Hugo's cruelty hit her like an icy wave.

Each ignored request from the victim deepened her despair a little more. The cold table, where the bare back of the young villager collided, seemed to be the only ally, a silent witness to an inevitable tragedy. And her virginity, which she kept for the chosen one of her heart, was stolen, in a barbaric and non-consensual act, after several punches in the face that she had received from the from the one she thought was her friend, so that she would stop defending herself.

After the unwanted act, she let herself slide, exhausted, until she fell on the carpet. Tears streamed down her face, emotional and physical pain overwhelming her. She felt dirty, unable to think clearly. The violence of the experience left her dazed, lost in a tumultuous whirlwind.

Locked in her own pain, she did not notice Hugo, distraught, getting dressed before leaving, inadvertently dropping an oil lamp on one of the rugs on the floor. When he saw what he had just done, he was about to turn it off, but realizing his act, he told himself that he could not be caught, the punishment for this type of crime being torturous. So he runs away, leaving her behind, listening to his instinct for survival, despite his pseudo love.

An insistent crackling made her raise her head, and she realized that the flames were dancing nearby. Panic grips her again, her vulnerability exacerbated by the threat of fire. Hesitantly, she got up, looking for an escape. The flames seemed to be getting closer, a frightening parallel to the heat she had just experienced.

However, the beatings she suffered left her exhausted, lying on the ground, unable to move. The rain had stopped, giving way to a stifling and oppressive atmosphere. Smoke filled the air, penetrating his weakened lungs, each inhalation becoming a challenge. His vision was obscured by tears mixed with soot.

But, despite the agony that consumed her, Aveline's thoughts were anchored in the happy memories shared with Morpheus. She remembered the gentle whisper of the wind in dreams, the moments of calm when they let themselves be lulled by the ephemeral. Nostalgia took hold of her, bringing a brief light in the storm of her desperate situation.

“Ah... If only I could see him again one last time,” she thought with heartbreaking sincerity. The idea of hearing Morpheus' soothing voice once again, of feeling his comforting presence, was his last wish before the darkness that awaited him.

However, she knew that Morpheus, being linked to dreams and the unconscious, remained in a realm inaccessible to a simple mortal dying, unable to call him. She found herself alone, lost between the brutal reality of her life and the desire to find an ounce of peace in the memories of her beloved.

Then, life slowly escaped from Aveline. Her thoughts dissipated with the smoke, leaving behind the echoes of memories and the heartbreaking silence of the afterlife.

Cries of alarm rose throughout the village as black smoke rose into the sky. The inhabitants, alerted by the sinister spectacle, hastily abandoned their activities to rush towards the source of the danger. Fear and urgency were written on every face as they ran toward the burning house.

When they recognized Aveline's home, the anxiety intensified. The villagers, armed with buckets of water, blankets and whatever else they could find, redoubled their efforts to put out the fire devouring the house. The tension was palpable as they worked together, their minds tormented by the thought that one of their own might be in danger. When they finally managed to bring the flames under control, the atmosphere was tense with anticipated sadness.

However, as the smoke cleared and the last embers cooled, a heartbreaking discovery awaited the villagers. Aveline's charred body lay there, a silent silhouette bearing witness to the tragedy that had just occurred.

A sense of mourning fell over the village, a collective sadness for the loss of a beloved soul. Faces were covered with sorrow, and a heavy silence settled among those who, a moment earlier, had united in the hope of saving a life. Sadness, mixed with helpless guilt, hung over them, leaving behind a community marked by pain.

Meanwhile, Morpheus looked with satisfaction at the exact replica of Aveline's house that he had created. The idea of surprising her with this gift, born of his infinite power, brought him a rare feeling of satisfaction.

Heading towards the human world, he was preparing to join her, to make her plunge into sleep, showing her his gift, being impatient to see the face of his love light up with his joys. However, as he approached earthly reality, a strange anxiety set in, a painful premonition that he struggled to understand.

As he approached the small house, once a witness to their happiness, he discovered with bitterness the remains of the flames which had engulfed Aveline's home. As he advanced, the scene of horror unfolded when he saw Aveline's face, once animated by life and love, frozen in funeral suffering, burned.

Morpheus, rather than expressing his pain or shock, remained stoic. His unchanging face betrayed no palpable emotion, but his gaze reflected the deep and immeasurable sadness he felt. The grip of incomprehension and loss squeezed his immortal heart. The hushed murmurs of the villagers and the rush of the wind echoed as he stood there, a somber figure amid mourning, contemplating the tragedy playing out in the waking world. His silence, far from being a sign of weakness, expressed a resignation marked by the fatality inherent in his condition of Endless.

The scene ends without a heartbreaking cry, without demonstrative expressions.

After several hours or more, he returned to the vast expanses of his dream realm, and wandered in silence, carrying the burden of a bitter discovery. The corpse of Aveline, devoured by the flames, persisted like a scar.

The building he had erected with love and hope appears on the horizon, a solitary island in the landscape. He approached with grave solemnity, observing every detail he had meticulously crafted in hopes of weaving a haven of happiness for her. His gaze wandered into the architecture, bitterness mingling with unspoken pain. He visualized Aveline discovering the house, the joy illuminating her face and the shared happiness that should have been.

However, this vision remained an illusion.

A deep sigh escaped him, revealing the immeasurable cruel reality that had stolen Aveline from him. She was not there to reign at his side, to share these dreams crafted with such care. The promise of an eternity together remained unfulfilled, shattered by the inexorable separation imposed by death.

Morpheus, Lord of Dreams, stood motionless in front of the deserted house, his impassive face hiding the emotional storm brewing within him.

Subsequently, the mourning that followed left a painful imprint, transforming the corners of the once-glowing kingdom into tangible melancholy. Morpheus's voice, once filled with soft undertones, now resonated with an unexpected coldness. The inhabitants of the dream, witnessing this sudden change, perceived an aura of sorrow emanating from their sovereign. His edicts became merciless decrees, marked by infallible rigidity.

Lucienne, Morpheus' loyal royal librarian throughout the eons, watched with concern the devastating effect of Aveline's loss on her sovereign.

When he learned of the events that led to Aveline's death through the dreams of his childhood friend, the suffering he experienced was suffocating, felt even by dreamers. However, rather than succumbing to impulsive impulse, Morpheus, true to his nature, opted for deep reflection. He chooses a subtle approach to respond to the injustice perpetrated by Hugo. He decided to weave a complex dream, an eternal nightmare, where the culprit will be confronted with the brutal reality of his actions. It was not a physical revenge, but rather a psychological punishment plunging Hugo into the abyss of his own guilt.

The dream opened with a scene familiar to Hugo, a rehearsal where he had abused Aveline. However, Morpheus, master of illusions, amplified every detail, every muffled cry of Aveline, every expression of pain on her face. The dream transformed into an infernal spiral where Hugo tirelessly relives the moment of his crime, unable to escape the guilt that devoured him. The dreamscapes subsequently transformed, reflecting the dreamer's tormented emotions. Dark and endless corridors symbolized his moral error, distorting mirrors revealed to him a face marked by shame. The elements of the nightmare were carefully orchestrated to plunge him into a state of mental torment.

As the nightmare unfolded, Morpheus watched silently, his impassive face hiding deep sadness and anger. His act was intended not only to punish Hugo, but to teach him the brutal truth about his own choices and their consequences. And this continued until he took his last breath of human life.

However, this did not appease Morpheus, who bitterly realized that his love for Aveline surpassed anything he had ever felt. The echoes of her past lovers echoed in her memory, pale compared to the dazzling brilliance of the love shared with her.

This pain, both foreign and familiar, dug cracks in his immutable heart. Confronted with this fragility, he engaged in deep introspection, examining the foundations of his eternal existence. The question of the meaning of his own immortality emerged, intertwined with the complexity of human emotions that he had long observed without fully feeling.

However, he found no answer to these thoughts, remaining immersed in ignorance.

Thus, the Lord of Dreams, carrying on his shoulders the pain of a lost love, continued to reign in silence. The realm of dreams remained a reflection of its own turmoil.

Unaware that this was only the beginning.

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I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if its conclusion may seem tinged with sadness. However, I assure you that this is only a turning point in the story, one step among many others. The adventure has only just begun, it doesn't stop there. So, I'll see you next time for chapter 4. ^^

#dream of the endless headcanons #dream of the endless x reader #dream the endless #dream x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #sandman fanfiction #sandman morpheus #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #the sandman #the sandman netflix #morpheus x oc #dream x y/n #dream x oc #dream of the endless x oc

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igotanidea · 1 year

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The perks of injuries : Morpheus x reader

Request: Reader is able to enter the dreaming physically, not just while asleep. Time pass, she starts to feel comfortable around lord and acting like they're friends (she thinks they really are, but we know Dream and his "I don't need anyone"). One day something awful happened, maybe reader was being followed in the night on her way home or some natural disaster appeared, so she went to the dreaming out of fear, but Morpheus being his moody self with a lot of work thought she would just get on his nerves or something like this and just sent her back to earth, maybe with saying about her being too loud/clingy for him to normally work. In the real world she got badly hurt and the only person who helped her out was Hob/Matthew/Death. The same day or the next dream found out about it from her saver (if it's hob maybe during their meeting which was due the same day everything happened, matthew when he came back, death when she was just passing by his realm). Ending with guilty, comforting Morpheus.

Oh, hello there. I haven’t seen you lurking in the shadows.

I don’t think we’ve meet before so let me introduce myself. In this story my name is irrelevant and it’s better if you only know me by my function. I am the spirit, that little spark that lives inside every human and stays there even after people die. Of course, I am dressed in human form but you should not be tricked with that outside.

Because of my purpose and abilities, during my lifetime I have already met a lot of different creatures, god, embodiments of human believes. Funny how their faith and imagination brings all of them to life and keep them that way.

The Endless are the ones I have to work with most of the time. I already mentioned Death – surprisingly she is the sweetest girl you have ever met, full of optimism and joy but there are another 6 of them. Destiny, Destruction, Desire, Despair, Delirium and Dream. I purposefully left Dream at the end since I have the strongest relation with him. He rules the sleeping domain, but even when people dream their spirit stay active so it’s my job to ensure nightmares or dreams do not become too vivid. It’s my duty to watch over them all the time, much to Dream’s displeasure.

Despite his attitude during the years we were able to make this relation work without interfering too much with one another and that required my presence in the Dreaming from time to time to check out if everything was going smoothly. Therefore I was granted the ability to project myself in his Kingdom not only while sleeping (since I was still a lot like human) but also in my psychical form. At some point I started considering Dream as my friend, but he was far more reserved with the use of such word.

***

It was heavy day. October mood started to settle in and people were slowly indulging in their autumn sadness, sleepiness and weariness. Focusing only on the most important things, rarely leaving homes and spending days in front of TV, tucked in blankets. Lack of sun and happiness could be felt by everyone and Despair slowly started to pull her claws on those who were prone to seasonal mood swings and depression. I would lie if I said it all had no effect on their spirits and in result – on me. I was losing energy and focus and motivation to do anything and it was not good. Definitely not. Despite my best efforts I felt all the emotions and instead of acting like a spiritual being I was behaving like human. Which also meant I was more vulnerable than usual.

“Heading home?” my friend from work stopped by my desk on her way out, worry all over her face

“Sorry?” I raised my head from the pile of documents, not sure of the day or even the hour

“It’s late” she said “you should finish for today. You have been working too hard lately.”

“Yeah, maybe you are right” how could I even begin to explain that work helped me get my mind busy. And being a scientist required constant focus on the experiment and researches so it really helped “but you know how it is, if you don’t keep up the pace you will be left behind and we don’t want another team to outrun us, do we?”

“Nope. But we also don’t want a member of the team to die on the shift, so try to remember that. Team, right, we are all in this together so no reason to act like a martyr.”

“I don’t….” I started but she cut me off

‘You do. I don’t know what’s been going on with you lately, but something’s different.”

“Must be the weather.” I smiled innocently not revealing the true reason behind it all.

“Right. Lame excuse. Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow” she fastened the belt and I waved her goodbye.

Honestly, deep inside I knew she was right. It was almost 7 p.m., the streets were dark and deserted and I was in need of rest. Even if I hated it. Reluctantly I stood up, turned off the lights, closed the door and started walking home. But as soon as I stepped out of the office I felt something was wrong. Seemingly quiet and dimly lit street, instead of radiating calmness and peacefulness was eerie and terrifying. I felt it in the pit of my stomach and my heart instantly started beating faster. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a coward and I’ve seen a lot of dark, scary things inside humans souls, but this…. This feeling was something different. Something more primal, carnal and definitely not coming from Earth.

“Come out now, show yourself!” I spun around searching for the threat. Yes, I know I’ve learned nothing from the horror movies. I should have run the other direction instead of walking straight into the arms of it. “Are you chickening out now?” I mocked, using all the efforts to make my voice sound firm and confident.

There was no response but the lights flickered slightly and out of nowhere the wind broke off.

“Oh, great” I mumbled “someone needs some demonstration of powers. Why not bring the earthquake or a hurricane.”

“If you wish so, I can make it happen.“

“Desire” I hissed while spotting black-dressed, thin and high figure moving in front of me “are you alone this time?”

“Hello, spirit. Despair sends her regards, but she could not visit this time.”

“Such a shame.” I pouted “but her presence seem to be …. Pervasive, lately. I suppose she is in high spirits?”

“My dear, you can’t even imagine.” Desire purred “and what brings her the most pleasure is you suffering because of your beloved humanity.”

“I bet it is” I groaned as a sharp sting run through my stomach “do you have a business with me, Desire? It’s not often I see you in the Waking.”

“This is an exception from a rule. I know you’ve been suffering lately and I came for the aid.”

“Aid?” I raised an eyebrow “Did you bump your head, Desire?”

“You misunderstood me. My aid is more like ending your suffering”

“I don’t suffer” I folded over in sudden pain and started catching my breath rapidly.

“Liar” Desire put on the widest smile and took a step forward

“What are you doing to me?” I was now kneeling on the ground, feeling worse and worse with its proximity.

“You should know better, spirit. Desire is something that is detrimental to the …. Metaphysical aspects of human existence. Don’t you ever read any religious texts?”

“I know them too well, actually” I gasped

“Good. Then you will know what is coming next for you” Desire popped a squat next to me and grabbed my chin forcefully causing me to look at them. “You are going to suffer, a lot. I will make you beg for …..”

“Why?” I groaned trying to yank myself.

“Because you are a nuisance. You make people better, more noble and gentle. I don’t like that.”

I hissed in pain once again, not able to hold it back.

“Yes.” Desire purred full of vengeful satisfaction “ it hurts, doesn’t it? And there is nowhere to run.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Desire” I looked them straight into the eyes, sudden crazy though popping inside my mind.

“What? What are you talking about?” their smile slightly dropped

“Goodbye, Desire. I would say it was a pleasure to meet you, but as you know I am not the best liar in the world” I said and hissing and pain gathered all my power to transport myself to the only place that could possibly ensure my safety from one of the Endless.

***

The portal I opened was so powerful that it made me lose my balance and fell onto the sandy shore by the Dreaming’s gate. Coughing and panting I used my hand for support before my head got injured due to the impact.

“Shit! Shit, shit!” I really hoped I would be able to get straight into the castle but apparently the stress influenced my focus. Even though I was safe now and Desire could not get me here without invitation to Dream’s realm (which was never happening) I jumped and rushed towards the entry. “Please, open up” I put a hand where normally the doorknob would be and whispered silent pleas. I was lucky enough to made it move, in painfully slow and glitzy way. I was not patient enough to wait and slipped through the gap running towards the palace.

“Dream!” I panted running straight into the throne room catching my breath

“Spirit.” His cold voice made me straighten up immediately to safe the rests of the dignity, but my messy hair and reddened face did nothing to help me. “Why are you here?”

“Oh, you know, I was just nearby and decided to pay you a visit.”

“You were not invited. Your unexpected visitations are becoming a bother to the Kingdom”

“Morpheus ….” that was painful “you surely don’t mean that…..”

“What seems to be the matter this time?” he raised his gaze and looked at my messy figure. “Did something happen?” the last question was barely a show of acknowledgement more

“Yeah, just your sibling came at me trying to destroy my inner peace. No biggie.” I fixed a single strand of hair trying to give shaking hands something to hold on to.

“Desire?”

“Who else?”

“I shall deal with my sibling soon then, if you were not able to do so. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually” I started fiddling with my fingers nervously

“What is it?” the way he was towering over me made me feel weak an completely at his mercy. As much as I hated begging there was no other option.

“Please, don’t make me go back to waking. At least not straight away. Let me stay, Morpheus”

“I’m busy, spirit. I don’t have time for that. And I see no reason to do so. “

“You know well enough I have no power against Desire, Morpheus and if they are after me, Waking is not safe. I’m really scared, please. I thought as my friend you would help me.” Oh, forget the dignity, fear got the worst of me.

“Waking is your realm and you should go back there immediately. Dreaming has its own affairs and it’s not a hideout for you, spirit. Go back to your Realm, protect it and I will take of Desire after I’m done with my duties.”

“Morpheus, please…. I….”

“That’s all, Spirit.”

“Fine. Thanks for your help, Dream. Hope everything works well for you here. I suppose I see you when there’s another vortex or some other threat to your Kingdom. You never had any inhibitions to ask for my help."

I marched out the palace and with still shaking hands returned to the same place in the Waking. Luckily, Desire was out of sight, for now, but knowing them, this was far from over.

***

I had a sleepless night. After my little banter with Morpheus no dream came to me and obviously I did not even enter the Dreaming. He was either acting like a child or was truly busy with some serious and urgent matter, most probably both those reason combined. So when the morning came I was even more tired than before. And there was one more thing, just a little something that normally would not get my attention but since I knew that I was on Desire’s radar I was far more alert. I was becoming paranoid and there was no way I could go to work like that, so the only option was to call in and excuse myself with being sick. The last thing I needed was ending up in the mental hospital or someone discovering my true identity. Muttering some protective spell I walked round the apartment searching for the source of something dark and evil I could clearly feel. It was not Desire, for sure. This was more… infernal, cruel and well, less sly than Dream’s sibling. Suddenly, the though dawned on me. They send a demon after me. The worst kind of the Hell’s servant, known as Hellfire. Talk about a threat to a spirit. This one could crash me with a single snap of his fingers.

“Spirit.” he spoke contently “such a pleasure”

“I did not expect you in my flat.” I trembled “what brings you to me?”

“A debt to Desire. Seems like today I will finally be able to pay it.”

“I’m not going down willingly.” I raised hand creating some sort of shield between us

“Funny, I was not asking” he looked at me and I felt this kind of pain that really make you wanna give up and die. My whole body was on fire, my insides being twisted and turned and I could only see the blackness. My light and soul power was still there, but it was not enough to go against the demon. Darkness slowly started to creep in, every positive though I had gone and suppressed by negativity, sadness, evil. There was no good in the world, people were ungrateful, greedy creatures, life was meaningless.

“Death….” I whispered faintly before losing conscience and giving in to the devilish powers.

***

When I opened my eyes I was lying under cover, the demon gone and my flat looking like nothing happened. Was that a dream? But why would Morpheus allow something like that? Was he really that mad at me for seeking his help? I tried to move but my whole body was aching and even breathing was problematic. I also felt some pressure on my abdomen and after lifting up the shirt I discovered some dressing across my stomach.

“Who’s here?” I screamed at the space once again alerted. I was in no condition to fight but I would if I had to.

“Hey, no! Lay back down” black-skinned woman came running off the kitchen forcing me back onto the cushions. “You got pretty badly hurt, dear. You need rest.”

“Hello, Death” I closed my eyes, enjoying her warm hand on my forehead “What happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

“I remember Hellfire coming after me. “

“That is not something you can forget" she muttered” you called for me and that was good decision.”

“Guess my human instincts kicked in. Thank you. Amongst the Endless you are the only one I can count on.”

“How so?” she raised an eyebrow “Actually, wait. I was a bit surprised when I heard your voice. I mean, usually you are rather more fond of collaborating with my brother, so why me?”

“I did ask Dream for help, but he….”

“Wait.” She raised hand stopping me from talking “He denied you?”

“He was busy.”

“He is always busy. And his affairs are usually about him sulking and going through something. I love my brother, but he is an idiot. This could have ended up so bad….” She shook her head and the curly hair bounced around emphasizing her annoyance. “Did you tell him Desire was after you?”

“How do you know that?” I propped myself on the elbow but the injuries made me fall back hissing. “Shit!”

“It does not take a genius. Only Desire would send a demon after you. unless you also have some affair with Morningstar I should know about?” I shook my head denying that “Good. But Dream…., I think I will need a word with him.”

“The boss is already on his way. Will you let me in?” familiar Raven perched down on the sill looking through the raked window.

“Sure, come on in, Matthew” I sighed reaching for the handle and letting him in.

“Are you all right?”

“Besides dizziness, third-degree burns and scarred pride I think I will pull through. Not thanks to Dream, though. “

“He is ……” Matthew started but quickly stopped

“Do not speak in my name Matthew.”

“Oh, hello brother. Seems like you and I have a lot to talk about” Death smiled at her younger sibling appearing in the room, but tone of her voice was far from happy, rather reprobative.

“Guys” I captured their attention “as much as I appreciate you all coming here, can a girl get some peace and calm to heal? You know, you don’t confront a demon every day. Death, thank you for your help, truly, but can you and your brother get your little fight somewhere else?”

Death eyed her brother carefully while he was hunched, his gaze focused on the floor.

“Sure” she shrugged “you need peace, you are right. But I think Dream might have something to tell you, so I’ll leave you two alone. Matthew, care to join me outside?”

“Sure thing, Lady Death.”

“We will have this conversation, brother, just later. What comes up must go down” she went to hug him and whispered into his ear “tell her!” then the older endless turned back to me, still in bed “see you soon, dear, take care of yourself and if you ever need something don’t hesitate to call me. Bye.”

Without her presence the atmosphere in the room suddenly became more tense. Dream was standing in the same position, his feet rooted to the ground, while I was just biting my lip and trying to look everywhere but on him. Awkward.

“Dream…..” I spoke

“Spirit……” he said at the same time and this made us silent once again.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity he came closer and sat down on the edge of the couch making me move away instantly.

“Please, don’t” he whispered

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t …. Run from me.”

“Run from you?! Are you serious Dream? I run straight into you when I felt the danger coming. And what was your response? I am busy. Isn’t that what you said?” the anger and hurt found the way out at last.

“I did….I…..I….” he stuttered

“What?”

“I apologize, spirit. I should have taken you seriously.”

“You should have.” I agreed looking away, still hurt. “Well, apologies accepted I guess.”

“No.” he grabbed my hand gently

“No? I don’t understand.”

“You should be mad. You should scream and shout and call me an idiot. But you are just too good for me, aren’t you?” he searched for my face and as our gazes met I finally came into realization

“Morpheus?” I coughed out “what are you…..”

“When you came to me…. I panicked. You make me…. Feel things and that is something I haven’t experienced in some time. “

“Is that bad?”

“It’s dangerous. Every woman I loved, every feeling I held for anyone always ended up badly.”

“Loved?” I opened my eyes in surprise “Dream…..”

“Yes. It’s true. I love you, spirit. And now I feel so guilty for letting you get hurt. And ‘m terrified for your safety. We still have joint affairs and business and I don’t know if I can keep it up like that. Maybe it would be better and safer for you with me gone”

“Shut up, Morpheus!” I interrupted his teary confession unable to take it anymore. “Your sister is right, you are an idiot. Why do you think I came to you in the first place? Why do you think I project myself in the Dreaming every time I get the chance? Why do you think I meddled with humans mentality so they would get your attention and you would come to me for change. Did you believe it all to be coincidental?”

“I…” oh, now he was speechless “I never ....”

“Well, now you know.” I looked down, my cheek turning red. “It’s your decision what to do with it. You can leave but you can…. you know, stay.”

“My love” he whispered and before I realized what was happening he was kissing me gently and mindful of all the injuries “I am sorry. I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“Then you are up for a long ride. But I believe you have a word to exchange with your sister first.”

“She can wait” he whispered moving in once again but I stopped him by putting hand on his chest.

“She cannot. Before this gets serious you need some sense knocked into your head. Go talk to her and be quick. You made me wait for you long enough.”

“Anything for you, love. “ he kissed my temple and reluctantly, yet obediently left to be scolded by Death. @somest1 @pinksirensong

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 11 months

Text

Hello, Mr. Monster (Five. Sidhe)

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Masterlist The Nightmare's Interlude

Chapter Tracks: "Milk and Honey" by Delain, "Lacrymosa" by Mozart

18+/TRIGGER WARNING: Kidnapping, involuntary drug use, involuntary body modification, cutting (not self-harm), vague threat of SA/brainwashing

A/N: I LIVE!!! Thank you all for your patience. The story is jumping into a new arc!

Don't miss the bonus interlude chapter I posted! Linked above.

5: Sidhe

“Be careful on the road.”

Aisling’s ears rang with Fay’s parting words.

The fairie always treated the end of the season with a little too much gravitas, but this time she looked at Aisling like she could physically see danger growing over her. Brambles breaking through the asphalt or boulders crushing the van.

“Know something I don’t?” she’d asked.

“I know you find trouble, and trouble finds you. I know the world is trying to settle back into an old order, and it’s the hour of chaos and hungry hands. I know you’re alone, and the road is dangerous.”

Now, many hours and miles away, the conversation replayed on an endless loop in her head.

It haunted her. From the moment the words dropped from Fay’s lips, they settled around Aisling’s neck like a loadstone. They became a tale still furled in a fiddlehead, a glimpse of wyrd lurking in the road ahead, and she’d run off without a real destination in mind. Never a great plan. Even less so with this warning tossed in her lap like a dead fish. It stank of prophecy, and the age-old fight-or-flight response kicked in. There was nothing to fight, so she fled the entire concept of fate, driving in a vaguely New York direction.

A little distance helped. It gave her space to breathe. To think.

The wind combed tangles into her hair and some of the fear from her thoughts.

When she spied a rest area with lots of trees and very few guests, she pulled off the highway.

She sat in the van, cross-legged on the floor with the windows and sliding door open, letting the breeze cleanse the space. Well. All but one window open. Plastic sheeting rustled over the window the Not Deer shattered. Someday she might have money to repair it properly, but it wasn’t a priority.

There was so much to work through.

She meditated, looking inside, listening for the tidal rumble of raw intuition. The cards danced between her hands as she relaxed against the border of the unknown, trusting instinct over logic until fold, after fold, after fold she knew she had the right order. A three-card read. Quick, efficient.

No time for nuance on the road.

She turned the first card and found the Ace of Cups in the past position. The very recent past, she would guess. It practically sang the Dream King’s name. The Ace of Cups celebrated creativity, awakenings, and new feelings – new loves.

Heat crawled up her neck as the reading conjured memories in her skin. The touch of his hands. His mouth. His voice. The ash of the stars he teased to explode still drifted across her mind, sparking new life in places she’d been sure it would never grow. It made her curious. It made her wonder what else he could do if she let him. It made her wonder what she could do to him.

Forcefully shaking off the goosebumps creeping down her arms, she refocused. She wasn’t asleep. And daydreams could be dangerous. There would be more than enough time to explore all that after dark.

The Moon marked her present. It had as many meanings as the moon had phases, most of them based on changeability and shifts in course. But only one – intuition – felt right. It looked back at her through the card, acknowledging her as she sat open to it, listening and feeling, like meeting her own eyes in a mirror.

Finally, her touch drifted to the future. Her breath stuttered. The eight of swords appeared in her hand, and she set it down quickly, fumbling, like it could bite her. If paper and ink could bite, it just might. The card of prisoners. It thrummed with warnings: imprisonment, helplessness, restriction, and malice. It jarred with the other two cards, unlinked from the common thread of her choices.

Fay was right.

Something was coming for her.

The breeze nudged the eight of swords, canting it off-center on her altar cloth. She imagined she could taste the threat in the air, fate cinching tight as she shadows of the future loomed over her rising hope.

Her palm settled over her chest, following a familiar pattern around an old ache.

It couldn’t be her monster. She refused to believe it. Not after his sweetness in the dark, not after his reassurances and promises. She simply didn’t want to imagine he’d snare her, strip away her agency as easily as he plucked away her anxieties.

That choice remained hers, and she chose hope for once. It’d been too long since she had anything to believe in but herself, and the whisper of that promise was addicting.

Caw Caw!

Jolted out of her spiraling thoughts, her eyes flicked from cards, to van, to the world outside, moving between the distant highway to the overhanging trees. Eventually, they fell on the feathered thing waiting right outside the open sliding door.

A bird that wasn’t a bird.

A dream.

Her eyelashes flickered over her vision as she tried to understand what she saw. Dreams were all gone from the waking. Her eyes never lied.

Hadn’t they all been called back?

It cocked its head, looking her right in the eye. She blinked, slowly, and it caught itself, looking to the side and pecking aimlessly at the barren parking lot, like it could fool her.

Something high in her chest fluttered. She couldn’t say if it was nerves or joy. But she didn’t recognize this dream.

“Who are you?”

It froze. Looked back at her. Spitting out a pebble it had valiantly pretended to be a bug, it croaked.

It was definitely new, at least to the waking world, and that made her intolerably curious.

“I can see you.” She let the words spin out slowly, amused and patient.

If it stayed, they were having a fucking conversation, and she didn’t imagine it came all the way from the Dreaming to play make-believe with cracked fragments of asphalt.

“Uh.” It cleared its throat. Not all dreams could speak, but the voice suited him, and she was glad they wouldn’t need to play charades to understand each other. Black feathers puffed up with half-raised wings as it hunted for the right thing to say. “I’m Matthew. Are you – are you okay?”

She glanced down at the cards, then back at the faux raven. Starting a new relationship with a lie felt wrong, but she couldn’t explain the intimate dread and trust she felt for the bird’s maker in that moment.

“Mostly. Maybe. I don’t know you. Are you… new? What are you doing here?”

She wasn’t accusing it of anything. Her worry for herself redirected into concern for the little creature risking her monster’s wrath. She didn’t want anyone getting hurt because of her. A trite desire, but a desperate need a fleet of childhood therapists hadn’t managed to shake.

The dream ducked, looking side-to-side for eavesdroppers, and hopped just a little closer. She leaned over her cards, closing the distance, humoring its covert antics. It must not be very familiar with the waking world if it thought strangers who saw a woman talking to a bird would see anything but a hippie on a bad trip.

With a flapping burst, he landed on the edge of the van’s floor.

“The boss sent me,” he said, still glancing around warily. “You know. Dream. Your… whatever the two of you are.”

A fair description, really. ‘Soulmates’ was too much. They weren’t exactly friends, and lovers sent uncomfortable heat rushing into her face.

Let the dream thing be confused. That made two of them.

“So, er, what’re you doing?” He twitched to study the cards with one beady eye, and she caught a glimpse of swords reflected in the convex mirror of his gaze.

She swept up the spread, folding it into a fresh shuffle, like she could tuck away the danger before it infected her new little friend.

“Reading.”

“Ever heard of books?”

Oh, so the little dream was actually a little shit? That worked. As a little shit herself, she approved of scamps on principle. Even if they insulted her talents.

“Not that kind of reading.”

The dream scoffed. “Those things really work?”

Funny, such cynicism coming from a talking bird. Seemed like bad manners to call him on it, though, so she shrugged. “Depends on what you’re trying to do with them.”

“Tell the future?”

All too well. “Sometimes.”

That caught him off balance, and he physically shifted from foot to foot, nails tapping on the floor as he found it again. She took pity on him.

“Why did your boss send you?”

“Just, you know, to keep an eye on things.”

She raised her eyebrows, easily folding the cards into new configurations without looking down, and the dream cleared his throat.

“Can’t really speak for the boss and all, but it’s a dangerous world out here, and he thinks too much about that. Sometimes. I’m guessing.”

The cards felt right, and she let them settle into a neat stack in one palm, waiting to be cut and dealt.

“Are you spying on me, Matthew?”

He croaked in naked offense. Or because she’d caught him out. “No.”

“Babysitting then.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

Setting the deck on the altar cloth, she propped her chin on her fist. elbow balanced on her knee, and stared the bird down.

“I might.”

Sighing so hard his feathered shoulders rose and fell, the bird looked down, muttering things under his breath she pretended not to hear.

“Have you ever had your fortune read?”

His attention snapped back to her, picking up the opportunity for mutual distraction.

“No. Do dreams have fortunes?”

“I assume so.” Since he didn’t have fingers, she dealt for him. Another simple three-card spread. She didn’t have energy for much else after an evening of drinking, a night of wildly vivid dreams, and the shock of her own reading. “I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“But you’ve done this before. For things like me.”

“Oh, yes.” She thought of long nights at the festival when she’d been too young to drink, sitting in the dark with dreams and nightmares as they came up with their own fun. She remembered the first time she’d found The Lovers in Fin’s fortune and how she’d hounded him for weeks after. “Many times.”

Less than a day and their absence itched like a phantom limb. So stupid. Months apart without problem, and now she felt entitled to mope after a few hours.

She hoped they were okay.

She hoped she’d be okay.

Matthew puzzled over his three cards, his claws sinking into the loose weave along the edge of the altar cloth as he inched closer. She’d turned all three over in one fell swoop because she wasn’t in the mood for dramatics, and sometimes fortunes were easier to explain as a whole.

The dream’s, however, didn’t make much sense at all.

Death. Two of Swords. Three of Cups.

What the fuck.

He seemed particularly interested in the first card, and she began her usual spiel. “Death isn’t always death. It can mean and end to a phase, transformation…”

“Oh, it means death,” the raven interrupted. “For sure. I died, like really recently. Then I became -” He flapped his wings, sending the cards askew. “This.”

Until recently, Aisling thought she knew an awful lot about dreams and nightmares. She thought herself an expert. But she had no idea a dream could be anything before it was, well, a dream. And Morpheus had power over the dead? More news. Less welcome. The hair along the back of her neck pricked up, and she rushed on with the reading – something simple, something she could make sense of.

“Well…” She straightened the card. “This represents your past.”

The raven bobbed, a bird-like motion attempting to imitate a human nod. “So far so accurate.” He gently pecked the second card, pushing it even further out of line. He and his fortune defied order. “What does this one mean?”

She didn’t bother straightening it. The illusion of control wouldn’t last. “Two of Swords. Means you find balance in opposing forces. You have a tendency to repeat your mistakes.” Struggling to hold down a blooming smirk, she added, "And you're talkative."

“Talkative? Psh. Does that sound like me?”

“I don’t know.” It absolutely did sound like him. “But you do seem like the type to make the same mistakes.”

“Rude.”

“Blame the cards.”

He croaked, probably cursing her out in bird.

“Sure. So, what about this last one? My future, right?”

The Three of Cups. “Good luck and abundance. Kindness and pleasure. All the good things, usually after solving a problem. Have any problems, Matthew?”

“Plenty.” He shook his head and swayed between feet, warming to the subject.

Once upon a time, tarot readers served as talk therapists. She had a feeling Matthew would make her a historical reenactor.

“You wouldn’t believe what’s happened in the past few days.” The bird gossiped like an old crow. But that was good. No one told her anything, and this would be a nice change of pace, so she settled in to listen, happy to let the little dream spin her a yarn. “There was this woman – I guess that’s not too strange – but anyway, there was a ruby, and this man tried to change the world, but the boss stopped him, and we went to Hell before that. And I’d just met the boss, and that Constantine woman –”

Wait.

“Constantine?” She abandoned her relaxed position, leaning in to question the bird. “You’ve met Constantine?”

“You mean you’ve met her, too? Small world, right?” Matthew cleared his throat, cawing.

“She’s an old friend. She… warned me…”

Of course. That was how Johanna knew her monster was back on the scene. But she didn’t understand what her monster might want with the occultist. Was it her fault? Was it coincidence? Not that those happened very often, but a girl could hope.

“How did you meet Constantine?” Fuck. She should probably text her back, just to make sure she was still alive. “Is she alright?”

“Oh, she’s fine.” He croaked again. “Promise. Anyway…”

A redirection and a half right there.

“Are you not supposed to tell me?”

“Honestly?” He fluttered, spreading his wings like an open-armed shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve never done something like this before. I’ve only been a raven for, like, a week. I used to have rent, and a job, and fingers. If you’re looking for answers, I’m really not the bird to ask.”

Of course. Answers never came easily. She had to work for them, earn them like minimum wage – enough to keep her on the cusp of a breakdown without quitting entirely.

“I don’t suppose you could point me towards the right bird?”

“Can’t you just, you know, ask the boss?”

She glanced down, brushing a wrinkle out of the altar cloth where the dream and the breeze had disturbed it.

“I don’t know.”

Silence sat between them like a wriggling slug. Ugly, awkward. Neither wanted to touch it as it grew. She had a whole life to explain, and as a dream, he understood things she’d never grasp. Neither knew what to tell the other, or what might get the other in trouble with the elephant in the room.

The longer the silence grew, the more she wondered why her monster sent a minder. Maybe he’d foreseen the threat in her cards. Or maybe he wanted to slowly exert control over her waking life until he held perfect sway over her hours in any world. A bloodless war with an easy victory.

No. She physically shook the thought away.

No, she wouldn’t think that. Nope.

Maybe he was… concerned. She didn’t know if he felt fear, but if he did, he might have the usual long-distance relationship woes. Anything could happen when they weren’t together, and how would he even know until she failed to appear in a dream?

She liked that idea better, the myth of the anxious boyfriend who texted a little too often in an effort to feel closer across the borders he couldn’t erase, so she chose to believe it.

“Can you tell me about him?” she asked. “Your boss?”

“Listen, lady –”

“Aisling.”

“Right.” He softened, just a touch, and his empathy shone through their mutual frustration. “Aisling. I’m new new, if you catch my drift. I know about as much as you do.” Twitching to peer around the inside of her van, he strung together ideas until he had a mouthful of sentences to trade. “He’s a lot, but I’ve seen him be kind when he didn’t have to be. He’s scary powerful, but even when he wasn’t, he was proud. He’s a king, I guess. More than that, but that’s what I know.”

When he wasn’t powerful? She couldn’t imagine him as anything else. Fuck, did she want to ask, but she didn’t want to get the bird in trouble.

“I’ll try…” She swallowed around her misgivings. “Asking him sometime.”

“If it helps,” the dream bounced two steps closer, “I think he’d like that.”

She was out of things to pick at, and her smile fluttered awkwardly through her emotional kaleidoscope.

“You hungry? I’m starving.” Creeping around the bird and the spread cards, she escaped the van. “I need to wash up, and I’ll see if the vending machines are shit.”

“I never turn down junk food,” Matthew said, suddenly and deeply serious. “I miss human food. Rats aren’t bad – when you’re a raven – but I’d murder for a basket of fries.”

“Chips do?”

“You’re a saint.”

Patting her pocket to check for her wallet, she started the hike across the empty parking spaces towards the rest area. “And you have low standards, pheasant.”

“Raven!” he shouted after her, but she ignored him, hands in her pockets as she swaggered away.

The women’s was blissfully empty.

She had lots of time to splash cold water on her face and stare into the mirror. She let the water run, listening to the gathering echoes trickle and crash around the tiled space. Wasteful. She didn’t care.

She needed the noise, the wordless crush on her senses keeping her grounded as the warning, the reading, and the raven cycled through her thoughts.

And beneath all that, a girlish curiosity she struggled to accept.

Her monster played her well. She found herself wanting to fall asleep just so she could dream of him again, to see if he’d answer questions, if he’d touch her, if he’d let her touch him back.

But she didn’t quite trust it. Things only went well when they were about to go very, very badly, and until she knew which direction danger came from, she’d stay on guard. Hopeful or otherwise.

She drew her knuckle over her upper lip, thinking, and dry skin snagged. It wasn’t painful, but she couldn’t help comparing the texture to the palm she’d studied in the Dreaming, and an uncomfortable sense of her mortality prickled through her thoughts. Like the way people noticed their tongues and pooling saliva after someone pointed them out.

Something as simple as the weather damaged her. Air turned too humid or too arid made her flesh crack and peel.

She thought of the silken hands ghosting through her dreams, untouched by eons of labor, and her rough, human finger passed back over her mouth. How could she compare to an Endless? She made a poor match, and she knew it. Too weak. Too fragile. Too young, even. And age wouldn’t make her any worthier.

How could he stand to touch her when she’d crumble so easily?

She squeezed the edge of the sink, feeling too much of herself.

It wasn't fair to assume she knew his thoughts. It wasn't fair to assume he knew hers. But the ugly feeling to too many - varied - doubts curdled in her stomach, and she wondered if she'd ever have the strength to voice these kinds of insecurities.

A pity party would just make her more disgusted with herself, and she shoved away from the sink, pacing over the dirty tile, down the row of stalls and sinks.

She needed to calm down and get the raven a snack. No hysterics. No blubbering. She could contain herself, and everyone would be fine.

She looked up, face to face with her own reflection again.

Had that mirror always been there? Intuition prickled under her thoughts, drawing her attention to the details she’d failed to notice when she entered.

She counted the sinks. Seven. Seven sinks with matching mirrors and one long looking glass at the end of the line, tall and wide as a person, a surprisingly thoughtful investment in the utilitarian rest stop.

It wasn’t the strangest thing she’d seen, but she couldn’t recall the blur of motion her reflection should’ve made in her periphery when she marched in. Not the biggest thing. Nothing too alarming. Not even out of the ordinary really. But traps never were.

Fairy circles disappeared in tall grass and fallen leaves. Helpful goods and little treasures always appeared just where someone might’ve dropped them. The mirror was a little too clean compared to the others. Maybe it just didn't get splashed with soap and water from the sinks like the rest, but she wasn’t willing to risk it.

She didn’t like that mirror.

It rubbed her the wrong way, and she started moving towards the exit before she finished her thought.

One, two, three steps. Rubber soles squeaking on cement painted green as she moved towards her world of sunlight and dreams and rest stop vending machine snacks.

The long fluorescent light closest to the exit blinked. She stopped, and it went out. The next light buzzed, popped, and sparked as it died, and she took a step back.

She couldn't see anything approaching, but fuck if she didn't know her horror movies, and something was playing with her.

The third light winked out like a snuffed candle. Backing up, refusing to look away, just in case, she tried to stay out of the growing shadows. It was close to noon. Why did it feel so dark?

The fourth light. The fifth.

By the time the seventh flickered and died, she'd gone to the far end of the sinks, and as her hand pressed back against cool glass, she realized it wasn't a horror movie.

It was just another trap.

She made it all of one step away before long, wisened fingers coated in crumbling moss seized her upper arms and yanked.

The mirror dragged over her skin like mercury taffy, sticky with an aftertaste of poison. Shiny and wrong beyond her powers of description, it clung to her eyelashes and stuck to her skin as the hand in her hair dragged her through, away, and back – back - back into darkness. She struggled, writhing and shouting as her nails pried at the offending grip. But her fingers didn’t meet skin. Bark and lichen flaked off, crumbling over her cheeks as the gnarled spriggan hissed over her.

“Stay still, little prize. Wandering soulmate. Stay still!” It had a shrill, groaning voice. Wind shrieking in the creaking trees. Rot and new life in the same breath, rich with the age of soil. “Take you down. Take you back. Make you a pretty, pretty bride!”

Aisling did not stay still. She snarled, trying to escape through the light ahead, but the spriggan took her by the jaw and hauled her away into the crushing dark. It lunged headfirst into a tunnel too small to really fit them and chittered away, grinding its captive against the wall as it went.

Choking, trying to keep the fae from popping her head off her spine, she kicked along, catching breaths as she could. The spriggan’s many free hands pulled them along, and each handhold pulled earth loose from the sides. It fell in Aisling’s face, clogging her nose and eyes. Little beetles and worms fell, too.

Roots stinking of grave dirt caught in her hair, scratched her skin, but the grip on her neck locked her screams in her chest.

Her heart thundered.

Fingernails snapped as she tried protecting her face from the unforgiving path, still wrestling against the spriggan’s hold. Tears of shock and pain leaked out, mixing into mud over her cheeks. Her thoughts faded under the onslaught, melting into a tumble of sensation and abject horror.

They moved faster than they should. Magic warped the natural world and tugged them through adjoining planes. Aisling lost all track of up, down, or the way back to the mirror. The roots grew with their progress, and the spriggan cackled, so wildly pleased it didn’t notice how the fragile human in its grip struggled to breathe.

The world flipped, and she landed hard on a dirt floor, half-pinned under her kidnapper's bulk. Still holding her by the neck, the unseelie tugged her through a growing crowd of things with claws, wings, and half-grown faces, moving towards something she couldn't see. Black bars threatened the edges of her uncanny vision, and she grasped after her fading rage as her legs spasmed, tangling in the spriggan's trailing cloak. Terror choked her as much as the grip on her throat.

Oh, hell.

Matthew was still waiting for her to come back with a bag of chips.

Fuck.

Losing control, losing consciousness, she realized: she really was going to die this time.

Maybe that was better than whatever the unseelie planned, but she didn't want it. She wanted to struggle a little longer, find a way to steal a kiss from her masked monster, maybe. Sit in the sun. Let Constantine know the occultist hadn't lost another friend.

'You are killing our prize, spriggan."

Dropped, she crashed face-first into the dirt, coughing more than breathing as her ears rang. The whole scene felt a step removed, like she was wandering a dream or watching through fog. But that wasn't right. Magic bitter as wormwood coated her throat, and she curled into herself, feigning a fetal position as she reached for the long, iron nail hidden in the sole of her shoe. Her broken nails grated over the head, the blood leaving the metal slick as she tried to tug it free. Heavy feet approached - goblin guards ready to haul her off again.

She wouldn't roll over that easy.

The nail came free just as the bigger of the two guards reached for her, and she stabbed it in his hand. Green blood spattered over the dirt, and the beast howled in anguish. As it fell back, the other lunged, the nearby crowd taking notice.

Iron made friends of all fae. Even the natural enemies in the unseelie court. Like she'd shouted "Fire!" in a crowded theater, everyone had two reactions: run, or put it out.

Stabbing and waving her poisonous weapon, she whirled in a circle, looking for an escape, a passage, light, anything. But everywhere she glanced, she found more eyes and bared teeth.

They mobbed her. Many hands took her arm, grabbed her hair by the roots, and clambered onto her back. More and more joined the fray until they had her spread prone. A redcap took the nail with a long pair of silver tongs, nearly tearing the skin off one of her fingers to break her grip, and darted away, eager to separate weapon and wielder.

"Get its mouth open."

Clawed fingers pushed between her lips. They forced her jaw wide and slid filthy flesh, scales, and fur past her teeth, cutting into her gums, cheeks, tongue. Heat pricked in her eyes at the helpless pain as a tall unseelie with hair like moonlight over pond scum approached with a stoppered amber bottle.

Screaming, twisting, she tried again to save herself. Maybe, worlds away, the dream bird would hear. Or his master. Johanna, Fin, anyone. But the fae uncorked the bottle, and he poured it neatly into her open mouth.

"Let it swallow."

The hands all disappeared from her face, but they kept her anchored to the floor, prepared for another fit, another hidden weapon. She reflexively swallowed a mouthful of blood and potion to keep from choking, coughing desperately to clear the drops she'd aspirated.

Salt, iron, and elder berries.

“Gently now.” Taloned fingers massaged her throat, ensuring the draught went down. “Isn’t this better?”

She groaned through clenched teeth, pushing against the poisonous lethargy freezing her from the inside out, against the forbidding chill stripping away her agency but not her awareness. Inch by inch, she lost the war, and hand by hand the creatures restraining her let go.

The potion didn’t put her to sleep. She had no opportunity to escape into dreams. It only allowed breath and tears as she turned into a limp rag doll for the unseelie to manipulate like the hollow, powerless thing they believed all humans to be. They didn't need her to rest. They only needed her to be quiet.

Satisfied, the tall unseelie nodded to someone she couldn't turn her head to see. "Prepare it."

They carried her into more tunnels, broader than before, more than wide enough for them to march through without scraping the sides. A team of monsters handled her, murmuring ideas and instructions as they moved into a room echoing with running spring water.

Roots tangled overhead, and she watched them pass like waves, imagining they were the ones really moving as the unseelie court swallowed her up.

The terror swallowed her, too.

Trapped in her own body, she reached for disassociation as hooked claws and stone knives sawed through her clothes. Oblivion, however, floated out of reach as panic chained her to the bare stone they laid her over, left her drowning in every prod and poke as her handlers discussed how to improve on the fragile human flesh she hated a few minutes ago. She'd do anything to keep it.

They bared her to the frigid air, and she couldn't even shiver. Couldn't shout, or swear, or save herself.

The spring water was bright cold. Lights popped in her eyes as the first splash washed over her belly. Chill translated into pain, something too sharp to be liquid, even though she felt it rolling down her sides. Her captors cleaned her, scrubbing and muttering and pulling her hair as they combed it out. Her discomfort and fear simply didn't matter in a place where she had no voice. No choice. They tutted over her scars - a lifetime of chasing nightmares and living on the road patterned in bites, slices, and other imperfections.

"These are old," one unseelie muttered, tracing a fingertip rough as gravel along the Not Deer's old fang marks in her shoulder. "I can only smooth away fresh."

"Then make them fresh," another suggested. "Nothing else for it."

They took a knife to her, skinning her history by inches, peeling stories, tearing fascia, and baring muscle. The blade cut out the imperfections, erasing the glossy moon on her knee where she tripped on the playground as a child. It erased every line and mark loved ones would use to identify her body, leaving her naked and new in strange and terrible ways.

She watched them throw pieces of her into the corner. Hiding at the edge of the dim light, a spider the size of a small dog plucked them up like table scraps, jaws clicking just above the wet sound of the knife.

Butchered alive, her mind filled with static, rattling with captive screams and pleas. If she lived, she would not escape unscathed. This was killing something. This was changing her in ways that couldn't be undone, and she didn't want it. Someone had to make them stop before she couldn't recognize herself.

Warm blood soothed her goosebumps, and one of the voices sighed as her skin regrew.

"We'll have to wash it again."

More freezing water. More pain. She kept still as they worked, and her sanity squealed like glass under pressure. On the verge of shattering.

One began spreading a smooth, white cream up her arm, working it into the new skin. When the unseelie found Aisling watching, it smiled. "Ground pearls and unicorn horn, so you'll glow for the Dream King."

It explained like she'd be happy, like she wanted to be a pretty bride delivered in chains. If her stomach was still under her control, she would've thrown up.

Magical ingredients like anything off a unicorn would not come off in the next bath. More permanent changes worked into her flesh for her monster's sake. She would be more beautiful and less herself.

What she wouldn't give to spit in the unseelie's face. Or curse her monster's name. Anything. Instead, they worked the potion from head to toe, and the fuckers looked damned pleased with their results, assuming her gratitude as their rightful due.

Dozens of spiders crept from the corners, and the unseelie set to work on her hair and face as a thousand little legs tickled over her limp body. She wasn't wildly arachnophobic, but she'd jump and shout if a spider crawled up her arm. Now countless spiders wandered her naked body, and she couldn't shake them off. Instinct demanded she try, but she was as helpless under the spiders as she was under the knife. After a few moments of blind horror, she realized they were moving in patterns, leaving lines of silk they built into a gauze-lace dress over the next hour. She closed her eyes, desperate for even that much of an escape, and the unseelie painted her lids and lips to their satisfaction. Their concoctions smelled like roses and mercury.

When the spiders finished, the unseelie stepped back and sighed.

"Ready."

A troop of gnomes carrying some kind of box rushed in, and the unseelie handlers pulled back the box's front curtain, revealing something between an animal carrier and a royal litter.

"It's time to deliver you to the Dreaming, little bride."

They packed her inside, careful not to ruin their good work, and the curtain fell. She counted the walls. Seven. All the same soft white fabric shot through with silver threads. A pretty box for a pretty bride.

And her first hint of privacy. Alone, without unwanted hands, spider legs, and the sight of her own blood on the floor to distract her, her thoughts gathered behind the scrim of dread. She felt her heart beating in her chest, not just the hollow echo in her ribs. Her fingers tingled, begging to move, and one curled as the box rose, swaying on low shoulders down the labyrinthine tunnels of the unseelie court. It wasn't enough to save herself, but it was more than she had an hour ago.

She didn't witness the journey. She measured the time in twitching muscles and waking limbs, counting breaths instead of minutes. They moved between worlds, but all she cared about was the distance between her consciousness and any control over her hands. She wanted to pull open the curtained wall, and slowly, slowly she pushed her hand towards the edge of the screened box. A lifetime measured in millimeters. And just when her nails scratched the fabric, the box shifted, and she rolled back to her original position. Foiled by gravity. Of all damn things. A laugh brushed with madness fluttered around in her chest, caught like a bug in a net, and she wondered what kind of potion would give it life and get it out. She needed it exorcised. If she started laughing, she'd start crying, too.

The box must be enchanted, because she didn't hear anything outside it. The unseelie made lots of noise, and if they brought her to the Dreaming in any kind of official capacity, they'd have to announce themselves. She heard fuck all. She hadn't even heard the gnomes' feet marching towards her doom. Her soft prison kept her safe and stupid as they took her away.

When the front curtain pulled back, all she knew was she was somewhere else, somewhere with light and color, without the wormy, wet smell of the underground court. Two unseelie women reached inside, taking her wilting arms and guiding her to rise much more elegantly than she could've managed on her own. She was surprised her legs worked at all, but they must've timed this carefully.

She still wanted to bite them and run. But when she couldn't really keep on her feet without their support, that was impossible. She could watch. She could wait. She still didn't have a choice.

A weak little bride who couldn't fight back but didn't lounge like a slug in her cage - a lovely, tidy gift.

The unseelie with the pond scum hair swept up, taking her hand as the two attendants stepped back. She wanted to bite him most of all, and almost like he could sense her plans to draw blood - fuck the cost - he took her by the chin and faced her towards something much worse.

They stood at the foot of an impossible staircase in a room too grand for a ceiling. A cosmos moved overhead, catching the graceful statues along the columns between daylight and starlight. The steps curled through the air to the foot of a throne, a seat for a king, set above the receiving hall where lesser creatures stood and begged. Sunlight cut into dazzling colors through arcing stained glass windows backlit the monarch's place, on high. Beautiful. Breath-taking.

Yet it was the king's face that froze her heart.

She knew many things about Dream of the Endless. The King of Dreams and Nightmares. Lord Morpheus. Since she was a child, she'd been told he was cold and capricious, particularly with his lovers. That he was possessive and vengeful. If he was a good king to one he was an awful tyrant to someone else.

He was dangerous.

She knew he touched her gently and had a voice darker and deeper than the spaces between the stars, but she hadn't known until she stood a prisoner at his feet that she knew his face.

When she saw the beautiful entity trapped in the dead wizard's basement, she knew he was powerful. She freed him anyway. Her intuition led her to him, and she gave him exactly what he needed.

Her chest filled with lead. Heavy. Crushing. Pulling her down in the unseelie's grip. His hand tightened on her arm, and he refused to release her jaw, forcing her head back so the Dream King could see the fae's good work.

The Endless looked down on them all, starry eyes burning through her cobweb dress. Terrible and aloof.

Feeling drowned her reason, and she picked fragments of thought out of the swamp with shaking hands.

Why?

Why not show his face when she'd already seen it? It didn't make sense if he'd been honest with her. Was he that hungry for a little more power in their dynamic? Had he played a game, amusing himself with the dumb little mortal wyrd had already trapped in his name?

The unseelie, she realized, was speaking. He'd probably been talking since before they pulled her out of the gossamer prison.

"...one of our own. We've brought it - her - to atone for that one's error and ensured she is as fair and flawless as a mortal might be made. We cannot undo the sins of the first, but we have made a better gift of her in the end."

The creature made her humanity something fetid. She was not even as good as a dog, because her free will pushed her to snap back. But she'd been made fair, and what else could a mighty Endless desire from such a lowly thing, marked or not?

And Morpheus listened. He sat still as stone and let the fae hold her up for his inspection. She thought very carefully of every promise he'd ever made, and in this new light, she quickly found the gaps in his word.

She'd been such a fool to trust him.

A deep breath lifted her shoulders, the biggest voluntary motion she'd enjoyed since they drugged her, but she struggled to breathe. The air just wouldn't stick. Fuck. Fuck it hurt.

What an idiot.

What a romantic little idiot who had every warning and swallowed the poison anyway. It was written clearly on the label, but it looked right and it felt right so she ignored her mind and followed her gut, and look what that earned her. Belly pain and tears. They rolled hot and ugly down her face, creeping over the unseelie's hand, sinking into his skin.

He tutted. Releasing her arm, he reached into umber robes, confident in his hold on her face. Her jaw ached under the pressure.

"We understand you prefer... willing partners." The unseelie pulled out a white and purple flower for the king to see, and her blood ran cold.

She thought she'd been heartbroken before. She thought she'd been frightened. This was worse than anything she could've imagined, and she finally remembered to struggle. Sinking her nails into the creature's wrist, she tried to pull his hand off her face, but his hold was sturdier than the roots of a centuries old oak. Chances were, she'd drop the second he released her, but she'd rather eat pavement than be anywhere near the simple pansy flower.

"Love-in-idleness will woo her to your hand in a heartbeat."

It really would, too. A few drops of its nectar in her eyes, and she'd forget she was anything other than madly in love with the first face she saw. Her power to consent would evaporate as the spell took hold, and she'd be her monster's happy little fool for the rest of her life.

"No." Her voice joined the fight, and breathless as it sounded, it still carried through the chamber. Her monster must hear it, up on his throne, watching someone else manage the breaking of his new pet on his behalf.

She'd curse him with this. He'd hear her denial whenever he reached for her. She'd infect him with it, let it creep under his skin until he couldn't meet his own eyes in the mirror. Maybe. Hopefully. If he ever cared the way he said he did.

She chanted her refusals through grit teeth as the unseelie lifted the flower. As much as she wanted to hurt Morpheus, her fear drove her actions. She begged, pleaded, using every scrap of her meager strength to just get away.

"Stop. Don't. No." When did her voice become so small? "Please don't." Panicking, scrambling to escape the unseelie and his curse, she fixed her eyes on the blossom's purple streaks. Folklore said it used to be pure white until Cupid shot it with one of his arrows. She'd be the opposite. It would bleed her mind white, a placid death in life.

"Stop."

Her words. His voice.

The command froze the scene. Every unseelie. Every mote of dust hanging in multi-color sunbeams. The hand on her face went from oak to rock, and she trembled, fighting to breathe as she dared glancing away from the damned flower to the entity on the throne. Her lead heart forgot how to beat.

Dream of the Endless glared down, hands curled into fists. Had his eyes always been so bright? Fury burned like the sun, a cutting light sweeping across the gathering, wrathful and inescapable as the end of day, as the coming of dreams. They dazzled her through the scrim of tears, and she teetered on the cusp of hope.

The unseelie, after several long, painful moments, cleared his throat. "Lord?"

"Do you think it a challenge for me to find any sleeping mortal, mauled by your kind or whole?" His voice rumbled with the threat of an earthquake. Or a flood. Something old and deep that crushed civilizations without effort or consideration. A natural consequence of assuming control over something beyond even the idea of command. Ancient. Endless.

The unseelie hesitated.

She waited, too, frightened to trust again so quickly. She fought to breathe, to reason out what was happening. If he'd order that fucking plant burned in Hell, she'd feel a lot better.

"N-no, Lord Morpheus."

The Dream King rose, and every member of the unseelie delegation took a step back. Caught in the leader's grasp, she stumbled with them, clinging and whimpering as she tried to find strength to stand on her own and wrestle free.

"Did you think I'd rejoice to see one so intimately linked to my fate dragged to my throne against her will?"

The sun faded from behind the stained glass, and shadows curled out from between the columns like living things. They didn't obey the light, and they twisted hungrily on the verge of attack.

The unseelie's grip shifted. A sharp nail pressed into the side of her throat, and long fingers circled her neck. Rather than showcasing her to the side, the envoy swung her forward to block the king's ire. A literal human shield.

It was a bad idea to threaten a king in his own palace. Even discreetly.

"You are guests in my realm, and therefore protected by the laws." His eyes blazed, and a warning pulled his voice so low she could feel it in her spine, reverberating through the realm. "But if you do not release Aisling Hunt to my hospitality - safe and well - you will have harmed another guest, and your protection shall be revoked."

He didn't negotiate. He simply explained. And the unseelie holding her knew it.

"We had always intended to leave her in your care," he whined.

"Do you wish to leave my realm alive?"

The unseelie stuttered, and a cruel sliver of a smirk ghosted over the pale king's face.

"But if you'd rather stay - Well."

The unseelie considered, flexing his grip. He'd come on a mission, and it had gone poorly. The Dream King was not grateful, and now the fae had to decide if it was safer to keep his shield or flee. A moment's thought. And he shoved her forward, hard. She landed hard on her knees, yelping at the impact, and the unseelie moved out of the chamber in a rush of half-hearted apologies.

Murmurs and footsteps faded, a distant argument breaking out like a clap of thunder. She flinched, still on hands and knees, trapped in a spiral of breaths that wouldn't come fast enough and shaking limbs that couldn't fully support her.

The flower was gone. The unseelie were gone. But she wasn't alone. Wasn't safe. And the sticky spiderweb lace plucked on her nerves without keeping her warm, so she shuddered on the hard, stone floor and gasped as she stared down at her strangely pretty hands with their unicorn treatment, and -

She was not.

Not on the floor. Not on her knees.

With Morpheus.

He seized her, caught her up close with fingers that hooked into her shoulders like talons. The world seemed to quake, but maybe that was only the chest beneath her cheek and the arms around her back. She didn’t see him change shape or size, but his presence swelled, thick and biting like ozone as he pulled her so deep into his embrace she couldn’t see his splendid throne, or the retreating unseelie, or anything beyond him.

Was this better? Was this safe? She didn't know, she didn't know, she didn't trust him. Her ribs crowded her lungs, and her breathing fluttered, never drawing a full inhale or exhale, only pulling enough oxygen to keep her lightheaded, broken hearted, and awake.

"Sir?"

He dragged her deeper, long fingers gathering her by the handful to pull inside his shadows. At least, it felt that way. He might not break and bend her like the unseelie, but she had no doubt he could consume her, swallow her up until she blinked in the dark like a little star.

"Sir."

"What is it, Lucienne?" His rough, begrudging question flooded her senses, and her fingers spasmed where they dangled at her sides.

"Sir, she is not well."

She couldn't see the speaker, but they weren't wrong. Aisling felt very unwell. She hurt, and she ached, and she was worried something was irreparably broken, but she couldn't remember its name. She spun in eddies of failing thoughts, struggling to follow the basic conversation.

"I know." Sorrow, frustration, and darkness there.

But the stranger outside Morpheus's embrace remained undaunted, insistent. "Sir, she cannot breathe."

A cool hand cradled the side of her face, summoning her to meet his radiant eyes. A frightening place to be - in his hand, under his gaze - made worse by the fact she didn't know whether or not it was the perfect escape or some fresh hell.

His thumb rolled down the tear tracks, memorizing them by touch, teaching himself the shape of her pain. The face he denied her was very, very near, but she couldn't read it. Couldn't plumb the depths of whatever he tried to express.

"You must breathe."

It didn't sound like an order. He nearly whispered the three words, a private request for her ears alone. A plea. And she wanted to. She wanted to thank him for asking by filling her lungs, relaxing in his arms, and assuring him everything was fine. But she couldn't, and she didn't, and it wasn't. Another tear broke loose from the pools gathered over her lower lashes and rolled over his thumb, washing him in the agony he tried to explore.

"I have you now." He spoke like a song, the cadence pulling around her mind, soft and sweet as a lullaby, and she wondered if he was consciously trying to charm her. Any other time, she'd welcome it, but she couldn't find her courage, or her attraction. All she felt was small. Frightened. Vulnerable and nearly naked in the arms of a creature she didn't trust.

She couldn't decide to calm herself. Panic stopped being a choice several hours back, and as her body woke up, it demanded the reactions the unseelie potion refused it. Her shaking was her answer. She had nothing to give his searching eyes. Words were human and she stood there as a mess of fears and silent prayers tangled in a web of nerves.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to her third eye.

"Let me help you."

Tensing, expecting more magic or power to crush over her mind, she felt him brush her subconscious. He waited there, at the gates, and the part of her that understood him best accepted his hand. Guiding her from the frightful awareness of her own body, her monster sheltered her in a softer darkness, wrapping her in the blurred sensations of a peaceful rest.

Sleep.

She blinked, and slumped, and he gathered her up. As she faded, she saw him: the worlds beyond the face, and the smooth white skin of a being she was on the verge of loving without understanding.

Fuck.

She was still a fool, and his arms seemed like the safest place in all the world.

A very good place to fall.

Asleep.

#morpheus x reader #sandman x oc #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x oc #fic: hello mr. monster #sandman fic

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sporadically-writing · 2 years

Text

Lady of Tales Series Masterlist

In Chronological Order

A Binding

The Library

Lady of Tales

We Meet Again

A Long Walk

#lady of tales #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x oc #dream x oc #morpheus x oc #the sandman x oc #the sandman #dream of the endless #dream #morpheus

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thepaintedlady00 · 2 years

Text

The Sandman and The Girl Without Dreams

Chapter 11: Write My Name In Your Blood

TW: mentions of blood, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, Pierre is an ass, SMUT holy cow, smut, Jealous/possessive Dream, aftercare, Fluff, memories, its a wild ride yall

“It’s so good to see you, after all these years Ms. Barlow." The voice made my entire body ache, phantom pain bringing forth every memory of every slice and shock that had followed that voice for years. Terror filled me as my body moved back into the table. I wanted to run, my whole being screamed at me to run, but I couldn't move. “It has been far too long, my dear.”

I forced myself to keep breathing. Forced myself to ignore the way my skin crawled just at the sound of his voice. I cleared my throat, the words still coming out weak. "You sound like shit. Half assed immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be?"

"Ah so unruly. But you and I both know why that is." Tears began to fill my eyes. I knew exactly what he'd say. He'd said it so many times before. Giselle's body stumbled forward a bit. "If you let go of the anger, what are you, Ms. Barlow?"

My mind answered the question out of instinct. Nothing. But I bit my cheek, refusing to give him even the smallest amount of satisfaction of saying the word. The pale eyes sparkled and a bloody smile spread on Giselle's lips, but it was his. "Nothing. You are nothing."

"What do you want?" Pierre demanded from beside me, his body moved trying to shield Dream from view.

"Ahh The Marquis," the doctor said with a sigh. "I've been waiting so long to put a face to the name of the man that stole my money and broke our deal."

Pierre shrugged. "I'd say it was not personal but I don't like to lie."

The pale eyes shifted behind him. No. My body moved too slowly to block his view. "You did not tell me I was in the presence of the great Dream of the Endless."

"He has nothing to do with this," I said shakily.

"Does he not?" He chuckled and coughed. "Fear not, dear, so long as he remains out of our affairs I'll keep the glass cage empty. As for the matter at hand, I wanted to speak with you myself, to try and make you see sense, but…" They eyes looked to the bodies on the floor. "You've not changed, still refusing to see reason."

I ground my teeth together. "Go to Hell."

Another wheezing laugh and a gentle click of his tongue. "I'll see you again soon, with my real eyes. In the meantime you may want to call your friend… I fear she's run into a bit of trouble."

Johanna. I resisted the urge to immediately break. Pierre pulled his gun and shot out before I even recognized it, Giselle's head snapped back and she fell back to the ground. The phone on the table shattered and everyone was silent, still waiting to be sure he was gone. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and shakily dialed Johanna's number, holding it tight in my hand as it rang out on speaker. "Pick up." The ringing droned on. "Pick up the fucking phone Johanna!" I yelled, repressing the tears as the ringing trilled in. "God damn it…" Not again. No. No. No.

"Hello?" She answered weakly. "Pen, you there?"

Pierre took the phone from my hands, recognizing the familiar sight of me about to completely shut down. "We're here, witch."

I forced air into my lungs, desperately trying to calm the shaking. Their words blurred in and out of my hearing as my ears rang. "How is she?" Johanna asked.

"Not so good," he answered honestly. "I don't know if she can even hear us."

"Fucking bastard. When you get her back tell her I said I'm okay, it was just some thugs, no one good enough to get me."

Pierre knelt beside me from where I'd dropped onto my knees. When had I done that? He carefully reached out and touched my arm, finger curling around the scar. Pain, screams, blood everything boiled over and my body moved faster than my mind did, grabbing one of the daggers from the box and pressing it tightly to his sternum.

He went still, holding a hand up to Dream and Hob. Oh god, what would they think of me after this? The tip of the blade broke the skin as I heaved. "Look at me, Penelope." My name was wrong… Nothing. I squeezed my eyes shut. You're nothing. "Look at me, Ma moitié."

Ma moitié… Pierre. This was Pierre, my friend, my Pierre. I opened my eyes, looking up into his eyes as he smiled. "There you go. It's me… your other half."

My lips quivered as I breathed out a sob. He slowly lifted a hand to my face, wiping away my tears. "It's okay." How did they find me? The ugly, mistrusting and dark part of my soul reared its head, but Pierre noticed. Of course he did. "I made you a promise, you remember? I will never hurt you," he said softly. "I will never betray you."

Pierre. My mind finally came back into connection with my body and I eased the knife away from him, dropping it to the ground. His arms were around me in an instant, crushing me to his chest as broke down. "He's not here. He's gone. I have you."

***

“It’s so good to see you, after all these years Ms. Barlow,” an old faintly familiar voice filled the room. Penelope’s stillness twisted into absolute terror and she moved to step back, trying to flee the voice, running into the table. “It has been far too long, my dear.”

This was him. Finally. Dream had been waiting to meet this doctor ever since he saw his face, saw what he'd done to Penelope, his Penelope. His eyes were glued to her ridged back, the bond between them swarmed and flooded with everything she felt. Her urge to run made him burn. Her want to slice the skin from her bones just to be free of the wrong feeling that coated her at the sound of that voice made his anger near uncontainable.

She made a noise, soft and forced. "You sound like shit. Half assed immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be?" It lacked all the venom and fire he was used to hearing. His gut twisted… She sounded scared. Never had he heard this voice, never had she allowed this raw, vulnerable weakness be heard by anyone, not even him.

A wheezing sound echoed in the room, a laugh following that made him burn hotter. "Oh, don't worry about me, dear. I'll remedy my condition as soon as you get here."

"Yeah? When I do find you I'm going to fucking kill you!" It wasn't a scream, nor a yell, but something in between. Something raw and animalistic, forced.

"Temper temper," the old man dared to mock her, to scold her like a child? "You were always so unruly. But you and I both know why that is." A broken sound left her, soft, so soft he doubted anyone but him heard it. "If you let go of the anger, what are you, Ms. Barlow?"

"Nothing." It was her voice, broken and shaking.

"Nothing. You are nothing."

"Nothing." She thought again. "I am nothing."

"What do you want?" The Frenchman demanded, moving just a little bit further in front of him.

"Ahh The Marquis. I've been waiting so long to put a face to the name of the man that stole my money and broke our deal."

This was perhaps the only time the man's smugness made Dream happy as he answered, "I'd say it was not personal but I don't like to lie."

The pale eyes shifted to Dream, and he held the stare, watching a grotesque smile spread on the dead woman's face. "No." She moved to block him from view, but the damage was done. "You did not tell me I was in the presence of the great Dream of the Endless."

Dream was proud, glad that this man knew who he was and thus knew, even just a fraction of what horrors laid in store for him when Penelope freed him of his oath. The feeling didn't last long though, not when his lady sounded so afraid, "He has nothing to do with this."

"Does he not?" Weak coughing filled the small devices speakers. "Fear not, dear, so long as he remains out of our affairs I'll keep the glass cage empty. As for the matter at hand, I wanted to speak with you myself, to try and make you see sense, but… You've not changed, still refusing to see reason."

"Go to Hell."

"I'll see you again soon, with my real eyes. In the meantime you may want to call your friend… I fear she's run into a bit of trouble." His eyes returned to her, watching as his words struck.

"Johanna."

The Frenchman shot the corpse, its head snapping back as it returned to the ground. The phone on the table shattered and the room went quiet, waiting. Penelope moved fast, pulling out her phone and dialing the number, clutching with all her might.Her hands were shaking so badly Dream couldn't see the screen clearly. Just this once he focused fully on her through the bond, honing in on every thought and feeling.

"Pick up." Desperation and fear held her voice, the raw pain of old faces flashing in her eyes, filling her vision. It was enough to make him want to weep, but her thoughts are what truly broke him. "Not her. Please don't take her from me. I can't do this. Icanticanticant."

"PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE JOHANNA!" She screamed her hand pulling at her hair so tightly he could feel it on his own scalp. "Answer. Answer the phone." The ringing echoed in her ears as her thoughts began to drown out every other noise.

"God damn it…" Her breaths were quick and ragged, "Not again. No. No. No. This is your fault. It's always your fault. You did this."

"Hello?" Constsntine spoke, sounding as if she was out of breath, but Penelope didn't move. The phone began to slip out of her loosening hands. His body twitched forward, but the Frenchman was already there. He caught the phone, worried eyes roving over Penelope as she stumbled back. "Pen, you there?"

He spoke softly, his eyes staying on Penelope. "We're here, witch."

Constantine sighed. "What happened?"

"The doctor decided to pay us a visit."

"In person?"

"No, through Giselle and a phone call." The Frenchman said.

Constantine kicked someone over the phone. "How many did she have to kill?"

The man looked at the bodies on the floor. But Dreams' gaze turned back to her as she slid to her knees, her hand clutching the box where her blades rested for dear life. "They'll never stop. They'll just keep coming and coming and coming." Her pain echoed through him. "Seven."

"How is she?"

"Not so good. I don't know if she can even hear us."

"Fucking bastard. When you get her back tell her I said I'm okay, it was just some thugs, no one good enough to get me."

"I will send one of my associates to help you clean up. Be safe, witch."

"You too, Frenchie."

He set her phone back on the table and spoke softly. "Penelope?"

She didn't respond.

The Frenchman knelt down, carefully reaching out and touching her arm. Dream heard the dam holding back her memories break. He heard every one of their voices fill her mind, all the screams of the asylum, the doctors drills and blades, everything. She'd moved almost too fast for him to notice, grabbing one of the daggers from the box and pressing it against the Frenchmans chest.

As much as Dream disliked the man, he was important to her and he knew she'd never forgive herself if she hurt him. He took a step, moving to stop her. The Frenchman held hand up, stopping him. She dug the tip of the blade deeper as her breaths grew heavier. "Look at me, Penelope."

"Wrong… I'm nothing. Nothing. You're nothing." He wanted to go to her, wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until every last one of these thoughts was silent.

"Look at me, Ma moitié." The man said, voice still soft.

"Ma moitié." The affectionate name stilled the cries and screams. "My Pierre." He felt a pinch of jealousy rise in him, but forced it away. None of that mattered right now. All that he cared about was bringing her back from the darkness that swallowed her mind.

"There you go. It's me… your other half." He lifted a hand to wipe the tears from her cheek. "It's okay."

"Liar." Her thoughts hissed. "He told them. He led them here. No. No. How did they find me?"

As if he could see the dark thoughts in her eyes the Frenchman smiled. "I made you a promise, you remember? I will never hurt you. I will never betray you."

"Pierre." Everything about her relaxed, the softness returning to her eyes as she looked down at the blood pooling on his shirt. "Oh god."

"It's okay." He assured her.

She was sobbing now as she threw the blade to the side and clutched his shirt. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She chanted, pressing both her hands over the blood, as if it were a mortal wound.

He pulled her forehead to his. "It's okay," he said again. "Ma moitié, it's okay."

"He was here…" She sobbed, every inch of her shaking. "He knows!"

"He's not here. He's gone."

Dream watched her curl into the arms of her friend. He wished it was him she could find such comfort in. Wished he could be the one to console this side of her fears. He'd seen the memories first hand, but The Frenchman… Pierre had been there for all these moments when he had not. I trust him. She'd once told him, and only now did he understand just how much. Penelope loved him, she loved Pierre enough that her loudest, darkest, most consuming thoughts stilled at the sound of his affectionate name for her. It made him ache with jealousy and guilt, but he could feel neither. He just felt her heartbeat, listened to the thoughts and voices and echoes of the past fade away. Pierre had earned this moment. Earned her trust and love, and so, just this once, Dream looked down at them and felt relieved.

"I have you."

***

Pierre only let go once I was able to take full breaths, and even then he was attached to my side, acting as a shield to keep my eyes away from the blood and bodies that covered the floor. Everyone was silent as he picked my blade off the floor, cleaned it and set it back in the box. He looked at me and gently asked, "Do you want to keep them with you?"

I shook my head violently. "No. No."

"I will return them to the apartment in the morning. For now, you and the… Who are you?" He looked over the table at Hob, who looked more on edge than I'd ever seen him.

"Hob," he answered. "I own this place."

Pierre nodded, looking around. "It is very nice! Hob… Take Penelope to your home, it is up the road, yes?"

"Yeah…" Hob glanced at Dream and asked, "How did you know?"

"I was watching the three of you for a while before you came here." I shook my head at his far too honest admittance.

"You can't just watch people," I scolded him halfheartedly.

"I was not watching people, I was watching you." He corrected me with a kiss to the head. "Hob, take her to your home. The lover and I will await my associates."

I sighed. "Nows hardly the time for-"

He cut me off. "Go get yourself cleaned up. We will join you shortly."

It was rare for Pierre to give out commands, but when he did I knew it was something he considered important, and that he'd likely not change his mind. Looking up at Dream, the first time I'd been able to since I'd picked up my blades, I asked the silent question, are you okay with this? He nodded, turning to Hob and asking, "Is there another exit?"

"Yeah, round the back. I'll get her out of here," Hob stepped around the table and held his hand out to me. "How's that leg?"

I took his hand with a tired smile. "The cut isn't too deep, but I'll still probably need stitches."

As we moved to walk past Dream he stopped us and pressed a long kiss to my head. "We won't be long."

I spared one last glance at the two before Hob and I disappeared behind the kitchen door and silently prayed they wouldn't try to kill each other. The cut on my leg burned the whole hobbled walk back up the road, and I dreaded the thought of having to explain all this to Hob. He was calm, surprisingly so for someone that had not only witnessed an all out blood bath but then saw a woman rise from the dead. Though I supposed to an immortal there wasn't anything he'd consider far fetched at this point.

He helped me onto the couch, setting my leg up on the coffee table and moving to the kitchen. I stared at my reflection in the turned off TV and sighed. Their blood was everywhere, sticking to me like a second skin, and the longer I looked the more sick I began to feel. Hob returned with pain killers, water and a heavy first aid kit. "Take those, drink some water and breathe for a minute."

I followed his requests and nodded to the kit. "You gonna stitch me up?"

"If that's alright with you?" His dark eyes held that familiar tint of worry in them and I could feel the words rising from his throat. "I don't know what all that was about, but it seemed to be a lot for you."

"When you asked me what the worst ways I'd almost died were…" I paused, breathing in and looking away from his face. "Those people, the man they work for, they… They spent a very long time looking for me, hurting people to get to me."

Hob was gentle when he asked, "Why? I mean you're absolutely lovely don't get me wrong, but that just seems like a lot of fuss for one girl."

"Have you ever been captured?"

With a thoughtful him he considered the question. "Got burned at the stake once."

"Not like that," I clarified. "Taken by people that knew about your immortality, knew and wanted it."

"No," he said. "I haven't."

I wiped away the tears before they could fall. "I don't recommend it. They're not… They're not too keen on letting you go after they pull you apart and convince themselves that you're the key to immortality."

"If you'd rather wait for your friend to handle this I'll just clean the cut a bit… I know we don't really know one another that well." Hob sighed, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, that you had to go through that."

I sniffed and shook my head, ripping the rest of the fabric away from the wound. Meeting his eyes I smiled. "I trust you, Hob Gadling."

He opened the kit and set out everything he needed before putting on a pair of gloves. The sound of them stretching over his hands made me flinch and wrap my arms around myself. Hob squeezed my knee. "If it gets to be too much just tell me and we'll stop, okay?"

My fingers curled into my shirt and I nodded. "I'm… I'm probably not going to be able to keep myself from shaking. I'm sorry I know that makes this harder."

"Don't be sorry, love," he whispered, wiping away a rogue tear. "I've got steady hands."

Hob was amazing. He talked me through every second, made jokes about how his stitches used to be shit and just as he'd said when it got too difficult to keep the memories of harshly sewn wounds at bay he stopped. I didn't even need to say anything, he just knew. He took off a glove and rubbed my arm, using his touch and his stories to keep me grounded. Once he'd finished he covered it and sat beside me on the couch, pulling me into his arms and letting me cry.

It wasn't the same as with Pierre, I'd not lost myself to the memories this time and Hob was considerably more awkward, but I appreciated Hob's gentle nature and understanding. He probably had a billion questions and yet he asked none that were not important to the task. I sighed into him, my fingers finally uncurling. "Thank you."

"Anything for a friend," he replied, setting his cheek to my head.

"So, burned at the stake huh? What's that like?"

With a chuckle he spoke, "Not the worst way to go actually…"

As Hob told his story I closed my eyes and smiled. He did have a very nice voice.

***

Dream watched the Frenchman with a curious gaze as he lit a cigarette and smiled at him, but he made note that this smile was not like the others. This smile was veiled anger and a burning determination that he'd not seen in ages.

"Dream of the Endless," he finally said, blowing a plume of smoke towards him. "When the witch told me who, what, you are I should have assumed you were her man in the glass."

He said nothing, his hands resting comfortably in his pockets, and so the Frenchman continued. "She spoke of you often and fondly, even almost blew everything to return to that hell hole and try to free you. She would do anything for you."

Dream tilted his head a little. "As I would do anything for her."

His smile grew more tense. "Maybe, but you'll have to forgive me for having my doubts. Loyalty is a rare occurrence nowadays as one such as yourself knows."

"Why are we having this conversation?" Dream demanded.

"I need to know you are capable of doing what must be done." He answered plainly. "Penelope is strong, stronger than anyone I've ever met. But when it comes to the doctor," he shook his head. "She freezes. Her anger and her skill becomes useless and he knows this."

Dream looked the Frenchman up and down. "And?"

He sighed. "And when the time comes to put that fucker in the ground you or I or the witch will have to be the ones to do it. Against his goons she can take down anyone, but he speaks and she crumbles. There is only so much her damaged psyche can take before it snaps… As we just saw."

"She's strong, when the time comes she'll do what she feels is right." Dream assured him. "She always does."

"You have been in her life for what? A month? Two?" The Frenchman sneered. "I have been here for ten years."

Before Dream could retaliate, release the swelling of anger that puffed up at his words, the door opened and three men entered. "Got your message boss, is this the one?"

The Frenchman turned and looked the man in the middle up and down before he nodded. "This is him."

The sound of bones breaking echoed, surprising Dream as he watched the man lose his knees, only being held up by the other two men. The Frenchman pulled up a chair and they moved him to it. With a watchful gaze he shed the coat he was wearing and rolled up his sleeves. "They call you Tony, yes?"

"Y-yes."

"Tony, would you care to explain to me why you were seen speaking to this woman, earlier today." He gestured to Giselle and watched the man, Tony's, face carefully.

He stuttered, fear and pain clear on his features. "I was… I… I'm sorry."

"What did she offer you? Money? Sex? Immortality?"

"Money. She offered me a lot of money."

The Frenchman nodded. "At least you are honest. Sadly, this won't be enough to save you."

"Please! Please boss!"

Without hesitation the Frenchman began punching the man. The sound of his bones breaking under the Frenchmans powerful strikes echoed around them. Dream had seen brutality before, but this was cold and calculated. He hit not out of anger or a loss of control but to inflict a specific pain to a specific area. To send a message. He stopped for a short moment and sighed. "I would have made this quick if it was me you'd tried to betray. But it wasn't, was it?"

Dream couldn't see the man's face, but he didn't need to. The smell of fresh blood hung in the air as he whimpered. "Please… She's just… One girl."

"That one girl is worth more than three hundred of you." The Frenchman sneered. "She is all that matters! And I made her a promise, many years ago, I'll not break that promise because of worthless scum like you!"

The beating went on for a few minutes more before the Frenchman turned back to Dream and gestured toward the bloody sight. "I am willing to do what must be done, even when she would want me to be merciful. Are you willing to break her heart to do what's necessary?"

He scoffed. "I won't need to resort to such."

"You may think you're better than me all you wish, lover, but in the end I think we both know you'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe, just as I do." He smiled, taking his gun and shooting the man in the chair before holding a bag out to him. "Go, help Penelope get cleaned up. But think on my words, Dream of the Endless."

Dream took the bag and watched him speak to the other individuals before they began their work. When he left, the cold breeze washing the smell of blood and decay off of him, he felt a pit form in his stomach. If the Frenchman was correct then he would have to break his promise to protect her. He would, he knew he would as did the Frenchman it seemed, but would he be able to bear the brunt of her anger should it come to that? Would he be able to live knowing he'd betrayed her already fragile trust?

As he entered Hob Gadling's home once more a smile spread on his lips and all thoughts faded at the sight of her curled into his friend's arms, no longer crying or shaking. Hob was telling stories, voice soft and low as he rubbed her arms to comfort her. Upon seeing him in the doorway he smiled. "I think she dozed off."

"It has been a rather eventful night."

"I got her leg stitched up," he said. Dreams' eyes turned to the cut now wrapped and healing.

"How did she handle it?" He questioned.

"Better than I thought. Only had to take a few breaks, when the shaking got too bad for me to work." Hob smoothed a hand down her hair. "She's strong."

Dream nodded. "Very."

Hob chuckled. "As much as I enjoy the friendly cuddles she reeks. Think you can wake her, get her cleaned up? I'll get the spare room set up."

He knelt down beside the two and put his hand on her face. "Penelope."

Her eyes shifted beneath the lids and she slowly blinked them open. Fear filled her for a moment at the unfamiliar space, but when she focused on his face it disappeared. "Dream."

"You fell asleep," he whispered. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can rest properly?"

She hummed, squeezing Hob's arm. "Thank you Hob, for everything."

"Don't mention it, beautiful. I'll talk until someone cuts my tongue out."

Dream helped her to her feet, catching her as she unsteadily began to fall. She melted beneath his touch and let him carry her into the bathroom. It would be easier to return to The Dreaming and attend to her, but Penelope would more than likely wish to remain in the Waking World until her and her friends could speak on a new plan. He would have to return, as Lucienne had said, his realm needed him now more than ever especially with the dreams and nightmares returning. Matthew would simply have to be watchful for him when the time came.

Dream filled Hobs shallow tub and helped Penelope undress, and get settled in the warm soapy water, her wrapped leg hanging out to stay dry. He carefully washed the blood from her arms and face, taking note of the way she avoided his eyes. "Are you angry with me?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not!"

"Look at me, my love." He whispered, tilting her head up. When her teary eyes met his head smiled. "I'm proud of you. Taking life is not an easy thing, especially not for one as good and pure as you, but given the circumstances I'm glad you did it."

She frowned a little. "You're not… Disgusted? Disappointed?"

Tilting his head slightly he chuckled. "How could anyone who watches a beautiful goddess take down her foes with such grace and precision be disappointed or disgusted?"

His words brought a tiny grin back to her face. "I'm not a goddess."

"Weaver, I know I know," he mimicked the words she'd once mocked him with. "I love you, every part, even the ones that may not be ones you find beautiful."

"Thank you," she whispered. "For all of it, Morpheus."

He turned to the bag and pulled out two small bottles to wash her hair with. After helping her get out he wrapped her into one of Hobs robes and looked in the bag again. It was small, but full of necessities. Money, passports, first aid tools, personal hygiene products and a loose fitting pair of clothes that did not look like they belonged to her. He held them up, the faint scent of the Frenchman's cigarette smoke lingering in the fabric. Jealous once again curled in him. "Clothes?"

She smiled. "They're Pierres from years ago. I wore them so much after fights he just kinda let me keep them. Is that… Is that okay?"

"I'm not fond of your French companion, but I trust you. That has not and will not change." He assured her, helping her pull the clothes over her body. "Though I have a large collection you're free to steal."

Penelope laughed. "Of course you do, you can just wave your hand and have all new clothes."

He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips and grabbed a brush to brush through her hair. "I wanted to offer to take you home, to The Dreaming, but I have a feeling you wish to remain here."

"As good as going home sounds," she sighed. "I need to keep them safe. Pierre has the taste of blood now, he's angry and that makes him reckless. Johanna will take this personally and start cutting corners trying to dig things up faster. They need me to keep them relaxed, at least until we can all talk."

"I understand." He tapped her ring gently. "I know you do not want me involved, but should the need arise, call for me. Call for me and I will come."

"Even if I won't let you destroy everything and everyone when you get here?" She asked, though her tone told him she was only partially teasing.

"Even then. It matters not why you call, simply that you do. If when I find you it is peace you wish, I shall honor my oath. And if it is nightmares and darkness you ask of me, I shall deliver it."

Dream felt the shiver run through her as she smiled up at him. "You're magnificent, Dream of the Endless."

Pressing his head to hers he laughed. "You are far more so, Penelope the Weaver."

***

Hob led Dream and I to the guest room and told us to make ourselves at home before quickly excusing himself. Dream set me on the bed, quickly getting me settled before he turned. "I know you have to go back… But can you stay for a little?"

He smiled, already shedding his coat and boots. "I won't leave without saying goodbye again, I promise."

"Good," I mumbled as he slid beneath the covers and pulled me into his soft solid chest. I focused on his heart beating beneath me, focused on the steady pressure of his hand stroking down my back. The loud bumps and odd noises or Hobs home barely had an affect on me until the door opened and the floorboards creaked with movement, I jerked up.

Pierre caught my fist and smiled. "Apologies, was it me you wanted to hit?"

I sighed, settling back to Dreams side. "What are you doing?"

He shoved up beside me on the bed, his body curling around mine, pressing his nose to my hair he answered, "I came to rest, of course."

"In my room?" I asked, smoothing a hand over Dreams' now tense chest.

"This bar man only has two rooms."

"There's a couch."

"You would kick me to the couch?" He questioned softly. "Like a stray mutt?"

"That is what you are," I teased, moving a hand to hold his. His knuckles were swollen and poorly wrapped. "Who got the brunt of your anger this time?"

Pierre made a noise. "No one important. A traitor that needed to be taught a lesson."

"Is this traitor alive?"

"Sleep, Ma moitié." No.

"Pierre…"

"Sleep." He repeated more solidly. Dream had curled me even closer, glaring down at Pierre as he settled into bed beside us. He gave Dream a look. "Goodnight, lover."

"Shut up, asshole," I groaned, elbowing him and snuggling deeper into Dream's chest. "Goodnight, Dream."

"Goodnight, my love."

Pierre giggled. "You two are adorable. Tell me Ma moitié, how do my clothes feel against that soft skin of yours?"

I kicked him, nearly sending him off the edge of the bed. Dream smiled down at me and kissed me softly as I drifted off into a peaceful sleep, cocooned by the Dream Lord and my most trusted friend.

The next morning Dream was still beside me, just as he promised he would be, his arms holding me tightly to him. Pierre was also still beside me, speaking in French and taking up half the bed. As I came to I began to recognize his stories as our old sexual escapades. With a loud groan I shoved him clean off the bed. "Get out, you absolute dick!"

He smiled and winked at me. "Good morning my beautiful goddess!"

"Out. Now. Or I'll find a knife and cut you!"

Making his way to the door he wiggled his eyebrows. "Sounds like fun! You know there's nothing I'm not willing to try for you!"

Once the door shut behind him I turned to Dream. "I'm so sorry about him. He's an ass."

He gave me a reassuring smile and tugged me back into bed. "I'm aware, but it's alright. I think I've grown used to his antics."

"Have you?" I asked with a grin.

"He's a simple man," Dream noted. "His humor is juvenile to say the least, and he smokes almost as much as he speaks, but he cares for you."

We lay in silence for a moment, his fingers running through my hair and mine tracing shapes on his chest. "Do you have to go now?"

"Unfortunately, I do." I set my chin on his chest, looking up at him from beneath my lashes. He brushed a piece of my hair behind my ear and sighed. "You make leaving very difficult when you look at me like that, my love."

I giggled, a blush rising to my cheeks. "Sorry, I don't mean to make your kingly duties difficult."

"Will you be alright here?" He asked softly, the worry in his eyes reminding me of last night's disastrous outcome.

"Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm sure Hob and Pierre won't mind keeping me company today. You need to get your work done," I said, brushing a stray hair off his forehead.

"I'll return tonight to keep you company," Dream offered, pulling me up closer to him.

"I would like that very much," I agreed, pressing my lips to his.

Beneath me Dream practically vibrated. His whole body moved into the kiss, his hands gripping me tightly. He sighed against my lips. "I'll send Matthew to join you later."

"Stop worrying," I whispered, smoothing my thumb over his furrowed brows. "And give the bird a break. I'll be alright. Besides I've got two strong men to keep the bad guys at bay."

He nudged me, moving to rise from the bed. "I need to say goodbye to Hob before I go."

In the living room Pierre flipped through the channels on the TV, his dirty blond hair slicked back in his usual style and his casual attire sticking out against the finiary of Hobs home. Hob stood in the kitchen doorway and watched him curiously as he drank his tea. When he saw Dream and I he smiled, turning and holding out a tray of muffins. "Hungry?"

I greedily filled my hands with as many as I could carry before joining Pierre on the couch. He stole one of my muffins instantly before returning to his TV surfing with a grumble, "English television is shit."

As I ate I watched Hob and Dream speak quietly to one another before they shared some kind of agreement and Dream turned, coming to kneel in front of me. "I'll be back later. Call if you need me, please?"

"I will," I promised, pressing a long kiss to his lips. "Now go, get your work done."

Dream stood, his eyes sliding over Pierre with a look of something and a flare of jealousy passing quickly through our bond. Part of me wanted to say something to reassure him, but he gave me one last look, one full of trust and adoration, and I knew his jealousy was simply a gut reaction. He trusted me.

The front door closed behind him, but the black clad figure of him didn't walk through the streets. He was home and I envied him immensely. Closing my eyes and leaning against Pierres shoulder I sighed, imagining The Dreaming, my newfound home. I missed Lucienne and Merv and their constant antics. I missed Cain and Abel and Goldie and their bickering and showmanship. I missed the dreams and nightmares that had already begun to settle back into their homes. I missed walking through the palace with Morpheus' hand in mine or sitting on the bridge together watching the sunset. I missed the normalcy that The Dreaming had begun to offer me, something I'd known very few times in my life.

Soon. I promised myself. Soon all this will be over and we can go home together.

"So, what is this change in you?" Pierre asked curiously.

"Change?"

"You feel," he paused, searching for the right word. "Powerful, more so that you did before."

I nodded. "Yeah, it sounds nuts but I kind of discovered I've got some… String magic."

Hob sat up in his chair. "String magic?"

"I see these threads that connect people and, well, the universe." I explained poorly.

"So do we have these strings?" Hob asked.

"Yeah, everyone has one."

Pierre blocked Hob from my view. "Look at mine first!"

"Not bloody fair!"

"Relax, I can look at both of yours." I assured them, gently willing the world of threads up. It was softer here than in The Dreaming.

Pierres appeared first, bright and demanding. Orange with strong veins of red and pink and a thinner strip of green that, surprisingly, wrapped around his head. I told him his colors, my thoughts drifting to one of Luciennes books. Orange burns the brightest, life and love and adventure tangled into one thread. It is no surprise that those with orange dominated threads also burn away the fastest.

As long as I'd known him Pierre was blazing, burning through the world with everything he was, everything he had. As I watched him pridefully boast about his amazing range of colors I smiled, quietly hoping his fire would never dwindle.

"Mine next," Hob said, looking at me like a kid on Christmas.

Hobs was obvious. Bright yellow with orange and blue, but the blues had hues of green in it. His was firmly tethered to his heart as I looked at it with a smile. "Yours is yellow, with orange and blue."

"What does it mean?" He asked. "The colors?"

"I'm still working it all out," I admitted. "But yellow I think represents warmth and brightness. It shows you're optimistic and lively."

He nodded, standing to deposit his cup in the kitchen. "After all the years lively is a good work to hear."

Pierre jostled me and smirked. "So, what fun would you like to have today?"

"The kind where we sit inside and stay out of trouble?" I offered up, knowing full well he'd never agree to such a boring thing.

He scoffed. "Sit inside? On such a lovely day?"

Hob moved to stand beside the window and nodded. "It is rather nice out."

"Not you too!" I whined. "Listen, we should just relax inside and lay low. After last night, who knows what those assholes have planned."

"Come on," Pierre pleaded. "Let's go out, have a bit of fun! The old bag and his goons will be laying low, you should get out now before they start making noise."

"I wouldn't mind a day in the town," Hob added, scratching his head innocently. "It could be fun."

"You two are going to get me in trouble!" I hissed standing up. "Come on. We'll have to run by the apartment so I can change."

The two quietly cheered and jumped to their feet, gathering their things and following me out the door. A little shopping and maybe some food wouldn't hurt anyone.

***

Dream sat on his throne reading through the current census Lucienne had made for him. So many of his creations were back, yet there were still many that were not. Part of him worried that his absence had caused them to lose faith in him… Had caused such a deep damage that even his return could not sway them to come home. This worry had burrowed deep into his chest over the past few months. It festered and made him feel uneasy every time he left and to compensate he poured even more of himself into his work.

He'd made several rounds through the town, though he was never received with quite as much enthusiasm as Penelope was, another thing that made his chest ache, but not one he would focus on. Dream worked diligently to restore his realm to its former glory, and to gain back the love and trust of his subjects, but he feared he may never be the ruler he once was.

After the sun had set he spoke with Lucienne on what information he needed next, ran new designs past Merv and briefly spoke to Matthew about flying to the Waking World to check on Penelope while he finished up his remaining tasks. He walked the palace, examining everything to be certain there were no cracks or missing pieces, and in his walking he found himself on the pier, looking down into the clearing water.

During his capture the dreams of the humans grew dark and festered with nightmares, now he wished to see if they'd grown brighter. He knelt before the water, reaching out slowly and letting it gently tighten him into the depths. The nightmares greeted him with bowed heads and kept their distance, his power fully restored and thus his title and authority no longer something any could question. Moving through the water he viewed many dreams, bright and happy full of imagination and laughter. The sight eased the ache in him considerably.

Just as he prepared to return the sound of loud music and familiar laughter echoed from the depths. Penelope? He pressed forward, diving deep into the various pools containing her voice. The first was merely the image of her dancing in an empty room, the black silk dress hugging her form and her hair bouncing with the movements she made. In the far corner the dreamer sat, crudely stroking himself beneath his table.

Dream moved to the next, something similar but more people filled the space. This dreamer had imagined a very poor look alike of his lady bent before him at his table. He scoffed at the horrible rendition and moved on to the next. Whatever it was she'd gotten up to in his absence it certainly had inspired these pathetic, unimaginative fools. The next was just as crude and poorly realized as the last. A terrible look alike on her knees for the dreamer, resembling nothing of the beauty he knew she was in any position.

It was the last dream that made the jealousy and pent up possessiveness unfurl. It was no mere dream, but a memory of the events that had inspired such. Penelope, his lady, danced happily among the humans, the black silk dress even more beautiful and revealing than the other dreamers had depicted. She was happy, Hob spun her around joking and laughing with her, but that didn't bother him. Hob was a gentleman. It was the other one. That damned Frenchman that got his blood boiling. His hands were all over her, holding onto her hips and moving with her as though they were doing more than dancing. His lips whispered in her ear, and though he could tell it was his usual jokes that Penelope would smack him for it did little to ease the curling ball building in him.

Enough. With a snap of his fingers all dreams surrounding his lady ended, and with a wave of his night filled coat he was in the Waking World, in her room.

On her bed an opened box with a bright red ribbon lay open. The card reeked of him, his smoke, and had some crude message in French. He'd bought her the dress. Dream sat on the bed, holding the ribbon in his hands, and waited.

***

Dream was already sitting on the edge of my bed when I closed the door, twisting a shimmering red ribbon in his hands "God damn you! Don't sneak up on me!"

"Did you have a good evening?" The tone of his voice was low and rigid. His mind and emotions clouded, as if he was purposely withholding them from me.

"I guess?" I answered, slipping my shoes off. "Are you okay?"

He chuckled low and dark, sending a jolt of heat straight down my spine and to my core. "No. I don't suppose I am."

The air in the room thickened with a heavy lustful need as he stood from the bed and trapped me against the door. "Oh… What's… What's wrong?"

His eyes gleamed like silver moons as he looked down the length of my body, drinking in the dress Pierre had gifted me to wear out on our night of fun. "Who do you belong to?"

"Excuse me?" I whispered back, nearly choking from the suddenness of the question.

"Who do you belong to?" He repeated his cold breath fanning over my neck as he moved his lips to my ear.

I bit my lip and clenched my thighs together. It was obvious he wanted me to tell him I was his, so obvious that I really wanted to see what he'd say if I gave him a different answer. "I don't think I belong to anyone."

Dream laughed against my ear, dragging his fingers down my shoulder and sliding the thin strap off it. "Don't make me repeat myself again, Penelope."

Fire burned in my lungs as I set my head against the door to meet his eyes. "Or what?"

"Or I'll have to punish you."

"Well, first, I'd like to know what's got you in your big dark mood."

A smirk. "You."

I watched his lips. "Have I been bad or something?"

"Not bad," he answered carefully, running a hand down the front of my dress. "An inspiration is perhaps more accurate."

"Why would inspiration be a punishable offense?"

"Because when you inspire a pathetic group of mortals to dream of you in your little dress I have to see it." Oh. His dark gaze flicked back up to me. Oh shit. "I found it amusing at first, but then I saw one of their memories of the events that transpired and found it far less amusing. Your body, pressed up against your friends. His lips whispering in your ear. His hands on you."

I swallowed. "Dream…"

His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my head back so he could look straight down at me as he stepped closer, pressing me impossibly further into the door. "Choose your next words wisely, my love."

Burning need coiled in my gut as the raw unfiltered ache of his jealous rage hit me. "Nothing happened. It was just dancing. I would never-"

"You misunderstand. I know nothing happened. I know who you belong to, but it seems your friend needs a reminder and you need to be reminded." Oh god. His thumb ran down the center of my neck. "So, my love, one last time. Who do you belong to?"

"You," I whined as he shoved his knee between my thighs, a pulse of heat rushing through me.

"Again."

"You," I replied louder, his hand gripping my hip and grinding me down against his thigh.

The hand now on my neck applied a little pressure. "Again."

I moaned softly, tears pricking the edges of my eyes as the pleasure began to build at a torturously slow pace. "You, Morpheus. I belong to you."

His eyes took in the sight of me, pinned against the door, hips moving against his thigh, his hand gripping me to control the pace. With a hum he shook his head, lips brushing against mine. "I'm not satisfied."

Pulling away from me completely he ignored my whimpering, took off his coat and set the ribbon on my dresser before sitting in my chair. I stood perfectly still, waiting for his coming instructions. He leaned back and motioned me forward with two fingers. I approached him slowly, standing in between his wide spread legs. "Kneel."

My breath trembled as I followed the command, kneeling between his thighs, hands squeezing them softly. He caught my chin between his finger and thumb, pulling on my bottom lip slightly as he said, "I think it's time we put this gorgeous mouth to better use, don't you?"

I nodded eagerly, listening to the sound of him freeing himself from the confines of his pants. "No more rebellion?"

The words went straight to my cunt as I gave him a wicked smirk. "Perhaps later."

With a nod, he released my face. "We shall see."

I didn't wait for instructions as I took him in my hand, pumping a few times before I dragged my tongue up the length of his hard cock and swirled it around the leaking tip. Our eyes stayed locked, his expression remained cold and unchanging. I looked away only to take him into my mouth, pressing my tongue flat against him, occasionally running the tip along the underside of his cock. His hands stayed relaxed on the arms of the chair as he kept up the unaffected act. We'll see about that.

Hollowing out my cheeks I took him deep into my throat, not stopping until I hit the base of his pants. I held myself there, swallowing around him and humming at the sound of his fingers digging into cushions, at last earning a moan from the king of dreams. "Good girl."

I continued my movements, one hand digging into his thigh while I used the other to feel up his tightened abdomen. Through my lashes I looked up at him, the sight alone would have been enough for me. His head was thrown back, the muscles and veins in his neck visible in the pale moonlight. God Morpheus, I moaned in my head, watching his Adam's apple bob. I'd never get tired of looking at him like this.

When his hand finally fisted in my hair and held me still I loosened my jaw as much as I could as he began steadily fucking up into my mouth. Saliva pooled everywhere as I choked on him, but I didn't care, couldn't care. "That's it," he breathed. Morpheus, I thought wantonly. "Just take it." Morpheus. "You're doing so good for me." Morpheus. His fist tightened in my hair, holding me down against his pulsing cock as he came down my throat. "Fuck."

He released his grip on my hair and I pulled myself off him, licking up anything left over as he looked down at me and caught his breath. "Are you satisfied now, Lord Morpheus?"

He bent over and held his lips inches from my own before whispering, "Not in the slightest."

Before I could speak again he stood, stepping over me and moving across the room. He grabbed the floor length mirror in the far corner and set it up facing the chair with a quiet him as he retook his seat. Through the mirror I watched as his long lithe fingers stroked down his cock, still glistening with my saliva. His eyes, mere pools of silver in the darkness, met mine and he stilled. "Come."

I scoffed, that rebellious spark filling the air. "I'm not a pet, Dream."

"You would look fetching in a collar though," he mused, eyes trailing over me. "Come sit in my lap."

"If I don't?" I questioned, though I'd already stood up to comply with his command.

"Then I'll have to bend you over my knee." A shiver ran through me as I moved closer to him. "Panties off."

I smiled, slowly lifting my dress up and sliding the lacy black panties off of me. "Anything else you want off, my Lord?"

"No." I lifted a leg, moving to straddle him but he stopped me. "Face the mirror."

As I compiled my reflection greeted me, the black silk hugged every curve of my body and the high slit showed off a good amount of my thigh. Dreams hands ran down my hips, gathering my dress a little before guiding me back to sit. One hand held my hip while the other lined his cock up with my already soaking hole. He slid me down on top of him slowly, lifting the dress so the sight of him disappearing inside me was clear in the mirror as he gazed hungrily over my shoulder.

I was already gasping and panting, my hand covering my mouth muffling the loud moan tore through my throat when he'd finally pulled me completely against him, moving both my legs to rest openly over his thighs. Behind me Dream pulled my hands together behind my back with a growl. He pulled the red ribbon off the nightstand and wrapped it tightly around my wrists. Before securing the ties he kissed my shoulder, the gentle tenderness returning for only a moment to ask, "Is this alright?"

Through the mirror our eyes met and I smiled. "I trust you."

The ribbon pulled taut against my skin and he kissed my spine. "And that is something I shall never betray, my love."

"I know," I whispered watching as the glowing silver of his eyes drifted down to where we were joined, the dark possessiveness retaking him as he pulled on the ribbon, testingly. "Now what?"

"Now, you sit still."

My eyes went wide. "Wait, sit still?"

Dream smiled. "Yes, I don't want you to move an inch."

"Well thats, hardly fu- fuck!" I hissed as his fingers lightly grazed my clit. "Oh."

"Oh," he mocked quietly. "Oh indeed."

"This isn't fair," I whined as his fingers began their slow movements again. I could feel myself beginning to squeeze around his cock, but I couldn't move. His free hand had my hip in an iron grip, one I just knew would leave bruises.

He chuckled, biting my shoulder and forcing another moan from me. "Punishment is hardly ever fair. And I am a strict king."

Dream continued his slow pavement for ten minutes then slowly began speeding up. But as was the way of things with Dream he refused to let me come. He'd bring me to the edge, watching me intently through the mirror and then just as the sweet release was within reach he'd stop all movement. After a half hour of this every inch of me was shaking, my legs trembled, squeezing his thighs desperately. "Morpheus," I whined for the hundredth time, my voice hoarse and desperate, chest heaving as I leaned my head back into his shoulder. "Please."

He chuckled, moving his hand from my hip to wrap loosely around my neck and pressing an open mouthed kiss behind my ear. "What is it you want, my love?"

His fingers stilled once again and I groaned. "You know exactly what I want!"

"Perhaps, but I still want to hear you say it."

"Oh? You want me… Ah, god damn you," I moaned, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes as his fingers built back up their movements. "You want me to beg?"

Morpheus hummed, the vibration of his chest sending chills up my body. "I'm open to begging."

For a moment I settled on not giving him the satisfaction, but that moment was short. My chest heaved as the pleasure of his fingers working my clit and his cock stuffed inside my aching cunt brought the coil in my gut tight once again before he stopped. With a broken huff I slumped forward, my head looking down at my trembling thighs. "Please, Morpheus. Please let me come."

His hand moved to my hair, fisting in it and pulling my head back up. "Look at me when you beg, my lady."

Our eyes locked and his glistened with absolutely unhinged lust. "Please," I gasped, my fingers twisting into his shirt from behind. "Please let me come. I'll do anything."

With a smile his eyes drifted down to where we were joined together, watching his fingers and smiling at the mess I'd made in his lap. "You have been quite good."

"I have," I agreed desperately.

"Will you continue to behave?" The dark timber of his voice nearly brought me to the climax I so desperately wanted.

"Yes," I gasped. "I'll behave."

"Very well, I'll let you come…" His lips pressed to the shell of my ear. "Next time."

Everything stopped and a disappointed sob tore from my mouth. "Morpheus!"

He lifted me off of him and set me on the bed, my face pressing into the plush blanket as I whined. The sound of the mirror moving back into place and him leisurely undressing off to the side, just out of my sight, was torturous. I pulled on the ribbon, but just like all the times before it held firm.

His weight dipped on the mattress and without any warning he pushed himself into me, inch by inch. I bit my lip to keep from screaming as my aching cunt burned at the slow pace. God he was really going to drag this out, wasn't he? I pushed my hips back against him as his hand wound around the ribbon and pulled, lifting me off the bed and into his bare chest. One arm came around me, pulling my lip from my teeth while the other pulled my dress up and gripped my hip. "None of that. I want every noise."

"But…" I tried, my mind drifting to the poor men in the living room.

He pulled the ribbon harder. "Let them hear you. Perhaps this will finally be enough for your friend to realize exactly who you belong to."

"Morpheus," I whined as all the denied pleasure began to build inside me. The coil tightened and tightened until it was unbearable.

"Come," he ordered and my body immediately followed the command.

White filled my vision as a desperate and wanton moan filled the room along with his name. He pulled out, unwinding the ribbon from my hands to move me onto my back.

My nails dug into his arms as he leaned over me, teeth closing around my nipple through my dress and tugging lightly. I couldn't have contained the cry of pleasure that filled the room even if I wanted to. His cock slid back into me with no resistance and he pulled my legs over his shoulders, nearly bending me in half as he pounded into me.

Orgasm after orgasm, position after position, each more intense than the last until I was a moaning, sweaty, crying mess beneath him. His name was all I knew.

"Morpheus," I begged. For more or for less I didn't know, but he didn't stop.

"Just one more," he whispered, kissing the tears from my cheeks. "One more my beautiful Weaver."

"Come with me," I whined, fingers pulling at his black hair. "Please."

His hot breath fanned across my face as he kissed and sucked at my flesh as his hips began to falter in the harsh pace he'd set. Morpheus pressed his lips to mine just as my orgasm washed over me and his hips stilled in turn as he filled me with his hot come. We swallowed one another's moans for a moment before he set his forehead to mine. "Are you alright?"

I laughed weakly. "Absolutely!"

He kissed me softly, rolling off me and looking me up and down carefully. "I wasn't too rough was I?"

"Morpheus," I said gently, guiding his face back up to mine. "It was amazing. All of it."

With a sigh he pressed his head to my chest, running his fingers on the silk. "Forgive me. I should not have sprung this on you."

I scratched his head softly, running his smooth hair through my fingers. "I enjoyed it. It's quite a sight to see you let go of that ironclad grip you have on your urges."

He chuckled. "I like the dress."

"I figured you did since you didn't try to rip it off of me."

"I was tempted," he admitted, resting his chin on my chest to look up at me. "But decided against it."

I stroked his cheek. "We'll, thank you might Dream Lord for sparing my new dress."

He moved away from me, disappearing into my bathroom. Before I could ask I heard the water turn on and he returned, gently removing the dress from my body, kissing every bruise left by his hands. Then he lifted me into his arms and settled the two of us into my tub where he massaged my arms and shoulders and whispered praise in my ears and kissed me gently.

I closed my eyes, sinking into him. "I love you."

Dream nuzzled his face into my hair. "I love you too. I missed you today."

"As did I," I hummed. "Hob and Pierre are absolutely unhinged together as it turns out."

He laughed. "Tell me about your day."

***

Hob Gadling and Pierre sat across from one another in Penelope and Johanna's living room, each quietly sipping the tea Hob had made. At first the moans and desperate cries of pleasure had been quieter, easier to tall over, but now they filled the apartment.

Pierre smiled. "I still think she was louder for me."

Hob sighed. "There's no way. Sorry mate, but there's just no way she was louder than this for you."

"You think I am a poor lover?"

"I didn't say that." He replied. "But she's in there with basically a god right now. And there's just no way you're better than a god."

He scoffed. "I disagree."

"Morpheus!"

The two grew silent again. "Should we leave?"

Pierre shrugged. "Are you hungry bar man?"

"I could eat," Hob replied, grabbing his coat and following the Frenchman out the door. "It's Hob, by the way, not bar man."

"Hob. It's an odd name, no?"

***

I woke the next morning sore, but for the first time in a while it was in a way that made me smile. I could feel Morpheus curled into my back, his face buried in my hair as he lay beside me. I stretched my heavy limbs, the slight movement bringing Dream fully awake in an instant. His arms tightened around me and he breathed in deeply. "Good morning."

"Good morning," I replied, twisting to kiss him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," I said honestly. "But in the best way."

He chuckled, smoothing his hands over my body, lightly massaging me. "What are your plans for the day?"

I shrugged. "Don't know, but don't you need to get back to The Dreaming?"

"I was able to complete my tasks yesterday before getting… Distracted," he said. "So, you have me for the day."

I gasped and turned in his arms, rolling over on top of him. "The great King of Dreams is all mine? Oh think of the evil I can accomplish!"

Dream ran his fingers through my hair. "Evil isn't exactly your style."

"What is then?"

"Rescuing stray animals? Feeding birds?" He offered up. "Inspiring the fantasies of mortal men?"

I pinched his arm. "I personally had nothing to do with the last one!"

His fingers running up my spine sent goosebumps along my flesh. "Perhaps not, but you are quite an inspiration, not just to mortals."

"Do I inspire you, Dream of the Endless?" I giggled, nudging his nose with mine.

"More than anything," he offered up freely, eyes bright and swimming with love. The adoration he felt for me was almost enough to make my heart stop. I pressed my lips to his, savoring the slow unhurried way they moved together.

A knock at the door made me freeze. Oh fuck. My head fell into his shoulder as I remembered that Hob and Pierre had been in the apartment for last nights… Loud performance. Dreams pride was unbearable as he chuckled. "Yes?"

Hob cleared his throat on the other side of the door. "The French guy and I got breakfast ready, if you two are hungry."

"By the sounds of last night I know she's hungry," Pierre teased loudly.

"God!" I groaned. "This is your fault."

Dream sat up, bringing me with him. "I accept full responsibility."

"Smug bastard."

I uncurled from him and got dressed, the marks far too high up my neck to even try and hide. Dream had returned to his normal attire and sat on the bed watching me as I fixed my hair. He came up behind me, moving my hands to tie the red ribbon into my locks. "There, perfect."

I scoffed at him. "The nerve of you!"

"Come, you need to eat before our day of fun can begin."

With his hand in mine we left the safety of my bedroom and sitting on the couch the two smirking men drank their drinks quietly. Pierre had a hundred jokes ready, I just knew it, while Hob looked more at Dream than he did me. I nodded toward the chair. "Take a seat, I'll grab my food."

Pierre was up in an instant, following me to the kitchen with a grin. I groaned and moved fast, trying to focus on buttering my biscuit and dishing up my eggs while he leaned against the doorframe. "Last night was quite the show."

"Pierre…" I warned. "I'll stab you."

He shrugged, tilting my head up to examine the marks in my neck. "He's far more rough than I'd imagined!"

I slapped his hands away. "Knock it off!"

"Tell me then, who's better? Him or me?"

I pulled my lips together tightly. "Sweetie…"

He gasped, an offended hand flying to his chest. "Him? No!"

"Sorry Frenchie, with him there's just…" I smiled. "There's real feeling. It's not about letting off steam or trying not to focus on something, it's just… Natural."

Pierre smiled, his real one, the one I knew was genuine. "I'm happy for you, Ma moitié. You deserve nothing but the best in this life."

I held his hand. "You deserve that too."

"Not really." He shrugged, kissing my hand quickly. "All the good I am came from you. It's something I'll never be able to repay, and something I will spend every minute of my life trying to."

"You already have," I whispered.

He smiled, pulling me in close to kiss my head. "Not even close, Ma moitié."

"Stubborn ass."

"Always."

The front door opened and shut quickly, bags dropped to the floor and the person that had come in moved quickly to the kitchen doorway. Johanna sighed, relieved and instantly pulled me into her arms. "God I was worried about you!"

I hugged her tighter. "So was I. Sorry about the other night, I wasn't…"

"Shut up," she insisted. "What matters is you're back to normal, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Grab your food, we gotta rework our plan before any of us can go."

Just like Johanna, I thought while following her and Pierre out into the living room. Dream and Hob now sat together, Hob finishing up some hushed words before he gave Dream a pat on the shoulder. I sat on the floor between Dreams' knees. "Everything okay?"

"Yes," he replied silently. "It would seem you've made quite the impression on Hob Gadling."

"Oh?" I twisted a little, looking up at him as I took a bite of my food

"He was just telling me about how good you are, about how I needed to take whatever this is seriously and not hurt you."

I choked on my food a little and smiled. "I mean I would hope you're taking this seriously, Dream. You're in my head after all."

His hands rubbed my shoulders. "I can say the same of you, my love."

Johanna pulled out the papers she'd gathered on her trip and we sat for a while, reviewing the information. Out of curiosity I pulled the threads up, examining her odd thread with curious eyes. Her thread was gray with black and orange veins, but what made it odd was the yellow that was frayed and torn from the main thread, half even and half unwoven. The gray thread wrapped tightly around her throat while the broken yellow led to her heart.

If she'd been a stranger I would have had no clue what I was looking at, but I knew Johanna. I knew that deep down she was a lot like Hob, bright and lively and warm. The broken yellow thread was hers once, as was its placement in her heart. But, the years of this job, this life, had worn her down… Astra's loss had caused the thread to snap and for her whole life to be rewoven and changed. The gray wasn't like Destinys. His felt balanced and clear, while her felt like the beginnings of a storm, unsteady and full of things left unresolved.

Looking at it made me sad, but the simple fact that the yellow remained at all gave me hope that she'd one day get to reunite with that side of her. Pierre suddenly spoke, "So the bastard is likely operating here in London."

"Probably never left," I added, letting the world refill my vision.

"We need to dig up as much as we can," Johanna said, her eyes darting wildly between the papers.

I got her attention. "We need to relax."

Pierre scoffed. "After the other night-"

"The other night changes nothing." I insisted. "He knows I'm here, so I'll disappear for a bit, send them looking elsewhere while you two continue with the original plan."

"Ahh the old goose chase!" Pierre smiled. "I like it."

Johanna crossed her arms. "Where will you go? They've got eyes everywhere."

I looked up at Dream and smiled. "Dream of the Endless, would you allow me to hide away in your great realm?"

He smiled just a little. "Of course, my realm is always open to you."

"Problem solved."

Johanna nodded. "Alright, it's good enough for me."

I clasped my hands together. "Great! I'll go pack!"

Dream followed me shortly after and stood in the door, watching me pack my things. "They've all gone."

"Even Hob?"

"Yes, he had to go make sure the inn was ready to open."

"I should probably apologize for that, huh?"

"I'm sure he doesn't mind," Dream assured me.

I looked him up and down and asked, "Are you okay?"

He sighed, moving closer. "There is something I wish to try."

"What is it?"

Lifting my silver bound wrist he kissed it gently. "I wish to show you some of my past."

I looked at him gently. "You don't have to. If this is about what Hob said…"

"It is," he said. "But more than that, it's about what everyone's said since our reunion. Desire would use what I haven't shared to try and manipulate you. Hob fears my secrecy will cause you pain. Lucienne advises openness and honesty. Even Destiny has said I would need to open myself to you."

"I understand that, and they aren't wrong, but…" I pulled him closer. "You still get to choose when that is. I don't want you to feel pressured into sharing things you're not comfortable with."

Dream stroked my cheek. "I have seen the worst of your memories, without your permission, I believe this much is owed."

"If you're sure," I said once again. "What do you need me to do?"

He placed his hand in mine. "Put my hand to this silver thread. The one you used to see Destiny's hidden memories."

"It's cold," I warned as I pulled up the threads, moving his hand to it and directing him to hold it. The blizzard overtook us both and this time when the frozen lake appeared, Dream was beside me, holding onto the thread.

He looked around for a moment, moving along the rigid path forward, until the first statue came into view. "Nada," he said softly.

"Who was she?" I asked, looking up at the beautiful ice sculpture of the woman.

"My first love…" he sighed. "And someone that hurt me deeply, that I in turn hurt."

I lifted his hand, pressing it into the cold of the statue. All around us the memories of them played out in hazy visions. Beside me Dream was stiff. I could feel the love they shared, feel how badly he wanted her to remain by his side. Then the pain came, hurt and anger and confusion. The vision faded and the feelings with it. "What happened between you two?"

"It is ancient law that mortals and Endless cannot be together or disaster will follow. Nadas people were destroyed because of our love, and the pain this caused her…" He paused. "She took her own life, and so in death I offered her eternity at my side as my queen." I squeezed his arm tighter, the knowledge that another could have taken my place was something I wasn't entirely ready for, or fond of. "She refused and in my young and blind rage I condemned her to Hell, where she remains even now."

"You cast her to Hell?"

He sighed. "Yes. I'll admit, it was not something I saw fault in before, but then I found you." He turned to me. "Nada never would have been my queen, nor my equal. Even if she had accepted, you would have merely existed and been more to me and The Dreaming than she."

I kissed his cold fingers. "Can you free her?"

"Much like your mother, my forgiveness is what is required. When we were in Hell I was not ready to let go of my anger, bit now…" He smiled down at me. "Now I believe I may be."

We walked forward again, the next statue standing tall above us, one I recognized instantly. "Olethros."

Dream nodded, setting his hand against the ice. "My brother."

The vision of their family, all hazy figures and faces formed. Olethros was the only clear one among them. He announced his departure, met with anger and confusion and questions. "When was this?"

"1695." Dream replied. "Though he did not vanish entirely until shortly after saving you, this was when Destruction left our family and his realm along with his duties. He remained in the Waking World for a while, but never in one place for long enough that our family could find him."

"Why is he here?"

"I said much that day that I wish I could take back. His role was never easy, none are. Had I been more understanding… More open to aid him then perhaps…"

"He might have stayed?" I finished. "I don't know. I only knew him as Olethros, and we certainly didn't have eons together. But, he was his own man. No one could have stopped him if it's what he'd chosen, not even you, Dream."

The next statue was of a woman and child, both appearing in light robes. Wordlessly he pressed his hand to the ice. All around us laughter and love and joy filled the air. Family. They'd been a family. As I watched the past him embrace his wife and their child I couldn't help but feel the sting of it. He loved them both so much. "Calliope, my ex wife and Orpheus… my son."

"What happened?"

"My son died," he answered solemnly, tears in his eyes. "Calliope blamed me. Her final words to me were a promise to never speak to me again."

The vision faded with the echoes of the pain. "I'm sorry."

Dream closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I was not the best husband to her, nor the best father. But, I loved it… Having a family of my own."

I wiped his tears. "I know I can't replace that… Can't give you the exact same as they did, but I can be your family."

"You are my family," he corrected. "You, The Dreaming, all of it is our family."

I looked up at him as he looked down the path. "You've lived a long life. Let this be enough for now?"

"How do we return?"

"Break the thread." I instructed, forgetting to warn him of the coming plunge into the lake.

We were huddled close together when the warm world greeted us, Dreams arms held me tightly to him, shielding me from any unknown danger. Shivering I kissed his chest. "Thank you."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm just a little cold."

His coat wrapped around me in an instant. "When you're warm, we can begin our day."

"Do you have things planned?"

"No," he admitted. "I want you to do whatever it is you want to."

I smiled up at him. "I'm proud of you… Of the ways you've changed."

He shook his head gently. "I've not changed. I am as I've always been, just… More inspired."

"As you say, Mr. Endless, Sir." I teased. "Now, I was promised a day out so, let's go."

Being in the Waking World with Dream was always awkward. He never knew exactly where to look or what was weird and what was normal, but to his credit he tried his best. Even as I forced him to try every food and look at every street vendor he never complained or made any faces. Honestly he was fascinated, studying everything with this look of wonder. It was adorable.

As the sun was beginning to set we sat side by side on a park bench. I watched a group of kids play while Dream picked at the sweet treat I'd shoved in his hand. I loved kids, their bright laughter and chubby cheeks. After seeing his memories of being a father a newfound want had filled my chest. Seeing him have all that with someone else… It hurt, I envied it. But, maybe we could have that one day too?

"Dream," I started softly. "Do you… Would… Would you ever want to have a child again?"

He turned to me, looking up at the children playing and he smiled a little. "If you'd have asked me not long ago I would have said no. But, that was,when I thought you were dead."

"So you would?"

"Would you?" He asked cautiously. "I never thought to ask. I honestly didn't think it would be possible after seeing all the…"

Oh. He thought… I shook my head, twisting my fingers together. "Oh, no. They never… I… I guess they wanted to leave that bit untouched… In case…" The words died in my throat, but Dream understood.

He linked our hands. "I enjoyed being a father, even if I wasn't the best at it the first time. I would be thrilled to have a second chance with you."

"I've never been a mom," I said with a laugh. "But, I'd be happy to give it a try with you one day."

Just as he pressed his lips to mine thunder echoed in the sky and rain began to fall. I smiled, watching everyone flee the park as the sunlight grew dim. Dream looked a little disgruntled at the change. "We should depart."

I stood quickly. "And miss the rain?"

He smiled. "I forgot I was with you for a moment. I should make you your own rain cloud at this point."

"Can you?!"

Dream shook his head, chuckling softly. "What shall we do in this downpour my lady?"

Holding a hand out to him I smiled wide. "Do Dream Lords dance?"

"No, they don't."

"Would you, if I said please?"

With a sigh he stood, taking my hand in his. "I can deny you nothing."

I pulled him in close and the two of us danced in the rain, slow and soft. After a while it felt like we'd become part of the storm itself and I cherished the feeling. "Thank you, Dream Lord, for indulging me."

"Perhaps you will now indulge me in an adventure?"

With a grin I nodded. "I love adventures!"

He pulled the sand pouch from his coat and gave me a look. "Don't say it."

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to tease him anyway. Instead I let him blow the sand and take us wherever it was he had in mind. As it cleared the old tavern came into view. I looked back at him with curious eyes. "Are we taking a walk down memory lane?"

"Something like that," he replied, leading me inside. "The last time we were here, do you remember it?"

Nodding, I looked around a bit. "Of course."

"Do you remember some… Thoughts you had?"

Ohhh… I thought, turning to him. "Yes."

Dream smiled at that. "Would you care to explore them some more?"

"Absolutely."

"Good," he said lowly as he waved his hand. "I've come up with some ideas myself."

The tavern filled with people, lighting up and taking on the qualities it held in the past as it bent to Dreams whim. Soft fabric rusted against my skin and when I looked down I was wearing a gown in place of my regular clothes. It was elegant and revealing, two strips of fabric around my neck connected it to the long puffy sleeves that cuffed at my wrists. The deep v of the front accentuated my breasts beautifully and the knee high slits in the side made movement easy. It was nearly see through with a multitude of golden stars of various sizes and placements.

"You've certainly given me a fine dress, Dream Lord!" I said, twirling a little, noting the way his dark eyes looked down my body. "Though I'm not sure how period accurate it is."

"Yes, it's a shame there will be little left of it when I'm finished with you."

Heat rolled through me as I looked back at him, adorned in his 1389 look with his shoulder length hair and billowing sleeves. "Is that a promise?"

His brow arched. "Does it need to be? Is that what you wish, my lady? For me to swear to you that I'll not stop until every inch of you is bare before me?"

I hummed, swallowing thickly. "It's a start."

"A start," he chuckled, backing me up against the table.

"Well yes, I should hope with such a magnificent set you had more than one idea in mind." I smiled up at him. "Or was this supposed to be a quick affair?"

Dream shook his head, a smile spread on his lips. "Quick is not something I would use to describe what I've planned."

My eyebrow quirked. "What is it you have planned?"

"For starters," he said, hands settling on my thighs. "A kiss."

"Just a kiss?" I inquired. "Rather tame for you, my lord."

He merely smiled and lowered his lips to mine, starting with a slow kiss, one that had me clinging to his arms for support as he stole the very breath from my lungs. When he pulled back to let me regain my lost breath he moved his lips to my jaw, trailing kisses lower and lower until he was biting and sucking the hollow of my throat.

My hands ran through his hair, pulling gently at the roots as I gasped and wiggled beneath him. "Dream," I said in a heated moan. "Please don't make me beg again."

With a dark chuckle he returned his lips to mine, kissing softly before pulling back to cradle my head in his hands. "I won't make you beg, my love. Not yet."

"God, your ego is astronomical," I murmured, pulling his lips back to mine.

This kiss was deep, our teeth clashed together as our tongues twined and his hands pulled at the front of my dress. The ripping sound was music to my ears and sent a wave of anticipation through me. When I pulled away his hair was shorter beneath my fingers, the flowy sleeved gone and replaced with his simple 1489 appearance.

"Hi," I breathed out.

"Hello," he replied, returning his hands to tearing the front of my dress open. The instant the chilled air hit my breasts I gasped and instinctually moved my hands to cover them. Dream caught them, pinning them to the table with a smirk. "I think not, love."

His mouth latched onto my nipple, his tongue swirling over it and teeth dragging down and tugging on it until it was peaked. He turned his attention to the other, paying no mind to the way my chest heaved against him or how my legs had spread wide and curled around his hips, desperately trying to pull him closer. "God, Dream just move forward!"

"Hmm," he thought, nipping and sucking hickeys into my chest. "Forward? Like this?"

His pelvis met mine, the firm outline of his erection rolling against my already aching core. A broken moan left my lips as my head fell back. "Yes," I gasped. "Just like that."

Dream ground himself against me one last time before he disappeared, my body arching out trying to chase his cold hands. I huffed and glared at him as he took a seat at the table across from us. His long hair cascading down his shoulders and the fine black clothes of his 1689 attire sitting comfortably against his pale skin. "You're an ass."

With a leisurely pace he pulled his cock free of his pants and stroked a hand up and down it. "Perhaps I'll just make you watch then."

"Is there a particular reason you've skipped a year?" I asked, eyes watching his hand stroke himself.

"Yes." He was too smug about this. "That year was your favorite."

"So you intend to make me work for it?"

"Work? No." He sucked in a deep breath, the movement of his hand beginning to get to him. "I intend to draw this out."

I stood, running my hands up his arms and stroking his face. "You think it'd end so quickly?"

"I know it would," his eyes flashed to mine. "You'd want your fill of me and I'd not deny you."

With a thoughtful hum I settled in his lap, leaving enough space for his hand to move between us. I placed my hand over his and kissed his jaw. "I could help, if that's the Dream Lord's wish?"

A low groan echoed around us as his hand fell away, leaving mine to pleasure him. "Yes, please."

My free hand wrapped into his long hair and pulled his head up to meet mine. With a wide, smug grin I whispered, "Told you I was gonna pull your dumb long hair."

"It's a good thing you're distracting me or I might take offense to that, my lady."

I kissed him, shushing him softly. "Just enjoy the moment, Morpheus."

Every sound he made I committed to memory, every breathless moan and soft words. Moments like these were rare, and so I loved the chance to savor every second. The usually stoic, hardened plane of his face was now relaxed, light and beautiful with thinly restrained ecstasy. I moved my lips closer to his, "You look good like this. Maybe I should do this all the time, help you get rid of those tense lines on your face."

He moaned, hands tearing the slits of my dress until they exposed my thighs completely now. "Surely your hand would tire if we did this all the time?"

"I have another," I offered. "I also have quite the mouth," he moaned, hips lifting and pushing into my hand. "Or we can always do things the easy way and you can just fuck me."

"An eternity of your touch, that does sound tempting." His eyes were blown wide as he looked up at me. Lust, need and an undeniable love hummed between us. "Though I don't know how happy you'd be stuck with me every moment of forever."

I smiled softly. "I'm yours, Morpheus. Being stuck with you every moment of forever is all I want."

As I quickened my pace, determined to bring him the pleasure he was chasing, he stopped me with a hand on my wrist and a labored groan. "If you continue that I'll not be able to last."

"Don't you want to come?" I asked.

"I do," his dark gaze flicked up to my face. "I want to come inside you."

A shiver rolled down my spine and I pressed my chest up to his, the cold buttons stinging my skin. "Oh? Do you enjoy that?"

"Immensely," he groaned, pulling my face down to his mouth. He was unforgiving, the way his mouth demanded everything from me while also giving me more. His hands squeezed my thighs tightly, pulling me fully into his lap, smirking at the soft moan that rose from my throat as our hips aligned just right.

When I pulled away to catch my breath the scenery had changed. We were no longer in the crowded part of the tavern, but in the back room in front of the fireplace. Dream was dressed head to toe in the soft black fabric of the 1789 self he'd shown me. His collar high, blocking his throat, the ruby glistening in the light. His hair was puffy, pulled back into a small ponytail by a fine black bow. He smiled at me, taking note of my repressed laugh. "Problem?"

"This look is just a lot," I said, doing my best not to laugh.

He hummed, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Then perhaps I simply need to make you see the appeal of it."

His hands settled on my hips, lifting me for a quick moment before setting me down over his thigh. My fingers curled in the fine fabric of his sleeves as he urged me to move. "Riding your thigh is supposed to do this?"

"No," he answered, lifting my chin with his finger. "But you'll do it anyway."

"Is that an order?" I purred.

"If it needs to be."

"It does."

Dream sat up straighter, moving me harshly against his thigh. He grabbed my throat in a light grip and smiled. "Ride my thigh, Penelope."

I sighed, grabbing hold of his jacket lapels and nodded. "Yes, my lord."

He relaxed as I moved against him, dragging my wet, aching pussy against the softness of his pants. I couldn't help but be grateful that this was all an illusion, partly because of the mess I was no doubt making of Dream's fine clothes, but also because of the noises I was making. Each drag forward and back rubbed my swollen clit perfectly against the solid muscle. Each movement brought me closer and closer to losing myself to the pleasure building inside me. But, as Dream was keen on reminding me, I wasn't the one in charge.

His hand on my throat squeezed a little. "Slow down."

"What?" I whined.

"Slow. Down." He repeated, authority and power filling the room.

With a gasp I followed his order, disappointment at the now ebbing release that had been building up. As I looked down at him, one arm draped lazily over the arm of his chair, his body sitting perfectly straight and his eyes watching the wetness spread on his pants, I was beginning to like this look. He looked the part of king, even more so he looked intimidating, bossy even. "I think I'm beginning to see the appeal of this look."

His eyes dragged up my form, pausing to watch my breasts bounce with my movements before meeting mine. "Oh?"

"It captures your kingly intimidation."

A smile spread on his lips. "If you can make yourself come in the next fifteen seconds I'll skip straight to the look you really want."

I moaned desperately at the thought, throwing my head back and moving my hips furiously to try and achieve the new goal. Dream kept me balanced as he calmly counted. "Five."

God damn it! I cursed, his order to slow down had waned my progress too much. "Ten. Best hurry, love, times almost up."

"I'm trying," I whined, the coil in my gut tightening and tightening, but not fast enough.

"Fifteen." He clicked his tongue. "Why don't I help you?"

I looked down at him, now clad in his 1889 attire, the form fitting suit, the slicked back short hair, the ruby ascot and his top hat. He dragged his tongue over his fingers and reached between us, pressing them to my abused clit. I gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders for support as I ground against him. "This is a good look too," I managed to say between heavy breaths.

"You like it?" He inquired. "Last I showed it to you it seemed you were more interested in Hob Gadling."

"You… God! You were being a tease," I sighed.

He lifted the hat from his head and placed it on mine. "Hold this for me."

Without warning he lifted my hips slightly, his fingers working my clit sliding into me. His head dipped down to my breasts, tongue and teeth sucking and pulling at the sensitive buds until all I could do was hold onto him. "Morpheus," I whined. "No more teasing, please!"

Pressing a kiss to my heart he nodded. "No more teasing, come for me and I'll reward you."

My head fell back, one of my hands just barely managing to catch his hat. "God, please!"

He moved his fingers expertly against me as I ground hips down onto them, the release I'd been steadily building towards right in sight. The coil tightened and tightened when he spoke again, "You're such a good girl, riding my fingers."

I came with a loud moan, his simple words of praise filling every inch of my trembling body with the exact thing it needed for the coil to snap. His fingers gently worked me through the orgasm while his lips kissed every inch of me. "Your voice should be illegal."

"Yes, I believe you once said it could get me anything I wanted."

"It can." I breathlessly assured him.

"So I see." He stood, holding me in his arms and walking forward until my ass met the rough wood of the take we started at.

As I regained my breath I looked at him and smiled. "Finally."

The longer slicked back hair and glittering earrings sent heat right back into my gut. My hands smoothed down the dark leather, tugging gently on the ruby that hung around his neck. His leather class thighs felt sinfully good against my still trembling skin.

Both his leather clad arms boxed me in as he leaned down, the ruby swinging in between us and his face only inches from my own. "Tell me, how often have you thought of this?"

"Which part? You had quite the elaborate set up here, Dream."

"You're simply unbearable," he whispered, eyes filled with lust. He kissed my jaw, teeth grazing over the skin slightly. "Tell me."

"Ever since you showed it to me." I admitted, breathlessly.

His growl vibrated through my ear, lips moving down to press against my bare shoulder. I bit my lip, closing my eyes to take in the sound. "It must have been so difficult for you to be patient."

God damn you. I thought. "Don't pretend like you weren't thinking the same thing. Tell me now, mighty Dream Lord, how often have you thought of this?"

I could feel his smirk against my shoulder. "Which part, as you said, this has all been quite elaborate."

"I'll be specific then," I mumbled. "How often have you thought of fucking me here, in this torn up dress, in this crowded tavern?"

"Since you thought of it." He admitted. "You have a very vivid imagination."

I gasped as his teeth bit at my skin, my hands spreading over the tops of his and squeezing. "High praise coming from a dream lord."

The feeling of his lips twisting into a smile nearly made my legs give way. "Praise, such a lovely idea."

He moved away from me and knelt down, gathering what remained of the material of my dress and moving it out of his way. His hands lifted my thighs, pulling me to sit further on the edge of the table. "What are you doing?" I asked over my thundering heartbeat.

"I intend to feast at Hob's table." he pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh and I moaned. "A reward for your patience."

He wasted no time, his hot tongue licking a long strip up my slit. My hands buried into his hair and grasped at the roots. He groaned against me, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to my core as his tongue swirled around my clit, slowly at first and then moving faster. My fingers pulled tighter at his hair and my head fell back, nearly pulling me flat onto the table of food. "Morpheus! Oh my god you're good at this!"

I could feel him smirk against me, but he made no move to pull away or stop. His hands held my legs apart, thumbs smoothing up and down my skin as my legs began to shake again. "Did you think I would not be?" His thoughts made me moan louder.

"No," I whispered hoarsely. "Oh, god… I knew you'd be good at this but… Fuck!" His tongue plunged into me as far as it could, lapping up all the remaining wetness from my orgasm. "Fuck you're too good at this."

He chuckled against me, the vibrations nearly making me come undone. "Morpheus, I can't!" I screamed as the building pleasure became told much.

He pulled away, replacing his tongue with his fingers. "You can."

"Please!" I whined, pulling his hair tightly.

"One more and you can have me, my love."

His mouth was on me again, licking and sucking at my clit until I came. Dream lapped up every bit of it, pressing a kiss to my thigh before rising from the floor and tearing my dress in half. The tattered fabrics fluttered to the floor and his leather clad body leaned over me, the sensation of my bare skin against his warm leather was nearly too much. I shivered against him. "You in leather is too sexy."

He chuckled, moving some of my hair that had stuck to my forehead. "You think I'm sexy in just about everything."

"Well can you blame me?" I weakly gestured to him. "You're a masterpiece!"

"You simply enjoy flattering me," he argued.

"That too, but seriously, you're far too beautiful for this world." I kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you," he replied easily.

I wiggled my hips toward him. "Are you finally going to fuck me?"

"Is that your wish my lady?"

Looking down at my bare body I shrugged. "You already kept your original promise, it'd be a shame to waste the opportunity."

Dream nodded, his eyes hungrily taking over me, hands following. "It would indeed."

He lifted one of my legs over his shoulder and moved me down the table. With one hand he freed his engorged leaking cock from his pants and lined it up with my still soaking and pulsing core. With the other he stroked my leg, turning his head and pressing a kiss to my knee as he slowly pushed into me. My hands gripped the edge of the table, head falling back against it with a loud thunk. The hot stretch was something I'd never get used to, something I'd never grow tired of no matter how many times he fucked me.

Once he was seated inside me, our hips flush against one another he leaned over, kneading one of my breasts in his hands as he pulled back out and thrusted back in. "Morpheus!"

"I'll never get enough of you," he moaned, his hips moving quicker and his hands moving my legs to wrap around his small waist. He pulled me up, my hands gripping his leather clad chest as I gasped and moaned into his neck. His arms kept me from collapsing as he began ernestly fucking up into me. I barely hung off the table, his arms holding the majority of my weight. One hand gripped my hair, pulling my face back so he could look down at me. "Penelope," he set his forehead to mine and said softly, "I am yours… I have always been yours and always will be."

I pressed my mouth to his, joyful tears filling my eyes as we came together, his arms tightening around me and holding me to him. I pulled away and nuzzled my face into his cheek. "I'm yours, forever."

***

We had been back in The Dreaming for a week. Dream busied himself with work while I took to practicing my thread work. While both of us were busy we still made time for one another. As I'd seen in his memories he could be forgetful, neglecting even if overwhelmed, but he seemed to be making an effort to keep that from happening again. He'd said many times that he hadn't changed, but I could see it, as could Lucienne and Matthew and maybe even Merv.

I'd grown stronger every day, both at thread work and within The Dreaming. Licienne said it was normal, that it was simply the realm adapting to my authority. No matter what it was, I enjoyed it. Everything felt lighter, easier somehow. Spending most of my time with Lucienne studying the threads and practicing I grew very adept at finding my way through the infinite library. She and I grew closer, so much so that I nearly had her calling me Penelope. She was a good friend and a brilliant advisor and she loved this realm more than anything.

As I sat, going through the list of fruits and vegetables to craft a pressure built in my head. It was dull at first, like a headache, but slowly grew. I pulled the apple loose from the threads and voices began to echo through the library. "Lucienne?"

"Yes, Pe - my lady?" She replied, peeking her head out from the row of shelves across from me.

"Do you hear that?"

She paused, listening intently before shaking her head. "No, what is it?"

"Voices," I replied standing and honing in on them.

"You can do nothing," one said, dark and full of malice.

"I'll not let you use her as a puppet in your twisted whims." Destiny? He sounded weak, pained?

"Tell Dream I'll be right back!" I called to Lucienne before running through the door and into his garden. It was darker, deep storm clouds filled the sky and the hedges looked like they were withering.

I followed the thread, sprinting towards the center of the maze. "Destiny?!" No reply, just the whistling of the wind. I moved faster, a feeling of dread rolling over me. "DES?!"

As I broke through the maze and stumbled into the courtyard, blood coated the pristine rocks, leading over to the table where Destiny lay, clutching a hand over his side. "Penelope," he ground out. "Turn back."

I rushed to his side, pressing my hand to his. "What happened?"

"So this is the new favorite?" The voice, old and dark filled the garden. "I was expecting, well, more."

Turning my head toward the statues I saw her. Perched comfortably on a throne of black thorns adorned with rusted gold sat a woman. Her long red hair curled around her shoulder, the gold that speckled her skin shimmered in the dim light, but she was wrong. Black veins covered her arms, overtaking the faint black mark on her wrist. Beneath me Destiny groaned. "Leave her out of this."

The woman smiled. "Come then, little Weaver. Let's see if you're strong enough to best me."

"No," Destiny whispered, grabbing hold of my hand. "You cannot fight it."

"I don't think I have a choice."

The woman descended her throne and it crumbled beneath her. "You're nothing to them, the Endless. A pawn, a mortal. Join me and we can rise to our rightful place in this universe. No more rules, no more lies."

I stood, watching the careful steps she took as she walked closer. "I'm not interested."

A scoff, or perhaps a growl echoed from her. "You're a fool then. Just like Destiny. Just like Dream. Just like her."

"Her?"

She gestured to herself. "This vessel. Destiny's dearest. And, your predecessor."

"If you're not her, who are you?"

"I am just another nameless god that the Endless locked away out of fear."

Destiny laughed. "You were locked away because you threatened this world, not because we feared you."

"ENOUGH!" It screeched, dark tendrils pulling at its features, twisting to show the true face beneath. "I've waited eons for this. I'll not lose to a mere girl!"

I shrugged. "I'm a bit more than that."

Without warning it ran forward a golden blade in its hand and swiped trying to cut me. I dodged, moving high and low seconds ahead of its blows until an opening presented itself. With one quick shove to the shoulder I caught it off balance. Grabbing the wrist I slammed its hand onto the table over and over again, ignoring the way it clawed at my shoulder until the blade fell into the rocks.

Pulling my arm away I rolled, finding the knife easily and pointing it at the creature with a human face. "I'm not going to let you hurt him."

"Even after he lied?" It sneered. "Even after he withheld all the answers and knowledge from you."

"He's doing his job," I replied coldly. "A job I trust him to do, just as he trusts me to do mine."

"You are a fool!" It shrieked. "Just like she was!"

It lunged again, but as it came face to face with me, the golden blade at its throat the black of its eyes cleared, weeping gold shining through. "Kill me." The voice was soft, human, desperate.

"Lyria," Destiny breathed. "Please."

"Kill me, Weaver." She said again, pain filling her voice.

"No!" He cried out, desperately trying to rise to his feet. "Penelope don't!"

"KILL ME!" She wailed moving closer, pressing the blade deeper into her, drawing blood. "Please… I can't keep it… I can't…"

The black returned and with a bestial screech the creature was gone. The sky cleared, the hedges regrowing and everything returning to life. Destiny still lay on the ground, though his wound looked to be healing. Tears streaked down his cheeks.

I knelt down beside him. "Who was that?"

"The creature is an old I locked away in an old book of spells." Destiny said.

"And who is she?"

"Lyria," the way he spoke was pained, desperate. "She's my… She was.."

My eyes drisyed to the mark on his arm, the sane mark Dream and I shared and a wave of nauseous pain roiled through me. "What happened?"

Destiny sighed, his eyes closing. "The book changed and I did not heed its warning."

"What made it change?"

"You," he said so softly, remorsefully that it physically hurt.

I let out a shuddering breath. "I did this?"

His eyes opened again and he grabbed hold of my hand. "No. No you did not do this. I did." The tears in his eyes still shocked me. "I discovered a new Weaver had been born... You. I took you under my wing, all without telling Lyria. I was... I meant to..." He sighed again, tears sliding down his cheeks. "I was going to offer her my sister's blessing, at the price of her duties as Weaver. She and I could have lived together, here, forever."

"But you didn't?"

"I never got the chance," he admitted. "She returned from a journey, saw you... What you were and thought I'd intended to replace her. My mistake drove her to seek out knowledge, power, far beyond what she could endure. The being of darkness I trapped long ago twisted her, corrupted her and left nothing of my Lyria left but a hollow husk."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, knowing it wouldn't help. Nothing would.

He smiled at me. "Don't be, little one. The fault is mine and mine alone." After a minute he stood, holding his book and bowed his head. "You should return to The Dreaming."

I stayed still. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Will you call me again if it returns?" I asked gently. "I'll help you face it."

With a sigh he nodded. "If it is what you want."

"Thank you."

I left, following the butterflies in absolute silence. Destiny was living proof that my greatest fear was possible, that I could hurt Morpheus, The Dreaming, my newfound family. Even worse, the creature that had taken Lyria could find a way to hurt them… I could fail. As I opened the door back to the library, Lucienne embraced me, her eyes taking in my clawed shoulder and disheveled state before Dream came barreling into the room. Oh, Dream. My soul bound starry eyed Dream.

He was angry, speaking low and fast, but I couldn't hear any of it. I just saw him. He was alive, safe, they all were. As tears streamed down my cheeks I moved forward, burying myself in his chest. "I'm sorry," I wept.

Dreams arms curled around me, the cold sinking into my bones. "I was worried."

"I'm so sorry!" I pulled back and looked up at him. "I will never hurt you."

"What?"

"I swear on my life, on everything that I am, I will never hurt you or The Dreaming. I'll never betray you…" I was sobbing now. "I will always come to your aid. I swear it."

His cold hands cupped my cheeks. "Breathe, my love."

Dream pressed his forehead to mine, holding me securely against him. "Breathe. You're home, you're safe."

***

The Bull marched through the white hallways, undisturbed by the screaming and wailing that echoed from every room. Everyone moved around him, the nurses, the muscle, even the other hunters, he was above them - every last one. He straightened his shoulders as he came to the office door of the renowned Dr. Elias Shenton. Opening it slowly and entering even more so he bowed his head, folding his arms behind his back. "You called, Sir?"

The echoes of his machines filtered through the room with each breath he took. Where the broad desk should have been was now a bed, turned to face the window. All he could see of the doctor was one thin, sickly arm stuck with wires and needles. "Yes, Dominic, I called for you."

"How may I be of service?"

Wheezing breaths and light coughs met his ears. God he hated how pathetic they all sounded. "Give the order to begin construction of the cage and get me Ethel's book. Dream of the Endless may not be a player in this game she's built, but she was so desperate to protect him. He may still be of use to us yet."

The Bull nodded. "Of course, Sir."

"One more thing," he added as his voice faded into coughing. The Bull waited, tapping his foot impatiently. "I want The Marquis to be dealt with."

This time The Bull smiled. "I'll handle it personally, Sir."

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