my life is a love letter to you

Weddings were meant to unite families. Yours had only reminded you how easily they could fall apart.

The ceremony hall was alive with quiet grandeur. Gods from countless pantheons, ancient rulers, and immortal beings filled the rows of polished obsidian seats, their hushed conversations weaving through the soft melody of a distant orchestra. Thousands of candles bathed the Dreaming in a warm golden glow, their flames dancing beneath a ceiling where stars shimmered like scattered diamonds.

It was a celebration unlike any held in centuries—a wedding worthy of Orpheus, son of Dream of the Endless. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding you, all you could feel was the crushing weight of the empty seat beside your heart... and the occupied one beside your chair.

You closed your eyes and drew in a slow, steady breath. The air carried the faint scent of white lilies and melted candle wax, while distant strings echoed through the palace like a dream woven into melody. When you opened your eyes again, the Great Hall shimmered beneath countless stars suspended across its endless ceiling. Gods, immortals, and ancient rulers filled every seat, their voices blending into a respectful murmur as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

It was beautiful.

Painfully so.

Once, you had imagined standing here with Morpheus' hand wrapped around yours, watching your son begin a new chapter of his life together. Instead, the only thing separating you now was years of silence that neither of you had ever been brave enough to break.

Your fingers curled around the stem of the crystal goblet before you brought it to your lips. The sweet taste of grape juice did little to ease the knot that had settled in your chest.

Your gaze lingered on the crowd, your expression calm enough to fool anyone who didn't truly know you. It was your son's wedding, after all. Whatever grief you carried had no place on a day that belonged to him.

Your gaze drifted to Orpheus—to your son, who would soon become a husband—and to Eurydice standing beside him. They looked as though the rest of the world had ceased to exist. Every smile they shared came effortlessly, every glance lingering just a heartbeat longer than the last. You had never seen Orpheus like this before. Not as a prince, not as a poet, nor as the boy who once ran through the halls of the Dreaming.

He looked… happy. Truly happy

Your gaze drifted farther across the hall.

And then you saw him.

Morpheus.

Clad in black, he stood taller than nearly everyone around him, his long coat falling like a living shadow to the floor. Even from across the hall, there was something unmistakable about him. The quiet authority. The stillness. The piercing blue eyes that had once looked at you with nothing but love.

Your former husband.

Your gaze drifted farther across the hall.

And then you saw him.

Morpheus.

Dressed in black as always, he stood among gods and kings with the same quiet authority that had once drawn every eye in the room—including yours.

For a fleeting moment, neither of you moved.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he slowly lifted his head.

Your eyes met.

Centuries passed between that single glance.

Neither of you smiled.

Neither of you looked away first.

Until someone called his name.

Morpheus gave the slightest incline of his head before turning away, making his way through the crowd with measured, unhurried steps.

Only then did you realize you had been holding your breath.

Your gaze followed him as he disappeared into the crowd, each measured step carrying him farther away from you.

He stopped only when he reached Orpheus.

For a brief moment, father and son simply looked at one another.

Morpheus was the first to break the silence.

"Congratulations, Orpheus."

His voice was as calm and composed as ever, yet there was something softer beneath it—something only those who knew him well could have noticed.

Orpheus smiled, the kind of smile you had not seen on his face in years.

"Thank you, Father."

Without another word, Morpheus rested a hand on his son's shoulder. It was a simple gesture, brief enough to go unnoticed by most of the guests, yet it spoke louder than any speech ever could.

"I wish you every happiness," he said quietly.

Orpheus's smile widened as he glanced toward Eurydice before looking back at his father.

"I already have it."

For the first time that evening, the corners of Morpheus's lips lifted ever so slightly.

It was almost imperceptible.

But you saw it.

Unable to endure his gaze for more than a heartbeat, you lowered your eyes to the crystal goblet before you, pretending it deserved more of your attention than he did.

You had spent days convincing yourself you were ready for this moment. The lie unraveled the instant your eyes met his. Your heartbeat turned uneven, and the crystal goblet trembled ever so slightly between your fingers.

As you sat beside Morpheus, Death turned her gaze toward you. There was no judgment in her warm look, only a calm understanding—as if she alone truly grasped the burden you had carried all these years.

Unlike the rest of the Endless, warmth seemed to follow wherever she went. She greeted every guest with the same gentle smile, whether they were a god, a king, or a humble servant. Kindness came as naturally to her as breathing.

Over the years, she had become more than Morpheus's sister to you. She had been a confidante, a comforting presence, and, on more than one occasion, the only person capable of making the Dream Lord laugh.

When your eyes met, she offered you a small, knowing smile.

It was not pity.

It was understanding.

The Endless had gathered beneath one roof—an occurrence so rare that even the oldest gods regarded it with quiet fascination.

Destiny remained as silent as ever, his chained book resting securely in his hands. Every now and then, he turned another page, as though today's events had been written long before any of them had taken their first breath.

Desire looked utterly radiant, draped in silk and adorned with jewels that caught the candlelight. A knowing smile lingered on their lips, as if they already knew how the evening would unfold.

Despair sat close by, her shoulders slightly hunched, absentmindedly tracing the edge of her silver ring while watching the celebration through distant eyes.

Delirium wandered from guest to guest with childlike curiosity, her mismatched eyes sparkling as she admired every flower, every decoration, and every unfamiliar face. No one seemed entirely certain what she might say next.

And then there was one empty seat.

Destruction.

You found yourself staring at it for a moment longer than necessary. Even after all these years, his absence was noticeable whenever the Endless gathered together.

Your attention eventually returned to the family seated before you.

And then, inevitably, to him.

The man you had spent years trying not to miss.

The soft murmur of the guests gradually faded.

One by one, conversations ceased until the vast hall fell into an almost sacred stillness. Even Delirium seemed to sense the change, quietly returning to her place as the musicians lowered their instruments.

At the far end of the hall, the great doors slowly opened.

Every head turned.

Orpheus stood there beside Eurydice, his expression brighter than you had ever remembered seeing it. He offered her his hand, and together they began their walk toward the altar.

You found yourself smiling.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the gods, the Endless, the years of silence.

There was only your son.

Your little boy, who once wandered through the halls of the Dreaming with ink-stained fingers and stories spilling endlessly from his lips, was standing before you as a man.

And he was about to promise his life to someone he loved.

The officiant stepped forward.

"Orpheus. Eurydice."

Their hands intertwined.

"Today, you stand before gods, immortals, and those who have loved you long before this moment. But no vow spoken here will matter as much as the one you make to each other."

Orpheus looked at Eurydice.

His smile softened.

"I choose you," he whispered.

You kept your eyes fixed on Orpheus, refusing to glance at the man standing only inches beside you.

Your son stood before the altar with Eurydice, his hands clasped around hers as he spoke his vows. There was such certainty in his voice, such devotion in his eyes, that your chest tightened with emotion.

And then, without warning, you remembered.

Your own wedding.

You remembered standing beneath the same endless sky of the Dreaming, though the hall had been far quieter then. You remembered the weight of Morpheus's hand in yours, his fingers carefully intertwined with yours as though he were afraid you might disappear.

He had looked at you exactly the way Orpheus was looking at Eurydice now.

As though you were the only being in existence worth seeing.

You remembered the faint smile that had touched his lips when you said your vows. The way his usually distant eyes had softened when he slipped the ring onto your finger. And the way, when the ceremony was over, he had leaned close and whispered something meant only for you.

For a moment, you could almost feel his hand in yours again.

Almost.

Then Orpheus's voice pulled you back to the present.

You blinked, the memory dissolving as quickly as it had appeared.

Your hand tightened around your goblet.

Morpheus was still beside you.

And you still hadn't looked at him.

You forced yourself to clap along with the rest of the guests, doing your best to lose yourself in the warmth of the celebration. The heat of the candles brushed against your face, yet somehow, you still couldn't shake the chill settling beneath your skin.

You tried to steady yourself.

Your heels struck against the polished floor with each step, the sharp sound echoing through the hall and drawing your attention away from the thoughts you desperately tried to suppress.

You reached the table first and took your seat, crossing one leg over the other as you composed yourself.

Your gaze remained fixed ahead, following Orpheus and his bride as they slowly made their way toward their seats.

Your son.

And the woman who would soon become his wife.

You smiled faintly.

If only you could keep your attention on them.

If only you didn't feel Morpheus taking the seat beside you.

Morpheus settled into the chair beside you without a word.

His hands rested loosely against the arms of the chair, long fingers perfectly still, save for the occasional subtle movement of his thumb against the dark fabric beneath it. He leaned back slightly, his posture as composed as ever.

His gaze traveled across the hall.

Those sharp, piercing eyes took in every detail—the gathered gods, the endless rows of candles, the musicians, the newlyweds at the center of it all. Nothing escaped his notice.

Yet despite his attention seeming to belong to the celebration, you could feel it.

Every so often, his gaze returned to you.

And you refused to look back.

You continued to lie to yourself.

You told yourself that you were simply focused on Orpheus. That the ceremony deserved your full attention. That there was no reason to wonder whether Morpheus was still watching you.

But deep down, you knew better.

You could feel his presence beside you—the quiet weight of him, the familiar stillness you had once found comforting.

And no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, some part of you still remembered what it had felt like to belong beside him.

The music changed.

A soft melody filled the hall, and the guests began to rise slowly from their seats. As laughter echoed against the old walls, couples stood up, preparing to leave the ritual behind.

Your eyes were fixed on Orpheus.

I had forgotten something.

You watched the moment Eurydice extended her hand—observing the fear hidden beneath his confident smile. He had always been a dreamer, a poet too gentle for this world.

And then, you noticed it.

His hesitation.

The way he acted as if he were unsure of the music’s steady, continuing rhythm.

A small smile played on your lips.

Some things never change.

He had inherited more than just that from his father; perhaps, without even realizing it, the two of you had come to mind.

Oh, memories… Memories that refuse to let go.

The music shifted once more, becoming lighter, almost playful.

Before you could lose yourself in your thoughts, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

"Everyone is dancing."

You turned your head.

Delirium stood before you, her colorful attire moving with every small motion, her mismatched eyes bright with excitement.

She looked between you and Morpheus.

"No sitting. Sitting is boring."

A small smile almost escaped you.

Only Delirium could command the Dream Lord so effortlessly.

Morpheus looked at his youngest sister with his usual unreadable expression.

"Sister—"

"No."

She reached for his hand before he could finish, then looked at you expectantly.

"You too."

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, with a quiet sigh, Morpheus stood.

Not because he wanted to dance.

Because it was Delirium.

And even after all these years, some things had not changed.

He still had a way of pulling his family together.

Delirium's hand was still extended toward you, her expression filled with quiet expectation.

For a moment, you considered refusing.

Then you looked at your son.

Orpheus was watching with a small smile, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you found yourself placing your hand in Delirium's.

A few moments later, you were standing beside Morpheus in the center of the hall.

The music began.

Neither of you spoke.

His hand rested carefully against yours, as though he was unsure whether even that small contact was something he was still allowed to have.

And yet, when you moved, he followed.

Just as he always had.

That was the cruelest part.

After all these years, your bodies still remembered what your hearts had tried so hard to forget.

The way he guided you.

The way you matched his steps.

The way silence between you had once felt peaceful instead of painful.

You kept your eyes away from his, focusing instead on the lights above the hall.

But you could feel him.

You always could.

"You are still avoiding my gaze."

His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the music.

A small breath escaped you.

"And you are still noticing everything."

For the first time that evening, something almost like a smile touched his expression.

The music carried on, slow and steady, as the two of you moved across the floor.

For a moment, the hall around you disappeared.

There were no gods watching.

No Endless standing nearby.

No years of silence separating you.

Only the memory of a time when his hand in yours had been the safest place in all existence.

"You remember this song."

Morpheus's voice pulled you from your thoughts.

Your fingers tightened slightly around his hand.

"I remember many things."

His gaze remained on you.

"Do you remember our wedding?"

The question was simple.

Yet it carried the weight of centuries.

You looked away, watching the candles flicker around the hall.

"How could I forget?"

And you couldn't.

You remembered standing beside him beneath the endless stars of the Dreaming. You remembered the way the entire universe seemed quieter when he spoke your name. You remembered believing that nothing could ever come between you.

Morpheus followed your gaze toward the decorations surrounding Orpheus's celebration.

"Orpheus was so young then."

A faint softness entered his voice.

"He held onto your dress and refused to let go when the ceremony ended."

Despite yourself, a small smile appeared.

"He always was stubborn."

A pause.

"Like his father."

For the first time in years, the silence between you did not feel like a wall.

It felt like a memory.

The music softened into a slower melody.

Morpheus's hand found yours carefully, almost hesitantly, as though he was asking permission without words. For a moment, you only stared at your joined hands.

How many times had those same fingers held yours before?

How many times had you danced beneath the endless sky of the Dreaming, believing that nothing could ever take this away from you?

You finally looked up.

His eyes were already on you.

"You still remember the steps."

His voice was quiet.

A faint, almost humorless smile touched your lips.

"Some things are difficult to forget."

The two of you moved together, slowly turning beneath the golden light of the hall. His movements were as graceful as ever, controlled and precise, but you noticed the difference.

He was being careful with you.

As if you were something fragile.

As if he feared you might pull away.

"You used to laugh when I stepped on your feet."

The memory caught you off guard.

A small breath escaped you.

"You were terrible at dancing."

"I am aware."

For a moment, there was something familiar in his tone. Almost playful.

The same Morpheus you had known.

The same man who once tried to dance with you despite having no sense of rhythm.

Your smile faded slowly.

"I missed that."

The words escaped before you could stop them.

Morpheus's expression changed.

Only slightly.

But you noticed.

"You missed what?"

You looked away.

"The man you were before."

Silence followed.

The music continued around you, but neither of you moved for a heartbeat.

Then Morpheus gently guided you into another turn, his hand never leaving yours.

"I was still that man."

Your eyes returned to his.

"I simply forgot how to be him."

Across the hall, Orpheus watched.

His hand rested gently in Eurydice's as they stood among the celebration, but his attention had shifted toward his parents.

For years, he had wondered what they were like before everything changed.

He remembered them as fragments.

His mother's laughter echoing through the halls of the Dreaming.

His father's quiet presence beside her.

Two beings who seemed impossible to separate.

And yet, somehow, they had become strangers.

Eurydice noticed the distant look in his eyes.

"You are thinking about them."

Orpheus glanced at her, a small smile appearing.

"Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes."

He looked back toward the dance floor, watching the way his mother and father moved together.

"They still remember."

Eurydice followed his gaze.

"Do you think they can find their way back?"

Orpheus was quiet for a moment.

Then he looked at the woman beside him.

"I don't know."

A gentle smile touched his face.

"But I know what it feels like to find someone you cannot imagine losing."

Eurydice squeezed his hand and smiled.

And for the first time that evening, Orpheus allowed himself to believe that perhaps some things were not as broken as they seemed.

Orpheus did not interrupt them.

He simply watched.

There was something strange about seeing his parents together again. Not as rulers, not as beings feared by countless worlds, but simply as two people who had once loved each other.

He noticed the smallest things.

The way his mother still knew exactly when his father was about to move.

The way Morpheus instinctively adjusted his steps to match hers.

The way neither of them seemed aware that they were doing it.

Eurydice followed his gaze and smiled softly.

"They still know each other."

Orpheus looked at her.

"Even after all this time."

She nodded.

"Some connections don't disappear just because people stop reaching for them."

Those words stayed with him.

Because he knew his parents.

His father, who carried entire realms upon his shoulders but struggled to speak about his own feelings.

His mother, who had always been strong for everyone else, even when she was hurting.

Maybe they did not need someone to fix what was broken.

Maybe they only needed someone to remind them that something beautiful had existed before the pain.

Orpheus looked down at Eurydice's hand in his.

And he silently promised himself that he would never allow silence to become stronger than love.

As the night grew older, the grand hall slowly began to empty.

The music faded into quieter melodies until even those sounds disappeared beneath the soft murmur of departing guests.

Crystal goblets remained scattered across the tables, and the once-full bottles of wine stood nearly empty, forgotten among the remnants of the celebration.

The gods who had filled the hall with laughter and conversation had begun to leave one by one.

Even Delirium had finally been persuaded to go, though not without leaving a trail of unfinished thoughts and impossible smiles behind her.

You watched as Orpheus and Eurydice exchanged a quiet glance.

They did not need to say anything.

After offering their final goodbyes, they disappeared beyond the great doors of the hall, leaving behind the celebration that had belonged to them.

And then there was silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that carried centuries of words never spoken.

You remained seated at the table.

Beside you, Morpheus had not moved.

For the first time that evening, there was no crowd to hide behind.

No music to fill the space between you.

No reason to pretend you were strangers.

Only you.

And him.

The man you had once loved.

The hall had grown completely silent.

Outside, far away from the remains of the celebration, the night air was colder. The gardens of the Dreaming stretched endlessly around them, the stars above offering a quiet witness to the conversation neither of them had dared to have.

You sat across from each other at a small stone table.

Between you were nothing but an ashtray, a glass of wine, and the weight of everything left unsaid.

You looked down at the cigarette between your fingers for a moment before lighting it.

The small flame briefly illuminated your face before disappearing into the darkness.

Morpheus watched the movement carefully.

"You did not smoke when you were with me."

The observation was quiet, not accusing.

You exhaled slowly, your gaze fixed somewhere beyond him.

"I changed."

A pause followed.

"Even gods change, Morpheus."

His expression remained unreadable.

"You speak of change as though it were simple."

A faint smile touched your lips, but there was no happiness in it.

"Perhaps it is not simple. But it happens anyway."

The silence returned.

Morpheus looked toward the glass of wine resting between you.

"You began living like mortals."

Your eyes lifted to his.

"I wanted to understand them."

"Humans?"

You nodded.

"Their lives are so short. They love despite knowing they can lose everything. They change because they have no choice but to keep moving forward."

Morpheus studied you carefully.

"Smoking, drinking, growing distant from what you once were… these are not things I would have expected from you."

You looked away.

"Maybe that was the problem."

His brow furrowed slightly.

"What do you mean?"

"I spent centuries trying to be what everyone expected me to be."

Your fingers rested against the edge of the table. Your white dress had already started to smell of cigarettes. You didn't mind.

"A goddess. A queen. Your wife."

The last word lingered between you.

"And somewhere along the way, I forgot who I was."

For a moment, Morpheus said nothing.

The Dream Lord, who had faced endless worlds and impossible battles, seemed to have no answer for that.

Finally, his voice softened.

"Mortals have changed you."

You looked at him.

"No."

A quiet breath escaped you.

"Life changed me."

And for once, Morpheus did not argue.

For a long while, neither of you spoke.

The wind moved quietly through the gardens, carrying away the last traces of music from the celebration. Somewhere beyond the trees, the Dreaming continued to breathe, unaware of the two immortals sitting beneath the stars, trying to understand everything they had lost.

Morpheus's fingers rested against the edge of the table, unmoving.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"You believe I did not change."

You looked at him.

"Did I say that?"

His eyes remained on yours.

"You did not need to."

A quiet sigh left your lips as you looked down at the cigarette between your fingers.

"You were always good at hearing the things I never said."

A faint sadness crossed his expression.

"And yet, I failed to hear the things that mattered."

The words surprised you.

For a moment, you simply stared at him.

Morpheus had never been someone who easily admitted his mistakes. He carried his pride like armor, something impossible to break through.

But tonight, there was no kingdom to rule.

No title to protect.

Only two people sitting across from each other.

"I thought you did not care."

Your voice was quieter now.

Morpheus looked away.

"I cared too much."

You frowned slightly.

"That was never how it felt."

The silence that followed was heavy.

"I believed that protecting you meant keeping my distance."

His voice lowered.

"I spent eternity surrounded by responsibilities, by endless duties, by the weight of my realm. I convinced myself that because I loved you, you would understand."

You looked at him.

"Love does not always survive on understanding alone, Morpheus."

The words remained between you.

He did not argue.

And somehow, that hurt more.

You took another breath, letting the smoke disappear into the night air.

"Do you know what hurt the most?"

His gaze returned to you.

"Tell me."

You hesitated.

Not because you did not know the answer.

Because you had carried it for too long.

"It was not losing the Dreaming."

Your fingers tightened slightly.

"It was not leaving the palace. It was not becoming someone different."

You swallowed.

"It was waking up every day and realizing I was standing beside someone who felt like a stranger."

Morpheus lowered his eyes.

For once, he had no defense.

"I know."

You looked at him in surprise.

"Do you?"

A long pause.

"I do now."

The honesty in his voice was almost unfamiliar.

You looked toward the empty garden.

"I used to think immortals were supposed to be unchanging."

A small, bitter smile appeared.

"But that is not true, is it?"

Morpheus followed your gaze toward the stars.

"No."

His voice was softer.

"Even the oldest beings can be changed by love."

The words made your expression falter.

Because once, a very long time ago, you had believed that was exactly what you were to him.

A change.

A choice.

A home.

Morpheus looked at the cigarette in your hand.

"I still do not like that you smoke."

A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

"Of course you don't."

For the first time that night, something almost familiar appeared between you.

Not happiness.

Not yet.

But something close.

"You always disliked things you could not control."

His eyes lifted to yours.

"And you always challenged everything I tried to control."

You smiled faintly.

"Maybe that is why you loved me."

A silence followed.

Then Morpheus answered.

"Perhaps it is why I still do..."

For a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

The words stayed between you.

"Perhaps it is why I still love you."

You went completely still.

The cigarette between your fingers remained untouched as the smoke curled upward, forgotten. You had been about to take another breath, another moment to steady yourself, but your body refused to move.

You simply stared at him.

Morpheus.

The man who had spent years behind walls of silence.

The man who had let you leave without asking you to stay.

The man who was now sitting across from you, saying the one thing you had convinced yourself you would never hear again.

The night suddenly felt quieter.

Even the wind seemed to disappear.

Your fingers slowly lowered, the cigarette burning away between them.

You searched his face for something.

Regret.

Doubt.

A trace of hesitation.

But you found none.

Only the same unbearable honesty that had always frightened you more than anger ever could.

For once, you had no answer.

No sharp remark.

No carefully chosen words to protect yourself.

Only silence.

And Morpheus, for the first time in centuries, allowed that silence to remain.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, slowly, you placed the cigarette into the ashtray between you.

Not because he had asked you to.

Not because you wanted to become the person you had been before.

But because, for the first time in a very long time, you wanted to stay in the moment instead of running from it.

Your eyes met his.

"You hurt me."

The words were quiet.

But they carried centuries of silence.

Morpheus did not look away.

"I know."

A small, painful smile touched your lips.

"I hated that you knew."

His expression softened.

"I hated that I understood too late."

The honesty in his voice broke something inside you—not completely, not enough to erase the past, but enough to let something new enter.

You looked down at your hands.

"I don't know if we can return to what we were."

Morpheus was silent for a moment.

Then he reached across the table.

Not to take your hand.

Not to demand forgiveness.

Only to place his hand there, waiting.

A choice.

An invitation.

"Neither do I."

His voice was almost a whisper.

"But perhaps we were never meant to return."

You looked at him.

"Then what are we meant to do?"

His eyes held yours.

"Begin again."

The answer was simple.

Almost impossible.

Yet somehow, it was enough.

The night remained quiet around you. The empty glasses, the fading smoke, and the remnants of a celebration that had brought you together after so many years surrounded you.

But for the first time in centuries, the silence between you did not feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something neither of you dared to name.

Slowly, carefully, you placed your hand over his.

Morpheus looked down at the gesture, then back at you.

And for a moment, you saw him.

Not the Dream Lord.

Not the ruler of the Dreaming.

Just the man who had once loved you.

And perhaps still did.

"I missed you."

The confession was barely louder than the wind.

His fingers gently closed around yours.

"I know."

A pause.

"I missed you as well."

And beneath the endless sky of the Dreaming, after all the years lost between you, neither of you pulled away.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Your hand remained in his, a simple gesture that somehow carried the weight of centuries.

Morpheus looked at you as though he was seeing you again for the first time.

Not the queen who had stood beside him.

Not the immortal who had shared his realm.

Not the woman who had walked away.

Just you.

The woman he had loved before duty, before pride, before silence.

His thumb moved gently against your hand.

"I have spent eternity dreaming of countless worlds."

His voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the night.

"Yet I failed to see the one world I had already been given."

Your breath caught.

Morpheus's gaze never left yours.

"I thought eternity meant never losing anything."

A pause.

"I was wrong."

The stars above seemed endless.

"Eternity is knowing there are some things worth finding again."

For the first time in centuries, you had no need for words.

Because you understood.

He was not promising to erase the past.

He was promising not to lose the future.

And beneath the endless sky of the Dreaming, the Dream Lord reached for your hand once more.

Not as a king.

Not as an Endless.

But as the man who had finally found his way home.

But as the first light touched the Dreaming, you finally understood that not every ending was meant to be a goodbye.

There was a time when the Dreaming felt like home.

Not because of its endless halls or the stars that shimmered above its skies, but because wherever Morpheus stood, you stood beside him.

That time had long since passed.

The Dreaming demanded its king. Your realm demanded its queen. Endless petitions, forgotten prayers, disputes that required your judgment, dreams that needed shaping, nightmares that refused to be tamed—your responsibilities never truly ended. Somewhere between fulfilling them, the two of you had quietly begun to disappear from each other's days.

It wasn't sudden.

Distance never is.

It arrived in stolen mornings, unanswered questions, hurried farewells, and dinners left untouched because one of you had been called away once again. The conversations became shorter. The silences became familiar. Eventually, neither of you noticed how rarely your hands reached for one another.

Love had never left.

Time simply had.

These days, the only proof that you still shared a marriage was the room waiting for you every night. More often than not, you would return long after midnight to find Morpheus already sitting against the headboard with an ancient book resting in his hands. He would look up for only a moment before offering you the faintest smile, and you would answer with one of your own before exhaustion claimed you both.

Tomorrow, you always promised yourselves.

Tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow never came.

Now, silence settled over the royal study like a familiar guest.

Two desks stood opposite each other beneath the dim candlelight. Scrolls, books, and unfinished reports covered every inch of polished wood. The steady scratch of quills echoed through the chamber, interrupted only by the quiet turning of parchment.

You lifted your gaze for the first time in what felt like hours.

Morpheus remained focused on the document before him.

Only a few steps separated the two of you.

Yet somehow...

he had never felt farther away.

The chamber was wrapped in silence, disturbed only by the soft scratching of quills and the slow turning of parchment.

You didn't speak.

Not because there was nothing left to say.

But because you had already said it all.

Again.

And again.

Duty had always answered louder than either of you ever could.

Duty had always answered louder than either of you ever could.

You lowered your gaze once more, forcing yourself to focus on the report spread before you. Ink blurred beneath your eyes as your thoughts drifted elsewhere. You had read the same sentence three times, yet not a single word had stayed with you.

Across the room, another page turned.

You didn't have to look to know it was him.

You had spent centuries memorizing the smallest things about your husband—the quiet rhythm of his breathing when he was concentrating, the deliberate way he turned each page, the almost imperceptible furrow between his brows whenever a matter weighed heavily on his mind.

Some habits never faded.

Even if everything else seemed to.

Your fingers paused around the quill.

For a fleeting moment, you considered speaking.

Asking whether he had eaten.

Whether he had rested.

Whether he intended to spend yet another night buried beneath endless reports instead of beside his wife.

The words never left your lips.

Because you already knew the answer.

Just as he probably knew the questions.

Another document appeared before Morpheus with a whisper of magic. He reached for it without hesitation, as though expecting it all along.

You watched from the corner of your eye.

There was no frustration left.

No anger.

Only a quiet ache that had settled somewhere deep within your chest—a feeling so familiar it had almost become a part of you.

The silence stretched on.

Heavy.

Comfortable.

Painful.

It was strange how silence could become the language of a marriage.

A few feet apart.

An eternity away.

You sighed almost inaudibly and returned to your work.

Outside the towering windows, the sky above the Dreaming remained unchanged—an endless tapestry of stars that never dimmed, untouched by the passing of time. Within the study, however, time seemed to move all too quickly.

One report became five.

Five became twenty.

The candles burned lower, their flames shrinking as wax pooled at their bases.

Still, neither of you spoke.

You reached for another scroll, only to realize your hand had stopped halfway. Your eyes lingered on the neat stacks of documents scattered across Morpheus's desk.

Too many.

Far too many.

He hadn't moved from his chair in hours.

The book beside him had long since been replaced by treaties, petitions, and records from every corner of the Dreaming. His expression never changed, though you noticed the faint tension in his jaw and the tiredness hidden behind those endless blue eyes.

He looked exhausted.

The realization settled heavily in your chest.

You remembered a time when you would have crossed the room without thinking. You would have taken the parchment from his hands, closed the book before he could protest, and insisted he rest. He would have sighed in quiet annoyance, only to give in moments later as you led him away.

Now...

You couldn't remember the last time either of you had reached across the distance first.

Your fingers curled around the edge of your parchment.

The silence no longer felt peaceful.

It felt fragile.

As though a single word could either mend everything...

or shatter whatever remained between you.

You looked up.

At that exact moment, Morpheus did the same.

Your eyes met.

Neither of you looked away.

For one brief heartbeat, the study, the reports, the endless responsibilities—they all faded into the background.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something.

A knock echoed through the chamber.

The moment vanished.

Lucienne's calm voice sounded from beyond the doors.

"My King... My Queen. Forgive the interruption, but there is a matter requiring your immediate attention."

Morpheus lowered his gaze first.

"...Come in."

And just like that, duty had found the two of you once again.

The doors opened without another word.

Lucienne stepped inside, a bundle of neatly bound scrolls cradled in her arms. She paused just long enough to offer a respectful bow before crossing the room.

"My King. My Queen."

"There has been a disturbance in the western reaches of the Dreaming," she began, placing several reports upon Morpheus's desk. "A recurring nightmare has started spreading beyond its assigned borders. Several dreams have already been affected."

Morpheus glanced over the first report, his expression remaining unreadable.

"I will see to it."

Lucienne inclined her head before turning toward you.

"And there is another matter concerning your temple."

Your heart sank.

She held out a sealed letter bearing the crest of your realm.

"The High Priest requests your presence as soon as possible. It appears the offerings have ceased in several sanctuaries. They fear unrest among the faithful."

You accepted the letter in silence, your thumb brushing over the untouched seal.

Of course.

Another responsibility.

Another place that needed you.

Another reason to leave.

For a brief moment, neither you nor Morpheus spoke. The room was filled only with the crackling of candlelight as Lucienne quietly waited.

"I will depart before dawn," you said at last.

Morpheus's hand paused above the report.

Only for a heartbeat.

"So soon?"

His voice was calm.

Controlled.

Yet after so many centuries beside him, you caught the faint hesitation hidden beneath it.

"It cannot wait."

"…I understand."

Those three words were enough to end the conversation before it had truly begun.

Lucienne sensed it too.

She gathered the remaining scrolls, bowed once more, and excused herself, allowing the heavy doors to close behind her.

Silence returned.

You broke the seal on the letter, though your eyes never truly focused on the words written inside.

Across the room, Morpheus had already resumed reading his reports.

You wondered if he was actually reading them.

Or if he was pretending, just as you were.

Another journey.

Another night apart.

Another promise to return soon.

You had lost count of how many times those promises had been made.

And how many had been swallowed by duty before either of you had the chance to keep them.

The night had grown impossibly late.

Without a word, the two of you left the study together, your footsteps echoing through the endless halls of the palace.

You walked side by side.

Not once did your hands brush against each other.

Not once did either of you break the silence.

The distance between you felt far greater than the corridor itself.

When you reached your shared chambers, you disappeared behind the dressing screen while Morpheus removed his cloak and placed another book upon the bedside table.

By the time you returned, he was already leaning against the headboard, the ancient volume resting open in his hands.

You slipped beneath the covers, exhaustion settling over your body almost immediately.

For several minutes, neither of you moved.

Only the quiet turning of another page disturbed the stillness.

"…You'll leave before sunrise?" Morpheus asked without lifting his eyes from the book.

"Yes."

A pause.

"I may be gone for several days."

"I know."

Another silence.

You turned onto your side, facing away from him.

"I'll send letters."

"They are always appreciated."

Always appreciated.

Not I'll miss you.

Not Come back safely.

Only words that sounded as though they belonged in official correspondence rather than between husband and wife.

You closed your eyes.

"I wish things were different."

The words escaped before you could stop them.

For the first time that evening, the sound of turning pages ceased.

The room became perfectly still.

When Morpheus finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"So do I."

You waited.

Part of you hoped he would continue.

Explain himself.

Reach for your hand.

Ask you to stay one more day.

He did none of those things.

A moment later, the book opened once more.

Another page turned.

You smiled sadly to yourself.

Duty had won again.

Before dawn, the palace remained wrapped in silence.

You dressed without waking the attendants, fastening the silver clasps of your ceremonial robes yourself.

Everything was ready.

Everything except your heart.

You stepped into the corridor.

The doors to the royal study stood slightly ajar.

Inside, Morpheus was already seated behind his desk.

Another mountain of reports waited for him.

He had not gone back to sleep.

Perhaps…

Perhaps he had never slept at all.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching him beneath the candlelight.

He looked tired.

More tired than he would ever admit.

"…I'm leaving."

Your voice carried softly through the chamber.

His hand paused above the parchment.

"I know."

You waited.

Just a heartbeat longer.

Hoping.

Expecting nothing.

Yet wishing for everything.

He did not rise.

He did not cross the room.

Instead, he reached for another report.

"Lucienne has arranged an escort."

"…Thank you."

The words sounded painfully formal.

Like those exchanged between allies.

Not lovers.

Not husband and wife.

You gave him one last look before turning toward the corridor.

One step.

Then another.

The heavy doors closed behind you with a quiet thud.

Only then did the scratching of his quill stop.

Morpheus remained motionless.

Several long moments passed before he slowly lifted his head toward the now-empty doorway.

His gaze lingered there.

The report before him remained unread.

For the first time since dawn, he allowed himself to admit the truth.

The palace felt quieter whenever you were gone.

And despite everything he had convinced himself to believe.

He hated that.

The palace felt different after you left.

Quieter.

The silence that had once allowed him to think now lingered like an unwelcome presence, settling into every corner of the royal study.

Morpheus stared at the report before him.

He had been reading the same paragraph for nearly ten minutes.

Not a single word had found its place in his mind.

With a quiet sigh, he set the parchment aside.

His gaze drifted across the room.

Your desk remained exactly as you had left it.

A half-finished report.

An uncapped bottle of ink.

The quill resting where your fingers had abandoned it only hours earlier.

No attendants had touched a thing.

Neither had he.

For reasons he refused to acknowledge.

He rose from his chair.

Slowly, he crossed the distance between the two desks.

The room suddenly felt much larger than it had that morning.

His gloved fingertips brushed against the edge of your chair.

Empty.

Cold.

He closed his eyes.

Only then did he realize how accustomed he had become to your quiet presence.

The soft scratch of your quill.

The gentle rustle of parchment whenever you turned another page.

The way you would occasionally pause, lifting your head to watch him for only a second before returning to your work.

He had noticed every single one of those moments.

He simply had never said so.

A faint knock interrupted his thoughts.

"My Lord?"

Lucienne stepped inside.

She stopped when she found him standing beside your desk.

"You have another council meeting within the hour."

"...Postpone it."

Lucienne blinked.

"My Lord?"

"I said postpone it."

Without another word, she inclined her head and quietly left the chamber.

Morpheus remained where he was.

His eyes fell upon the small cup you always used for your tea.

It was still there.

Waiting.

Just as it always had.

He reached for it instinctively before stopping himself halfway.

His hand slowly fell back to his side.

"...Come back soon."

The words escaped so quietly that even the Dreaming itself barely seemed to hear them.

There was no one left in the room to answer.

Only silence.

And for the first time in centuries...

The King of Dreams found himself wishing that duty had chosen someone else for just one day.

The days passed with agonizing slowness.

Morpheus buried himself in his work as he always had.

Petitions.

Dreams.

Nightmares.

Disputes between creations of the Dreaming.

One responsibility gave way to another, leaving barely a moment to breathe.

Normally, that would have been enough.

Normally, work silenced every unnecessary thought.

Not this time.

His eyes wandered far more often than he cared to admit.

Always toward the desk opposite his own.

Always toward the chair that remained empty.

He had never realized how much life your presence brought into the study.

Not because you spoke.

You rarely did.

But because you were there.

Reading.

Writing.

Occasionally glancing up from your work only to find him already looking away.

The room had never truly been silent while you occupied it.

Now…

It was.

Matthew landed on the edge of Morpheus's desk with a soft flutter of black wings.

"You've been staring over there for a while."

Morpheus did not answer.

Matthew followed his gaze toward your empty chair.

"…You miss her."

"I do not."

The raven tilted his head.

"You've read the same page four times."

"I am considering it."

"You forgot to sign three decrees."

Silence.

" Boss…You also called Lucienne by your wife's name yesterday."

Morpheus's jaw tightened.

Matthew immediately regretted saying it aloud.

"…Right."

"Probably shouldn't have mentioned that."

Another long silence settled between them.

Finally, Morpheus spoke.

"The palace is…"

He stopped.

Matthew waited.

"…Different."

The raven gave the smallest smile a raven could manage.

"I think the word you're looking for is lonely."

Morpheus said nothing.

Because denying it would have been dishonest.

That evening, instead of returning directly to his chambers, his feet carried him elsewhere.

He stood outside your room.

The door remained exactly as you had left it.

He hesitated.

Then, with a quiet wave of his hand, the door opened.

Everything was untouched.

Your favorite books rested upon the shelves.

A shawl lay draped across the arm of a chair.

Fresh flowers—placed there by the attendants days ago—had already begun to wilt.

The room still carried the faint scent of your perfume.

He stepped inside.

Slowly.

Almost cautiously.

As though entering a place that no longer belonged to him.

His fingers brushed over the spine of one of your books.

A small smile threatened to appear as he remembered the afternoon you had insisted he read it with you.

He had refused.

Claiming he had work to finish.

You had laughed.

"You always have work to finish."

He had answered…

"I shall read it tomorrow."

Tomorrow.

The word echoed bitterly in his mind.

He had said tomorrow so many times that eventually there had been no tomorrows left to give.

Morpheus lowered himself into the chair beside the window.

For the first time in centuries…

The King of Dreams simply sat in silence.

Not because there was work to be done.

But because the woman he loved was no longer there to fill the silence beside him.

Only then did he understand.

He had never grown accustomed to your absence.

He had merely convinced himself that he could.

Morning followed morning, each one arriving exactly as the last.

The Dreaming continued to breathe.

Dreams were woven.

Nightmares were restrained.

Petitions arrived in endless stacks upon his desk.

Nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

Morpheus settled into his chair before dawn, as he always did. Scrolls accumulated one after another, disappearing beneath his gloved hands almost as quickly as they arrived. He signed decrees without hesitation, reviewed reports with practiced precision, and issued silent commands that rippled across the Dreaming.

Yet, without realizing it, his gaze wandered.

Always to the desk opposite his own.

Empty.

He looked away.

Moments later, his eyes returned to it again.

The chair remained untouched.

The ink bottle had long since dried.

The feather quill rested exactly where you had left it.

No one dared disturb your side of the study.

Neither did he.

Days became a week.

The attendants quietly replaced the candles beside your desk.

They dusted the shelves.

Changed the flowers.

Folded the blanket that had been draped over the back of your chair.

Everything else remained untouched.

Morpheus noticed every change.

Every missing flower.

Every newly lit candle.

Every object that had shifted even the slightest distance from where you had left it.

One afternoon, he rose from his desk without thinking.

His steps carried him across the room.

His fingers reached for a report lying upon your desk.

Instead, they stopped beside the quill.

He stared at it.

For a long while.

Then carefully placed it back into the exact position it had rested before.

Almost instinctively.

As though preserving the illusion that you might return at any moment.

The palace corridors had never seemed so long.

His footsteps echoed through halls that once carried two sets instead of one.

Without meaning to, he slowed whenever he approached places the two of you had often passed together.

The western balcony.

The library.

The greenhouse hidden beneath endless starlight.

He never stepped inside.

He merely paused.

Looked.

Then continued walking.

Night offered no relief.

The bedchamber remained as immaculate as ever.

One side untouched.

The pillows perfectly arranged.

The blankets smooth where no one had slept.

At least, he tried to.

His eyes lingered on the same sentence until the candle beside him had nearly burned itself away.

Eventually, the book closed.

He looked toward your empty side of the bed.

His hand rested upon the mattress.

The sheets were cold.

Every night.

Work no longer ended inside the study.

He carried reports into the library.

To the throne room.

Onto the palace balconies.

Even into the gardens.

Anywhere except the study.

Because the moment he returned…

The empty desk greeted him before anything else.

Matthew often watched from the highest bookshelves.

The raven noticed things others did not.

How Morpheus unconsciously prepared two cups of tea before realizing only one would be used.

How his eyes lifted whenever footsteps echoed beyond the study doors.

How, for the briefest instant, expectation softened his features…

Only to disappear when another attendant entered instead.

How every evening, just before leaving the study, he looked toward your chair one last time.

Every.

Single.

Evening.

The Dreaming itself seemed to notice.

Dreams wandered more quietly through the palace.

The ravens perched silently upon the marble arches.

Even the wind carried fewer whispers through the endless halls.

The kingdom reflected its king.

And its king had become quieter than ever before.

One rainy evening, Morpheus found himself standing before the enormous window overlooking the Dreaming.

Rain never truly fell there.

Not unless he wished it to.

Still…

Dark clouds drifted across the endless sky.

His reflection stared back at him.

Motionless.

Alone.

Behind him, the study remained empty.

Before him stretched an infinite kingdom.

He ruled every dream ever dreamed.

Countless souls.

Countless worlds.

Yet none of it filled the quiet space left behind by a single person.

…

Days blurred into one another.

He no longer kept track of how many had passed.

The reports did.

Each pile growing higher before disappearing beneath endless hours of work.

Sometimes, without noticing, his hand reached toward the opposite side of the desk with a document already prepared.

Waiting.

Only to stop halfway.

There was no one there to receive it.

His hand slowly lowered once more.

Late one evening, exhaustion finally settled upon him.

Not the exhaustion that sleep could mend.

A different kind.

He leaned back within his chair, allowing his gaze to drift across the study one final time before leaving.

The candles flickered softly.

Books rested neatly upon their shelves.

The silence remained unchanged.

His eyes found your desk again.

This time...

He did not look away.

He simply watched it.

For minutes.

Perhaps longer.

As though expecting the chair to scrape softly across the floor.

As though expecting the familiar rustle of parchment.

As though expecting you to quietly take your seat, offer him the faintest smile, and return to your work without a word.

Nothing happened.

The room remained still.

Only then did he lower his head.

His eyes closed for the briefest moment.

And for the first time since your departure...

The King of Dreams allowed himself to feel the full weight of your absence.

Another report found its place among the countless others upon his desk.

Without looking, Morpheus reached for it, his attention fixed on the pages already spread before him.

His fingers paused.

There—

Written across the corner of the parchment in elegant familiar handwriting.

Your name.

For the first time in days, his expression shifted.

His hand moved almost instinctively, drawing the document closer.

The ink was unmistakable.

The graceful curves of each letter.

The careful strokes.

He knew that handwriting.

He had watched it fill endless pages across the desk opposite his own for centuries.

His thumb brushed lightly over the ink.

Nothing.

No lingering trace of magic.

No scent of your perfume.

Only parchment.

For a fleeting heartbeat, he allowed himself to believe.

Perhaps you had returned.

Perhaps Lucienne had forgotten to mention it.

Perhaps—

He lifted the report.

Your name vanished.

Another blink.

The elegant handwriting dissolved before his eyes, replaced by the title of an ordinary petition.

Morpheus remained perfectly still.

His fingers tightened ever so slightly around the parchment.

The room was silent.

He lowered the report.

Your name did not return.

It had never been there.

Only his weary mind, longing for a presence it had grown too accustomed to losing.

Slowly, he set the parchment aside.

For the first time in centuries...

The King of Dreams questioned his own perception.

Not because dreams deceived him.

But because grief had begun to.

He closed his eyes.

When they opened again, his gaze drifted—almost against his will—to the empty desk across the room.

It remained exactly as it always had.

Waiting.

Just as he was.

The familiar sound of footsteps echoed through the palace corridors.

Soft.

Unhurried.

For a fleeting moment, Morpheus paid them no mind. The Dreaming welcomed visitors every day.

Another page turned beneath his hand.

Then…

Silence.

A silence that felt different.

His quill came to a halt.

He looked up.

You stood in the doorway.

Travel-worn robes still clung to your shoulders, dust from distant temples tracing their hems. Your hair had loosened during the journey, and exhaustion lingered in your eyes.

Yet you smiled.

A small smile.

One he had not seen in far too long.

Neither of you spoke.

The distance between the doorway and his desk suddenly felt unbearable.

Slowly, Morpheus rose from his chair.

His gaze never left yours.

One step.

Then another.

You watched him in quiet surprise.

He rarely abandoned his work.

Never before had he crossed the room first.

He stopped only when he stood before you.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

His hand rose carefully, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face.

His fingertips lingered against your cheek.

As though reassuring himself that you were truly there.

That this was no illusion.

No cruel trick born from longing.

You breathed his name in little more than a whisper.

Before another word could leave your lips, he closed the remaining distance.

His hands found your waist with unexpected certainty, drawing you gently against him.

Then he kissed you.

Not hurriedly.

Not desperately.

Slowly.

Tenderly.

Like a man who had spent every passing day wishing for the moment he could finally do so again.

When the kiss ended, your forehead rested against his.

For several quiet moments, neither of you spoke.

You searched his face, still trying to understand what had just happened.

A faint, almost disbelieving smile tugged at your lips.

"You never would've done that before."

Your voice was soft, carrying neither accusation nor anger.

Only wonder.

"You would've stayed behind your desk."

His eyes lowered for the briefest moment before returning to yours.

The silence between you no longer felt empty.

It felt honest.

His thumb traced a slow circle against the back of your hand, as though making up for every touch he had withheld.

The reports still waited.

The Dreaming still needed its king.

Your temple would soon call for its queen again.

Neither of you had forgotten your duties.

But for the first time in what felt like an eternity…

Neither of you reached for them.

Instead, Morpheus leaned forward once more, resting his forehead against yours, unwilling to let even an inch of distance return between you.

A faint breath escaped him.

His thumb lingered against your cheek, as if afraid that the moment he let go, you would disappear again.

"I know."

The words were quiet.

Almost regretful.

"I should have."

His gaze softened, something rare flickering behind those endless blue eyes.

"I mistook duty for devotion."

A brief silence settled between you.

"I believed that providing for our realms was enough..."

His fingers gently intertwined with yours.

"...and I failed to see that I was neglecting the one person I wished to protect the most."

His eyes never left yours.

"I have spent every day since your departure wishing I had crossed that room."

His voice fell to little more than a whisper.

"So..."

His forehead rested lightly against yours once again.

"I crossed it now."

For a moment, you simply stared at him.

Your brows lifted in disbelief before a small laugh escaped your lips.

"...Who are you?"

He blinked once.

"You've never greeted me like this."

Another laugh slipped free, warmer this time.

You gently cupped his face, tilting it from one side to the other as though inspecting him.

"...Did something fall on your head while I was gone?"

The corners of your lips curved into an amused smile.

"Or did Matthew finally convince the King of Dreams to behave like a husband?"

For the briefest moment, Morpheus remained perfectly still.

Then, something almost imperceptible softened in his expression.

The faintest ghost of a smile touched his lips.

His hand settled over yours where it rested against his cheek.

"No."

A pause.

"I simply grew tired of pretending that your absence did not affect me."

His gaze searched yours with quiet certainty.

"It did."

"It always did."

A smile found your lips before you could stop it.

"You truly missed me."

It wasn't a question.

It was quiet certainty.

Morpheus did not answer.

He had never been a man who spoke his heart with ease.

Instead, his hand slipped gently into yours.

His fingers intertwined with yours as though they had been searching for them all along.

He lifted your hand slowly, pressing a lingering kiss against your knuckles.

His eyes never left yours.

The gesture was so gentle…

So unlike the distance that had stood between you for weeks…

…that it stole the breath from your lungs.

"You are trying very hard to make me believe this is real."

His thumb brushed absentmindedly over the back of your hand.

"It is."

You laughed softly.

"I leave for a few weeks and suddenly my husband remembers he has a wife."

For the first time in what felt like centuries, a faint chuckle escaped him.

Barely audible.

Yet unmistakably real.

The sound made you stare at him in astonishment.

"There it is."

You stepped closer.

"I was beginning to think I'd imagined that laugh."

"There is much you have forgotten."

"Oh?"

You raised an eyebrow.

"Then remind me."

Without another word, he closed the small distance between you.

His forehead rested against yours once more.

His nose brushed lightly against your own.

His hand rose to your cheek, cradling it with a tenderness that seemed almost hesitant—as though he feared moving too quickly would shatter the moment. He kissed you.

"I remembered," he murmured quietly, "that eternity means very little…"

His thumb traced your cheekbone.

"…if I spend it without you beside me."

Your playful smile slowly faded into something softer.

Your eyes glistened.

"You've become terribly poetic."

"I have become honest."

The confession settled gently between you.

No grand declaration.

No elaborate speech.

Only the truth.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

You simply listened.

The slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His arms tightened around you—not enough to hurt, only enough to make it unmistakably clear that he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

The room around you disappeared.

The reports waiting upon the desk.

The endless petitions.

The responsibilities that never ceased.

None of them mattered.

Not for this moment.

Morpheus lowered another kiss to your forehead.

Then to your temple.

Finally, he rested his cheek lightly against your hair and closed his eyes.

He had ruled the Dreaming for longer than memory itself.

He had witnessed kingdoms rise and fall.

Stars born and extinguished.

Endless stories beginning and ending.

Yet nothing…

Nothing had ever felt as precious as holding you again after believing, if only for a little while, that duty had stolen you from him.

And this time—

He chose not to let the moment pass.

He simply held you.

As though making up for every embrace he had never given.

Every goodbye he had made too quickly.

Every "tomorrow" that had never come.

His embrace tightened ever so slightly.

Not enough to imprison you.

Only enough to remind you that you were finally home.

He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours with a quiet sincerity you had not seen in a very long time.

"I cannot promise that my duties will disappear."

His thumb gently brushed your cheek.

"Nor would I ask you to abandon yours."

A small silence settled between you.

This time…

It felt warm.

"But I can promise you this…"

His voice softened.

"No duty will ever make me forget you again."

He leaned down, pressing another gentle kiss to your forehead before meeting your gaze once more.

"I have spent far too long believing that loving you in silence was enough."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"I was wrong."

Your heart skipped.

Morpheus lifted your hand once more, holding it carefully between both of his.

As though it were something precious.

Something irreplaceable.

"From this day forward…"

His blue eyes never left yours.

"I shall make time for you, my Queen."

The words were spoken with quiet conviction.

Not as a promise made in the heat of emotion.

But as an oath.

"You deserve more than the moments left behind after my work is done."

His fingers intertwined with yours.

"You deserve my time."

Another small smile appeared on your lips.

"So…"

You tilted your head, teasing him gently.

"Does this mean the King of Dreams is finally scheduling time for his wife?"

The faint smile on his face deepened, almost imperceptibly.

"It means…"

He brushed a kiss against your forehead.

"…that my Queen shall no longer come second to my duties."

Then he looked at you with all the quiet devotion he had hidden for far too long.

"You are my greatest responsibility."

"…and my greatest joy."

He took your hand. You looked at him in surprise.

"Hey, where are we going?"

He pulled your arm without looking at you. You burst out laughing. You hadn't laughed that much in a long time.

"Morpheus, stop! You'll make me fall!"

Your laughter echoed through the endless corridors of the palace, bright enough to chase away the silence that had lingered there for weeks.

You gathered the fabric of your gown as you hurried forward, glancing over your shoulder.

Morpheus followed only a few steps behind.

Not with his usual measured pace.

He was actually trying to catch you.

The sight alone was enough to make you laugh even harder.

"You are smiling!"

You pointed at him with mock astonishment.

"The King of Dreams is smiling."

A faint smile lingered on his lips.

"I fail to see why that is surprising."

"Because you never do."

"I have been informed otherwise."

You laughed again before turning another corner.

"I wonder who told you that."

"I believe it was my wife."

"Oh? She sounds very wise."

"She is."

You placed a hand dramatically over your heart.

"Flattery?"

"I am merely stating a fact."

You shook your head, unable to hide your grin.

"I leave for a few weeks and suddenly my husband becomes charming."

Before you could take another step, a gentle tug around your waist stopped you.

You usurped as strong arms pulled you backward.

A small laugh escaped your lips as you found yourself pressed against his chest.

"I caught you."

"You cheated."

"I adapted."

You turned to face him, your hands resting against his chest.

"I was going to let you win."

"I find it difficult to believe."

"It is true."

"It is not."

You laughed so hard you nearly doubled over.

"There he is."

"Who is there?"

"My husband."

Your smile softened.

"I've missed him."

Morpheus looked at you for a long moment.

Then, without a word, he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"I missed you as well."

Your teasing expression melted into something infinitely softer.

You stepped closer until there was no space left between you.

"And what now, Your Majesty?"

His gloved hand found yours.

"Now…"

He brought your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against your knuckles.

"…I intend to make up for every moment I allowed duty to steal from us."

You smiled.

"That could take centuries."

A faint smile curved his lips.

"We have centuries."

He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours.

"And this time…"

His voice was little more than a whisper.

"I intend to spend them with you."

He suddenly pressed his lips against yours.

It was unexpected.

He dragged you to the bed you shared, or the one where he lay down for you.

Morpheus never slept. He was the king of dreams. He didn't need sleep.

He gently laid you down on the bed. You made love.

Everything was forgotten.

Kingdom

Duties

Responsibility

Morpheus gently buried his face in the curve of her neck. He was silent for a moment; then, his voice reached her ear in a whisper so low only you could hear it.

"I will make you scream until the dawn comes."

Morpheus exhaled a quiet laugh against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone as he shifted slightly—his weight pressing you deeper into the mattress. His fingers carded gently through your hair, fingertips catching on stray strands with idle affection.

The room was silent save for the occasional rustle of sheets and Morpheus’ slow breathing. He tilted his head just enough to press a kiss below your ear—soft, lingering—before settling back down with a sigh of utter satisfaction.

He shifted slightly, his arm tightening around your waist as he nestled closer—his face now buried against the curve of your neck. A soft sigh escaped him, warm and sleepy, before he pressed a featherlight kiss just below your jaw.

The room was quiet except for the occasional creak of settling furniture. Moonlight spilled through the window in silver ribbons across tangled sheets—illuminating Morpheus’ dark lashes and relaxed expression as exhaustion finally began to pull him under.

Morpheus stirred in the silent darkness, his fingers tracing absentmindedly across your arm as he watched you; his expression tender, almost curious. The moonlight painted him in soft shades of blue and gray, highlighting the curve of a smile on his face when he realized you were awake.

Without a word, he leaned down and kissed you gently; a deep but tender kiss that lingered long, like a promise. When he pulled back a few inches to catch his breath, his thumb touched your cheekbone with feather-light care.

You murmured contentedly, smiling.

Morpheus exhaled slowly, his lips parting as he gathered his thoughts. His voice was quiet but steady when he finally spoke.

"I love you."

The words were simple, honest - no grand speech or dramatic flourish needed. Just three syllables that carried the weight of everything unsaid between them.

He didn't look away after saying it, holding your gaze with an intensity that made his sincerity undeniable. There was no hesitation in him now - just raw vulnerability laid bare

Morpheus sat up slightly, the sheets pooling around his waist as he turned fully towards you. His expression was solemn yet unbearably soft - like a man making an oath he intended to keep until his dying breath.

"Listen to me," he began, voice low but carrying every ounce of conviction,* "I swear on my name, on every star in the sky and drop of water in this world - I will never hurt you. Not intentionally. Not carelessly."

He reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away if needed before cupping your face with both hands.

"I love you my king."

"I love you my queen."

The Land of Dreams was silent.

It wasn't empty—never empty—but it was enveloped in a silence only dreams could comprehend. The library slept beneath its endless shelves, ravens glided across the silver sky, and distant stars twinkled above the palace.

You were asleep.

Curled up on a velvet sofa in the throne room, half-hidden under a cloak that was far too big for you.

Morpheus's coat.

The first time, everyone had assumed it was an accident.

You had fallen asleep while waiting for him to return from looking at a dream. His cloak hung on the armrest of the throne, and you had wrapped it around yourself without thinking.

When Morpheus returned, Lucienne expected him to retrieve it.

He didn't.

He simply looked at you for a long time before turning away.

After that…

It became a habit.

Whenever Morpheus vanished into another realm, his cloak somehow remained behind.

And somehow…

It always appeared on your shoulders.

Matthew was the first to notice.

"You know," murmured the crow one afternoon, "I don't think it's a coincidence."

Lucienne smiled without lifting her head from the book in her hand.

"I don't think so."

The cloak smelled faintly of rain, old paper, and the cold night air.

It carried the silent magic of dreams.

You never admitted it aloud, but you slept better when you wrapped yourself in it.

Nightmares didn't reach you.

It was easy to rest.

Perhaps the Dream King's magic remained in every thread.

Or perhaps…

It was simply because it belonged to him.

One evening, Morpheus returned earlier than expected.

You hadn't heard him. He stood in the doorway. There you were again.

Curled in the enormous black cloak, one hand clutching the fabric tightly, you were in a deep sleep, as if someone were about to take you away.

Matthew landed beside you.

"…Are you going to wake him up, boss?"

"No."

"You've been saying 'no' for three weeks."

Morpheus remained silent. The crow tilted its head to the side.

"You know… you can tell her."

"I told her."

Matthew winked.

"…When?"

Morpheus's gaze never left you.

"I'm leaving the coat."

A gentle breeze swept through the palace.

The edge of your coat slipped from your shoulder.

Morpheus approached without saying a word.

He knelt beside the sofa and gently pulled your coat back over you.

His fingers paused for just a moment.

Long enough to push a strand of hair away from your face.

You stirred slightly.

Your eyes were only half-open.

"…You're back…"

"I am."

A sleepy smile flickered before you closed your eyes again.

"…Good."

Within seconds you drifted off to sleep again. You were still holding the edge of your cloak.

Matthew whispered softly after watching the scene unfold,

"…You'll never get that coat back, will you?"

For the first time that evening, the corners of Morpheus's lips curved upwards in the smallest, almost invisible smile.

"I don't think I want to. My coat suits her very well."

"Did she tell you why?"

Morpheus turned his head toward you.

"No. But I'll find out."

The corners of his lips curved into a half-smile. He fixed his gaze on you again. Matthew flapped his wings and flew to the other side of the library, leaving you alone.

The coat was too big for you. Yet you wore it, and strangely, Morpheus liked it.

Seeing you wear something that belonged to him made him happy.

The following morning, the palace stirred before you did.

Lucienne was already in the library, arranging newly collected dreams upon their shelves. Matthew perched on a nearby ladder, occasionally offering commentary that no one had asked for.

Neither of them disturbed you.

You were still asleep on the velvet sofa, wrapped from shoulders to ankles in Morpheus's black coat.

Only your face remained visible.

Matthew glanced toward the throne.

"So… are you finally going to ask for it back?"

Morpheus did not raise his eyes from the book resting in his hands.

"No."

"You own exactly one coat."

"I am aware."

"You've been wearing the same clothes for a century because someone stole your favorite one."

"It has not been stolen."

Matthew let out an exaggerated sigh.

"It practically lives with her now."

Silence answered him.

Morpheus finally looked up.

His gaze is settled on you.

The cloak was several sizes too large. It pooled around you like liquid midnight, swallowing your hands, your feet, nearly your entire figure.

I swear…

It belonged there.

He couldn't explain why.

Perhaps because every time he found you sleeping beneath it, you looked peaceful.

Safe.

The kind of peace he rarely witnessed within himself.

A soft movement caught his attention.

You shifted in your sleep, unconsciously pulling the cloak closer around your body.

As if searching for warmth.

Or familiarity.

Morpheus rose from his throne.

Without a sound, he crossed the hall.

Matthew watched him from above.

"There he goes again."

Lucienne smiled faintly.

"He believes we do not notice."

"We absolutely notice."

Morpheus ignored them both.

He stopped beside the sofa.

For several quiet moments, he simply stood there.

Watching you breathe.

Watching the slow rise and fall of your chest beneath the folds of his cloak.

You looked…

Comfortable.

Content.

Dreaming happily.

It was a sight he found himself returning to more often than he cared to admit.

His hand hovered above the fabric.

Not to take it back.

Never take it back.

Only to smooth a wrinkle near your shoulder.

His fingertips barely brushed the heavy black cloth before you stirred.

Your fingers instinctively searched for the edge of the cloak.

Finding it.

Holding it tighter.

A sleepy murmur escaped your lips.

"…Please don't take it…"

The words were little more than a whisper.

You weren't even awake.

Yet they made Morpheus pause.

His expression softened almost imperceptibly.

"I won't," he answered quietly.

"You may keep it for as long as you wish."

You never heard him.

Already, sleep had claimed you once more.

But somewhere within your dream…

The cold night no longer felt quite so cold.

No one knew how you had arrived in the Dreaming.

Not Lucienne.

Not Matthew.

Not even Morpheus himself.

One night, you simply appeared at the palace gates.

There had been no disturbance in the dreaming, no broken barrier between realms, no forgotten spell. You stood beneath the pale moonlight with no memory of how you had found the kingdom, only the certainty that you were meant to be there.

Morpheus had searched every corner of the Dreaming and beyond for an explanation.

He found none.

So you stayed.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks quietly slipped into months. The Dreaming slowly became familiar to you. You learned the endless corridors by heart, spent quiet afternoons in the library with Lucienne, listened to Matthew's endless chatter, and found comfort in the peaceful silence that surrounded the palace.

But there was one thing you could never quite understand.

Its king.

Morpheus rarely smiled. His words were measured, his expressions unreadable, and yet… beneath all that endless darkness, you noticed countless small acts of kindness that no one else seemed to acknowledge. The way he slowed his pace whenever you walked beside him, how he always made sure the palace remained warm on nights you couldn't sleep, or how his coat was somehow always within reach whenever exhaustion overtook you.

You never asked why.

You simply wrapped yourself in the heavy black coat, closed your eyes, and fell asleep.

Somewhere along the way, your admiration for the King of Dreams became something gentler… and far more dangerous.

You found yourself searching for him without meaning to. Every room felt quieter when he wasn't there, and every time his voice broke the silence, your heart responded before your mind could.

You liked him.

Far more than you ever intended to.

What you didn't know was that Morpheus had never expected to feel the same.

Love had brought him grief before.

He believed himself beyond such feelings.

Yet every time he saw you asleep in his coat, every time your eyes searched for him the moment he entered a room, or every time your laughter echoed through the palace, something within the Dream King softened.

It frightened him more than any nightmare ever could.

It started so quietly that neither of you noticed.

On a particularly cold evening, you had been reading in the library while Morpheus attended to matters elsewhere in the Dreaming. Hours passed, the fire burned low, and exhaustion eventually pulled at your eyes. Looking around for a blanket, you found none.

Only his coat.

It had been resting neatly over the back of a chair.

You hesitated.

You knew it belonged to the King of Dreams. Touching it almost felt… improper.

Still, the room had grown colder.

"Just for a little while," you whispered to yourself.

The heavy black coat settled over your shoulders with surprising ease. It was far too large, the sleeves covering your hands entirely, the hem pooling around your feet. Yet it carried a comforting warmth that had nothing to do with the fire.

You were asleep within minutes.

When Morpheus returned, he found you curled up in one of the library's armchairs, his book resting forgotten on your lap and his coat wrapped securely around you.

He should have taken it back.

Instead, he stood there in silence.

His gaze lingered on the way you instinctively buried yourself deeper into the fabric, as though it made you feel safe.

For reasons he could not explain…

He liked seeing you wear it.

From that night on, it happened again.

And again.

Whenever sleep found you, his coat was never far away.

Sometimes you discovered it folded over the arm of the sofa before you even realized you were tired. Other times it appeared across the back of your chair, waiting as though someone had placed it there only moments before.

You never questioned it.

You simply smiled to yourself, wrapped it around your shoulders, and let sleep claim you.

Eventually, it became a familiar sight throughout the palace.

If someone couldn't find you, they only had to look for Morpheus's coat.

Because wherever it was…

You were never far away.

You stood on the high balcony overlooking the land of dreams, taking a sip of perfume, when you heard footsteps behind you. You didn't turn your gaze because you knew who it was.

Morpheus.

Your eyes closed involuntarily as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You surrendered yourself, like an angel. You were in safe hands.

His eyelids closed too. You felt it.

His coat brushed against your sleeves, its fabric cool beneath your fingertips, while the steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound between you.

Your eyes fluttered shut.

For the first time that day, the endless thoughts in your mind became still.

Morpheus lowered his head slightly until his forehead rested against your temple. His eyes closed as well, and for a long moment neither of you moved. The wind carried strands of your hair across his shoulder, and his fingers instinctively tightened ever so slightly around your waist, as if afraid the breeze itself might steal you away.

A faint smile tugged at your lips.

You covered one of his hands with your own, your thumb absentmindedly tracing over his gloved knuckles. He answered by intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand with a quiet certainty that needed no explanation.

The stars above continued to drift across the endless sky.

Neither of you watched them.

Instead, you found yourself absentmindedly smoothing the sleeve of his black coat before resting your cheek against his shoulder. The familiar scent of rain, old books, and midnight surrounded you once again, and you couldn't help smiling a little wider.

Morpheus noticed.

He tilted his head just enough to look at you, his expression softer than anyone else in the Dreaming would have believed possible. One corner of his lips lifted into the faintest smile before he pressed a gentle kiss against your hair.

Neither of you spoke.

There was nothing that needed to be said.

In the quiet heart of the Dreaming, his arms around you felt more like home than any place ever could.

"Don't you have anything to do?" you murmured.

He pulled you tightly to his chest. He closed his eyes once more.

"Don't you enjoy being in my arms?"

You rolled your eyes. You sighed.

"You know I do."

"There is always something that requires my attention," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It can wait."

You let out a soft laugh.

"The Lord of Dreams… postponing his duties for me?"

"I did not say I was postponing them."

"You just did."

"I didn't."

A smile tugged at your lips as you shook your head. There was no point arguing with him when he chose to be impossibly stubborn.

Your fingers wandered to the front of his coat, absentmindedly smoothing a crease near one of the buttons. The familiar fabric slipped beneath your fingertips, earning a curious glance from him.

"You really like this coat, don't you?" he asked.

You looked down for a moment before smiling to yourself.

"I think…"

Your fingers curled lightly around the lapel.

"…it reminds me of you and your scent is on your coat."

Morpheus remained silent.

"It smells like rain," you continued. "And old books. Whenever I wear it…" You searched for the right words before looking up at him. "…everything feels quieter."

His gaze softened almost imperceptibly.

"So that's why you keep stealing it."

"I don't steal it."

"No?"

You raised an eyebrow.

"It somehow appears wherever I fall asleep."

For the first time in a long while, Morpheus looked almost… caught.

You watched the smallest flicker cross his face before his eyes drifted away.

"…It does."

A knowing smile spread across your lips.

"You leave it there."

Silence.

"You do."

Another pause.

Finally, without meeting your eyes, he answered,

"…Perhaps."

A quiet laugh escaped you.

"So it wasn't Lucienne."

"No."

"Oh Matthew."

"No."

You turned in his arms until you were facing him completely.

"So every time I've fallen asleep…"

"…It was I."

The words were spoken so simply, as though there had never been any reason to hide them.

You searched his face for a long moment before your smile softened into something gentler.

"I always wondered why I slept so peacefully whenever I had your coat."

Without thinking, you reached up and adjusted the collar of his coat, your fingertips lingering there for a heartbeat.

"I guess…"

Your eyes met his.

"…it always felt like you were there with me."

For a moment, the King of Dreams forgot every duty waiting beyond the palace walls.

All he could think about was the warmth of your hands against his coat—and the quiet certainty that, somehow, they had found their way home.

You smiled to yourself before looking up at him.

"I don't think you're complaining either."

A quiet silence settled between you.

Morpheus tilted his head ever so slightly.

"No?"

You shook your head.

"If it truly bothered you…" Your fingers brushed absentmindedly over the lapel of his coat. "…you would've taken it back the very first time."

His gaze followed the movement of your hand.

"But you never did."

You looked into his blue eyes, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

"You leave it wherever I am."

Another pause.

"You drape it over me when I fall asleep."

Your smile softened.

"And every morning…"

"…you pretend it simply found its way back to me."

For perhaps the first time in centuries, the King of Dreams found himself without an immediate answer.

Instead, his thumb slowly traced circles against your waist.

His expression remained composed, but there was something undeniably gentle in his eyes.

"…You are observant."

"I learned from watching you."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"It appears I have been less subtle than I believed."

"Oh, you were subtle."

You stepped a little closer until there was barely any space between you.

"I just know you too well."

His eyes lingered on yours for a long moment before he lowered his forehead to yours once again.

"…I do not mind that."

"Good," you whispered with a smile.

"Because I have no intention of giving your coat back."

A small smile spread across your lips.

"You know…"

You gently brushed a speck of dust from the lapel of his coat before looking up at him.

"…I think I love your coat a little too much."

Morpheus watched you in silence.

One of his brows lifted almost imperceptibly.

"So…"

His hand slid a little higher around your waist.

"You are rather fond of my coat."

You nodded.

"I am."

A faint hum escaped him.

"Hm."

His blue eyes searched yours for a long moment before the smallest hint of amusement appeared in them.

"And do you love it…"

He leaned down slightly, his forehead almost touching yours.

"…as much as you love its owner?"

For a heartbeat, you simply stared at him.

Then you laughed softly.

"Are you jealous…"

Your fingers curled around the front of his coat.

"…of your own coat?"

His expression remained perfectly composed.

"I merely wish to know where I stand."

You smiled, reaching up to cradle his face.

"The coat comes with you, doesn't it?"

"It does."

"Then my answer is obvious."

His gaze softened.

"So…"

You rose onto your toes and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips.

"I choose you."

A rare, genuine smile touched Morpheus's face.

"I find that answer… acceptable."

For a moment, you simply stared at him.

Then a laugh escaped your lips.

It started as a quiet chuckle before growing into warm, genuine laughter that echoed across the balcony.

Morpheus watched you without interrupting.

His expression remained as calm as ever, though the faintest curve touched the corner of his mouth.

You shook your head, still laughing.

"You are unbelievable."

"I am?"

"You are jealous of your own coat."

"I asked a reasonable question."

"Oh, did you?"

You stepped closer, slipping your hands beneath the lapels of his coat.

"…You're like a child."

Morpheus blinked once.

"A child."

"Mhm."

"You wanted to know whether I loved you more than your coat."

Another laugh escaped you.

"Only you would ask something like that."

He considered your words for a brief moment before replying in his usual composed tone.

"I wished to know the answer."

"You already knew the answer."

"I preferred hearing it from you."

Your smile softened instantly.

You reached up, gently smoothing a strand of dark hair away from his forehead before cupping his cheek.

"You really are impossible."

"And yet…"

His hand found yours, intertwining his fingers with yours.

"…you remain."

"I always will."

At that, the smallest, almost imperceptible smile appeared on the Dream King's face.

It was all the answer either of you needed.

Morpheus regarded you for a long moment.

"…No one has ever called me a child before."

His voice was calm as always, yet there was unmistakable curiosity beneath it.

You couldn't help laughing again.

"Well…"

You reached up and gently cupped his face between your hands.

"…have you seen the way you look at people?"

One of his brows rose.

"I have."

"That look alone could make anyone forget their own name."

A quiet laugh escaped you as you traced your thumb across his cheek.

"You always stand so tall, dressed in black, with that serious expression."

You tried your best to imitate him, lowering your voice dramatically.

"'I am Dream of the Endless.'"

Morpheus blinked.

"…Is that truly how you see me?"

"That's how everyone sees you."

You smiled warmly.

"They're terrified of you."

He fell silent.

Your grin only widened.

"But I know better."

You leaned in until your foreheads touched.

"I know the Morpheus who quietly leaves his coat beside me whenever I fall asleep."

"The one who pretends it happens by accident."

"The one who asks if I love his coat more than I love him."

Another soft laugh escaped you.

"So yes…"

You gently pinched his cheek.

"…you're a little childish sometimes."

For a heartbeat, Morpheus simply looked at you.

Then, to your quiet satisfaction, the faintest smile appeared on his lips.

"…I shall choose to take that as a compliment."

"It was one."

"I suspected as much."

You smiled and slipped your arms around his neck.

"I like this version of you much more than the terrifying King of Dreams."

"And which version is that?"

"The one who gets jealous of his own coat."

This time, even Morpheus couldn't entirely hide his smile.

A few days later, Morpheus returned to the throne room after tending to the Dreaming.

The room was unusually quiet.

He glanced toward the chair where he had left his coat.

It was gone.

His gaze swept across the hall before settling on the library.

There you were.

Curled up in one of the oversized armchairs with a book resting open on your lap, his black coat wrapped around your shoulders as though it had always belonged there.

He walked over without making a sound.

You didn't notice him until his shadow fell across the page.

Looking up, you smiled innocently.

"...Hello."

Morpheus looked from your face to his coat.

"You are wearing my coat."

"I noticed."

"You took it."

"I borrowed it."

"You did not ask."

You closed your book and looked at him with an amused smile.

"Would you have said yes?"

For a brief moment, he considered the question.

"...Yes."

You blinked.

"...Really?"

"I have yet to refuse you anything."

Your smile faltered for just a second.

"You could've at least pretended to think about it."

"I did."

"For two seconds."

"I deemed them sufficient."

A laugh escaped your lips.

"You know..."

You rose from the chair and walked toward him, the oversized sleeves slipping over your hands.

Silence settled between you.

The teasing smile on Morpheus's face softened into something quieter.

You reached for the collar, intending to take the coat off.

"I should probably give it back."

Before you could slip it from your shoulders, his hand gently closed around your wrist.

"There is no need."

You looked up.

"If it brings you comfort..."

His thumb brushed lightly against the sleeve.

"...keep wearing it."

A warm smile spread across your face.

"So..."

"You've officially accepted that it's my coat now?"

"It remains mine."

You tilted your head.

"But I'm wearing it."

"You are."

"And I sleep in it."

"You do."

"And everyone thinks it's mine."

Morpheus held your gaze for a long moment before the faintest smile touched his lips.

"...Then I suppose they will simply have to remember whose shoulders it belonged to first."

You laughed, unable to hide the happiness in your eyes.

"You're impossible."

"And yet..."

His hand found yours beneath the oversized sleeve.

"...you continue to steal my coat."

"I'll never stop."

"I know."

For reasons neither of you cared to question anymore...

He no longer wanted you to.

The coat never truly left your shoulders.

Sometimes you wore it while reading in the library, sometimes while wandering the endless gardens, and almost every evening you fell asleep wrapped inside it before Morpheus had the chance to tell you to get some rest.

One afternoon, however, something was different.

You found a neatly folded box waiting on the table in your room.

A small note rested on top.

For you.

There was no signature.

There didn't need to be.

You smiled to yourself as you lifted the lid.

Inside lay a beautiful black coat.

Its tailoring was exquisite, the fabric impossibly soft, embroidered with delicate silver patterns that caught the light like distant stars.

Your smile lingered…

…before slowly fading.

That evening, you found Morpheus standing on the palace balcony, watching the endless sky.

He turned as you approached.

"I received your gift."

His eyes fell to the coat folded carefully in your arms.

"Do you dislike it?"

"No."

You shook your head gently.

"It's beautiful."

Silence settled between you.

"…But?"

You looked down at the coat in your hands before letting out a quiet breath.

"It isn't yours."

For the first time, Morpheus said nothing.

You smiled sheepishly.

"I know it probably sounds ridiculous."

"It does not."

"I tried wearing it."

You laughed softly.

"It was warm."

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the silver embroidery.

"It fit perfectly."

Another pause.

"But…"

You lifted your eyes to meet his.

"…it doesn't smell like rain."

"It doesn't smell like old books."

"And…"

A shy smile appeared on your lips.

"…it doesn't smell like you."

The breeze carried your words away.

Morpheus looked at you for a long moment.

Then, without a word, he reached up.

The black coat resting over his shoulders slipped free.

He stepped closer.

Slowly…

Carefully…

He draped it over your shoulders once again.

The familiar weight settled around you instantly.

You closed your eyes for a brief moment.

"There."

His voice was quiet.

"As it should be."

You looked down at the sleeves that once again covered your hands.

"What about you?"

Morpheus's gaze never left yours.

"I shall acquire another."

Your eyebrows lifted.

"So easily?"

"The Dreaming can create another coat."

He gently adjusted the collar around your shoulders.

"…But it cannot create another reason for me to leave this one behind."

Your heart skipped.

"So…"

You looked up at him, your eyes shining.

"…you're giving it to me?"

A rare smile softened his features.

"No."

He brushed an invisible speck of dust from your shoulder.

"I am leaving it exactly where it belongs."

For a moment, you could only stare at him.

Then you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you could despite the oversized coat.

He returned the embrace immediately.

The new coat remained forgotten inside its box.

Neither of you mentioned it again.

From that day forward, whenever anyone in the Dreaming saw the familiar black coat drifting through the endless halls…

They no longer wondered where the Lord of Dreams had left it.

They simply knew you were nearby.

The King of Dreams never said, "I love you." He didn't need to. Because every night, he draped his coat over you.

-