33/ Bi / F/ Just here to read and 🖤

A/N: I will say that Dream does not fall for Nuala. This is not “Ethan Frome.”

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"Think of me when you're out When you're out there. I'll beg you nice from my knees And when the world treats you way too fairly, Well, it's a shame I'm a dream." - Paramore's "All I Wanted"

You continued to see the guests off, exchanging pleasantries with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You kept your hands clasped before you, out of his reach, and your gaze on the guests, away from him. Your smile widened as you turned to greet the next delegation, but faltered when you felt Dream’s hand at the small of your back. He felt your body tense against his touch and he swallowed thickly at your recoiling before speaking to the visitors.

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” He asked, and the delegation’s leader bowed shortly. Morpheus used his hold at your back to lead you to a secluded corner, waiting to speak until you were standing before him properly. “Are you alright?” He asked softly as his hands went to your upper arms.

“I’m fine,” you said, just a little too fast. The way he held you now and asked after you made your previous worries seem unfounded, but you couldn’t stop seeing the concern and desperation that you saw on his face when Nada was in danger. And keeping Nada’s presence in the realm hidden from you certainly hadn’t eased your doubts. He narrowed his eyes slightly at you and you knew he didn’t believe you. “Can we just talk about this later?” You pleaded, pulling his hands off of you.

“Are you upset with me?” He asked after a moment with a furrowed brow. And it was your pause that undid him.

“Can we please just talk this later?” You insisted with a downcast gaze, before leaving him there at a loss for words, and returning to the entrance with your polite, superficial smile to meet the Faerie delegation. You felt Dream just a step behind you as Lady Nuala extended the delegation’s thanks for your hospitality. But her smile faltered when she mentioned returning to Faerie and Lord Cluracan asked to be excused for a moment to converse with his sister. Your shoulders tensed now that were left alone with Dream, and you kept your eyes trained ahead in a silent posture that cautioned him against reaching for or speaking to you.

Nuala returned speechless with a haunted look, while her brother spoke for her.

“My sister, Nuala,” he gestured to the troubled young Fae beside him. “Is a gift to you. From Faerie,” he explained with an averted gaze before turning to her with a fleeting glance of regret.

You inhaled sharply and forced your expression to remain neutral. This ploy had Titania written all over it and you refused to allow Cluracan to return to the Fae Queen with any news that her scheme had succeeded in unnerving you.

Dream’s hand twitched at his side as he longed to reach out and reassure you, but your hands remained clasped before you, beyond his reach. When he spoke, Morpheus’ voice was carefully measured, designed to spare your feelings and avoid Titania’s wrath. “With respect to your queen, I cannot accept.” He felt you relax beside him and his shoulders slacked slightly. But Cluracan explained that rejecting Titania’s gift would incur her displeasure in both the Lord Shaper and Lady Nuala.

“And what would please the Lady Nuala?” You asked, turning to the young Fae with a reassuring smile, interrupting the discussion between Dream and Cluracan. Nuala’s distant gaze shifted to focus on you.

“The Lady Nuala wishes to stay, Lady, Lord,” she looked to each of you before continuing. “I would far rather be received here as a gift than return to a queen and a brother who would think so little of me that he would give me away,” she snapped in the direction of her brother, who looked down with a guilty gaze.

“Then we shall accept Lady Nuala with gracious arms,” you smiled with a quick glance up at Dream, who seemed relieved at your approval. With a comment regarding the merits of her diplomacy and their elimination of Faerie’s tithe to Hell, Dream cemented the decision, which Cluracan timidly accepted. He offered to organize visits back to Faerie or even for him to visit her in the Dreaming, but she vehemently rejected his offer with a poise and tact of a proper young Fae.

“Please send Queen Titania our deepest regards,” you said to Cluracan, before he left with a bow and a final apologetic glance towards his sister. You stepped towards Nuala with a comforting smile and an outstretched arm to guide her to her new chambers, but an overdramatic gasp pulled the smile from your face.

“You’re not gonna let us leave without saying goodbye, are you?” Kakia’s sickly sweet voice came lilting through the foyer as she approached. Your body stilled as the three of them approached you. Dream appeared beside you and despite your earlier recoiling, he let his fingers graze the back of your hand. Your hand shifted slightly as you took his, squeezing it lightly, and you could feel him relax at the contact.

“No, she wouldn’t dream of it,” Oizys smirked by Kakia’s side. “Oh, isn’t that cute?” She laughed mockingly, looking down and pointing. “They’re holding hands!” Kakia joined in with a cackle while Phthonus stifled a laugh with his fist. You pulled your hand from Dream’s immediately, folding both of yours behind your back as his hand twitched, suddenly empty by his side.

“Lucienne, Taramis,” Dream called out, his eyes never leaving the evils.  He informed them of Nuala’s continued stay in the realm and they led her away, presumably to see her roomed and fed.

“Is that lovely Fae going to be staying in the realm?” Phthonus asked, with a smirk. “My lord,” he stretched the vowels in time with the smirk that grew on his face. “Your wife must be quite open-minded to allow such beautiful young thing to share her home,” he paused to look at you. “And her husband.”

“If you haven’t noticed, the event is over,” you replied, refusing to engage in his quips. “You’re no longer guests here.” Phthonus reacted to your dismissal with mock indignation as a hand flew to his chest exaggeratedly.

“Oh, don’t take it too harshly, Phthonus,” Oizys comforted him with a hand on his shoulder. “She’s probably just upset about her new Fae replacement. After all, isn’t that how you got this job, Elpis?” She smirked. “An innocent, clueless little gift from one ruler to another?”

“That is true!” Kakia gasped as she turned to the dark-haired woman with wide eyes. “You really should do something about her before she usurps your position, Elpis,” she grinned, her eyes alight with the prospect of murder.

“Enough,” Dream’s voice reverberated through the foyer. “Take your leave and go.”

“He’s right,” Oizys settled, and her agreeable attitude set you on edge. “After all, we wouldn’t Lord Morpheus to banish us, would we?” She condescended as she exited the doors, referring to his punishment of Moros.

“At least we’re not teasing Queen Nada,” Phthonus laughed, just a step behind her.

“Oh, then he’d be really mad,” Kakia laughed, referring to Azazel’s more severe punishment of imprisonment. She grinned wickedly, before blowing a kiss to you and chasing after her friends as they left the realm. You swallowed thickly as they left the realm, your gaze still directed where Kakia was standing. He watched you in your stupor for a moment before turning to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. “What they said,” his voice trailed off, the disbelief stealing his words. “You must know that Nuala will never take your place,” he assured you after a moment.

“It’s not Nuala I’m worried about,” you scoffed, as you turned to ascend the staircase to your chambers. He watched you with a furrowed brow as you moved past him.

“Nada,” he realized softly with a downcast gaze. “I meant only to free her. I have no intentions to ask her to remain in the realm, darling,” he explained as he followed behind you.

You kept your eyes forward to keep him from seeing the tears that began to prick at your eyes. “I saw how concerned you were about her when Azazel threatened her,” you took a shallow breath before continuing in a small voice. “How devastated you were by the sight of her in pain. And it all reeked of a still-burning love.”

A short breath of disbelief left him and you turned at the sound with indignation.

“You think this is funny?” You breathed, incensed.

“No,” he shook his head lightly as he stepped closer to you with a soft smile. ”It simply strikes me as ironic that the personification of hope is so convinced of her own unhappiness,” he explained with a soft smile. “I was concerned about her safety. And I did care about her. Perhaps that never entirely goes away,” he admitted with a downward gaze. “But I don’t love her. I don’t need her the way I need you, my Hope.” He watched you roll your lip between your teeth as you considered his words. “There is no one I love more than you,” he whispered up at you. “And,” he began, moving forward until he was just a step below you. “I thought this morning would have proof enough of that,” he smiled down at you with his hands on your waist.

And suddenly you were blushing with a flustered smile at his words and he couldn’t help but smile himself. “You’re so sweet when it’s just the two of us, Dream,” you explained slowly, your smile turning sad. His own smile dropped at the sight of your melancholy and you pulled his hands from your waist. “When Nada was taken to the medical wing, you ran right after her. You left me standing there in front of all of those people as you literally ran after another woman. All those people were staring at me in pity or laughing at my ignorance of your affections for her,” you recounted, recalling the smirks and hands lifted to cover laughing mouths. “And it was exactly like having to sit through those events when you were with Calliope,” you sighed. “You know how much that hurt me, Dream. And you still did this,” you said in a small voice as you shook your head at him.

“I – I didn’t realize,” he responded slowly, before lifting his silvery blue eyes to look deeply at you. “I left only to ensure she was safe. Not because I care more for her than you. I love you so deeply, Elpis,” he sighed, taking your hand in his. “I hadn’t considered that others may still doubt that. And what my leaving before them would do to you,” he swallowed hard before continuing. “I’m sorry, Elpis.”

You reached out to hold his face with a gentle smile. “I know,” you said as your thumb brushed his cheek. “Just,” you paused, your gaze and hand dropping from him with how vulnerable and weak you knew your request would sound. “Please don’t put me through this again, Dream,” you pleaded. “I can’t take it,” you whispered, looking back at him.

“Never,” he breathed, his shoulders slacking with the relief your forgiveness brought him. Your smile returned at his sincerity, and when you saw his other hand twitch expectantly at his side, you huffed a quiet laugh at his restraint to avoid touching you. With the roll of your eyes, you grabbed his nervous hands and placed them on your waist before pulling him in for a kiss. Your hands moved to pull at his locks, but something lurched in you, forcing you to pull away from him. He looked down at you with a frown as his fingertips pressed into your waist; he never did like having to let go of you.

“I was just thinking,” you covered quickly. “Maybe I should go see how Lady Nuala’s settling in. It can’t be easy for her to just be left here.”

“I suppose it would be the amiable thing to do,” he murmured with his eyes still glued to the lips he wished to taste again. He finally relented when you agreed to continue your “discussion” later tonight. Waiting for him to disappear behind a corner, you finally headed towards the medical wing.

You braced yourself at the entrance; you knew Nada lay somewhere within these rooms and you plotted a course in your mind to approach the first available physician to avoid any possibility of seeing her. You weren’t afraid or even jealous to meet her, you tried to convince yourself. It simply wasn’t the right time. So with a deep breath, you passed through the doors and pulled aside the first doctor you saw.

“Do you have a moment, doctor?” You asked the bespectacled aged man with a smile.

“Oh, of course, my lady!” He breathed. “Is everything alright?” He asked, looking you up and down. You hesitated, glancing around the open entrance before speaking.

“Perhaps we could speak privately?” You asked and he gestured down a hallway. He led you to a room, opening the door and waiting for you to sit before closing the door behind him.

“So,” he began, taking a seat behind the desk. “What brings you here, my lady?”

“Well,” you paused, looking down at your lap. “I’ve been experiencing some nausea, though I don’t feel ill.” The pit in your stomach that prevented you from continuing should have been enough for you to know exactly why you were here.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “Have you experienced anything else out of the ordinary?” He asked slowly, picking up on your apprehension.

You considered his question, replaying the past few days in your mind. With Dream traveling to Hell, receiving the Key to that realm, and preparing for a banquet – “Yes, actually,” you began with a tilted head, recalling the preparations for the banquet’s menus. “Taramis was preparing a dish and I could have sworn it tasted –” You blinked, your whole body stilling before a shallow breath that left your body slack. “Oh,” you said simply with a vacant stare.

He smiled slowly at your realization before speaking. “It seems the kingdom may have a new prince or princess soon enough,” he added in a gentle tone at the shock you wore. “I’m sure Lord Morpheus will be pleased.”

You blinked back to the moment at the sound of his name. “Y—Yes, of course,” you added after a moment. “I – I’d like to tell him myself, though. So if you could just keep this quiet,” you trailed off.

“Say no more, my lady!” He understood with a raised hand. He mimed zipping his mouth shut and tossing away the key. He mentioned tests to schedule, symptoms to be cognizant of, but it was all just noise to you. With a smile and your thanks, you left the medical wing to wander the hallways aimlessly.

A child. Of course you’d always wanted one. You remembered watching Calliope chase after Orpheus within the palace walls and how the hallways would echo of their giddy laughter. You had always been so envious of the joy a child brought her. And the joy it brought him. You recalled how proud he was of Orpheus in those rare moments you saw them together. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t always hoped for a child the two of you could love and nurture together.

“My lady?”

You looked up at the sound to find Beryl standing before you holding a basket of flowers. “Beryl,” you sniffled, forcing a smile.

“What’s happened?” She asked, deathly serious as she recognized the forlorn expression you wore.

“Nothing,” you responded, forcing your smile wider. She placed the basket on the ground before placing her hands on her hips. With a quirked brow, she waited for you to confess. “I um,” you sighed, dropping your gaze before continuing. “I’m pregnant,” you admitted with a breath of disbelief.

It hadn’t been real before. Some suspicion on your part, some words from a doctor, but now, when the words were finally tumbling from your mouth, when they finally hit the air of the palace walls and reached another living soul, it was real.

Tight arms gripped you and you were pulled from your thoughts. “Oh, my lady!” Beryl squealed, as she tightened her arms around you. “I’m so happy for you! Oh, a baby!”

“Beryl, you’re crushing me,” you laughed at the unexpected strength this mousy young woman held.

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” She rushed, stepping back from you. “Have you told him yet?” She asked with an expectant smile as she took your hands in hers.

“I haven’t, actually,” you admitted, and when your smile disappeared, replaced by your previous forlorn expression, Beryl spoke up.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll be excited, too,” she tried to reassure you, her hands squeezing yours lightly.

“It’s just, we never really talked about kids,” you explained softly. “And after Orpheus,” you shook your head lightly as your voice trailed off. “What if he doesn’t want this?” You wondered in a small voice as you gaze turned distant.

“Look at me,” Beryl demanded, puling your hands lightly to focus you. “If you don’t want to tell him yet, fine. But you are not going to be upset about this,” she directed with a wagging finger, before continuing in a gentle tone. “You’ve wanted kids for so long, my lady. I remember how hurt you were at the possibility of never having one,” she explained, recalling how she found you in tears after you ran into Orpheus for the first time. “So forget about him. Whether he wants this or not, you should do what you want.”

“You’re right,” you realized, squeezing her hands lightly. And as the concern for Morpheus’ reaction dissipated, you felt a laugh bubble up from you. “Beryl, I’m going to have a baby,” you realized, finally letting yourself feel the unadulterated joy you always thought such news would bring you.

“Yes, you are,” Beryl laughed at your excitement, leading you back to your chambers with discussion of names and nursery colors.

“Finally,” he sighed, turning the corner when the coast was clear of you and Beryl. He stepped carefully to avoid the echoing of the wooden sandals he wore. He turned down another corridor, looking cautiously through the dim lighting, before taking another step. He stumbled forward and with a grumble, he tossed them off. “I hate those shoes,” he muttered under his breath. He peered down a stairwell, but a deep voice behind had him cursing inwardly in frustration.

“Lord Susano,” Dream called out from behind him. “Leaving my palace without saying goodbye?”

***

He watched you deep in thought at your desk, the end of your pen caught between your teeth as you stared down at the papers before you. You could feel him behind you and a slow smile spread across your face as you set the pen down.

“Dream,” you called him, knowingly. He walked over to you, placing a kiss upon your cheek before moving to the other side of your desk.

“It seems we had a straggling guest,” he began as he sat down. “Loki,” he explained at your raised brow. “I found him disguised as Lord Susano.”

“Then who was Thor carrying over his shoulder this morning?” You asked, the papers before you now forgotten.

“Lord Susano, I assume,” he answered. “I plan to return to Loki’s prison beneath the Earth to free him.”

“And replace him with Loki,” you finished.

“No, with a dream image,” he corrected. “I let Loki go,” he admitted after a moment.

“You what?” You asked, yours eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and anger.

“In return for his release, he shall now be in my debt,” he explained. Your outrage hadn’t passed, so he continued. “Certainly that will prove useful in the future,” he added.

“He’s the god of mischief!” You exclaimed. “Do you really think he’ll uphold a debt?”

“If he refuses to fulfill the debt, I’ll simply return him to his prison,” he countered. You rolled your lip between your teeth. Certainly he was more powerful than Loki, but you couldn’t help but worry.

“I suppose that’s true,” you relented, finally, to his satisfaction. He reached across the table for your hand before continuing.

“I must go to the Waking World now,” he informed you, and you nodded your approval. “Not only to free Lord Susano, but to let Lucifer know of my decision regarding the Key.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” you decided, pulling your hand from his as you rose from your desk.

“No, my darling,” he smiled as he stood. “The Morningstar holds no ill will towards me. I assure you, I shall be quite safe,” he comforted you. You eyed him for a moment before conceding, and with a kiss to your lips, he disappeared in a cloud of sand.

***

You paced the throne room, awaiting his return from the Waking World.

“I can do this,” you said quietly to yourself. You took a deep, breath, watching the tiles carefully as you turned. “I can do this,” you tried to convince yourself.

He would return to the realm, enter the palace, and come here, to the throne room to find you. You took another breath, another step, as you continued to plan. He would tell you how things went with Susano and Lucifer. And you would tell him.

You dropped your shoulders and looked up at the starry ceiling with a sigh; how would you possibly tell him? Just blurt it out and get it over with? Or broach it carefully and give yourself every opportunity to back out like you knew you would? A breath of frustration escaped you and as you considered the options, he called out for you and your body stilled.

“Dream,” you forced a smile as you turned. You watched him near you and it was almost as though you forgot how to breath, so preoccupied with how to tell him, that you’d completely forgotten how to act naturally. But his hands went to your waist, and yours went to his chest instinctively as you leaned up to plant your lips on his. As he moved against you slowly, your body relaxed and you couldn’t remember why you were so nervous to tell him. You pulled away and by now, your smile had turned genuine. “How did it go?”

“Replacing Lord Susano with a dream image was simple. Lucifer however,” he began with raised brows and a distant gaze before looking back you. “Apparently my decision was a wise one,” he explained, recounting Lucifer’s approval of returning the Key to Heaven.

You took a breath and parted your lips, but he continued, and your tongue stilled.

“Lucienne has informed me that Nada is awake,” he said, looking down at you carefully.

Your words died on your tongue, along with any confidence you had. “Oh,” you said simply.

“I plan to speak with her,” he began, but at your withdrawn gaze, he continued. “Would you like to join us?” He asked.

You bit back the derisive reply you knew you would uttered without thinking two thousand years. You believed Dream earlier when he explained that he may still care about her, but that he no longer loved her, but Desire’s words still echoed in your mind: “How much must he have loved her for that to turn to enough hate to sentence her to Hell for 10,000 years?” Certainly more than he loves you, Desire had implied, and right now, you couldn’t find fault in his observation.

When you travelled to Hell, Etrigan had told you how she was his first love and you knew, by looking through the dreams of mortals, that first loves always burned brightest. After all, that’s why you were here; still head over heels for Dream despite everything he’d put you through. Maybe Nada would feel the same and want him back. And maybe at the sight of her forgiveness, he’d want her too.

But you pushed it all aside. Your better judgment took over and you decided to take the word of your husband over that of his scheming sibling and a demon.

“That’s alright, Dream,” you answered with a smile, before leaning up to kiss him. Though you couldn’t help but worry about him meeting with her. And the possibility that she may convince him to come back to her. The thought of having to raise a child amidst all of this dropped your heart. No, you realized, you would have to convince him to stay with you by reminding him how much you loved him. If you loved him hard enough, you decided, he would stay. “But do you have to meet with her now, my lord?” You asked, and the Dreaming bent to your will sending the two of atop the winding staircase in front of his throne. He looked down at you with a knowing look as you pushed him back on his throne with your hands on his shoulders. “Or do you think you can stay with me a little longer?” You smirked below dropping to your knees before him.

“I could stay here with you for eternity, my darling,” he replied, taking your face in his hand as you laughed at his response. You leaned up to kiss him while your hands made quick work of his pants. Your hands dipped inside of his boxers to slip him out and he inhaled sharply at the feel of your soft hand wrapped around him. Grasping his shaft, you let your hand run up and down in a languid motion as you watched him lean his head back against his throne. Your lips parted as you watched his throat bob, his eyes shut as he reveled in every move of your hand. And you couldn’t wait any longer.

You leaned over him, your hands planted firmly over his thighs as you took him as far as you could down your throat in one smooth motion. His eyes shot open at the sudden change and you smirked at the way his muscles tensed beneath your palms.

“Hope,” he breathed in surprise as his hands moved to tangle in your hair. You let your tongue run flat along the underside of him, as you pulled slowly off of him, and when he tugged at the base of your hair, you looked up at him with something he could have sworn was desperation. His brow furrowed slightly, but you wrapped your lips even tighter as you sank back onto him and all he could do was tug harder on your locks. You felt him hit the back of your throat and tears pricked at your eyes as you choked slightly on him.

You continued to bob up and down on him, your tongue swirling around the head of him and collecting the growing wetness there. You ignored the way your jaw ached, taking a shallow breath in through your nose. You moaned as the taste of him on your tongue and the scent of him filled you, and for a moment you wondering if this may be the last time you tasted him. But you pushed away the thought of him and Nada, forcing yourself to focus on the here and now. So you leaned into the feeling of him filling your mouth, the way your name fell from his lips like rain, and the taste of him on your tongue that you willed yourself never to forget. You took him deeper, telling yourself that the tears in your eyes were a result of the large intrusion, not the possibility of losing him.

A mix of saliva and precum dripped from your mouth despite the tight seal you held around him and he groaned deeply at the sight of you on your knees with your mouth full of him. His hips stuttered, his restraint truly admirable as he tried to avoid bucking into your mouth, but you simply looked up at him and nodded, as much as you could with the way he filled your mouth. He tested the waters with a short motion and you shifted higher on him, allowing him better access down your throat. With one hand still on the arm of his throne and the other gripping your hair, he guided you down on to him as he bucked into your mouth. You hollowed your throat, forcing in another breath through your nose and you looked up to find him lost in ecstasy. His head thrown back, dark lashes shut his eyes, full, pillowy lips agape as he cursed in some forgotten language about the tight fit your mouth provided. You worked to memorize every inch, every detail of the gorgeous portrait before you.

“Oh, my beautiful Hope,” he groaned and you knew the tears that flowed down your face then weren’t from your mouth’s activities; you swallowed hard at the thought of never hearing him call you so lovingly again. You felt him twitch inside your mouth with a sharp inhale and you moved your mouth faster upon him. You suckled harder, pressing your lips tighter and taking him as far as you could, knowing he was close. You felt him shoot down your throat, closing your eyes against the warm, salty taste of him, and staying on him until he emptied into your mouth. When you felt his thighs relax under your palms and his grip in your hair loosen, you swallowed every bit of him down before licking him clean as he breath steadied. You wiped at your eyes and mouth before rubbing lightly at your jaw.

You watched him melt back into his throne with closed eyes, exhausted, and you smiled at the sight of resting so blissfully. You tucked him back into his pants, zipping and buttoning his pants closed for before rising to your feet. You brushed his hair aside before pressing a kiss upon his brow. Your fingertips grazed the alabaster planes of his face, tracing along the sharp lines and soft expanses. You swallowed hard with a sad smile before turning to leave. But even with his eyes closed, his hand reached out to grab your wrist.

“Come here,” he rasped, lowly. You turned back towards him and h opened his eyes, taking your other hand in his, as well. Your lip parted at the sight of his endlessly blue eyes. You gazed into the enchanting waters and you wondered how you found the sight of them frightening when you first met him, when the thought of never seeing that silvery blue again broke your heart. “Are you really going to leave without letting me please you?” He wondered with a slow smile as his hands moved to your waist to pull you down to straddle him, but you stopped him with your hands on his shoulders.

“You have a meeting to get to,” you explained with a soft smile. Preventing him from meeting with Nada would only prove that you didn’t trust him. Your act was meant to show him how much you adored him, and showing you trusted him was a part of that, even if your own pleasure wasn’t.

“My meeting can wait,” he affirmed with a frown as he watched you. He pulled again at your hips, but you simply smiled ruefully at him as you pulled his hands from you.

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “I have some things to tend to anyway,” you lied, before placing a kiss to his cheek. He accepted reluctantly, his hand falling from yours only when you were too far away.

***

You rapped on her door with the back of your knuckles lightly, before calling out, “Lady Nuala?” The door opened only a moment later, the young Fae standing hesitantly before you. “Do you mind if I come in?” You asked with a gentle smile.

“Oh, yes, of course, Lady Elpis,” she rushed, nervously, opening the door wider with a bowed head as you entered.

“How are you settling in?” You asked as you took a seat in the chamber’s seating area. “Is there anything you need?”

“No, my lady, everything’s been perfect,” she answered quickly, taking a seat and folding her hands in her lap. She took a breath and you waited for her to continue. “Lady Elpis, I assure you, I had no idea about any of this,” she began with wide eyes as she shook her head. “And I promise you, I have no intention of –“

“It’s alright, Lady Nuala,” you smiled at her. “I am fairly well-acquainted with Queen Titania,” you added, explaining shortly that you were familiar with Titania’s pettiness. When the nervous Fae seemed to relax slightly, you continued with a gentle tone. “Do know how I arrived in this realm?”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t, my lady,” she responded in a quiet voice with a darting glance. “And ‘Nuala’ will do just fine.”

“Well, Nuala, I was a gift to the Lord Shaper once, too,” you admitted and Nuala’s gaze rose to yours. “From Zeus to try and sway Dream’s affections from his daughter, Calliope.” Her lips parted and you could sense the question she was about to pose, so you saved her the time. “That’s a story for another day,” you explained, with a short laugh. “But just like you, I was completely unaware of Zeus’ plan. And, I just want you to know that I know you’re not responsible for any of this,” you explained finally.

“I really didn’t know that Queen Titania had any of this in mind,” she admitted quietly. “That she planned to abandon me like,” she looked down at her hands. “Not that I don’t appreciate being here,” she added quickly.

“I’m afraid Titania hasn’t taken the news of my and Dram’s reconciliation well,” you explained, alluding to their affair, which you were certain Nuala was aware of. “And I’m sorry that you had to be part of her scheme. But the Dreaming is a truly wondrous place to discover,” you began with a fond smile. “And you are free to roam it as you wish. And if you ever get bored, which I know I did after some time, we can find something for you to do.”

“Thank you, my lady,” she breathed, a smile starting on her lips. But it faltered and her brow furrowed as she continued. “I’m sorry, my lady,” she asked slowly. “Am I not part of your court now?”

“I don’t have a court, Nuala,” you chuckled. “You’re free to do as you wish,” you shrugged. “Dress as you wish,” you explained glancing down at the way she pulled nervously at her sleeve.

“Really?” She wondered, her smile returning. You nodded with a light chuckle at her excitement. With a shimmer in the air, her blonde hair transformed to simple waves, her elegant gown and cloak to more comfortable overalls, and her makeup cleared, leaving her a simple young woman with bright eyes. “Is this alright?” She asked, her accent turning from posh to common.

“Of course it is,” you assured her. “I don’t mean to disparage your queen, but I always had a feeling she would be a bit strict with her court,” you explained with a sly smile.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she sighed with a relieved smile.

***

She walked out before him, her eyes trained on the clear skies that lay outside the dark, towering doors of the castle. But he spoke, and she stopped in her tracks.

“The mortal world is not as you remember it,” Dream explained. “Humanity itself –” he began, but she interrupted him, her patience running thin at the way he seemed to want to her here.

“Have I not just spent the last 10,000 years with humanity?” she asked, her eyes set dead ahead on the freedom that lay just beyond.

“Let me come with you,” he offered at the sound of her derision. “To help you settle into the Waking World, at least,” he pleaded, hoping to make things right with her during this dinner, but she remained determined not to forgive him.

“Kai’chul,” she called, with a finality meant to end his imploring. But stubborn as always, the Dream Lord continued.

“It is treacherous there,” he warned, eager for a chance to earn her forgiveness.

“More so than Hell?” She scoffed as she turned to him. Her words rendered him speechless, and at his silence, she seized her chance. “Fare you well, Kai’chul,” she concluded, before turning and walking through the doors to her mortal freedom.

***

He returned to your chambers with a desolate look that left you conflicted. You knew she had left the realm since you no longer felt her presence here in the Dreaming. And from his disappointed expression, you knew the meeting had not gone to his satisfaction, which most likely meant she rejected his apologies before leaving the realm. Clearly she had no intention of pursuing him, which relieved you, but his bleak expression made you wonder if his apologies were all she rejected.

“Dream?” you questioned as you exited the bed in a lacy black babydoll negligee. “Are you alright?” You asked softly as you walked up to him.

His eyes didn’t quite meet yours, landing somewhere beyond your shoulder, instead. “She refused my apologies. She gave me no opportunity to make amends for how I’ve wronged her,” he explained.

You felt relief at the knowledge that she refused him, but the deep sorrow in him worried you. “Maybe she just needs time, Dream,” you suggested.

“Perhaps,” you murmured, mindlessly, as he turned towards the balcony. Black clouds filled the skies and thunder tolled as he looked out over the Dreaming. You swallowed hard at the great pain Nada’s refusal caused him. You considered sliding under the covers quietly, simply slinking away while he brooded over the loss of his love. But you closed your eyes and sighed; you couldn’t stand the thought of him in pain, even if the cause for it was another woman.

You moved around the bed to the balcony, where his tense form leaned over the railing. With a simple gesture as you neared him, you extended the eave above him to prevent the rain from soaking him any further. You stood at his side, watching the pain on his face that he tried to hide behind the downpour.

“Standing out in this rain isn’t going to help things, Morpheus,” you sighed as you brushed his wet hair out of his face. “Come inside,” you pleaded, with a hand on his arm.

“What if she never forgives me?” He asked, eyes still glassy as he looked out over the storm. “What if she hates me for all her life?”

“Does it matter?” You wanted to ask. “Does it matter what she thinks of you when I love you still?” But you swallowed it down.

“She just needs time, Dream. What happened is still so fresh for her,” you explained. “Give her some time to heal.” You squeezed his arm lightly and tested a smile, but he didn’t look down at you. The storm seemed to pull him in, his sorrow from Nada’s rejection fueling it and the storm in turn fueling his depression. A vicious self-sustaining cycle that left you forgotten by his side.

***

Light chatter filled the air as Moros glanced through the bar once again. Kakia’s attention continued to wander as she clocked every alcoholic, every drug abuser, every adulterer in the place. Oizys managed to locate the investment managers who had taken some truly unfortunate risks with the money they were entrusted with and licked her lips with anticipation. Phthonus eyed the couples celebrating anniversaries and birthdays and wondered how best ensure it was their last. Moros checked his watch once more before rising from the table.

“He’s not here,” he decided. “We’re leaving.”

“I thought you’d want to hear what he has to say more than any of us,” Oizys shrugged. “You know, since apparently he actually has a plan to get back at Morpheus?” She smirked.

“He doesn’t have a plan, Oizys. All he has is a scrap of information that may not even be true,” he scoffed. “And anyway, we don’t need this trickster to formulate a plan,” Moros stated.

“Great,” she breathed, turning towards him with her hands folded on top of the table. “So where are we at in this plan of yours, Moros?”

“Settle down, you two,” Phthonus chided, at the sight of Moros’ tensed jaw and clenched fists. “Or just fuck and get it over with,” he sighed, as his eyes surveyed the bar. “And take a seat, Moros. Our guest is finally here.”

They watched the man with icy blond hair approach with a devious grin and a slow walk.

“If your tardiness is any indication of how you conduct business, Loki, I think we’ll be better off on our own,” Moros declared from his standing position as he approached the table.

“Apologies,” he breathed before taking a seat at the end of the table. He gestured to a waiter and Moros exhaled in anger.

“Do you have something to tell us, or not?”

“Straight to business, then,” he sighed, before shooing the waiter away. “I can respect that.” He took a moment to consider the four: one angry and impatient, one far too impulsive, the other too provocative, and the last calculating enough to warrant a careful eye. But he couldn’t execute this plan alone, and he always found a common enemy easy to bond over. “I saw the four of you at the banquet in the Dreaming. I suppose I should say three, because there were only three of you there the next morning. One of you,” his eyes drifted over to Moros. “Seems to have gotten on the wrong side of the Dream Lord,” he grinned. Moros tensed and Loki continued. “But that’s alright, because I seem to have found myself on the wrong side of him, as well.”

“So, what? You want to team up and take down Morpheus?” Phthonus surmised. “Great, we’ll start a club,” he scoffed. “Unless you’ve got an idea on how to go about it, I’ll see you at our next club meeting.”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan,” Loki smiled slyly as he eyed the other man. “But it requires careful planning, subtle touches, and patience. Maybe you’re not the right group for it,” he sighed.

“Oh for gods’ sakes,” Kakia sighed. “Just tell us what you know so I can stir up a little trouble already,” she groaned, eying the man with powder under his nose who was now unsuccessfully trying his charms on the fifth woman tonight.

“Certainly you’re all familiar with the law that the Endless are barred from spilling family blood?”

“Obviously,” Moros responded, before scoffing. “You think we didn’t do our research?”

Oh, I’m sure you did,” he agreed with a grin. “But I don’t think you did your snooping. It seems,” he leaned forward as his grin widened. “His wife is pregnant.”

Next Chapter ->

A/N: Um, so a certain part of this started off as a cute idea that then kinda spiraled and got away from me a bit… you’ll see what I mean. Also, I promise we’ll see more of Beryl.

<- Prev. Chapter

"There's no more romance with me. (I know there's someone else burning in your eyes) You don't think I see you, But I see right through you, baby." -The All-American Reject’s “Affection”

He listened carefully, waiting for your sniffling to subside and your breath to even, and when he was sure you were fast asleep, he began to pull away from you. He was deliberate with every motion as he left you, pausing whenever you stirred, removing the covers with as little noise and disturbance to you as possible. He watched from his position outside of the bed as you nestled into the sheets, adjusting to the space without him. He leaned down to brush your hair aside and impress a kiss upon your forehead, a touch that had you smiling softly as you recognized his touch even in your deep slumber.

With a parting glance, he left your chambers and started down the hall. Forcing himself to walk instead of simply appearing in Moros’ quarters, Dream used the time to organize his thoughts methodically to avoid acting entirely on murderous instinct. But his eyes set down the hall and he found each step simply gave Moros another moment of life he didn’t deserve.

“This can’t be good,” Lucienne sighed as she watched the hallway behind Dream disappear into darkness with every step he took in the direction of Lord Moros’ quarters. She set off on an intercept course, preparing herself for the onslaught of Lord Morpheus’ wrath. If the localized storm that surrounded the castle grounds were any indication, Lucienne knew he was dangerously close to endangering one of his guests.

“Not now, Lucienne,” he warned in a low voice shaking with fury, his deadly gaze set ahead as he continued down the hallway. He was only a few doors away now and Lucienne knew any attempts to dissuade him would be ignored. So she stood directly in his path, preventing him from continuing without first heeding her advice.

“Lord Moros is a guest of the realm,” she began, her gaze steady and her voice even. “You know what happens if you violate the ancient law of sanctuary. They will come for you,” she explained. He knew the Furies were tasked with rendering punishment to any who violate such laws, regardless of the circumstances.

He peered down at her and for a moment he didn’t speak. “So I should let him live after what’s done to her?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she responded. “But you would be within your rights to expel him from the realm,” she suggested.

“He put his hands on her, Lucienne,” he gritted out. “How can expulsion be a fair punishment for his actions? Let along everything else he put her though while she was in the pithos.”

“You can only penalize him for what he’s done here, my lord,” Lucienne tilted her head. “And I don’t believe he’s harmed Lady Elpis in the realm. Despite whatever undertone the act may have held, a greeting kiss is hardly a harmful act,” she explained, but paused when he fell deathly silent. The realm began to hum around them, and she eyed him carefully as she continued. “That was the incident you were referring to, wasn’t it?”

“No,” he answered as he side-stepped the well-meaning librarian. “It wasn’t.” And with his grim tone and determined gait, Lucienne let him continue on his warpath. With the news of another incident, despite Morpheus’ warning, she had to concede that Moros had dug his own grave.

“I believe it’s customary to knock at someone’s door before entering,” Moros responded, lazily. Tossing the covers aside, he waited until he was face to face with Morpheus before continuing. “Especially at such a late hour,” he added, with a self-assured grin that Dream was eager to wipe off.

“I warned you Moros. What would happen if you harmed her.”

He tilted his head in feigned thought. “I never harmed her, though, did I? And I believe your ‘warning’, which was far more of a threat than anything I uttered to Elpis, by the way, specified threats against her. I haven’t threatened her, either,” he added innocently.

“You put your hands on her against her will,” he seethed and the room gave way to darkness. “In my own home.”

“This trick again?” Moros laughed as he surveyed the surrounding darkness, recalling Dream’s previous display during the banquet. He paused before turning to Dream, whose outline held the only trace of light in the abyss. “And how do you know it was against her will?”

The self-satisfied grin paired with those scandalous words set against the backdrop of you crying in his bed was too much for Dream. A hand reached out from beside Moros to grab his shoulder. The evil frowned at the touch and looked behind him for the source of the contact. Another hand yanked at his lower leg and he looked down with a furrowed brow as he struggled to pull away from its hold.

“What is this?” He questioned roughly as yet another hand reached out from the chasm to hold his arm back. Another arm joined in to ensure his other arm was restrained as well. A set of arms took hold of his legs, and he would have fallen forward at the sudden contact if another arm hadn’t snuck around his throat and pulled him into a choke hold. Dream stepped forward, watching as he struggled futilely against the hold.

“Punishment,” Dream explained simply as Moros’ eyes bulged under the strain of the arm that constricted around his neck.

“Wait!” Moros called out, and Morpheus turned for some unknown reason. “Can you truly blame me for my actions?” Morpheus eyed him carefully when he paused. “With the way she looked, I’m surprised that I had her backed against a wall before you did tonight!” He choked out before laughing. Morpheus turned his back without another word, but Moros’ cackling was soon cut off by the satisfying sound of choking as the arm around his neck tightened.

The darkness, Moros, and the restraining arms withdrew, pooling into a container that fit in the palm of Dream’s hand. The quarters returned to view and he exited with the container in a tightly-closed fist. Lucienne straightened up just outside the door and followed Dream as walked through the hallway. He opened his fist to Lucienne before speaking.

“Would you put this somewhere for safe-keeping?” He asked with eyes trained ahead, eager to return to his chambers and you. The thought you lying in his bed slacked his shoulders and evened his breath. She eyed the small container before looking up at him.

“Respectfully, sir, I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she replied slowly. He stopped to look at her, dropping his hand, but squeezing the container even tighter, and she continued. “I could be mistaken, but this may be the type of thing one should face oneself. Dealing with Moros herself may be a good way for Lady Elpis to close this chapter of her life.”

“So I should release Moros and allow him to go unpunished for all he’s done to her?” He asked derisively.

“I think you should allow Lady Elpis to decide that herself,” she explained. With a hesitant pause, she made a connection she hoped wouldn’t be out of turn. “You went to Hell alone because you thought you should be the one to free Queen Nada. I think you should give Lady Elpis that chance, too.”

Opening his palm, he considered the container carefully before it turned to sand that drifted outwards, returning Moros to the Waking World.

“I fear I may have made a grave mistake,” he exhaled.

***

“You’d think the Sandman would want people to sleep,” Phthonus grumbled as he paced the throne room. “Instead of summoning us down here at the witching hour and not even showing!”

“He’s probably just waiting until Moros shows up,” she rolled her eyes. “And this is interrupting your sleep?” Oizys asked with a devious grin from the pillar she was leaning against. She could practically taste how miserable Phthonus was to be here instead with his new Fae. He paused his pacing to narrow his eyes at her, which only widened her grin.

“I was in the bed of that gorgeous Cluracan Kakia introduced me to! And while we weren’t sleeping, Oizys, there is something I’d much rather be doing instead of waiting here for someone who hasn’t even bothered to show!”

“And I had the Norse God of Thunder kneeling before me,” Kakia sighed, as she stretched out languidly over the stone steps. “At least mine’s so needy that I know he’ll be waiting for me whenever I decide to get back to him,” she explained, letting her head fall back against the step above her. “But I don’t think that Cluracan will wait around for long, Phthonus,” she grinned, with a quick look to Oizys.

“Tick, tock,” Oizys joked. With a glare and a fast pace, he turned to exit the throne room, but a whirlwind of sand placed Morpheus on his throne and stopped Phthonus in his tracks.

Kakia turned her head even further back to look at Dream with a grin and an arched back that pushed her out breasts perfectly. “My lord,” she teased with a devilish smirk that went completely unnoticed by him. She pouted at his lack of response and drew herself upright, but continued to splay out over the steps.

“I issued all of you a warning earlier this evening,” he began. His fingers twitched impatiently on the armrest as he continued. “Moros was foolish enough to ignore it and invite my wrath. The warning remains intact for the remainder of your time here. If choose not to heed it, I assure you will meet with a fate similar to Moros’.”

“Where is Moros?” Phthonus questioned as he approached the staircase. “He’s a guest here. Certainly you haven’t harmed him?” He wondered with cautious eyes and folded arms.

“I have not,” Morpheus confirmed as he down at Phthonus. “But he is no longer a guest here. I have banished him from the realm for his acts against Lady Elpis. And you will find yourselves of the same fate if you should ignore my warning as he did.” And with a graceful sweep of the hand, the three disappeared from the hall, appearing instead in their respective quarters.

While Dream returned to his bed and pulled you into his arms, eager to put this night to rest, the evils piled into Phthonus’ quarters, keen to plot their next move.

***

When the warm sunbeams filtered through the windows, you sighed with your eyes still closed and a soft smile spread across your face as you felt Dream behind you. You reached for his hand that lay on your waist and when it was safely in your hold, you brought it up to your lips to leave a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Good morning, my Dream,” you greeted softly, and you didn’t need to turn around to know there was a soft smile on his face that matched your own.

“Good morning,” he responded softly at your ear, before lowering his lips to your neck and trailing soft kisses down towards your shoulder. A knowing smile played on your lips as he pulled his hand from yours to slide it down the front of your slip and cup your breast.

“Dream,” you began, but your warning tone was interrupted by the gasp that fled from your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You felt him smirk against your neck at the sound and your hand moved behind you to pull at his locks. With your fingers tangled in the silky tresses, you yanked hard enough to pull his lips from your neck and still his hands. You craned your head to make the slightest amount of eye contact. “We have a palace full of guests desperately awaiting your decision, husband.”

“They waited all night,” he began, his hand leaving your breast to slide between your thighs, shifting the hem of your slip up higher. “They can wait a little longer,” he rasped in your ear as he teased along your clothed slit.

“Then so can you!” You argued with a laugh at his impatience as you slipped out of his hold and left the bed. He watched you with a smile; as frustrating as it was to hold you for only a moment before he was denied of you, he found your laugh and lightness a welcome change from your demeanor last night. You took one last look at what you were certain as a pout on his face before turning towards your chamber entrance, laughter still bubbling from you as you answered the door.

As soon as you let her in, Beryl was pushing you in the direction of your dressing chambers, complaining about the inexperienced ladies’ maids she had to oversee for this event. Soon she had you dressed, your hair styled, and your make-up done. She set your heels aside, leaving you to fasten your earrings and Morpheus to clasp your necklace. She curtsied her goodbyes before leaving to oversee what new mess one of the clumsier lady’s maids had gotten herself into now.

You stepped into your heels and as you fastened the last earring, you turned slightly to Dream before speaking. “You can put that on now,” you explained with a cheeky smile at the way you caught him watching you, nodding to the necklace that remained in his hands.

“Actually,” he began, before laying the jewelry aside on your vanity and stepping before you. “I can think of something far better to adorn your neck,” he suggested, letting his lips trail along your jaw as his hands settled on your hips.

“Dream,” you warned lightly with your hands on his shoulders, but he continued his path down to your pulse point. “We have some very unruly guests to deal with downstairs,” you reminded him, trying to appeal to his senses as he led you backwards.

“Please,” he whispered against your neck before pulling away just enough for you to see the love in his eyes and you sighed. You never were any good at telling him “no”.

“Fine,” you relented, biting back the smile that threatened to form. With your permission granted and a satisfied smile on his face, Dream pressed you back against the wall with his hands on your hips. “But we have to be down there soon,” you reminded him, but he was far too busy tasting the floral sweetness of your skin. His lips moved to the junction of your neck, but you stopped him with your hands on his shoulders before he could leave yet another love bite. “And don’t mess up my hair. Or my makeup,” you warned with raised brows and a titled head. “Beryl worked very hard on it.”

“And we wouldn’t want to ruin Beryl’s handiwork,” he feigned agreement before capturing your lips in a searing kiss he knew would smear your lipstick.

He made quick work of the skirts Beryl had so painstakingly layered by sliding them up your thighs and bunching them around your waist. He hooked his fingers beneath the lace waistband of your panties and tearing the delicate material, he sealed your lips with his before you could chastise him for ripping more of your clothing to shreds.

As his hands moved to your waist, your skirts tried to slide back down your legs, so he placed his knee between your thighs, preventing them from falling and giving you something to grind down on. And you did, your hands gripping his shoulders as you balanced yourself on the taut muscles beneath his clothed thigh.  You leaned your head back against the wall, every roll of your hips fueling the arousal building in your core. He took the opportunity to trail bruising kissing from your pulse point to your collarbones, traversing the breadths of your neck with a tireless attention.

He watched with fascination at how you managed to pull pleasure from any part of him. “Dream,” you moaned, with your eyes closed, and suddenly his name didn’t belong on anyone else’s lips. He tilted his leg higher against you and the resulting pressure on your clit elicited a particularly obscene moan from you. Your pace picked up and you could feel your orgasm just out of reach as you tried to grind down harder on him. “Dream, help,” you whined finally, pulling his hands from your waist down to your hips.

“With pleasure, my darling,” he responded in a low voice at your ear, pausing his navigation across your collarbones to oblige your request. His grip tightened around your hips and you left yourself become putty in his capable hands. Your hands locked at the back of his neck, your mouth falling open at the way he continued to grind you down on him.

“Oh gods, Morpheus,” you moaned with your head thrown back. You felt your orgasm closer now and your hands moved to his shoulders, your nails pressing hard enough to puncture his suit jacket. He moved your hips faster then, recognizing the telltale signs of your upcoming climax. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing every sound of yours hungrily. You came hard and fast, your climax ripping through you and soaking his pant leg with your arousal. He moved you even faster then, your hands tightening around him and as your moans turned to mewling whines, he slowed you down, watching the tears that were perched at the corners of your eyes race down your face.

You kept your eyes closed and your head leaned back against the wall as your breath evened out. He watched every movement and wondered if you looked beautiful like this, you’d look even better on his cock. As if you could read his mind, your hands unfastened his belt and slipped him free of his pants. He smiled as he realized with your eyes still closed, you were working entirely from muscle memory. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you pulled him down to your lips and your hand moved to wrap around his length. You moaned wantonly into his mouth as you realized he was already hard from watching you come on his thigh.

With one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your thigh, he hitched your leg over his hip, his lips never leaving yours. Your stiletto heel dug into the back of his leg in anticipation as you felt the head of him at your entrance and he pulled away from your lips, intoxicated by the way you took him. Your lips bitten and swollen, tears streaking down your face from your brief overstimulation, your head thrown back once again, and if he looked carefully, he could see the possessive marks he left begin to bloom across your neck. As you sank further down on his cock, a low moan left you and with one hand still ensnared in his locks, you pulled him down to slot your lips against his, moving slowly now to buy yourself some time to adjust to his length.

You felt your walls flutter around him and a low moan that vibrated through him had you pulling back to take in the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed, deep scarlet staining his perfect snowy skin, and his eyes. Of course they were dark with lust as they normally were when you found yourself in this position, but there was something darker still underneath it: an unyielding, relentless, overwhelming form of love that had you wondering what he wouldn’t do for you.

But he blinked and it passed, leaving you with a slightly furrowed brow and parted lips that leaned down towards. He stopped just short, his lips ghosting over yours, before whispering, “I love you.” You glanced down at his lips before looking back up to the silvery blue of his eyes.

You pushed aside the concern that look in his eyes had incited in you, forcing a smile that became genuine as you returned the sentiment. “I love you, too, my Dream,” you whispered, as your hand went to the side of his face.

He pulled out of you slowly then, a needy whine coming with the motion at the unexpected loss of him. Pressing back into you only a moment later, he hiked your leg up further upon his hip, resulting in an even deeper angle and an even filthier moan from you. He withdrew from you once again, and you whined at the way your hips seemed to chase after him with the motion. Your hands dipped down to his upper arms, squeezing the taut muscle there as he pressed back into you even more forcefully.

Your other leg seemed to be obstructing him from the perfect angle, so he picked it up and hitched it over his other hip. The moan the escaped your lips mixed with the groan that left him at this new position and you were certain the lewd sound was heard through the hallways, if not the entire wing.

Your ankles locked behind him, pulling him even deeper inside of you. “Dream, please,” you whined. “So close.” His pace hastened at your words and the way your threw your head back with closed eyes, and with a deep, resounding groan that you felt through his chest, he came, filling you as you came around his cock.

As your breathing evened and your eyes fluttered open, he placed your right leg down, pulling out of you with an obscene squelching that suddenly had you blushing. His hand remained at your hip, holding you up as he placed your other leg down and until you regained your balance. Sliding your hands down to his forearms, you took a hesitant step as your skirt drifted down to their previous position. You pulled your hands from his arms to tuck him back into his pants and fasten the zippers and buttons there. He adjusted the neckline of your gown, satisfied with the love bites that were slowly becoming visible on your skin.

“Oh, wait,” you giggled, as you took in the sight of him with your lipstick staining his lips red. You stepped forward to rub it off with your thumb brushing against his full lips. He smiled at the way you bit your lip in concentration as you fixed him up. You blushed and another giggle escaped you as you wondered how hard you must have kissed him for such a transfer to occur. But your smile turned to a pout as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the full-length mirror. “Dream!” You complained, gesturing to the reflection of you: updo thoroughly tousled and out of place, lipstick smeared, mascara running slightly, and gown beyond wrinkled.

“I think you look perfect like this,” he smirked from behind you, taking in his handiwork as those same hands went to your waist. Stepping forward and out of his hold, you rolled your eyes at him through the mirror before you straightened out your dress with a single thought. With a few swipes and a little magic, you were able to turn your makeup and hair passable, though it was not nearly as immaculate as Beryl’s work.

With a sigh, you located your panties and at the sight of their torn state, you shot Morpheus a glare, which he pretended to miss. “Whenever you’re ready, wife,” he added nonchalantly, as he wiped away at the various stains your coupling had left on his pants, the dark spots disappearing under his touch. You narrowed your eyes at him and pursed your lips as you slipped the lacy material back on.

“I am never letting you do that again,” you threatened, as you walked over to him in a huff. He held his arm out for you, and he smiled at the tender way you took it, knowing full-well that you’d never follow through on that threat.

***

As the sand dissipated, you appeared on the staircase looking out on the palace entrance. The various parties turned towards both of you as you descended the stairs, your hand still on his arm.

“I don’t see him,” you muttered, glancing around as you continued your descent. “I see the rest of them,” you nodded towards the group of Kakia, Phthonus, and Oizys. “But Moros is missing,” you wondered with a frown. When Morpheus remained suspiciously silent by your side, you turned to look up at him. “What did you do, Morpheus?” You asked slowly, as you worried he may have violated the law of ancient sanctuary.

“I banished him from the Dreaming,” he explained, and even though his eyes were still trained ahead, you caught a flash of the dark look in his eye you noticed earlier.

“And that’s all?” You eyed him. “He was a guest, Dream, and I – I don’t want the Furies coming after you,” you added in a small voice with downcast eyes.

He placed his other hand over the one you hand on his arm. “That’s all, my darling,” he confirmed as he looked down at you. “I assure you, I left him alive and well in the Waking World.” You nodded slowly, eager to convince him and yourself that you believed him, when you knew how his anger could obscure his judgment.

When you reached the floor, you pulled your hand from Dream’s arm and allowed him to walk the floor as he announced his decision to return the Key to Heaven. You knew the decision may not have been a popular one, you told him as much when he mentioned it to you, but you agreed that it was the most appropriate one. You had expected a particularly volatile response from Azazel, after it was his home that was given away, but his words had you on edge as you watched Morpheus for any indication that he required assistance. This was his realm and you knew he was master of it, but you couldn’t help the fear that seized your heart as Azazel stepped closer to him.

“What about the distress it’s going to cause you?” He recounted the law of sanctuary and Morpheus stood his ground. “You can do nothing now to harm any of us. Even if I devour the soul of your lady love.”

You furrowed your brow at the seemingly vague threat, wondering how Azazel planned to consume your soul.

“What you say is true, Azazel. But… I offered my hospitality to all of my guests. Those I knew about… and those I did not,” Morpheus responded in an even voice as he looked to the various parties before him. Your confusion didn’t ease with his words; certainly he didn’t consider you a guest in your own realm. “So yes, you are under my protection. But so, too, is Queen Nada.”

He said something else and you were sure that Azazel responded with some sort of threat or retort, but it was all lost to you. All you could hear was the way he responded to someone calling Nada his lady love with… nothing. He issued no correction, no comment to dissuade the idea that he still loved Nada, not even a fleeting glance to you to assure you it wasn’t true. But worse, there was no sense of surprise on him. You blinked quickly as you realized he knew. He knew Nada was here and under Azazel’s hold, but he never told you. Your False Hope was eager to speak up: And there’s only one reason he wouldn’t tell you. The answer came to you before you could work to silence that slithering voice inside. He didn’t tell you because he’s still in love with her. And he thought you’d stop him from freeing her and being with her.

Azazel stepped back, his demonic form taking the place of his human façade, and the entire audience turned in awe and dread of his fearful appearance, but you hadn’t really noticed. Your eyes were trained on Morpheus, and had he looked up at you, he would have recognized the heartbreak on your face that he had been responsible for so many times before. You felt bile at your throat once again and with a deep breath, you willed it down, refusing to leave now and show any sign of doubt or weakness before the audience before you.

So you simply stood in place as Azazel goaded Morpheus to come and get her. She cried out for him and your lips parted at the mix of fury and concern in his eye that sent him forward into Azazel’s hellish maw without hesitation. A soft, broken breath escaped you as you watched her reach out for him desperately and him reach for her with desperation of his own. With a proper grip on her wrist, he pulled her forcefully from Azazel’s clutches and you stared vacantly as you thought back to just a few minutes ago when that hand had lay upon you in an act of reassurance and trust.

In his concern for Nada’s wellbeing and relief for her safety, he didn’t notice Azazel’s form begin to surround him. And despite everything you were felling, you couldn’t help but scream out for him. He turned at the sound of your voice and watched as Azazel swallowed him whole. And suddenly, you felt very silly. Dream was entirely unfazed by the demon’s actions, and you should have been too; after all, in a realm where Dream was power incarnate, the demon had none to use against him. You swallowed thickly as you worried your inner ruminations may have been made transparent by your nervous outburst.

As expected, the hall returned to its previous peaceful state as Dream appeared beside you at the foot of the stairs holding a glass bottle that contained Azazel’s form. He explained that this was his home and reality conformed to his will. He asked if anyone had additional issues with his decision and when no one spoke up, he turned without another word; not to the audience or you. Bile rose once again at your throat and you knew you couldn’t force it down forever. You swallowed thickly taking a deep breath and forced a tactful, diplomatic smile you hadn’t donned in centuries.

“I believe that concludes our event,” you announced with your hands clasped before you. For a moment, you wondered where he had gone, but before you could even formulate the thought, that vicious voice within you responded. He’s gone to check on Nada, of course. His lady love. Where else would he go with all the concern he showed for her? You forced your smile wider, gesturing to the palace doors you opened with a thought. “We thank you for your time.” You caught sight of Matthew and urged him to take over for just a moment. With a hesitant agreement, you left him for the nearest washroom.

You returned shortly after to oversee the departing masses and when you heard Dream’s familiar footsteps, your body tensed as it once had when you first arrived in the Dreaming. He moved to stand beside you at the entrance, waiting until the party before you finished their goodbyes to lean over to you.

“You seemed particularly concerned about me earlier,” he teased, referring to your calling out for him, but you didn’t find it especially funny. He peered down at you with a frown. He had expected you to roll your eyes, or blush, or swat lightly at him with a chiding remark. All the little reactions you reserved for him that made him eager to tease you. But your eyes remained forward and your distant expression unwavering. He reached for your hand hesitantly and his heart dropped when you pulled it away from him. And you ignored the way his lips parted in silent devastation at your actions to acknowledge the next group. He broke in particular when he recognized the tactful smile you dusted off for this very occasion.

Next Chapter ->

A/N: I want to mention a quick thing about the parentage of the evils. Traditionally, Moros and Oizys have the same mother, Nyx (Night). Now, technically, Dream’s mother is Night. HOWEVER, I am maintaining that Nyx and Night are two separate entities. This means the Pithos Evils are NOT RELATED to the Endless, so we don't have to worry about spilling family blood. People in the canon might refer to Night (Dream’s mother) as Nyx, but in this fic, but I think of it like how people in the canon use Oneiros and Morpheus interchangeably, even though they’re two separate entities in the mythology.

<- Prev. Chapter

You woke with a groan and a splitting headache in encompassing darkness, but endless whispering chatter and distant cackling. You sat up quickly, backing away from the approaching voices until your back hit something solid. Your eyes darted through the darkness, looking from one unseen shrieking source to the next.

“Why, what have we here?” One voice rasped.

“Something far too sweet to be in here with the rest of us,” another snarled.

One cackled in delight before offering their thoughts. “Something to pass the time, perhaps!”

“Something to corrupt,” one sneered.

A deep voice joined in. “Something to torture.”

“Something to devastate,” one decided.

“No,” you whispered, as you realized who these voices belonged to. You looked up and realized you were contained entirely within darkness. “I’m not supposed to be in here,” you decided. You stood, screaming desperately into the blackness above you. “I’m not supposed to be in here!”

“‘I’m not supposed to be in here,’” one mocked before another joined in. Your attentions turned back to them and you glanced around for somewhere to run. The mocking tones seemed to come from everywhere as more of them joined in before breaking into a roar of laughter at your panic.

“No,” you whimpered, as you looked out into the darkness. “Please,” you pleaded. But the voices paid no attentions to your pleas, closing in on you with a steady, unrelenting pace.

***

The crisp evening air filled your lungs and you moved through the grounds aimlessly, until you found yourself in the Eastern Gardens. You slipped your heels off and felt the grass between your toes as you walked through the flowerbeds. Smiling softly at the cyan lilies, you recalled how they were your first addition to the Dreaming over two millennia ago. You sat down, folding your legs beneath you, and reaching out to feel the petals between your fingertips, but your hands stilled when you heard him.

“Elpis!” He breathed in relief after finding you. You turned from him slightly, suddenly embarrassed for him to come to you after what had just happened. “Are you alright?” He asked, ignoring the way you shied away from him. He knelt down beside you and with both hands on your upper arms, he turned you to him, his eyes raking over your form any sign of harm. “I didn’t know they would seek the key,” he admitted, watching the way you still struggled to look at him.

“I know,” you nodded. “Neither did I,” you scoffed lightly. You felt tears prick at your eyes at the sight of Dream’s concern and wiped quickly at them. “It’s been thousands of years and I’m still crying over it,” you scoffed as you looked at the wetness on the back of your hand. “I should be over it, right? Or at least, not frozen in terror at the sight of him,” you sighed in frustration as you let a petal fall through your fingers.

His next question died on his tongue at the way you singled out Moros without thinking. His arrogant tone and dismissive attitude had already irritated Dream, but knowing he was now the cause of your anguish enraged him. But he pushed his anger aside, opting instead to alleviate your distress.

“You should be whatever it is you need to be,” he stated simply, taking your hand in his. “You haven’t faced him or any of the evils since you were imprisoned, Elpis. You can’t help how you reacted to their presence.”

You peered up at him and for a moment he worried that he may have said the wrong thing. Or perhaps he hadn’t said enough. Or perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything at all. But then you leaned forward and fell against his chest, and a sigh of relief left him at the feeling of you in his arms.

“Shall we go inside?” He asked after a moment and you pulled away from him with a sniffle.

“I think I’d like to stay here for a bit. By myself, if that’s alright,” you added quietly, and he swallowed thickly at the thought that his presence no longer brought you comfort.

“Of course,” he responded, but as he turned to leave, you pulled him back to your lips. You simply wanted some time for solitary reflection, but you knew how Morpheus would view your dismissal of him and how he hated to leave your presence.

“Thank you, my Dream,” you smiled, and when one graced his features, your heart lightened. With a gentle kiss to your cheek, he left you, secure in the belief that you still cared for him.

***

“This is terribly boring,” Kakia sighed, before turning to Phthonus. “Can’t you do something about this?” She asked with large eyes and a pout that had no effect on the man.

“If only. You know how Moros doesn’t like me to interfere with his romantic endeavors,” he scoffed.

They watched from a distance as Moros cornered you, a sly grin on his face at the way your eyes widened in terror as your back hit something solid.

“Does it even count as romance if he doesn’t fuck her?” She groaned. “Gods, why doesn’t he just take her already?”

“You know, there are parts of romance other than sex,” Phthonus teased.

“Not the fun parts,” she rolled her eyes at him. They watched Moros lowered his head until his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. Your lip trembled at the touch and Kakia continued. “I understand how fun it is to play with your food, but at some point, you do have to eat,” she replied.

“You know Moros doesn’t just take what he wants,” Phthonus explained. “He expects it to be given to him. Or to give up to him.” He nodded towards you and Moros, as your expression filled with something the two had never seen on you before.

He straightened slightly and you looked up at him once his face became visible to you. Your hand came across his face quickly then, and the echoing smack had the pair gasping in surprise. The sound was followed almost immediately by a thud, as with one hand still on your hip and the other around your throat, Moros forced you back against the wall. His head dipped once again and you squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling of his lips at your ear.

“I will have you, Elpis,” he whispered as his grip tightened around your throat.

***

“So now that you’ve seen her, can we go?” Oizys grumbled from her seat. Moros looked to her with a quirked brow from across the table, and Phthonus inhaled sharply, preparing for the argument that would shortly ensue. “I mean, you don’t actually expect to get the keys to Hell, do you?” She chuckled. “And there’s no way you’re going to be able to take her from here,” she scoffed looking around the impressive hall.

“You don’t think I could get Elpis to give us the key?” He asked, with a confidant smile. “Or at the very least, convince her to come away with me?”

“I don’t think she’s the one holding the key. And as for your second goal,” she leaned forward with narrowed eyes and a vicious grin. “You couldn’t do it with all the time you had in the pithos. What makes you think you can do it now?”

“Oh, boy,” Phthonus sighed. Between Oizys’ pessimism and Moros’ self-assurance, the two often spent hours deadlocked in arguments that prevented Phthonus from inspiring the romantic envies and jealousies he so enjoyed. And at a banquet like this, he hated to waste a single moment that could be spent sparking torrid affairs and vicious quarrels. He leaned across the table to nudge Kakia for assistance.

“Settle down, children,” she responded flatly, with her eyes fixed on a curly-haired Faerie who had just downed half a bottle of wine. “Oizys, why don’t you put that cynicism to good use and tell us everything that stands in the way of calling Hell our new home? And Moros,” she paused to turn to him. “Oizys has a point. Elpis isn’t in control here.”

“No surprise there,” Oizys smirked.

“But she is married to him,” Kakia replied to Oizys’ quip, before turning back to Moros. “So think: how could you possibly get the man who’s married to sweet, little Elpis to do what you want?” The two considered her words and she rose from the table with a smile.

“Now,” Kakia announced, with her palms on the table as she stood. “If you don’t mind, I think this party could be a bit more wicked,” she grinned, before approaching the curly-haired man of the Faerie delegation who seemed to be almost as skilled a drinker as her.

Phthonus leaned back in his seat with a satisfied smirk. Kakia may have been impulsive, but she always became quite the logician when something prevented from getting what she wanted. And by making her obstacles align with his, he could have her squash this annoying little argument for him. Phthonus slipped away, leaving Oizys and Moros before their collaboration could quickly fall to hostility once again.

When he could no longer tolerate Oizys’ underestimation of him, Moros decided to roam the hall to study the competition. But Oizys scoffed at his explanation, completely aware of what he was searching for. She remained seated at her corner of the table, carefully observing each party and the minute behaviors that keyed her into each one’s greatest pains. She keyed in on a particularly shy member of the adjacent table who sought to earn his compatriots’ respect. With narrowed eyes and malicious smile, the poor man’s friends seemed deaf to his words, quickly speaking over him and leaving his comments unanswered. She laughed deep in her throat as he shrunk in on himself, finding his wilting gaze and dejected expression absolutely delicious.

Moros watched Kakia flirt with members of the Faerie delegation, her fingers at the bottom of a wine bottle that she tilted against the mouth of a poor soul who found himself under her persuasion. Her fingers rose until the bottle had drained its contents down the poor boy’s throat and when the bottle came down with a crash, Kakia threw her head back in raucous laughter that was joined by the curly-haired Faerie. With her outrageous behavior and form-fitting gown, Moros was sure she would have her fill of tempting the weak to embrace their deepest vices.

Moros continued to scour the hall, moving from table to table with a deliberate walk when his gaze landed on Morpheus. He offered a reverent nod, but his mocking smirk undercut any respect the gesture may have held. He chuckled lowly to himself when Morpheus turned his back and disappeared behind a corner. He continued his survey of the banquet hall, but exhaled in frustration when his search yielded naught. His attentions turned to Phthonus and with a wave, he gestured the brown-haired man over.

“Moros,” he groaned, as he neared him. “I was just about to start a delightful rumor about Lord Kilderkin’s untamable affections for a member of the Shadow Brigade.” Phthonus whined as he slumped against the wall beside Moros.

“Isn’t Lord Kilderkin a box?” Moros questioned as he glanced over to the table of gray suited-men surrounding an equally neutral-colored box.

“A box and a juggler,” Phthonus sighed, as he smiled fondly. “Just picture the children.” The image formed momentarily in Moros’ mind, but he shook it before it could do any permanent damage. “I wonder if he’d juggle the box, you know, as part of their—”

“Phthonus,” Moros interrupted, eager to prevent another equally vivid image from scarring his mind. “I need you to attract the attentions of our host, Morpheus.”

“I think Kakia would be more than glad to fulfill that request,” he laughed as he recalled how the sight of their host had incited an all-consuming envy in Kakia for Elpis.

“I fear Kakia’s wiles will be far too heavy-handed for Morpheus’ attentions,” Moros explained, as they watched her grab a passing waitress by the waist and pull her down for a kiss. “No, I think a brawl sparked by romantic envy will do nicely,” he suggested, directing Phthonus’ attentions to the table of the Aesir that neighbored the table of demons.

“Oh,” Phthonus realized, and his grin grew as the gears worked in his head. Blowing a simple kiss from his seat across the hall, Phthonus placed Thor in a stupor of romantic envy that pushed him to say some truly crass things to the Mother of Spiders. With a wink at her lover, Phthonus had Chronzon in a jealous frenzy and the two manipulations incited the perfect distraction for Moros.

Slipping out of the hall just as Morpheus disarmed Thor, Moros closed his eyes and smiled when he felt your presence nearby. He felt you at a set of doors overlooking a vast garden and within moments, he was there, observing you from a hidden corner. He watched you brush dirt from your hands and the thought of those soft hands wrapped around him sent him after you.

After some quiet time in the Eastern Gardens, you were keen to rejoin the banquet in time for Cain’s magic act that would undoubtedly end with a gruesome, but inventive end for Abel. You chuckled at the thought of a trap door trick that led to a pit of ravenous wolves, or sharpened spikes, or some other unthinkable torture.

You barely had time to look up as Moros closed in on you. His movements were slow, calculated, inevitable. The relentless look in his dark eyes had you backing away from him, but your breath caught in your throat when you felt the stone wall at your back. A terrible sense of déjà vu came over you as he stood a hair’s breadth away from you. His breath fanned upon your skin as he took in the sight of you: dressed in grand silks and decorated in priceless jewels, but still cowering before him. A queen in every right turned back into the trembling young lady he had desired for thousands of years. Your eyes darted up nervously at him, unsure what was to come in this uncharacteristic pause of his.

“Oh, my sweet Elpis,” he whispered as his face dipped in the crook of your neck, taking in the scent of you that he had so dearly missed. “How I have hungered for you,” his voice rumbled low with want as his hand went to your waist, his fingertips pressing into the supple flesh there. You shut your eyes against his touch and bent the Dreaming to your will, disappearing from under Moros to appear behind him.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you threatened, forcing your voice to remain even as you clenched your fists to keep from shaking. He smiled condescendingly at your attempt to defy him as he placed his hands in his pockets and maintained his distance.

“I searched for the pithos, you know,” he began, his voice turning uncharacteristically wistful as his gaze dipped low. “For you,” he admitted softly, and your lips parted at the how genuinely dejected he seemed. “I could never retrieve it from Zeus’ possession. But when I heard that he had released you, I thought I finally had you,” he confessed, and in your surprise at his gentle honesty, you didn’t notice the steps he took towards you. “But then you made this realm your home,” he sighed, looking around the hall. “And I knew your Lord Morpheus would never allow me entry. Certainly not if he knew how I intended to whisk you away from here,” he smirked and his fingers grazed your jaw, the sudden touch freezing you in place. “But then he gained possession of that key, opened the doors of his realm, and brought me right back to you,” he breathed, just shy of your lips.

You disappeared once again, appearing behind him by the garden doors this time. “If you approach me again, Moros,” you paused, leaving your threat open-ended.

But he paid your threat no mind, certainly not when the sound of his name on your lips sent a shudder of pleasure through him. “Are we really going to do this dance all evening, Elpis?” He questioned as he turned to you. “I’m a guest in the realm. You can’t harm me unless I harm you and as far as I’ve seen, we’re just talking,” he proclaimed smugly as he stepped towards you. “Closely, perhaps,” he said as he neared you. “But it’s not as though I’m hurting you, am I?” He questioned lowly as his hand squeezed your wrist.

“Unhand me or I’ll make you,” your voice wavered, but the fury in your eyes surprisingly gave him pause. He felt something familiar reach out from within you and a slow grin spread across his face when he recognized the source of your abilities.

“You really think that’ll work on me?” He laughed with a quirked brow. “Oh sweet Elpis,” he sighed, and as if to prove you were powerless against him, his hand released your wrist to hold your face. “You can’t use my gifts against me.”

You stared up at him with parted lips and a truly delicious mix of confusion and despondency.

“You really don’t remember, do you, my love?” He breathed with a slow smile as his thumb brushed your cheek. “That part of you that you just tried to use against me was my gift to you. A little impending doom to offer a far more realistic form of hope. A part of me that shall forever remain within you.”

And you shuddered. You shuddered at the thought of this piece of yourself that had been with you for so long, that had clung so fiercely to your feelings and wants that it seemed to know you better than yourself. This piece that you had tamed and eventually accepted was nothing more than a mark, a claim, a stain that he had left on you.

The shame turned quickly to anger, which turned to fury, and then murderous intent. “I don’t care about my husband’s rules,” you began, your voice low and barbed. Your wrath had you pushing off the wall and you willed the floor to dip behind Moros’ feet. He stumbled backwards with a furrowed brow as you moved forward, your confidence growing with the distance between you. “If you come near me again, I will destroy you.” And with a thought, the floor beneath him disappeared and he fell, somehow finding himself back in his seat in the great hall.

You let out a shaky breath and forced your mind blank, focusing on each step you took until you returned to the Great Hall. You found yourself a secluded corner offstage as Cain continued with his magic-themed murder of Abel. Your mind slid back to the confrontation as you felt the False Hope within you swirl and splay within you. You swallowed thickly, desperately trying to distract yourself by focusing on the sausage-maker that was now wheeled out. You closed your eyes, feeling it ebb, and you sighed a breath of relief as you let it sink back down where it couldn’t affect you.

When you opened your eyes, Cain was taking his final bow and cursing anyone who didn’t find his act amusing, which earned your laughter and applause. As Cain left the stage, Dream appeared upon it and your whole body stilled. After he informed the guests that the banquet had concluded and advised them to depart before the room vanished, his eyes slid over to you. His shoulders slacked slightly and something lurched in you at the way seemed to relax with a single glimpse of you. You turned quickly then, using the rising bile at your throat as an excuse for the true reason for your exit: you couldn’t bear the thought of Dream finding out about the true nature of your False Hope.

At the sight of your sudden departure, Dream longed to follow you, but as he exited the stage, Lucienne informed him of a meeting with Azazel that could not be avoided. He took a last glance at the exit you had taken before leaving for the throne room.

***

You found yourself in your shared chambers soon after you left the washroom. You slipped out of your gown easily, leaving it in a silken heap on the ground just as you entered the bedroom. Sliding under the covers and pressing your eyes shut, you let out a frustrated cry. You hated the way you must have perfectly emulated the pathetic form you were in when Morpheus threw you out of his study thousands of years ago. After two millennia, you thought you had finally changed; that you were no longer the terrified, sheepish girl you were then. But here you were: once again hiding under the covers in tears.

When you heard Dream call out for you, you lowered the covers and wiped quickly at your eyes. You turned away from the door and shut your eyes, feigning a deep sleep to avoid a discussion you weren’t ready to have. He smiled softly, never tiring of the sight of you asleep in his bed. With a thought, the formality of his suit was replaced by the simplicity of sleepwear, and with a contented sigh, he slid under the covers, eager to hold you. But when his arm reached out around your waist, your body tensed under his touch in a wordless move that broke his heart. You wriggled slightly under his hold and when he withdrew his arm, you moved to the very edge of the bed.

He swallowed thickly as he watched you bring your legs up, curling in on yourself and away from him and he cursed himself for not denying the evils entry the moment they arrived.

In the time following your reconciliation, he had grown accustomed to your happiness and the way the realm seemed to shine a shade brighter with your smile, the very fabric of the land practically buzzing at the sound of your laugh. The melancholy you bore for two millennia had become a distant memory, but seeing it pull you down once more wounded him.

His hand moved gingerly; he knew how grounding you found his touch, but with the way you pulled away from him, he wasn’t certain if it would only worsen things. But he forged ahead, letting his hand fall softly on your upper arm, pausing for a moment before squeezing lightly.

You pressed your eyes shut at the gentle, reassuring touch; the simple way he managed to tell you he was here without starting a conversation he knew you didn’t want to have. The way he still reached for you, the way he knew exactly what you needed, the way he still loved you after you had been used and marked by Moros had your lip trembling. But he didn’t know. A gasping sob left you as you realized what he would do after learning how vilely and reprehensibly you had been marked by Moros: he would leave you.

And the sound had him calling out for you. He knew you needed time to process this yourself; you had said as much when you asked to be alone in the Eastern Gardens. But he could no longer bear to stand by when you were sobbing only inches away from him. “Please,” he implored gently, pulling lightly at your shoulder to urge you to turn towards him, but you twisted your arm just enough to dissuade him but still remain under his touch.

“Just leave it alone, Dream,” you cried weakly, eager to delay the eventuality of him learning how Moros had ruined you.

“How can I?” He wondered softly, watching your shoulders shake under the weight of your silent sobs.

You exhaled a pitiful breath at the way he longed to comfort you. “Moros found me after I left the Eastern Gardens,” you began after a moment and Morpheus instantly regretted leaving you there alone. “And,” you paused, tracing lines over the sheets as you delayed telling him how you almost violated his rules. “I tried to use my False Hope on him,” you admitted, pausing in wait of Morpheus’ anger regarding the violation. “But only because he grabbed me and I didn’t know what else –” you added defensively, but Dream’s voice came low and uneven as it interrupted you.

“He laid his hands on you?” The realm seemed to still and he struggled to maintain his composure at the thought.

You swallowed thickly as you felt him tense behind you. If the thought of Moros’ hands on you repulsed him, you dreaded what he would think of you when he learned the origins of your False Hope.

“Yes,” you answered, finally. You shuddered as you remembered how he had backed you against a wall with his hand on your waist, his face pressing at the crook of your neck and shame flushed through you. If Dream had seen that, you were sure he wouldn’t be holding you so lovingly now. You pictured him tossing the covers aside without another word, leaving you alone in this bed, and soon banishing you from the Dreaming. And suddenly you just wanted it to happen, to get it over with. “But it didn’t work,” you continued, quietly. “My False Hope, I mean.” You took a breath before forcing yourself to finally admit it. “It – it was a part of him. A part he marked me with,” you finally confessed, and your whisper turned to a whimper. “A part of him I can never erase, never remove, never forget,” you cried in frustration. “A part of him that will forever remain within me,” you whispered, recalling his words.

And when he didn’t respond, you waited. Waited for the sound of shifting covers, followed by his exit from your bed, and finally his retreating footsteps to prove that he had left you. Just as you knew he would.

“Would you look at me?” He asked softly and your brow furrowed at the simple request. You turned slowly, but your gaze remained lowered, far too ashamed to look up at him. But it simply wouldn’t do, so he tilted your face towards him with a hold on your cheek. “My Hope,” he whispered as his thumb brushed gently against your skin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered before slowly pulling you into him, giving you every opportunity to pull away. “For all that you have suffered.”

“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “Are—aren’t you angry with me? Disappointed? Ashamed?” You asked in a small voice.

And he swallowed thickly at the way you thought he could hold anything other than unwavering adoration for you in this moment. “Never,” he affirmed, pulling you even tighter against him. “I love you, my Hope.”

You wanted to ask why, how, he could possibly hold you, let alone still love you after this, but the reverent way he held you and the certainty in his voice rendered your questions obsolete. So you simply leaned into him, nuzzling deeper into the warmth of his chest, and letting his affections melt away whatever Moros had made you feel.

“And he will suffer for every offense against you,” he vowed silently.

Next Chapter ->

A/N: I've decided to take Larry David's advice and stick to what's funny/fun to write. When Jason Alexander asked why George never had closure or resolution on his various escapades on "Seinfeld", David explained that, "It's not funny after that!"

So, I've decided to skip certain arcs (Rose Walker, the Corinthian, Lyta Hall, etc.) because either they won't be any more interesting to read/fun to write with Elpis in them OR they're no longer applicable due to Dream's shortened imprisonment. So instead, we'll jump straight to the "Calliope" special episode!

<- I For You

"Take my hand in the meantime, Let's walk into the sunshine. Everybody's got something that they want to sing about, laugh about, cry about; It's true For me, it's you." - Train's "For Me, It's You"

With a tight pull and a sharp inhale, Beryl fastened the laces at the back of your slip.

“Gods, some days I really miss my outfits from the Waking World,” you sighed as you watched Beryl approach with a heavy chiffon gown of sea foam green.

“I don’t,” Beryl responded, as she helped you into the gown. “I mean, you’ve got to admit this is more elegant than jeans and tee shirts,” she added, as she led you to the mirror. You rolled your eyes at her as you smoothed out the material of the sweetheart neckline. A light rapping at the door drew an eager grin from you and Beryl huffed as her search for the perfect pair of kitten heels was put on hold.

“I’ll get it,” you rushed, as you picked up your skirts to run through the sitting room to the door.

“He’s early, you know,” Beryl chided, as she peeked her head out of your shoe closet. Ignoring her words, you arrived at the entrance of your chambers and pulled the door open.

“Hi,” you whispered, looking up at him with an ever-growing grin.

“Hello, darling,” he smiled at the excitement his mere presence brought you. “Good morning, Beryl,” he added, as he looked past you to find Beryl approaching you with two pairs of shoes.

“Good morning, my lord,” she smiled with a curtsy, before turning to you to display both pairs. “Pointed or almond toe?”

“Hmm, pointed,” you decided after a moment, taking the heels from her. He followed inside as you moved to the sitting room, taking his typical place on the armchair. “What are we doing today?” You asked him, as you sat on the divan and slipped on your shoes.

“We have audiences with some residents of the Transcendental Deserts regarding recent deteriorations,” he began, as he watched Beryl approach with a jewelry set. “And proposals for expansions in the Withering Ruins to review,” he continued as he rose from his seat to retrieve the necklace and earrings from the box Beryl held out for him. He approached you from behind the divan to pass you the earrings over your shoulder, before laying the necklace across your collarbones. “I thought we could spend the rest of the day charting the next region of the realm,” he added, as he clasped the necklace at the nape of your neck. You fastened the last earring and your breath hitched as you felt his fingers linger at the junction of your neck for a moment too long.

“He’s gonna put me out of a job soon enough,” Beryl muttered under her breath as she crossed her arms with a conceding smile at his delicate actions.

“That sounds lovely,” you smiled as he moved to stand before you. Taking the hand he offered, you rose from the divan, and interlaced your fingers with his. “Goodbye, Beryl!” You called out over your shoulder as the two of you exited your chambers.

***

“Perhaps the deterioration of the Deserts would desist, or at least decline, if more dreamers were directed there,” you offered, as you ascended the winding stone staircase.

“I have considered it,” he began. He was only a step ahead of you, his hand still in yours. “But the region was intended for artists who struggled to find beauty to inspire them. With a declining interest in the arts, I’m afraid the region has attracted fewer and fewer dreamers.”

“Well, couldn’t it be for more than just artists?” You questioned as you arrived at the obsidian thrones at the acme of the staircase. “What if it was for the average person who became so muddled down by the mundane, that they no longer noticed the beauty of the world around them?”

He turned to watch you with a smile playing on his lips as he considered your idea. “How this realm managed for centuries without you at my side in these matters, I shall never know,” he remarked, before taking his seat at his throne. Your smile deepened at his words, but turned to a knowing smirk as you stood before your throne, noting at the small space between the two. “You know, these chairs seem closer to each other than they were yesterday,” you remarked lightly, as you took your seat.

“Hmm,” he hummed nonchalantly, as he looked out over the throne room. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course not,” you smiled, as your hand moved from your armrest, to his, landing gently over his hand. But when he called out for Matthew to introduce the first audience, you moved your hand back to your lap.

***

“And that should conclude the day’s audiences, right, Matthew?” You asked the raven as the last resident disappeared behind the formidable onyx doors.

“Believe so, ma’am,” Matthew answered as he flew from the closed doors and landed before you and Dream. You rose from your throne to approach Matthew.

“I believe Lucienne has some matters that require your assistance,” you explained to the raven. You could feel Morpheus’ confusion behind you, so you continued, quickly. “And we have some rather pressing matters to discuss, don’t we, my lord?” You added as you turned to him, mischief playing on a smile seen only by him.

His lips parted with understanding and the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Turning to Matthew, he dropped the still-forming smile quickly. “Could you assist her in the library?” With a winged salute, Matthew was off, leaving the two of you alone for the first time that day.

“Remind me again,” his smile returned as you turned to stand before his still-seated form. “What were these ‘pressing matters’ we were to discuss?” He asked with a raised brow as his hands found themselves on your waist. You stepped closer, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“Well, it seems, my lord,” you began, with a sly smile as you straddled his waist. Your hands moved from his shoulders to lock at the back of his neck. “That you haven’t kissed your wife even once today,” you explained as you looked down him, your smile turning to a cheeky grin.

“Oh,” he responded with mock-surprise as his hands ran up your thighs. “That is certainly a matter I should remedy,” he decided before leaned up to press his lips to yours. His hands slid up from your thighs to your hips and you giggled against his lips as one of your hands moved to tangle in his hair. His heart skipped at the sound and his fingertips pressed into your hips. You opened your mouth to deepen the kiss and his tongue searched eagerly for yours, desperate for your taste. You pulled away to take in a breath and he used the opportunity let his lips trail down the column of your neck.

“Oh, Morpheus,” you moaned, as both your hands went to pull at his dark tresses.

“My darling,” he whispered against your neck before taking a section of the soft flesh between his teeth. You gasped as his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin.

“Dream,” you whined, as you pulled away slightly. “No, you’ll leave a mark.”

He elected to trail a soft path of kisses across your jaw at your objection and he responded, lowly. “Do you not wish to be marked as mine?” His hand went to the side of your face as he pulled your lips down to his. You released your grip on his locks as your lips worked against his and your hands slid to rest on his shoulders. He pulled away, just short of your lips and his eyes flickered to yours. “For all to know who holds your heart?”

Your gaze fell from his searching blue eyes to his full pink lips as your own were pressed between your teeth. “We should review those proposals for the Withering Ruins,” you deflected with downcast eyes, as you rose from his lap. He let you slip out of his hands, watching silently as you began your descent down the winding staircase. He considered letting you review the proposals alone while he remained here on his throne, pondering why you refused to carry any trace of his love. But the thought of being apart from you seemed to pull at him more, so he followed you down the staircase.

When he was just a step behind you, he let his fingers graze yours, and when you reached back for his hand, he let you take it. He moved to stand beside you as you reached the bottom of the stairs and your hand slid up to wrap around his bicep as you leaned your head against his arm. A contented sigh left you as you walked down to your study like that, and Dream looked down to watch you with your eyes closed, a soft smile on your face by the simple closeness of him. A soft smile of his own formed at the sight, but something in him stung at the thought of you refusing to be seen as his.

You moved out of his grasp only momentarily to open the door to your study and he followed in after you. Taking your seat on one side of the desk and him at the other, you flipped through the pages that Lucienne had dropped off regarding the Withering Ruins expansion. He watched as you rolled your lip between your teeth as you considered two of the pages.

He recalled when he had first joined you here, only a few days after you returned from the Waking World and moved back into the palace.

“I should go,” you interrupted. “Mervyn left some plans for the Memory Gardens in my study that I must review,” you explained, as you pulled his hands from your waist.

“Perhaps,” he began hesitantly. “I could join you,” he proposed, with his hands still in your grip and his gaze still fixed on your lips.

A knowing smile played on your face as you placed his hands back where they belonged. “Fine,” you relented. “But I really must review those papers.”

“I wouldn’t dare keep you from your duties, my lady,” he whispered, a devilish grin playing on his lips before he leaned down to kiss you gently.

“Of course, you wouldn’t,” you laughed as you pulled away from him, leading him to your study with your hand in his. You passed your chamber doors to enter your study from its separate entrance.

“Oh! My lord,” Beryl said with short curtsy, as you both entered your study. “I didn’t expect to see you here, sir,” she considered him for a moment and you tilted your head with raised brow, silently imploring her not to voice her disapproval. She pursed her lips and turned to you. “Mervyn dropped those off for you, ma’am,” she explained as she nodded to the pages on your desk.

Beryl watched as you turned to sit behind your desk and as she turned to leave, she paused momentarily behind Morpheus. “You better not get any ideas with how close this study is to the bedroom,” she threatened low enough for only him to hear, before moving towards the door. “I should be going, ma’am,” she smiled brightly and you thanked her as she left.

“Why don’t you take the northern aspect of the expansion, and I’ll take the eastern?” You offered, and as you looked up from the pages, you found him already watching you. “What?” You asked, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“You do not wish our relationship to be made public,” he stated plainly, after a moment.

“We’re married, Dream,” you laughed. “I believe that’s quite public,” You added with a raised brow, but he remained unamused, and your smile faltered.

“I mean our reconciliation,” he began and you sighed as you placed the papers down. “When we hold audiences, you maintain the formalities of our titles. Even before Matthew, you employ them. And you pull your hand from mine at the sight of another person.”

“Dream, we have proposals to review,” you tried, glancing back at the papers on your desk. “Do we really have to do this now?”

“Yes,” he pleaded as he leaned forward to reach for your hand. “Please, Hope. Do you not wish to be seen with me? To be loved by me?”

“Dream!” You cried in a hushed tone as you moved from behind the desk to stand before him. “I have wanted nothing more since I married you,” you explained with a smile as you squeezed both of his hands in yours. But then your smiled faltered and your gaze fell from his. “It’s just,” you sighed as you stepped away from him and moved to the window, eager to look at anything but him. “You don’t know what it was like for me when you were with Calliope,” you scoffed. “The pity, the smirks. Everyone knew about you and her. Everyone knew that my husband was carrying on with an affair and enduring their pity and snide comments was unbearable,” you shook your head. “At least by the time you were with Titania, our estrangement was already well known,” you scoffed. “And now, despite decades of public humiliation, to admit that I’ve not only remained in this marriage, but I’ve reconciled with you? It’s too much, Morpheus. I’m not sure I can face the humiliation of it,” you whispered.

“Humiliation?” He questioned, as he rose from his seat. “You believe your act of forgiveness to be humiliating?” He stepped closer to you, but you refused to turn to him, still watching the wisteria trees sway lightly in the wind of the Eastern Gardens. “My Hope, it is nothing short of grace and strength to forgive every one of my failings against you.”

You laughed mirthlessly as you turned from the window to shake your head at him. “You’re just saying that because you get your way in all this. You get to have had the affairs and then be welcomed back into your wife’s loving arms,” you scoffed as you crossed your arms. “Meanwhile, I’m the one who foolishly forgives her husband for centuries of infidelity and abandonment. If that’s not weakness, I don’t know what is,” you added, bitterly.

He watched you carefully before speaking. “Do you regret forgiving me?” You tilted your head at his words and shook your head as you stepped closer to him.

“No, it’s not that,” you sighed. “I’m just not ready to go public with it all, Morpheus,” you explained as your hand reached out gingerly for his.

“Then whenever you’re ready, my darling,” he whispered, as his hand went to the side of your face. You smiled softly at him and your other hand laid flat against his chest as you leaned up to kiss him. Just as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and his hands settled on your waist, you pulled away with a mischievous grin.

“I believe we have expansion plans to review, husband,” you explained, as you returned to the desk. He narrowed his eyes at you as you turned to the pages of the eastern expansion, pretending to be entirely oblivious to his frustrations.

***

As you entered the library, you made sure to leave your hand in his when Lucienne approached you two.

“Good afternoon, my lord, my lady,” she began as she looked from him to you with a welcoming smile. “Are those the expansion plans for the Withering Ruins?” She asked, as she eyed the papers in his hand.

“Yes,” he responded, and assuming you simply forgot to pull away from him, he slid his hand out of yours silently. “There are some revisions we’ve added.”

“I’ll retrieve the charting materials, Dream,” you explained, before placing a quick peck on his cheek. His lips parted wordlessly at the public act and his porcelain skin sheened a light pink as you left.

“Things between you and Lady Hope seem to be going well,” Lucienne teased as soon as you were out of earshot.

“I suppose so,” Dream responded as he watched you disappear behind a set of bookshelves. Lucienne seemed to miss the uncertainty in his voice, and continued.

“Have you asked her, then?” She questioned, taking the plans from him and lay them on a nearby table.

“No,” he answered quietly, as his hands smoothed the papers out. “And I’m not sure that I should.”

Lucienne’s brow creased as she looked to where you had been standing before peering back at Morpheus. “I don’t understand, my lord. She seems to still be quite taken with you.”

“She does not wish for our reconciliation to be made public, Lucienne,” he explained, before turning back to the table. “It seems,” he began slowly, his hands gripping the chair before him tightly. “My extramarital relations have embarrassed her to a point where forgiving me publicly would only lead to further humiliation.”

“I see,” Lucienne sighed.

“Perhaps in time, she may change her mind,” he hoped, and his grip on the chair loosened. “And maybe then I’ll ask her.” His musings were interrupted by the incoming click of your heels.

“Alright,” you began, as you rifled through the satchel at your side. “I believe I have everything.” You looked up to find both of them staring at you. “What?”

“Nothing, my darling,” he concluded, and when you wore a smile at the pet name, he matched it with one of his own. Shall we go?”

“Yes, but, instead of the Temperamental Lands, perhaps we could chart the Western Plains?” He considered questioning the change in plans, but he couldn’t possibly deny you when you were peering at him so sweetly.

“Certainly,” he accepted, looking down at you as your smile deepened. You bid Lucienne goodbye and the you disappeared in a whirlwind of sand.

***

You walked with the map in one hand and his hand in the other. Every now and then, you would pause to jot down any discrepancies or new additions and he would miss the feel of your hand in his. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that a frown would crease his face at every one of those moments.

He had explained that the landscapes of the realm were eternally in flux and that the changes the realm had gone through in his absence called for updated charts, but you knew better. In the days following your return to the palace, he was eager to spend every moment with you, and charting the entirety of your realm together gave him the perfect excuse to do so. He had always loved how the every little aspect of the realm brought you joy or captured your awe and the opportunity to unabashedly watch your joy and fascination up close was too tempting to turn down.

“Do you recall the first time you visited these Plains?” He asked, from behind you, watching as you added a note to the recent expansion you had marked down.

“Yes,” you responded, as you looked up at the tall grasses to estimate the size of the expansion. “It was so serene and peaceful,” you smiled fondly at the memory. “And there was the sweetest little sparrow that kept me company and watched the sunset with me,” You remarked, but when you turned around, Dream was nowhere to be found. The sound of a light trill drew your attention to the grass at your feet as the sparrow from that day appeared before you. A cloud of sand engulfed the bird, and then it was Dream standing before you. Your eyes went wide and a strange mix of light irritation and affection melted your heart.

“Dream!” you scolded, biting back the smile that threatened to form on your lips. “I knew there was something familiar about that bird!” You chided lightly, as you swatted his chest.

He laughed lightly at your actions as his hands settled on your waist. “I couldn’t ignore the opportunity to watch you experience the Dreaming.” You tilted your head with a smile as your hands locked at the back of his neck. “Even if I couldn’t admit it at the time, watching these regions bring you joy meant everything to me.”

“You know, I always wished that bird would come back and watch the sunset with me again,” you remarked, shyly, as you materialized a blanket upon the grass beside you. You sat down and he followed your lead, settling behind you. You leaned back against him and he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you,” you sighed as you watched the sun dip below the horizon.

“And I you, darling,” he whispered beside your cheek.

As the daylight faded, Dream rose from the blanket and offered you his hand. “We should return to the palace,” he explained.

“Yes, I suppose could,” you sighed as you took his hand. “Or, my old cottage is close by,” you proposed with a sly smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Hope,” he warned, hesitant about what you seemed to be implying, but you ignored his concerns.

“Dream,” you teased, peaking over your shoulder as you pulled him by the hand in the direction of your former home.

The door creaked open at your touch and you hummed in surprised as the lights turned on without even a flicker. You stepped inside, but turned when you didn’t feel him beside you. You tried to pull him inside, but his feet stayed firmly planted on the ground outside of your cottage.

“Why are we here, Elpis?” He asked, with your hands still in his, pleading for him to enter.

You were hoping he wouldn’t make you say it, but as you rolled your lip between your teeth, you found no other way to convince him. “Because I want to rewrite that night.” You watched his throat bob and his gaze fell to your feet. “I’m not angry about it anymore, Morpheus,” you explained, gently. “I just want to rewrite it. I want tonight to be what that night should have been.” You placed your hands on the sides of his face to force him to look at you. “Please, Dream.”

“Are you certain?” He asked, and the caution in his eyes made you sure.

“I love you, Dream,” you smiled softly, as your thumb brushed his cheek. “And I want this. I want you.”

“If you’re certain,” he whispered before placing his hands on your hips and stepping inside. He leaned down to you, but stopped just short of your lips and you watched his throat bob. You pulled him down to you and let your lips work against his as your hands slid from his face down to his chest. Your nails raked down the dark material of his shirt as you felt the warmth of him underneath your palms. You turned your head to deepen the kiss and tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt before coming up for air.

“Is that certain enough for you?” You asked with a sly smile, your voice husky with want. He paused only for a moment before his hand went to the base of your hair to tilt your head up towards him. He captured your lips quickly, roughly, as he let himself taste you the way he had wanted to since you returned to him. Since then, he had let you take the lead; letting you tell him what you wanted and going no further. But now with your permission, he found himself eager to take you the way he had fantasized ever since you came home to him.

He led you backwards, one hand still tangled in the base of your hair and the other pressing into your hip, as he moved the two of you deeper into your former home. You were just entering the sitting room when he pulled away for a moment and your brow creased as he spoke. “The moment you say stop,” he began, but you were quick to interrupt him by pulling his coat off of him with your lips back on his. This chivalrous act had been sweet at first, but now you longed to feel him against you, inside of you.

You tugged at the hem of his shirt once again as you tilted your head and he obliged, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull the material over his head and toss it aside. His hands settled back at your waist and you guided his right hand to the back of your gown. You placed his fingers on the zipper and he followed your silent instructions by undoing the closure. The straps slid down your arms as the chiffon fell from your body. You stepped out of the dress, left only in a satin slip, as he guided you backwards, his lips never parting from yours.

Your palms pressed flat against his chest and slid lower past his abdomen, feeling the defined muscle that dipped beneath the waistband of his pants. He grabbed your wrists then, hesitant to let you dive into anything before you were properly readied. The pain he witnessed on your face that night as he entered you for the first time without sufficient preparation was something he vowed never to let you feel again.

In a moment, the sitting room disappeared and you were lying on the soft sheets of your old bed. You turned your head against the pillow to eye him with a raised brow. “Impatient, aren’t we?” You teased with a sly grin.

“I could never be anything else with you.” He whispered as he climbed over you and you laughed lightly as you pulled him down to you. Despite his words, his movements slowed, caution reigning over every touch, every caress, as he slid the hem of your slip upwards, the satin material bunching at your waist. He slid his hands down your thighs as he shifted lower to settle between your legs. His hands moved to the backs of your thighs to bring your knees up and eye the wetness that covered your panties. His gaze connected with yours for a moment and your lips parted at the sight of his pupils blown wide with lust.

He forced himself to slide the smooth material down your legs slowly, despite every instinct that told him doing otherwise would allow him to put his mouth on you sooner. Once there was nothing preventing him from tasting you, he wrapped his lips around your clit, eager to hear the pitchy moans he hadn’t heard from you in millennia. His actions were entirely unexpected by you and he grinned at the achievement of hearing you moan his name. Your thighs squeezed around him as his tongue delved between your folds and he placed a hand on your hip to prevent any further motion. You whined as he restricted your movements and he took pride in that sound, as well.

He licked a stripe against your core and your head fell back as your body arched off the bed. He dipped inside of you again, pulling more of your arousal to satiate his thirst and a broken gasp left you. You clenched around his tongue as your hands fisted the sheets.

“Dream,” you whined, as he held you open wider and picked up his pace. “Please,” you moaned, tears perched at the corners of your eyes as he continued to taste you with a hunger you had never seen on him before. He took your clit back into his mouth and you gasped as he nipped lightly at the flesh. He twirled his tongue around the nub and your thighs tensed under his palms. He knew you were close, so his thumb replaced his tongue, rubbing circles at your clit while his mouth moved lower, sucking and licking the flesh there in a dizzying blur. He watched you with your eyes squeezed shut and your head thrown back against the pillow, every muscle in your body tensing with the anticipation of a climax that left you shaking around his mouth.

“Morpheus,” you breathed heavily, your heart still beating loudly in your ears. Your hold on the bed sheets loosened, moving instead to ensnare his dark tresses as he shifted upwards to kiss you softly. You moaned softly at the taste of yourself on his lips as his hand dipped between the warmth of your thighs. You moaned softly as his fingers moved between your folds, parting you with a gentleness that had you rolling your hips against him. Gathering the wetness he had coaxed from you with his previous act, he slid a single digit in easily, but the tightness he encountered convinced him to continue his ministrations before adding another.

He continued to massage inside of you, but when he saw your brow crease, he listened close for the whimpers you struggled to hide. His movements slowed at the sight, unsure if it was with pleasure or pain that your face contorted. You felt his motions within you slow and your thighs tried to press together instinctively to make up for the loss of motion. “Dream, more,” you whined, as you began to grind down on his hand with closed eyes.

“Are you certain, my darling?” He asked, ignoring how painfully hard the sight of you grinding down on his hand left him. The way you were so beautifully begging him for more should have been answer enough, but he found himself more concerned with ensuring your comfort.

“Please,” you whimpered as you craned your neck to connect your gaze to his. Your hands moved to the one he had between your thighs and you pried it open, grinding down on the heel of his palm with a needy whine. At the sight of your desperate actions, he tilted his palm to rub forcefully against your clit and your resulting gasp filled his ears. He added a second lithe finger, earning another beautiful moan from you as your eyes fluttered closed. He watched the way your mouth fell open and your grip on the sheets loosened, only to tighten again as he curled his fingers inside of you. Your moans raised an octave as he continued his movements and you tightened around him like a vice as you came. He knew the tightness he felt around his fingers would be nothing compared to what he would feel when he was finally buried so beautifully inside of you.

As your breathing steadied, he pulled his fingers from you and traced along the satin hem that had bunched around your waist. He looked to you for confirmation and you smiled softly as you reached down to guide his hand to pull the slip off of you. He tossed it aside and your hands met at the back of his neck as he leaned down to kiss you. Your hands slid down his chest as your lips worked against his and your fingers made quick work of his belt and pants. But before you could slide your hands beneath the material of his boxers, he grabbed your wrists with one hand.

“Elpis, we don’t have to,” he began, desperate to avoid making the mistakes he had so carelessly made before. The sight of you in your bathtub following the night you shared flashed in his mind and his throat bobbed at the thought of you regretting this night in the same way.

“Morpheus, I want to,” You smiled as you pulled your hand from his grip to hold his face lovingly. “And,” you began shyly, your gaze dipping from his. You used your hold on his cheek to pull him closer to you until his cheek was flush against yours before whispering, “I want to come around your cock, husband.”

He pulled away and in his silence, you worried that perhaps your words were too much; too coarse or forward for a queen to utter. But before you could roll your lip between your teeth in worry, he captured them in a searing kiss that stole your breath. You broke away when you felt the rough material of his pants replaced by the smooth feel of his skin against yours.

You reached between the two of you to wrap your fingers around his length. You watched his eyes flutter closed at the soft warmth of your hand around him. His throat bobbed as your hand slid up and down his shaft and you couldn’t help it; your other hand tangled in his hair and brought his neck closer to you so you could leave bruising kisses along his neck. He groaned deep in his throat at the sensation of your lips on his neck and your hand wrapped around him. As you were marking the pale column of his neck, you made him yours: yours to have, to hold, to love. And you understood why he had hurt so at your refusal to be marked as his.

As your hand continued its fluid motions, you felt precum bead at the head of him. You swiped at the growing wetness with your thumb and brought it to your lips, pausing to lock eyes with him as you pressed the digit between your lips. The lustful look in his eye and the salty taste of him on your tongue elicited a moan from you that was quickly deafened by the groan that came from deep within him at your actions.

“Darling, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, as he leaned down to trail his lips along the exposed flesh at your neck and collarbones. His lips parted against your neck and he was about to suck at the soft flesh before he recalled the reservations you voiced in the throne room that morning.

You felt him release the skin at your neck and your hand moved to the back of his head to bring his lips back down where they belonged. “No, Dream, it’s okay,” you breathed at his hesitance. “I’m yours,” you whispered. “And I don’t care who knows it.”

He took your words to heart, and as he lined himself up at your entrance, he moved to your neck, biting possessive marks across your skin. He took one last testing glance at you before he pressed into you and your head fell back against the pillow as he pushed forward. He leaned down to trail his lips along your neck until he reached the junction of your shoulder, biting the skin there to muffle his groans at the tight fit your body offered.

You shut your eyes against the feeling of him at your neck and inside of you. The head of him had just stretched you open when you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He heard you whimper beneath him and his eyes shot open as he looked down to see you with your eyes shut and your fists gripping the sheets hard enough to tear.

“Hope!” He breathed as his hand went to the side of your face. “Are you alright?” He asked as his eyes raked over your form wildly searching for any sign of injury.

“Yeah, yes,” you nodded, opening your eyes after a moment. “It’s just, a little, tight,” you explained as you shifted your hips to try and accommodate him further. He bit back a groan at the way the move had you tightening around him. “But you can keep going,” you added quickly, recalling how he had continued his thrusts that night despite the discomfort you felt and eventually, the pain had subsided. You tried to force a smile to convince him, but he simply brushed his thumb over your cheek.

“No, my darling,” he shook his head with a soft smile. “Not until you’re ready.”

“I just, need a second. To adjust,” you explained, grateful for the pause.

“We have all the time in existence, beloved,” he added, looking down at you. He didn’t even mind that he was only partially sheathed within your warmth when you were lying beneath him with your eyes closed; a serene work of art wrapped so beautifully around his cock.

You tested the waters by rolling your hips slightly and when no discomfort surfaced, you nodded to Morpheus. He pressed into you slowly, watching every change in your expression for any further hint of discomfort. The slow pace should have killed him with how long he had fantasized of this moment and how close he was now, but watching the way you took him, every micro-expression, every twitch, captivated him. He watched as you tore through the sheets and he whispered to you. You whined something of an acknowledgement and his hand moved from your hip to guide your hand to his arm.

“Hold on to me,” he whispered, and you obliged, both of your hands going to his upper arms. “And tell me what you need,” he added before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You nodded with a smile and you couldn’t believe the man before you; he had once caused you so much pain that you had refused to let yourself love him, but now, he cared for you so gently, so lovingly. You leaned up to press your lips to his, silently expressing how touching you found his actions.

You rolled your hips again and gasped as a shock of pleasure jolted through you. “I need you, Dream. All of you,” you whispered roughly and he pressed into you completely, pausing when he finally filled you till the hilt. Your nails dug into his biceps and your eyes fluttered closed as you felt your walls shutter around him.

“Hope?” He asked, concern shaking his voice.            

“Morpheus,” you moaned. He watched you carefully and your hand left his arm to pull at his hair as you looked at him deeply. “Fuck me, husband.”

Surprisingly, it was relief that flushed through him first. Once the wantonness of your words registered, he pulled out of you, achingly slow, but enough for your walls to ease into the upcoming rhythm. He pressed into you again and your mouth fell open at the motion. Your hands squeezed around his shoulders as he picked up his pace, his hands moving to your hips, pinning you in place. Your gasps turned to moans syncopated by the sound of slapping skin and accentuated by his low groans at the way your body seemed to pull him in.

You shifted your hips and found the perfect position when you wrapped your legs around his waist. You moaned wantonly at the new position that allowed him to reach the deepest part of you. You gasped at the first contact and he smirked at your surprise. He longed to see more of your wide-eyed shock, so he let the head of him kiss your cervix over and over until you were sure your neck wouldn’t be the only part of you to be bruised the next day.

“Dream,” you whined as you felt his thumb move between you to run fast, harsh circles at your clit. He felt your thighs tense around him and he watched your head fall back as your mouth hung open. The pleasure ripped through you, eliciting a moan that was heard throughout the Western Plains. Your hands slid down his arms and he paused to watch you navigate the sea of pleasure he had dropped you in. And he reveled in the thought of having given you pleasure instead of pain.

After getting lost in the beauty of you in your post-orgasmic haze, he quickly picked up his movements again, and you whined as the pleasure returned to your already sensitive body. His thrusts rocked you through waves of overstimulation that left you a mewling, pathetic mess underneath him. He looked down to see you rolling your hips against him with an unsteady rhythm and he smiled at the thought of you so eager to pull more of your pleasure from him. He grabbed your hips then, helping you chase the pleasure your body was too weak to take by itself. As he grinded you onto him, his own pace grew unsteady watching as your next orgasm shattered you.

“Oh, how I have longed to coat your walls in white,” he groaned, roughly. “To fill you with my seed.”

“Please,” you whined, nearly out of breath. “I want you to cum inside of me, Dream,” you squeezed your thighs around him with whatever strength you had left to support your plea.

And your words were what pushed him over. The way you wanted to marked by him, the way you wanted him inside of you; it all made him feel wanted in the best way. It was nothing like that night that he left you crying and full of shame and regret. You wanted him to be yours and he was: he couldn’t imagine anyone else making him feel loved, wanted, cared for, the way you did.

He watched your eyes flutter at the feeling of him filling you and there was a sense of ease, contentment even, on your face at the sensation. After millennia of seeing pain etched on your face, he knew he could ever tire of seeing you like this.

“My Hope,” he whispered as his knuckles grazed your cheek lightly. Your eyes opened slowly, still reveling in the feeling of him.

“My Dream,” you teased back, as you held his hand flat against your face. You turned your head towards his palm and placed a kiss there before smiling back at him. He returned it with one of his own as he turned you both to lay you on top of him. He began to pull of you slowly, and the soft squelching of the motion was muffled by the covers he had placed over both of you. You whined at the sensation, placing your hands firmly on his shoulders to prevent him from leaving you. “No, not yet,” you pleaded, your walls fluttering around him with your dwindling strength and he began to worry there would be nothing he could deny you.

“Not yet, then,” he agreed as he pulled back down onto him. He brushed your hair aside to give him a better view of your contented face. He waited until your breathing evened and your eyes shut properly before slowly pulling out of you. The needy whine that escaped you gave him pause, but when you stirred no further, he unsheathed himself completely. He held you tightly, feeling the warmth of your body against his to remind that this moment was real, not another fantasy he had tided himself over with when you had first come to this cottage and left him.

***

The curtains swayed lightly as a breeze drifted in through the windows of your bedroom. You groaned softly at the light that shocked your eyelids and he chuckled as you turned into his chest to escape the blinding morning light. And regret washed over him as he realized he could have spent every morning of the last millennia with you in his arms like this. He sighed contentedly though as he realized that every day from now until eternity would begin with you wrapped around him.

“Hope, we do have to get up eventually,” he laughed lightly, as his hand ran through your hair.

“Eventually,” you agreed, shifting your arm possessively over him. “But not right now,” you whispered against his jaw before leaving soft kisses along the sharp line. And he couldn’t seem to find fault in your argument. He tilted your head up to him, capturing your lips in a lazy, languid kiss as his other hand moved to your hip. But you pulled away when something occurred to you. “Oh gods, Beryl,” you realized as you sat up against the headboard.

“Beryl?” He asked incredulously, as he watched you move from his grasp.

“Well, she comes to my chambers every morning,” you explained as you looked out to consider the resulting course of events. He moved to lay his head in your lap and you let your fingers sift through his locks. “She’s going to wonder where I am. And if she finds out I spent the night with you,” you added, looking down at him as you felt his silky tresses fall through digits.

“Does she still not approve of me?” He looked up at you, amused by lady maid’s protectiveness.

“It’s not that she doesn’t approve,” you began, as you smiled down at him. “She’s coming around on you,” you explained, and when he felt you move to exit the bed, he pulled his head from your lap and sat up. “But I think she’d think we’re moving a little fast,” you added, looking at him over your shoulder, but when you moved to slide off the bed, you winced.

“Elpis,” he called out as he moved across the bed to sit beside you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, as your hand moved between your thighs, gingerly testing the tenderness there. “Just… sore,” you muttered, shyly. When he didn’t respond, you turned to find a smirk playing on his lips.

“You are so smug!” You chided lightly, pushing at his shoulder. He laughed lightly before sliding off the bed next to you, clothing himself and retrieving your slip off the ground before approaching you.

“Here,” he said softly as he handed you the slip. You eyed him for a moment before taking it from him. You pulled the material over your head and he knelt down in front of you. His hands came up around you then to pull the satin around your body properly. When the fabric no longer obscured your vision, your lips parted at how sweetly he looked up at you from his kneeling position on the ground before you. You reached out to him and he leaned his face in your hand, his eyes closing at the touch. You leaned down to kiss him, but the shift had you wincing and inhaling sharply in pain.

His eyes shot open at the sound and he rose to offer you his hand, “Let me help you.” You took it and pushed off the bed gingerly, his arm wrapping around your hip as you moved.

“A bath would be lovely right now,” you sighed and he guided you to your washroom and with a thought, the tub filled with warm water and rose petals. Your eyes slid over to him with a knowing smile. “Ever the romantic,” you commented, and with a smile of his own and a careful hand, he helped you into the tub with minimal discomfort. You leaned back against the tub, your eyes closing as the warm water soothed your muscles. But a creak of the door had your eyes opening and unease stirring within you. “You’re not staying?”

Waking up in his arms had been a welcome departure from your previous night together. You had worried that the sun would rise and your bed would be without him as it had that morning. But he had stayed, and he seemed to care for you with a concern that was missing that next morning. But now, with him at the door as soon as your eyes had closed, your False Hope was eager to convince you that he was just using you as he had that night.

He turned to find you with your arms on the edge of the tub, leaning towards him with desperate eyes as you swallowed hard. “I thought you’d like to relax by yourself,” he explained with his hand still on the doorknob.

“Oh,” you said as you leaned back against the tub slightly. “Well, I think I’d like it more if you joined me,” you added with a hesitant smile, hoping that his words weren’t simply an excuse to leave you after he had finally gotten what he was after.

His hand dropped from the doorknob at your words, a soft smile on his face as he approached you. “As you wish, my darling,” he agreed and your smile turned to full-blown grin. His clothes disappeared with a thought and you leaned forward, letting him settle behind you against the porcelain. You leaned back against his chest and he felt the contented sigh that radiated through you and eased your body against his. His arm wrapped around you, but as you shifted slightly in his hold, a jolt of discomfort had you wincing in his arms.

His hand dipped between your legs at the sound, his fingers delicately testing the soreness between your folds. You swallowed thickly at his movements and moved slightly out of his hold, his hand stilling at your rejection.

“Dream, I – I don’t think I can,” you struggled to voice your reservations, especially when it involved denying him. “I still feel –”

“No, my darling,” he began, eager to explain that he expected nothing of the sort from you. “I simply mean to ease the ache you feel,” he explained softly.

“Oh,” you nodded, settling back into his arms. You leaned against him hesitantly and his hand returned to graze your folds lightly before a single digit penetrated the tender flesh. You whimpered, flinching slightly in his arms and he paused, his hand stilling within you until you settled. He began to massage inside of you and the ache gave way to ease, your eyes closing as the discomfort decreased. You melted in his arms as the soreness wore away, sighing petulantly when he pulled his hand from you. He felt the sticky essence of himself on his fingers and he looked down at it as his hand lingered between your thighs.

“I saw you,” he began slowly, looking down at you. “The morning after our night together.” You titled your head up at him in confusion when he continued. “After Beryl ran a bath for you.”

The realization hit you and you swallowed hard as you pulled away from him. “You shouldn’t have seen that,” you said quietly, looking to the side and moving to the other side of the tub to sit opposite him. You suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable, and you brought your knees up towards you to cover yourself. “After what you did that day, what you said, you had the audacity to spy on me in such a private moment? Just because this is your realm and you see all within it?” You accused quickly as the embarrassment and shame from that memory quickly turned to anger.

“No, my Hope,” he rushed, leaning forward towards you. Your eyes shot towards the door, eager for an exit plan. “Of all the things I’ve done to you, I wouldn’t have done that. I was far too ashamed to see you for days after that.” You glanced back at him, gauging the sincerity in his eyes. “The Garden of Forking Ways showed it to me. It showed me the fallout of many of my actions against you, but,” he paused, unsure how to continue. “That moment,” he breathed, his eyes haunted by the sight of you desperately clawing out his essence from within you. “Elpis, I had no idea.”

And suddenly, you felt very small. This moment you felt you could run from, that you wouldn’t have to face since you were the only one who knew of it, was now thrust before you. You hadn’t spoken in depth about that night or what followed; you assumed it would only bring him regret and embarrass you, leaving the both of you in a kind of shame you couldn’t return from.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you said quickly, your hands going to either side of the tub to leave.

“Elpis, wait, please,” he pleaded, his hand going to your wrist as you stood from the water. You looked down at his searching blue eyes and your lip trembled. “Please,” he begged, and your resolve wore thin at his desperation.

“Dream, I just want to forget it,” you sighed as you sat back down, the water sloshing around you as you return to your position across from him. “To pretend it didn’t happen,” you added, watching a petal float gently between you two.

“But it did,” he persisted. “Hope, what I did was reprehensible.”

“But I forgive you!” You interrupted, eager to end this discussion. “So why can’t that be the end of it?” You pleaded.

“Because it’s still hurting you,” he explained simply. “Because it still hurts me. And we never talked about it. We’ve never talked about anything from that night.”

“Dream, if we talk about this, if we open this back up,” you warned as you eyed him, and with a deep breath, you continued. “I’m afraid I might not be able to forgive you anymore,” you whispered.

He considered you only for a moment before speaking. “If that is the price for removing the pain this memory causes you, I am willing to pay it.”

You watched him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “That night,” you began, slowly. “I was so certain that things had changed. That, I don’t know, I had finally gotten through to you.” You added with a rueful chuckle. “That maybe we could finally, finally, be together,” your voice dipped low, remembering how foolish your thinking that day had been. “That I wouldn’t be so sad anymore.” You smiled wistfully at your naïve rationale. “And then all of that came crashing down when I saw you with Calliope,” you explained, your smile turning bitter.

“And I wasn’t angry at first,” you shook your head, staring vacantly as you recollected your fight that day. “I know I screamed and yelled and cried at you, but that was just a cover, really. For how ashamed and embarrassed I felt. But most of all, for how foolish I felt,” you realized, slowly. “I felt so stupid for thinking that maybe that’s how it all works: if you try hard enough, if you love hard enough, everything will work out. And I – I hate that I lost that,” you explained as you looked up at him. "That innocent, bright-eyed perspective I used to have,” you sighed, pausing before you continued with a shaky breath. “Dream, what you did that day did more than just hurt me; it destroyed a part of me that I might never get back,” you cried. “And I’m worried that I might hate you for that,” you added in a whisper.

The water had long since cooled and the rose petals stilled in place as he watched you silently. His throat bobbed and a tear slid down his face at your confession. You looked away quickly then, desperate to turn away from the pain etched on his face.

“I was content before I met you, Dream,” you smiled wistfully. “I was alone in my pithos, sure, but I had never felt the kind of sadness I felt after knowing you. And when I woke up here in the Dreaming,” you breathed in quiet admiration of the realm. “I was ecstatic. And then I fell in love with you and I was head over heels, Dream,” you whispered with a fond smile. “I had never been in love before,” you admitted shyly, looking down at your distorted toes beneath the water. “I never knew how broken love could make you feel. I know now, though, don’t I?” You added ruefully as you brushed the tears from your eyes. “But we’ve made up now,” you smiled, leaning towards him. “And I never thought I could be as happy as I am now. Because of you,” you added as you placed your hand over his.

He pulled his hand from you slowly and turned to exit the tub. Your mouth fell open as you watched him dress with the flick of his wrist. “You said you wanted to talk about this!” You cried as you moved as close to him as you could while still remaining in the tub.

“I didn’t expect you to tell me you hate me,” he scoffed as he turned to exit the washroom.

You exhaled in anger as you rose from the tub and wrapped yourself in a bathrobe hastily, eager to hide your body from his eyes. “Well, did you expect me to say that I loved you?!” You scoffed, following him out into your bedroom. “That I held no resentment for you despite thousands of years of your abuse?”

He turned around sharply at that, answering you with an edge that sent you aback. “I expected you to say that you forgave me! I may not have deserved it then, but I thought by now I had earned it!”

“You have!” You cried out in frustration. “But I can’t help it if part of me still resents you for what you took from me!”

“If you resent me so much, why did you sleep with me last night?” He asked roughly as he stepped closer to you.

Your eyes widened and you laughed incredulously at him. “I should have asked you the same question after you fucked me that night!” You spat. He stared you, watching you breathe heavily as you delivered your cutting remarks, and he began to worry that perhaps confrontation was the only way the two of you knew how to communicate. His gaze dipped as he moved silently to sit on the edge of the bed. You watched him fold his hands in his lap and stare distantly at the wall before him.

“Is it always going to be like this, Elpis?” His voice was small, quiet, and tired. You sat beside him after a moment and sighed dejectedly.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your distant gaze matching his. “But I don’t want it to be.”

“Nor do I,” he agreed. His hand twitched in his lap, as the dread in his heart urged him to reach out for your hand. But he thought better of it and forced his hands to still.

You ached to reach out for him, hating the way he was so close to you but still somehow beyond your grasp. After a moment, you tried to pick up your conversation from before with the newfound clarity that despite everything that had happened, despite any resentment you may feel for him, what you truly hated was the idea of living without him.

“Dream, I don’t think about that night because we’ve both changed so much since then. You’re not that man anymore. I may resent him, but not you, my Dream,” you added with a hesitant smile, placing a tentative hand on his forearm. When he didn’t pull away, you continued. “Because the man you are now would never treat me the way he did that night. That’s why I slept with you last night. That’s why I love you,” you explained, turning your head to try and meet his gaze. “And last night, I – I think you proved that innocent, wide-eyed perspective I had right,” you realized. “That with enough love, we can make this work.”

He continued to stare blankly at the wall, and at his continued silence, you nodded slowly. You looked up with a broken inhale, willing yourself not to let out a sob. “Alright then,” you swallowed. “I should go,” you decided, but looking around your cottage, the place you had already run away to, you weren’t sure where you would go. You placed a hand on the bed, but before you could push off the soft surface, Morpheus reached out to pull you tightly against him. He shut his eyes against the crook of your neck and your lips parted the feeling of saltwater there. Your arms were slow to wrap around him, your mind taking a few moments of its own to process the rapid change in events.

“I’ve only changed because of your steadfast resolve to love me,” he explained softly. “And I will do whatever I can to help you restore that part of yourself,” he vowed before pulling away enough to look at you. “I will love you more than enough for this to work,” he added, and you nodded quickly with a relieved smile as you wiped at the wetness on his cheeks, before quickly tending to your own. You held his face in your hands for a moment before you leaned forward to press your lips to his.

His hand moved to tangle in your hair as he tilted his head and his tongue sought after yours. Your hand slid from his face down to his chest, your nails raking against the material of his shirt along the way. You moved to straddle his waist, pulling the belt of your robe open and letting it slide off you onto the ground in a soft heap. His hands wrapped around your waist instinctively and you smiled down at him before capturing his lips in a searing kiss.

“I love you, Morpheus,” you resounded with a soft smile as you held his face in your hands. Your lips coasted along his throat, nipping lightly at the pale canvas before moving back up along his jaw to whisper, “And I want to show you just how much.” Your fingers moved to slip under his pants as your lips glided across his neck leaving love bites in their wake. But he pulled back, moving just out of your reach with a look of apprehension. He recalled how you had left this bed in pain not long ago and he knew that taking you again would only exacerbate the soreness that still lingered within you.

“No, my darling,” he whispered with a smile, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your hips. “I know you love me. You need not show me,” he explained, and your lips parted as you considered his words before pulling off of him. You settled beside him and he kissed you softly before moving away to stand. “But there is something I’d like to show you,” he said with a testing smile, as he handed you your robe.

“Oh?” You asked, and as you cinched the belt of your robe, you caught a glint of mischief in his eye that spelled surprise. “Do you think we’ll have time for it before our morning audiences?” you asked, subtly trying to gather information as you moved to your closet. “We must be quite late already,” you muttered to yourself, shuffling through the few dresses you had left there, before settling on a sapphire gown that sparkled with twilight.

“I had Matthew clear our morning schedule yesterday,” he explained, as he moved towards you to take the gown from you.

“Hmm,” you hummed in thought, as he knelt down to open the gown wide enough for you to step into. “So you’ve planned this,” you surmised, balancing your hands on his shoulders as you stepped inside the gown. “And you knew it would take all morning,” you added, looking down at him and trying to determine whatever it was he planned to show you.

He rose with a knowing smile, pulling the material up with him. “You could simply wait for me to show you,” he suggested, as he moved behind you to fasten the zipper.

“But guessing’s half the fun,” you argued lightly as you pulled your hair forward over your shoulder, gasping lightly when his lips landed gently at the junction of your neck. “Dream,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered closed. His hands moved to your hips as he pulled you flush against him. Your left hand moved behind you to cup his cheek and he leaned into your touch. But with far more conviction than you expected to have, you pulled his hands off you. “Didn’t you have something to show me?” you asked, as you turned to face him with a teasing smile.

“It isn’t going anywhere,” he replied, as he looked down at you with a sly smile. “And as you’ve noted, we have all morning for it,” he added, but you tilted your head at him with a knowing look and he relented. “As you wish,” he sighed, and after you finished dressing, he held his arm out for you and the two of you disappeared in a whirlwind of sand.

***

You appeared on the outskirts of the Dreaming and as you took in the swirling blue-pink skies, Morpheus moved to a dark, crumbling statue. You watched as he pulled something from his pocket, a smooth stone with a pulsing white glow swimming through it, and as it rose from his open palm to the statue’s center of mass. The soft white glow swam through the body of the statue, altering its physique until it resembled the being Dream had once created for you.

“It’s the Seer,” you said softly, as you approached it. The body of it shone lightly as its lines buzzed in a state of constant flux. “I never knew what happened to it after you showed it to me. I never saw it in the realm again.”

“I unmade it,” he explained. “Out of frustration. I thought you had disapproved of it as a way to punish me for what I had done to you. But you were right: it was nothing like the being you had described,” he explained as he moved to stand before you. “My first attempt was a cheap ploy to buy your forgiveness. It didn’t capture the vision you held and I would like you to help me construct it properly. With the vision you had in mind.”

“Really?” You breathed with a hesitant smile and he couldn’t help but smile at your excitement. He gestured to the being as an invitation and you stepped closer to it, rolling your lip between your teeth as you looked it over. “Well, the design of it is good,” you began, as you circled it. “On the surface, it’s exactly what I pictured. But its purpose is different. It’s not meant to punish or reward; simply to offer possibilities to the dreamer of an act or decision they may be contemplating. It would be fueled by both Good Hope,” you began as you reached out to it. “And False Hope,” you finished as your hand moved to its chest, resting where its heart would have been. You closed your eyes, letting fragments of both parts of you flow out into the creation. He watched as the fragments dispersed through its body, spreading through its skin and shimmering its complexion.

“And its function as a dream or a nightmare would be decided by the dreamer,” you added as you folded your arms across your chest and watched the white glow swim through its body. “A dream if the dreamer found the possibilities pleasant, a nightmare if they found them unsettling.” A smile graced your features as you looked it over one last time before turning back to him for his approval.

“I am certain this being will help many dreamers with their decisions,” he commented, as he stepped forward, it opened its heterochromatic eyes, one a deep blue and the other a dark green. He watched as a laugh of amazement escaped you at the sight and he smiled.

“My lady, my lord,” it said as it turned to each of you, its voice buzzing in a distorted, harmonious pitch.

“Hello,” you breathed in fascination as you looked the being up and down. “You’re magnificent. How do you feel?” You asked with a slow smile and Dream paused for a moment as you asked a question he hadn’t considered.

“I feel new, and old,” it answered slowly as it looked down at its body, then its hands. “What am I to do?” It questioned as it looked from you to him. He nodded to you and took its hand in your as you spoke.

“You are to inspire the dreamers. To show them the possibilities of acts or decisions they’re currently contemplating,” you explained.

“I see,” it responded, looking off to the side. “Good day,” it said shortly, before buzzing into a blur and then disappearing entirely. You laughed again at it disappeared before looking back at Dream. He watched the delight and sense of achievement on your face with quiet admiration.

“The joy and splendor you find in every part of this realm is,” he shook his head lightly and sighed as he tried to find the right word. “Enchanting.” Your gaze lowered and your smile deepened as a blush came over you. He ran his thumb over your fingers as he spoke again. “And, I wanted to ask you something,” he began, slowly, and you lifted your eyes to find the same look of contemplation on him that you had seen earlier in your cottage.

“What is it, Dream?” You asked softly, and it was your reassuring smile that convinced him to continue.

“Would you marry me?”

You chuckled lightly at him with a confused smile and a creased brow. “I think you’re a little late for that, my Dream,” you joked with a raised brow, as your hand squeezed his.

“I mean properly. Our wedding,” he sighed, and as the memory played in his mind, his gaze fell to the ground. “I know it was not a fond memory. You cried at our wedding,” he whispered looking to you hesitantly and you swallowed hard.

“I didn’t think you noticed,” you breathed, with a falling gaze as your hand dropped from his. You could almost see the small puddle of saltwater that had collected at your feet that day.

“I tried not to. Not to notice, not to care,” he explained softly. “But I saw it all. And seeing you in pain always cut me deeply. Even when I was the cause of it.” You sniffled as you remembered how you had sobbed in Beryl’s arms after the ceremony. “I want to rewrite it, Elpis. As we did last night. I want to marry you properly,” he pleaded, pulling your hand back to him. You stared vacantly at the ground as you recalled how you had been cornered into the marriage and how trapped the ceremony left you.

At your silence, he recalled his conversation with Lucienne in the library and decided to address what he thought may have evoked your apprehension. “My initial plans were a rather large celebration, but if you’d like to keep our reconciliation private, I could inform Lucienne and we could limit it to a small ceremony. Whatever you’d like,” he added. “Or if you’d rather not do anything at all –”

“Yes, Dream,” you smiled, squeezing his hand softly as you interrupted his nervous rambling. “I’ll marry you,” you added and a relieved smile graced his features. “And we can do it as big or as small as you want. I meant what I said last night: I’m yours, Dream. And I don’t care who knows it,” you explained and his thumb ran over your fingers, pausing a second longer on your ring finger. You looked down at your hand to find a dreamstone set in a ring there. You looked up at him with a knowing smile before leaning up to kiss him. “Ever the romantic,” you shook your head lightly at the act.

***

The fire crackled softly before the divan as you stretched your legs out over Dream’s lap. He leaned back against the divan, watching your brow furrow as you glanced at the canopy fabric swatches.

“Mauve or vintage rose?” You questioned, as you turned the swatches towards him.

“Whichever you’d prefer, darling,” he responded with a light smile, content simply to watch you.

“You know, that’s really not very helpful,” you chided, reaching for the tentative schedule and seating arrangements you left on the table beside you. His lips parted with want as your movements opened your robe partly, exposing your breasts slightly to him.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” he suggested, as he leaned forward with his eyes fixed on you.

“’We?’” You chuckled, as your focus remained on the seating arrangements in your hands. “It seems like I’m the one doing all the work here,” you commented.

“Then perhaps you could take a break,” he began, as his hands slid up your calves. “And I could do some work for you,” he suggested, his hands moving between your thighs now.

Your thighs rubbed inwardly on instinct, but you leaned forward to pull his hands from you. “Dream!” You chided lightly, as you sat up, pulling your legs out of his reach. “We have a lot of planning to do! And if that is your idea of helping, this wedding is never going to happen!” You scolded with a smile you couldn’t contain, swatting him lightly with the seating arrangements in your hand.

With a sigh, he leaned back and returned his hands to his lap. “Now,” you began, as you tightened your robe and tucked your legs underneath you. You reached for the various planners and lists beside you and handed him half of the pages as you continued. “If we can decide on floral arrangements, food and drink, and a schedule for the day, then perhaps,” you paused, leaning in close until your cheek was flush against his before continuing. “We can retire to my bed.”

Your attention returned immediately to the pages in your grasp while his remained on your unassuming expression. After a moment, he flipped through the pages in his hands quickly, the incentive of holding your body against him suddenly lighting a fire under him. But a voice in his head pulled his attentions from the wedding and you.

“I call to you, Oneiros, that you may hear me and come to my aid when I say your name out loud.”

His body tensed and lists before him were forgotten at the sound of Calliope’s voice in his head. The rigidity infected his form as you sat beside him, entirely unaware of the message that had come to him from the Waking World. He swallowed thickly as he looked down at you, twiddling a pen as you considered where to seat Cain and Abel. “Elpis,” he whispered, watching a smile play on your lips as your gaze remained on the seating chart.

“Unless you’re about to tell me you’ve decided on a wine list, I suggest you keep working, Morpheus,” you laughed. When no follow-up plea for your attentions sounded, you turned to find a foreboding look on his face. “What is it?” You asked, sitting up with look of concern that he feared would soon turn to pain.

He considered you for a moment, wondering how best to break this news to you without breaking your heart. “Calliope has called to me for aid.”

Every instance of him choosing Calliope over you flashed through your mind and you swallowed hard as you looked down at the wedding planning you had just been discussing. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you recalled the first time he brought her back to the realm, and you blinked quickly at the thought of his conversation with her following your night together. You didn’t trust your voice not to shake, so you simply nodded before rising from your divan.

“I must help her, Elpis,” he explained as he watched you from his seat. “But I assure you, that will be all. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Right,” you began with a single nod as you paced before him. “You’re going to the aid of your past lover, who was also the mother of your child, and I have nothing to be concerned about. Certainly not because the last time you left this realm to help her, you returned with her and began a rather lengthy, sordid affair with her right here in this very palace,” you concluded sarcastically, sweeping your arms wide to gesture to your home before crossing your arms across your chest. “My gods,” you sighed, smiling bitterly as you glanced at the wedding plans strewn before you. “She certainly has her timing, I must give her that.”

“Should I not help her, then?” He questioned derisively, rising from his seated position to face you. “Should I ignore her calls for help? Something she has not asked of me for thousands of years?!”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t help her!” You turned to him with a cry of frustration before sitting down on the armchair near you. “I’m just,” you sighed. “Scared,” you admitted in a whisper and Morpheus watched as your gaze dipped to the ground. “Things are finally going well with us and I just keep thinking: that’s how I felt the morning after our night together,” you explained, pulling nervously at your fingers. “Everything was so bright and new and happy,” you smiled, pausing for a moment as you recalled running through the halls of the palace, giddy with joy as you searched for him that morning. “But then it all went wrong and I just keep thinking that’s going to happen now.” You asked, looking up to him. “I finally feel loved and safe, Dream, and I’m so scared of losing it all and feeling like I did that day,” you whispered. “Feeling used, and foolish, and hurt.”

He considered you for a moment before sighing. “Oh, my Hope,” he breathed, as he knelt before you. You shifted backwards in the chair, your eyes fleeting from his, suddenly feeling trapped in his adoring gaze. But his thumb and forefinger moved to your chin, tilting your gaze to connect with his. “Perhaps my words are not enough to convince you, but I promise I will never leaving you feeling anything other than loved and safe.” He paused, and the doubt in your eyes pained him. “I will return, my darling, and only to you,” he added, but your gaze dipped and you pulled out of his hold.

“I’m feeling very tired now, Dream,” you said quietly as you folded your hands in your lap. He watched as you turned your head, unwilling or unable to look at him any longer, and he rose from his kneeling position at your dismissal.

“Of course,” he responded tactfully. He moved to exit your chambers, but paused when he reached the threshold. “I do love you, Elpis,” he called out and despite the doubt you felt, you couldn’t help the fluttering in your stomach at his words. “And I will return to you.”

***

After finding the palace entirely lacking of your presence, he found himself knocking at your old cottage in the Western Plains. He smiled at the sound of your voice inviting him in and he could almost see where you had tossed his coat aside in your hurried attempts to disrobe him the other night. He found you in your sitting room with a book in hand and a cautious gaze directed at him. He smiled at the sight of you curled up in an armchair with your legs tucked underneath you, and suddenly he longed to sit beside you and pull you into his lap.

“Is she alright?” You asked, pulling him from his plans.

“Yes,” he responded after a moment. He moved to sit on the couch beside you and leaned into the farther side of your armchair, eager to put some distance between you. “She was imprisoned by a novelist named Madoc.”

“Again?” You asked, placing your book down. You recalled her previous imprisonment by Virgil, and the thought of her having to endure such torture again troubled you more than you had expected. “Is there nothing she can do to prevent this from happening again?”

“Actually, she intends to rewrite the ancient laws responsible. And to inspire humanity to seek more for themselves,” he recounted her words with a faint smile and a fond look that had your heart breaking in two.

“That’s quite admirable,” you commented, forcing a smile before reaching for your book. “If that’s all?” You asked after a moment, as your attentions returned to the pages of your book.

He sighed softly at your tactful tone and the way you avoided his gaze. This indifferent façade of yours was one he had become familiar with over your two millennia of marriage; it was one you used to push him away, to deny that you held any sort of affection for him and now, to pretend as though you hadn’t loved him at all, in an attempt to spare yourself the humiliation of losing him once again to his old love.

The way you remained so certain that he would abandon you pained him, but he pushed the hurt aside as he slowly pulled the book from your grasp. “Why are you here, Elpis? And not in our home?” He asked softly.

His gentle tone and endearing words caught your attention and you considered him for a moment before looking down to toy with your fingers. “I thought you might bring her back there. Like last time,” you said quietly. “So, I thought I should get used to living here again,” you turned your attentions to your armchair, picking at some lint you found on its arm.

“For the personification of hope, you are quite the pessimist, my darling,” he smiled. “Though I can hardly blame you for that,” he added, watching the way you struggled to maintain your façade of indifference. You looked to him with a testing glance and swallowed hard when you found nothing but unrelenting love in him.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” You asked, hesitantly. “With me, I mean,” you added quickly, with a sheepish smile and imploring eyes.

“I can think of nowhere else I belong,” he replied with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. And with a laugh of relief and a giddy grin, you moved from your armchair to his lap, your hands settling at the back of his neck as you leaned down to kiss him.

***

“Well, that is a shame,” Desire sighed as he watched Calliope disappear down the road opposite Madoc’s flat.

Her desire for Morpheus, despite their bitter falling out and subsequent estrangement, had been sultry music to Desire’s ears. They arrived at the scene, just beyond view at Madoc’s flat, eager to watch their brother sabotage his own reconciliation with his wife. But just as Calliope had asked to visit the Dream Realm, Dream’s better judgment took hold, and to Desire’s dissatisfaction, he had denied her.

Desire returned to the Threshold with a pout that soon turned to a scheming grin. His attempt this time had been far too subtle: manipulating Madoc’s desires for fame so excessively that he simply forgot to lock up his muse in his haste to prepare for an interview. The plan left far too much to chance, Desire realized. What if Dream had decided to ignore Calliope’s call?

“I suppose I’ll just have to try again, won’t I?” Desire purred as they moved to the sigils in their gallery. A vicious grin spread over their face as their fingers traced over the helm sigil before them. “I might even get my hands dirty with this one.”

For No One ->

Taglist: @iamempty13 @uniquehijo @lovelisting @mensbestfriend @sister-of-stars @luula @waifu4lifeu @cosmosnkaz @lilywrath97 @thelady-of-dragonfire @leah-halliwell92 @iknowwhatilikeperiod @domfikeluva @ohiamdefpanicking @danielle143 @bellatrix-bennett

<- For Me, It's You

Ch. 1: What's Past is Prologue

Ch. 2:

Ch. 3:

Ch. 4:

Ch. 5:

Taglist: @iamempty13 @uniquehijo @lovelisting @mensbestfriend @sister-of-stars @luula @waifu4lifeu @cosmosnkaz @lilywrath97 @thelady-of-dragonfire @leah-halliwell92 @iknowwhatilikeperiod @domfikeluva @ohiamdefpanicking @danielle143 @zoegrimess

A/N: The show didn’t go too in depth with Destiny’s abilities and realm, so I kinda made some shit up in that department. Hope it makes sense.

Now that this fic is finished, there will be a one-shot and sequel fic that follow after this. I'm not done with Elpis!!!

<- Prev. Chapter

“But black is the color of my true love’s hair His face is something wondrous fair The prettiest eyes and the neatest hands I love the ground whereon he stands” -Jean Ritchie’s “Black is the Color”

“I just thought you should know,” Paul’s voice came over the phone, interrupted by the occasional sniffle. “I know you and Alex weren’t close, but, I thought you’d want to know.”

After a few comforting words, Ethel ended the call. If Alex Burgess was in a coma, there was no doubt in Ethel’s mind that Dream of the Endless was behind it. He must have been freed then, and before long he would go in search of his tools. She clutched at the amulet around her neck as she thought of her son and how she couldn’t let him end up like his half-brother.

After a few hours of driving, she found herself at the psychiatric hospital. She looked around and took in one last breath of fresh air before venturing inside. An attendant named Donnie met her eagerly at the entrance. After a bit of research, Ethel found a crowd-funding webpage for Donnie’s ailing mother that detailed her immediate need for a rather costly surgery. Standing next to him just outside of the camera’s view in the foyer, she slipped him the money he so desperately needed. He led her down to John’s room without another word.

“Hello, love,” she greeted as she enter his room.

“Mother,” he breathed in surprise as he rose to embrace her. “What are you doing here?” He questioned as she released him.

“Can’t a mother come see her son?” She asked, and there was a wistfulness in her smile that tipped him off.

“He’s free, isn’t he?” He asked, and after a moment, she nodded. Before he could continue, she pulled the amulet from her neck. “What are you doing?” He asked quickly with wide eyes. “Put it back on!” He demanded, his voice wavering with concern for her well-being.

“No,” she shook her head with a sad smile. “You need it more than I do.” She held it out for him. He shook his head as he backed away from her.

“But they,” he looked from her to Donnie, the attendant standing outside. “They said I couldn’t have any metals in here,” he countered, eager to find some way for her to keep the amulet.

“That’s what your father’s money is for, isn’t it?” She joked, as she stepped closer to him. “Take it,” she pleaded.

“What about the ruby? I could just take that. And you could keep the amulet,” he explained, looking own at the necklace she still held out for him. She exhaled as her smile dropped.

“It’s no good for you, John. It holds far too much power,” she explained as she shook her head. She donned her sad smile once again as she hung the amulet around his neck, despite his protests. With every breath after the action, she could feel the illness that once arrested in her lungs now begin to spread. “I’m sorry I was such a shit mum,” she sniffled with a bitter laugh. She tried to maintain her happy expression as she struggled to breathe. She ignores John’s pleas to withdraw the amulet but she simply smiled. “You don’t need the ruby, John. No one can hurt you now.”

Donnie watched with wide eyes as she fell to the ground. His gaze lifted to John and, assuming that John had done something to her, Donnie ran to alert the guards.

“What did you do to her?” The guard asked. When John denied any responsibility for her death, the guard simply raised his gun. He asked John to step away from her, but with the amulet in his possession now, he simply turned around with an unexpected warning.

“You don’t want to point that gun at me, I promise you.”

***

As the sand settled, Dream looked around his study for his helm. After donning the terrifying mask, he exhaled as the ruby came into view. It sat in a forgotten box in some unimportant shipping container in some unassuming town in New York. He pulled the helm off, and as the door of his study returned to his view, he recalled how you had once run through it to escape his wrath.

He had moved from behind his desk to follow you as you backed away. “Go.” Thunder had rolled outside, lightning splitting the sky and turning the study pitch black for a moment. “And be grateful that I do not return you to your pithos.”

“No,” you had choked out. “Please,” Your lip had trembled. The sound of thunder had torn through room and you bolted.

He wondered for a moment if the terror you felt in that moment was anything like what he felt just now when you had used your False Hope against him. He wondered if you regretted your actions the way he had that day.

But then Matthew flew in and pulled him from his thoughts. He watched as the raven perched on the edge of his desk, Lucienne quickly following after the bird.

“How is Lady Hope settling into the Waking World?” Lucienne asked lightly as she clasped her hands in front of her. “Do you plan to look in after her soon?”

Dream considered her for a moment before looking off to the side with disdain. “I am quite certain she can look after herself,” he scoffed, as he placed his sand in his pocket.

“This can’t be good,” Matthew muttered, but with a pointed look from Lucienne, he fell silent.

“May I ask what happened, sir?” Lucienne asked with a raised brow. “This morning, you seemed quite… eager to be in her company again. And,” she continued cautiously, eyeing him carefully. “Quite hesitant to let her go.”

“She lied to me, Lucienne.” Before Lucienne could point out that he wasn’t exactly innocent of lying to her, either, he continued. “When she met Zeus in Olympus all those centuries ago, he asked her to kill Orpheus.”

“She would never,” Lucienne breathed.

“No, she wouldn’t,” Morpheus conceded. “She didn’t. But she knew. She knew that Zeus would come after Orpheus and she never told me. He killed Eurydice knowing exactly what it would do to Orpheus. What it would push him to,” he voice dipped low as he recalled the news of his son’s passing. “If she had told me, I would have –”

“Pardon me, my lord,” Lucienne interrupted. “But what? What would you have done? Watched over your son even more than you already had? Killed Lady Calliope’s father? And of course, that’s if you even believed her,” Lucienne added.

“That is beside the point, Lucienne,” he replied, his voice tensing. “She lied to me. She should have told me the truth.”

“As you did? When you told her why Zeus had released her into the Dreaming?” Lucienne asked, recalling the story he had asked her to adhere to should you ask her about Zeus’ rationale for releasing you in the Dreaming.

“That was different,” he maintained. “She could have been working for Zeus. I couldn’t trust her.”

“Right,” Lucienne nodded. “And the night she returned from this meeting in Olympus, she could trust you then?”

“She –” He paused as he considered Lucienne’s point with a frown. But he continued, disregarding Lucienne’s support of you. “Of course she could,” he maintained.

“Yeah, I’m sure years of infidelity, an illegitimate child, and isolation built a whole lotta trust,” Matthew commented sarcastically. Morpheus glared at him and he lifted his wings defensively. “Hey, she filled me in,” he explained defensively as he nodded in Lucienne’s direction.

“My lord, I’m not saying what she did was right or wrong,” Lucienne explained in a gentle tone. “All I’m saying is that perhaps you should consider this from her point of view. If she knew you suspected her of conspiring with Zeus, then revealing his intentions to you would likely result in you seeking rettribution from her. If you were her, would you have come forward with this scheme?”

For a moment, he considered Lucienne’s theory. He swallowed thickly as he recalled how frightened you had always seemed to be of him: when you first met him in the throne room, that day in his study, when you were preparing for your meeting with Zeus and he caught of glimpse of the bruise he had left on your arm. You had recoiled from his touch with a fear and anger that pained him. His gaze moved beyond Lucienne and with his helm in hand, he headed for the door of his study. Matthew hopped after him and when Dream didn’t dismiss him, he decided to accompany Morpheus to the Waking World.

“I must retrieve my ruby.”

***

“My mother was also an excellent hider. If she was good at lying, she was exceptional at hiding things,” John explained from the backseat of the truck. Rosemary smiled politely, far too afraid to question him after the gas station attendant who had confronted him exploded before her eyes. “But not perfect,” he corrected.

“Who is?” Rosemary added, nervously.

“True enough,” John agreed with a chuckle. “But her imperfection is my advantage. She had so many secret hiding places, storage units, safety deposit boxes. But there was one she was very careful about. One that she would have kept completely hidden from me, were it not for a particularly avaricious man who came to our home to complain about a shipping container my mother had forgotten to pay for.”

Susie barked from the backseat as the car rolled to a halt. John leaned forward as the shipping container came into view. “If my ruby is anywhere in Mother’s possessions, it’s here,” he nodded. He opened the car door and after he exited, Rosemary let out a breath of relief.

***

You stood at the bottom of the stairs with a far-off gaze as the shaking in your hands began to subside. From above you, Hob and Beryl leaned over the railing as they watched Dream disappear in a cloud of sand, leaving you visibly shaken at the foot of the stairs. You turned slowly and with a light hold on the rail, you ascended the stairs.

“I’d like to be alone,” you explained quietly, as you passed them with downcast eyes and entered your room. The moonlight shone softly through the window as you lay in bed, your body curled away from the door.

You stared blankly at the wall in front of you as you realized you weren’t angry with him. You were really upset with yourself. How many times before had you let yourself love him only for him to break your heart. What was that mortal expression that came about some time ago? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. You sniffled as you realized Beryl was right; you shouldn’t have been so quick to forgive him. To let him back into your heart. And so here you were: lying in bed in tears like all the other times he had broken your heart.

At least this time, you realized, you had finally done something. You had finally hurt him the way he had hurt you so many times before. And you had to admit, it felt good. It felt right to finally show him how he had made you feel in all these centuries of marriage. But then it hurt. The pain in his eyes as your False Hope wounded him flashed anew in your mind and you felt an aching in your throat.

You had held these powers for so long, but you refused to use them against him, unwilling to be the cause of his pain. You could never hurt someone you loved the way you loved him. But then he had finally repented for all the pain he had caused you and given you the hope that you could finally have him the way you had always wanted, only to pull it all away from you with one harsh move. And as the pain of losing that hope set in, you wanted him to hurt the way you had.

You sat up and pressed the heels of you palms into your eyes as his pained expression flashed before you once again. You pulled your knees into you as you wondered what he was going through now after you had finally lashed out at him. If it was you, you would in your chambers crying until your throat was raw. No, you decided, he would be brooding. He would be in his study, looking out over the storm that was undoubtedly ravaging the realm as a result of your recent interaction. But if he was right, if the hold you held over him was anything like that he held over you, the act of lashing out at him in such a way would have wounded him deeply.

You were watching the moonbeams filter through the window, wondering if the moon would even be visible with the storm that was most certainly waging in the Dreaming, when you felt it. A desperate, frantic sense of hopelessness reaching out from the person you were just now longing for.

With a gasp and a frantic look of your own, you leapt out of bed and exited your room, only to find Beryl arguing with Matthew, and Hob questioning his sanity as he watched the young woman converse with a bird.

“Well I don’t care what Lord Morpheus wants from her, he’s not getting it!” She retorted with her hands on her hips. “Not after what he accused her of!”

“Look, I get it: he’s an asshole. Not gonna argue with you there, but –”

“Matthew, where is he?” You interrupted and your urgency commanded attention from all three.

“Mayhew, New York. We found his ruby but something was wrong with it. He said it’d been altered and then it knocked the both of us out. But he hasn’t woken up yet.” You swallowed hard at Matthew’s news. “I brought this,” he explained as he nudged the pouch of sand towards you with his beak. “Couldn’t lug the massive skull-spine-mask thing over, but I figured you could use this.”

“Thank you, Matthew,” you forced a smile as you picked up the pouch carefully. “We should be going. Beryl, Hob.” You nodded to the two, as you pulled the strings of the pouch open delicately. Pulling some grains from inside and dispersing it the way you had watched him do so many times before, you and Matthew disappeared a whirlwind of sand.

“Wow,” Hob breathed as the two vanished.

“Yeah, it is pretty neat,” Beryl admitted with a chuckle.

“No,” he began, as he turned to her. “I mean, does everyone think he’s an arsehole?” He questioned.

***

You arrived in a paved lot full of shipping containers.

“It’s that –” Matthew began to point with his wing, but you interrupted him.

“I know,” your voice came low, as you followed the hopelessness that had struck you earlier. You stepped to the door of the container as if in a trance and pulled the lock open. You entered slowly, but when you found him, his body in an unconscious heap, crumpled under several boxes, you rushed forward.

“Dream!” You cried as you pushed the boxes off of him. You grabbed him by his shoulders to prop him up against a shelf. “Morpheus!” You cried as you shook his shoulders. With no response, you placed your hands on either side of his face. “Please, wake up,” you whispered, before leaning your forehead against his. You pulled back to find his eyes still closed.

“Matthew,” you whispered with your hands and gaze still on Dream. “We’re going back to the Dreaming,” you explained as you collected his helm from the ground a few feet away from him. You pulled the pouch from your pocket.

“What about the ruby?” He asked as he hopped forward. You reached into the pouch to retrieve a handful of sand.

“We’ll deal with it later,” you decided as you were engulfed by sand.

When the sand cleared, the three of you appeared in Morpheus’ chambers. You swallowed thickly at the sight of the jet black satin sheets that once held traces of your blood and his essence. You squeezed your eyes shut to push the memory of that night aside and moved to pull Morpheus’ unconscious body onto the bed. The sight of his helpless, unmoving form broke you and you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Get Lucienne,” you commanded Matthew quietly and he flew off, silently executing your order. Your fingers ghosted over his still hands and traced up his arm. You swallowed hard at the sight of him lying helplessly on the bed. You slipped his coat off of him and placed it on a nearby chair. Moving to the end of the bed, you pulled his boots off gently before placing them on the ground beside the bed. You sat down beside him on the bed, and you slid your hand in his, pulling it up to you to place a soft kiss to his knuckles. You placed it back down gently and your other hand moved to brush his hair aside, giving you a better view of him. You smiled bitterly as the tears dripped down your face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, recalling how this face that lay unconscious before you had been covered in pain when last you saw it. You swallowed hard as you held his face in your hand, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheek. “I’m sorry, Morpheus,” you cried as you laid your head against his chest. “I’m sorry, just please wake up,” you wept. “Please,” you begged in a silent whisper.

The door creaked open and you sat up quickly, wiping harshly at the wetness on your face. “Lucienne,” you acknowledged the librarian’s presence and cleared your aching throat. Turning towards her from your seated position by your husband, you continued, “I’ll be returning to the Waking World to retrieve the ruby,” you sniffled as you stood, pulling your hand from his. “Please look after Lord Morpheus,” you said softly, as you gazed down at him.

“Of course, my lady,” Lucienne responded in a soft voice of her own. “I’ll… return to the library,” she explained, an obvious excuse meant to give you and him your privacy.

You nodded with a forced smile as you wiped quickly at another tear that threatened to escape. As soon as the door closed, you turned your attentions back to him. You pulled at the covers then, draping them over him as he had done for you in the intimate quiet after your night together. You placed your hand on the side of his face before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. You pulled away, and after a moment to revel in his nearness, you left his chambers.

Standing outside of his chambers now, you held his helm in your hands and studied the tool closely. “Alright,” you exhaled as you peered into its red eyes. “Let’s see if this’ll work for me.” And with a sigh, you braced yourself as you placed it over your head. Closing your eyes, you focused on the ruby. The source of its power lay just inside the door behind, and you struggled to prevent your mind from wandering to him. The ruby, you reminded yourself, and when a diner came into view, you let out a breath of frustration. But then a certain table caught your attention: a curious man in ill-fitting clothes with a cup of coffee cradled something in his hands. You laughed in surprise at the accomplishment and removed the helm.

“Gods!” You startled at Matthew’s unexpected appearance as you held the helm to your side. “This is not the time to be sneaking up on me, Matthew!” You scolded.

“I was standing right in front of you,” he gestured. “Geez, he said he could see in that thing. I figured you could see me standing here.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you sighed as you walked to his study. “But I did see the ruby,” you explained as you entered the room. Placing the helm in its place on a shelf, you turned to Matthew. “And I’m going to get it now.”

“Okay, let’s go!” Matthew encouraged, ruffling his feathers in preparation.

“Matthew, perhaps you should stay here,” you sighed. “With Lord Morpheus unconscious, the –”

“Do you know how pissed he’d be if he found out I let you go out there on your own?”

You recalled how he had begged you to take Jessamy for protection to your meeting in Olympus with Zeus. “Alright,” you sighed, pulling his sand from your pocket.

“Alright!” Matthew cheered as you two were surrounded by sand.

***

The helm had shown you none of the carnage you walked in on when you opened the door to the diner.

“Holy fuck,” Matthew breathed, and he flew from the ground to perch on your shoulder. You raised an eyebrow at the frightened way he seemed to hide behind your protection. “In case we need to make a quick getaway,” he lied, and with an exaggerated nod, you accepted his excuse.

“Hello,” the curious man called out to you. “I’m John. I’m glad you’re here. The power has gone out.” You glanced around the darkened restaurant that illuminated only by the occasional lightning. “So there’s no TV, and no one left to talk to.”

“Hello, John,” you began as you stepped forward with a cautious smile. “I’m Hope.”

“Hello, Hope,” he smiled. Ignoring the bloodshed around you, you maintained your smile, and glanced down at his closed fist. You could feel Dream’s power within it, calling out to you. It glowed brighter in your presence, its glittering scarlet beams peeking through John’s fingers.

“That’s a very beautiful jewel you have,” you commented, nodding to his still closed fist. He looked down at it, opening his fingers to watch it pulse as you stepped closer.

“It’s mine,” he snapped, clutching the jewel close to his chest.

“It’s not, John,” you shook your head with a hesitant smile. “It’s not supposed to be here,” you explained. “It’s hurting your world and you just by being here.”

“It’s not hurting anyone,” he retorted. Matthew turned his head to survey the massacre before looking back at John. A sarcastic remark was soon on his tongue, but he assumed now was not the time for it. “It’s revealing the truth. The truth about mankind,” he resounded. “It’s stripping them all of their lies.”

“Lies?” You questioned. You recognized couple from the butchery as Kate and Garry Fletcher. Their marriage was a fraught one, powerful and strong to the outside eye, but privately, they both knew of its failings. “No, John,” you shook your head softly. “Dreams. And hopes,” you whispered with a soft smile as you turned towards a booth at your side.

With the sweep of your arm, an illusion of the couple appeared. They spoke of their plans and current goings-on. “What you call lies, are simply the hopes they strive to achieve. Or in Bette’s case,” you began as the waitress approached the table. “The dreams they cling to and wish to fulfill,” you explained as she spoke about the novel she always planned to write. “Their hopes and dreams are what keep them going. They provide a brightness to life. And without them,” you began as the illusion fell away and the carnage of the diner returned.

“Without their hopes and dreams, only darkness remains.” You stepped away from John to study the tragedy in the restaurant. “You called this the truth, John,” You said, as you looked from the body of Judy to him. “Perhaps,” you mused as you moved then to the corpse of Marsh. “Perhaps this is the truth of mankind when they are robbed of their hopes and dreams. And this is why you must return the ruby.”

He considered your words, but then a flash of thunder illuminated the diamond briolette around your neck. “If this ruby could do all this,” he began as he glanced around the room. “I wonder what that diamond around your neck could do.”

“John,” you warned, slowly. “You don’t want to do this.”

“If the ruby’s original owner rules over dreams as Mother said, and you’re Hope, then I assume that diamond,” He glanced to the briolette that dangled on your chest. “Can control one’s hopes.”

“It’s not meant for that, John. Just as the ruby was not meant for this.” You paused before pleading with him once more. “Give me the ruby before I must take it from you.” He took a step forward and his arm moved to wield the ruby against you. With a sigh, you watched as his eyes clouded, and your False Hope mesmerized him with the memories of his mother. First she cajoled him to sleep as a baby, then she soothed him after his first breakdown, finally she held him as he cried in her arms.

“Mother,” he smiled at the visions of his recently deceased mother. But then his smile faltered as the clouds in his eyes darkened. Instead of rocking him to sleep, now she pulled a pillow from her bed and raised it over his face. His brow creased, as he watched her abandon him at the steps of an orphanage. Then she held him close as she died in his hospital room.

“I wish I’d done it,” she sighed. “You were ever the disappointment, John. A waste of time, effort, money. Your father was right. I should have done as he did and rid myself of you.”

“No,” he whispered, as a tear rolled down his face. Your hand was inches from his as you reached for the ruby. “It’s not real,” he said to himself and you watched in shock as the ruby shone brighter in his hand and the clouds cleared from his eyes. Matthew shifted nervously on your shoulder. “That was a very good trick,” he said, opening his eyes. “Would you like to see mine?”

The ruby emitted a powerful beam of glittering scarlet that brought you to your knees.

“Holy shit!” Matthew shrieked, as his wings flapped in midair as you fell below him. He landed on the ground beside you. “Lady Hope, you’ve gotta get up!”

You struggled for breath as your muscles contracted, leaving your whole body shaking. John stepped forward, leaning down to you, and ripped the pendant from around your neck.

“Hopes and dreams,” he laughed as he looked from the briolette in his right hand to the ruby in his left. “Euphemisms for lies. Another excuse for the inexcusable,” he sneered as he considered the tools. With a smile, he sighed, “And now I shall rid the world of all of them.” His open palms turned to fists as the jewels within them crumbled to dust. He turned his attentions to the empty space before where you had lain. His smile deepened as he considered the beauty of a world without lies in the form of hopes and dreams.

“You’ve done your world a great service, John.” He turned around to find you watching him. “And mine,” you added with a smile, realizing that destroying the ruby would only return Dream’s power to him and may even wake him.

“I – I,” he stuttered with wide eyes. “I killed you.”

“No,” you shook your head, a comforting smile still on your face. “You destroyed the jewels and released their powers back to their respective sources.”

His gaze lowered as he considered his actions and the power he no longer held. “Are you going to kill me?” He asked as he looked to you.

Glancing at the devastation in the restaurant, you took a deep breath before responding. “No, John,” you sighed. “The ruby was far too powerful for any human. The hold it had over you was not your choice,” you explained. You held your hand out for him to take. “Come along now, John,” you said with a smile. As he took it, you held his hand tighter, imbuing him the hope that the ruby’s hold over him would subside and his sanity would return. Matthew hopped to your other shoulder, eager to put some distance between him and John. You took one last look at John before tossing the sand that sent the three of you into John’s hospital room.

***

The next time the sand cleared, you were outside of The New Inn.

“What’re we doing here?” Matthew asked, as he looked around. “Shouldn’t we be in the Dreaming celebrating the win? Because, that was a win, right?”

“Right,” you smiled. “And you have my full permission to celebrate as you wish when you return to the realm, Matthew.”

“You’re not coming with me?” He cocked his head. You watched him with a sad smile before shaking your head. “Well, don’t you wanna come back and see if the boss is okay, at least?”

“I know he’s okay,” you responded, recalling the surge of power you felt from the Dreaming when John destroyed the ruby. “Look after him for me, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered with a winged saluted before flying off to the realm you missed dearly.

***

Dipping your hand into your pocket, you pulled some sand you had kept from Dream’s pouch. It was just enough for a round trip you desperately needed to take. You tossed the sand and when it cleared, you appeared in an overly ornate and decorated study. You walked past a wall full of bookshelves, letting your finger trace along the dusty spines. You eyed the dust on your fingers as you sat in the gilded chair that was, in your opinion, quite gaudy and ostentatious.

“You really should hire better cleaning staff, Zeus,” you commented as you felt his presence enter the room. “And security,” you added. You had been keeping close tabs on the god who had imprisoned you, including the location of his modern estate and his security measures. Unfortunately for Zeus, one of his guards was a hopeless romantic whose attentions were easily diverted from his security duties when imbued with the hope that his unrequited love had finally been returned.

“Elpis,” he smiled as he approached the desk you were seated behind. “I certainly hope my recent meeting with Morpheus hasn’t caused you any trouble?” He asked, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy.

“Oh, Zeus,” you sighed, as you leaned back in his chair. “I could sit here and admonish you for giving Morpheus a one-sided version of our conversation, but instead,” you began as you rose from his seat. “I’m going to make good on a promise I made you millennia ago.”

“I’m afraid I don’t recall it. But if it requires a bed,” he leaned forward with a smirk and his eyes trailed down your body, lingering for far too long at your chest. “I have quite a number to choose from upstairs.”

“I do so hope you maintain that humor after I’m done with you,” you smiled. His hand twitched at his side and you could feel the air in the room dry. “Not so fast, Gloud-Gatherer,” you narrowed your eyes and his clouded over as your False Hope infected his vision.

He was already suffering what gods feared most: fading into obscurity. Dwindling offerings, empty altars, and declining worshippers already limited his abilities and forced him to leave Olympus and live among the mortals who had once worshipped him. But there was another fear that haunted him; one that led him to gift you to Morpheus over two thousand years ago.

Zeus walked through the throng of children, something between surprise and confusion on his face as he looked from child to child. He watched as a boy ran to his mother and he sighed as he recognized Leto.

“Ah,” he smiled as he recognized the boy as Apollo, and shortly after, Artemis joined her brother and mother. He moved to join them, but then he noticed Maia, and the young son beside her as Hermes. A high-pitched giggle turned his attentions to a young girl who ran to Io. His eyes widened in realization as he eyed the sea of children and their mothers. The crowd parted and you walked through them to stand before Zeus.

“And somewhere in this mass of children is Calliope. You know Calliope, the one whose child you feared would depose you?” You explained as you circled him. “Not that he’d have much to depose you of now, though.” You added.

“So?” He scoffed. “Now that he’s dead –”

“Oh, no, no,” you interrupted him with a finger to your lips. “I’m not done yet.” He ignored your warning and tried to open his mouth, only to find he no longer had one. “You’ll get that back when you’ve earned it,” you scolded as you eyed him.

“You’re right, though. Orpheus may be gone,” you nodded, and appearing behind Zeus, you placed your hands on his shoulders. “But they aren’t,” you smiled as you turned him to view all of his offspring. “And these aren’t just your children,” you explained. You pointed to Harmonia, Anteros, Aeneas. “It’s their children, as well.” You moved to his side as you continued, “And their children, and their children’s children, and their children’s children, and you get it,” you sighed.

“And anyone of them could seek to usurp you. With your dwindling offerings and practically nonexistent followers, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard,” you mused. “Just look at that infinite sea of children, Zeus. And any one of them could cause your downfall. And you couldn’t possibly kill them all like you did Orpheus. So either you die a withered, forgotten god or you could be killed by any one of your offspring. But either way, this,” you began, and the sea of children and their mothers disappeared. The Olympus of old returned and Zeus’ eyes brightened at the sight of endless wine and food, grateful worshippers, and boundless offerings. “Will never be yours again. You’re old news, Zeus. You’re washed up and forgotten. You’re nothing.”

“You have this back now,” you smiled as his mouth reappeared. You stepped closer to him, leaning in to his ear. “I told you millennia ago that I would end you if you harmed that child.”

As the clouds cleared from his eyes, the hopelessness from the visions remained.

“I – I could, but I can’t --, no I,” he stammered nonsensically as his gaze skittered wildly on the ground. He tried to formulate some plan, some contingency to avoid the fate you had shown him, but he came to the same conclusion: whatever he tried, he could never eliminate all of his potential usurpers and eventually, he would fade into obscurity. He sunk to the ground as he continued to strategize in hushed mutterings. “No, no, but I could still –, it could still –”

“Enjoy madness, Zeus,” you whispered in his ear before leaving him on the floor of his study.

***

Once in the Dreaming, Matthew flew to the library to speak to Lucienne. Unfortunately, he found her conversing with Lord Morpheus.

“And here’s Matthew,” Lucienne exhaled in relief as she caught sight of the raven. “Perhaps he can shed more light on the situation.” The bird landed on a nearby table wondering what pile of crap he had stepped in now. “I was just explaining to Lord Morpheus that you and Lady Hope went in search of his ruby,” Lucienne explained to Matthew.

“What happened to the dream stone?” Morpheus asked, watching Matthew intently.

“Oh! Actually, good news on that front! Lady Hope took care of it,” he explained, simply.

“What?” Matthew cocked his head at Dream’s grim tone.

“Well, she found out where it was, and when she – we,” he corrected himself. “Tried to get it back from the guy – John Dee – he destroyed it.” When both Lucienne and Dream stared at him wordlessly, Matthew continued. “She said that the power inside of it would return to its source. Which I figure is you?” He continued, slowly.

“It is. And the power that was within the ruby has returned to me,” Dream confirmed. “Where is she now?”

“I left her at The New Inn. She didn’t seem to wanna come back here,” Matthew explained quietly as he shuffled awkwardly on the table.

“I see,” He muttered with a downcast gaze. Lucienne observed him and an uneasy breath left her. Matthew looked from her to him and cocked his head.

“So, you’ve got all your tools back, right?” He began. “The sand, the helm, the ruby. So, mission accomplished, right?”

“Yes,” Lucienne responded.

“Then what’s with all the sour faces?” He wondered.

“I have matters to attend to,” Morpheus explained simply, as he left the library. Lucienne grimaced as she watched him leave.

Matthew shuffled over to her. “Was it something I said?”

***

A pigeon hopped closer to the man in dark clothing on the bench, eagerly awaiting a scrap of the bread he was holding. The bird tilted his head at the man who now seemed too busy conversing with the woman beside him to toss the bread. The bird hopped closer; perhaps he could catch the man’s attentions by moving closer.

“You’re right,” Dream began, as he continued to pull at the bread in his hands with a far-off gaze. “Something is the matter.” Death leaned back silently, resting her arm on the top of the bench. “When they captured me, I just had only one thought. Vengeance. Not only for my captors, but for her.” Death tilted her head as she watched her brother. “For letting me rot in that cage without coming to my aid.”

“I returned to the Dreaming to confront for her actions. To demand an explanation for her inaction when I was imprisoned. But then Lucienne informed me of her efforts to free me and that she may still be there. Imprisoned by those who had imprisoned me.” Death watched as the regret played in his eyes.

He paused to toss the scraps of bread to the pigeons. “And I found myself reconsidering every aspect of our relationship. Every moment, every mistake. All mine, of course,” he scoffed. “And after everything, I couldn’t understand why she would willingly risk imprisonment for me. The only explanation was one I did not deserve,” he sighed.

“And when I went to rescue her,” his voice dipped low as a pigeon pecked at the grains. “She didn’t expect me to come for her. She thought I’d simply leave her there to die,” he swallowed hard as two pigeons joined the other. “And I promised myself that I’d never let her think that way again. That I wouldn’t let a moment pass by without her knowing how much I care for her.”

“But then I found out she had betrayed me. Zeus told me that she knew of his intentions to kill my son. She knew what he planned to do and refused to tell me,” he fumed, and Death placed a hand on his knee. He watched as two of the pigeons fought over a piece of bread. He tossed another piece in their direction and they separated, nibbling at their respective pieces. “I still love her, Death. But I don’t know how to forgive her.”

“Oh I don’t believe it,” she sighed as she pushed off her knees and rose from the bench to stand before him. “Let me tell you something, Dream,” she began and pulled the bread from his hands. “And I’m only gonna say once, so you better pay attention,” she warned. “You are utterly the stupidest, most self-centered, pathetic excuse for an anthropomorphic personification on this or any other plane.” She scolded. “Zeus is a dick. If you want to blindly believe him over your wife, go ahead,” she rebuked, throwing the bread back at him. “But we both know he’s not giving you the full picture.”

“She admitted that she knew about his plan, just as Zeus said. What else could he be hiding? What else would matter?” Dream countered.

“It’s Zeus! What couldn’t he be hiding? And as for ‘What else matters?’ Context is everything, Dream,” she explained, crossing her arms.

“And how am I supposed to find out what he’s hiding? Or the ‘context’ of this meeting?” He retorted and Death rolled her eyes.

“If only we knew someone who sees all and knows of every occurrence in existence,” she sighed exaggeratedly, as she slumped back onto the bench next to him. He peered at her for a moment before deciding to take her advice. Leaving the bread on the grass, he rose from the bench. “You know, maybe he’s even got a book with everything written down in it!” She called after him and he rolled his eyes as he disappeared in a tornado of sand.

***

Dream stood in his gallery, and reached out for the sigil of the book, his sister had hinted at.

“Destiny,” Dream began. “I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil. Will you meet with me?”

The book illuminated in his hands as his brother’s visage became visible within it. “Yes, my brother, I shall.”

“Then I shall come through to your realm. It is best we spoke in person.” And with that, Dream entered his brother’s abode in the Garden of Forking Ways.

“Welcome, Dream.” Destiny greeted as Dream’s form materialized through the oil painting that depicted his likeness.

“Destiny, I have a request,” he began and when his brother nodded.

“I am aware of your request,” he explained and Dream glanced at the Book of Souls he held.

“And will you grant it?” He asked. Destiny turned towards his brother, and his hood fell back slightly, revealing little more than a sliver of his face.

And then they were surrounded by hedges, as corners and paths stretched before them. Dream looked from the path in front of him to the one at his side.

“The Garden of Forking Ways will guide you in your search,” Destiny explained, but before Dream could question him further, he vanished. After a moment, Dream took the path at his side. He turned another corner and stopped when he heard your voice.

“What are you saying, Zeus?”

He followed the sound of your voice and found himself at a clearing in the maze. Laurel trees sprouted from the ground and the daylight turned to moonlight as the clearing took the form of Zeus’ Olympian courtyard. He watched as Zeus approached you with a sly smile. You listened to his villainous words as he outlined various reasons for you to murder Orpheus. Zeus explained his own reasons and the repulsion on your face echoed the refusal you voiced to Zeus.

“The child of an Endless would hold insurmountable power. Such a child could follow in my or my father’s footsteps and usurp my rule. I would do anything to prevent such an outcome.”

“You would murder a child to prevent just the possibility of losing power? You are sick.”

The disgust on your face deepened as Zeus spoke, but then realization and devastation played in your eyes.

“This child is but a testament of your husband’s betrayal. Would you really let such an injustice pass by? And besides, without the bastard child, you could have a real chance at a marriage with him.”

“Is that why you asked him to release me into the Dreaming? Because you thought I would lead him to stray from Calliope? And prevent the birth of a child who would usurp your power?”

“Are you not grateful to be released?”

“I am not grateful to be a pawn in one of your schemes, Zeus!”

“Then be a queen. Be the Queen of the Dreaming outright by ending his relationship with Calliope. You can do it with one move and then you could have him all to yourself.”

Dream stepped closer in anticipation of hearing you agree to Zeus’ plan. He watched as the illusion of your closed your eyes and let out a low breath.

“Morpheus and I had a chance to make this marriage whole before Orpheus was born. Even before Calliope returned. It didn’t happen then and I won’t kill an innocent child to regain that opportunity.”

“Then do it for yourself. I saw you two last night. I know how cruelly he has treated you. If you eliminate this child, I will give you the freedom to walk the mortal world. You would no longer be bound to the Dreaming. To him.”

He watched Zeus glance at the bruise on your arm and Dream recalled how it had formed. For a moment, he wondered why you hadn’t given Zeus’ plan another thought.

“You think I would be so petty to kill an innocent child for his father’s trespasses against me? You are sick. If you come anywhere near that child, I will end you. Ruler of Olympus or not.”

He swallowed hard as he watched you threaten Zeus on behalf of his own child. Shame burned inside of him as he realized he was no different than Zeus; he also believed you capable of using Orpheus as a way to punish him. You turned, and as you left, the illusion dissipated, leaving only the clearing in its wake. As sunlight illuminated the landscape once again, Dream turned to follow another path in the maze.

Another voice sounded and a smile graced his features as he turned towards it. In this clearing, he found Orpheus as a child in the Celestial Gardens. His brow creased as he wondered why Orpheus had been in your wing of the palace when he had specifically warned him against it.

“Sorry!”

His lips parted wordlessly as he watched his son run into you. You were startled, but he watched as you knelt down to offer him a warm smile.

“That’s okay, Orpheus. How do you like the Celestial Gardens?”

“They’re beautiful! I haven’t seen them before. I don’t think I’ve seen anything on this side of the palace before!”

“Well, shall we take a look around?”

He smiled as you held Orpheus’ hand and led him through the Gardens. He listened to you as you explained the planetary zinnias and watched Orpheus’ curiosity as he asked about the endless chrysanthemums. He smiled at the son he had lost and glanced at you, only to find a smile of your own forming at Orpheus’ fascination. 

The illusion dimmed and Dream watched his son’s smile fade along with his own. The clearing had returned for quite some time before Dream could bring himself to leave this clearing.

The next clearing appeared after two rights turns and a long, narrow stretch. The Celestial Gardens appeared once again, but the stellar flowering dogwood saplings were now formidable trees with rather impressive nebulous foliage. He watched as Orpheus found you tending to the simple moss that glowed beneath your touch. You rose to meet him with a fond smile that faltered when he told you of the events that followed his wedding. You pulled him into a comforting embrace as he broke down. He watched as you cared for his son as if he was your own and Dream wondered why he never knew of your close relationship with Orpheus.

Orpheus pulled away to explain his purpose for visiting the Dreaming and Dream watched as you sighed before speaking.

“Such a request typically comes with a price that is far too steep. But you must know, Orpheus, that if he could, he would do it. He loves you and he would do anything for you.”

“If he loved me, he would grant me this!”

“That is exactly why he won’t grant it. If the price for her life is yours, he would never accept.”

He listened as you echoed his sentiments almost exactly, and with Orpheus’ next words, he watched as your lips parted and you approached him with an understanding and caution that he regretted not showing his son.

“And that is exactly why I no longer consider him my father.”

“You’ve already lost your wife, Orpheus,” you sighed as you took his hands in yours. “I urge you not to lose your father as well.”

He watched as you pulled Orpheus in for one final embrace and he watched as something uplifting passed over his features. Something almost hopeful.

“I know that you will be reunited with her, Orpheus.”

As the illusion dulled and your voice died away, Dream wondered if it was the hope you had imbued him with that guided his final journey to the Fields of Bliss to meet his Eurydice once again.

The next clearing came earlier than he expected, but when he recognized the setting of this illusion, he fought the urge to leave it. He watched as you woke in his bed with a soft smile on your face. Your arm stretched out to where he had been and when your hand found nothing but empty space, he watched as your smile fell. With a frown and a furrowed brow, you called out for him, and when no response sounded, you dropped the covers from your bare body to search for him. His gaze averted then, suddenly too ashamed to watch you in such an intimate way. When he glanced up again, you were practically running through the palace, with a grin on your face as you called out for him.

His throat ached as he knew what awaited your excitement to find him.

He watched as the smile on your face faltered at the sound of Calliope’s voice. He watched as your heart broke in real time, a tragedy he had been spared of until now.

“I was weak and broken, Calliope, but I assure you it was a mistake. She was a mistake. I love you, Calliope.”

He watched as your lip trembled and your tears raced down your face. You squeezed your eyes shut and your hand flew to your mouth to prevent a sob from escaping. He watched as you turned the corner and a shaky breath left as he recalled what was to come.

“You used me?”

“Elpis.”

Every instinct in his body told him to run: to escape, to hide from having to relive this grievous wrong. This moment in which he broke your heart so completely that, centuries later, you would find rescue by him completely unexpected. But he forced himself to watch, despite the way it wounded him to see you shattered by his words.

“I actually thought you cared about me. That maybe you even loved me.”

“I don’t love you, Elpis. I used you because you were there and I longed for Calliope.”

He swallowed thickly as he watched the light in your eyes die away again, before you wiped at your eyes and turned away from him. The illusion blurred and the clearing returned. He considered calling out to Destiny and asking his brother to release him from this torture. But what he now considered torture were simply moments of your life orchestrated by his own cruelty. So he continued, turning corners and following paths until he found the next clearing.

You wandered through his wing of the palace with tear stained cheeks until Beryl caught your attention. He watched you fall into her arms and sob as she soothed you.

“He – he used me, Beryl. Despite everything, I never thought he would, would do something like this. Never.”

His throat ached as he watched Beryl look down at the ground between your feet and as you followed her gaze. He stepped closer to the illusion to determine the cause of the surprise and embarrassment that was now on your face. He leaned down as you turned and looked at the path you had taken through his wing of the palace. He swallowed hard as he noticed the red-tinged white spots on the ground. He looked up from his position on the ground to find Beryl leading you in the direction of your wing of the palace.

“It’ll be alright, my lady. I’m sure of it.”

The illusion dimmed, and as the clearing returned to his view, Dream rose, turning to find the next path in the maze. It appeared soon after his second turn, and this time, the clearing revealed you climbing into a bath that Beryl had run for you.

He watched as Beryl rose and offered you a reassuring smile before disappearing behind the closed door. You tried to return it with one of your own, but it was shaky at best, and entirely unconvincing.

You leaned against the back of the tub and pulled your knees into you as you sniffled. After a few moments, you sighed and reached for the soap. You lathed it against your skin and your sniffling seemed to subside. But then your hand dipped below the water towards your legs and he watched as you frowned. You brought your hand above the water, eyeing the sticky substance between your fingers. He watched as your lips parted with realization and your tears began anew. A choked sob escaped you as your hand moved below the water to settle between your legs, desperately clawing out any lingering part of him inside of you.

“No,” Dream whispered, his voice pained and cracking as he moved within the illusion to approach you. You cried out openly in the privacy of your washroom as you continued to scrape away at whatever essence of him remained. A cry of frustration erupted from you as you struck the water with a closed fist. You crossed your forearms over the edge of the tub and laid your head upon them. Your shoulders shook under the force of your sobs and he leaned down outside of the tub in front of you.

He rose from the ground with wet eyes, exiting the clearing and continuing down another path in a daze, silently pleading for this to end. But then he heard you call out for him and he turned around, suddenly feeling renewed at the sound of your voice. The clearing showed the inside of the shipping container in which he found the ruby. He stepped closer, watching what he had only learned of second-hand from Lucienne and Matthew. He watched as you rushed in towards him, screaming his name at the sight of his unconscious body.

“My darling,” he cried, as his hand went to the side of your face. But it was only an illusion, a memory he could not change. It dissipated, turning to a fine mist in his hands, and he found himself kneeling in wet grass, once again in a clearing.

He watched as you tried to wake him with worried, desperate eyes. You leaned your forehead against his and begged him to wake up. His lips parted wordlessly as he watched the concern he knew he didn’t deserve from you. After collecting his helm, the three of you disappeared in a whirlwind of sand, and the illusion dissipated. He left the clearing quickly, following the path with haste until he reached another clearing.

He watched as the memory of that played in your eyes at the sight of chambers and the bed you shared. After a moment, you closed your eyes and pulled him onto the bed. You commanded Matthew to alert Lucienne and obeyed, leaving the two of you alone. Dream stepped closer, standing on the opposite side of the bed as you slipped his coat off of him and carefully pulled his boots off. He recalled waking without the garments and shoes, but assumed it had been the work of Lucienne or one of the maids. He swallowed thickly at the thought of you caring for him in such a quiet way despite the previous illusions he had seen.

He watched as you slipped your hand in his, and he could almost feel the warmth of it now, standing in the Garden of Forking Ways. You raised his hand to your lips, placing a soft kiss to his knuckles, and he looked down at his hand, trying to imagine your lips there upon his hand now. He looked back to the illusion to watch you shift his hair gently with a sad smile before the tears began.

“I’m sorry.”

He watched you with a furrowed brow and for a moment, he couldn’t seem to remember what you had to apologize for. You held his face in your hand so delicately and as he watched, his fingertips ghosted against his face for a moment where your hand would have been.

“Elpis,” he whispered, as he watched you fall against his chest, weeping.

“I’m sorry, Morpheus. I’m sorry, just please wake up. Please.”

A door creaked in the illusion, but Dream’s eyes were fixed on you. He watched as you wiped your tears away quickly, clearing your throat and pulling your hand from his hastily, as though you were embarrassed to be seen caring for your husband. As though you refused to be seen crying over the man who had broken your heart so many times before.

“Please look after Lord Morpheus.”

He watched as Lucienne accepted your request and quietly exited. Once the door closed and you were alone again, he watched as you pulled the covers over him and held his face in your hand once again, with all the care and reverence he hadn’t expected of you. And then his lips parted as he watched you lean down and press a light kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment in his closeness, before rising from his bed. He watched as the illusion of you walked past him and exited his chambers before the illusion faded, leaving him in an empty clearing once again.

He turned to leave the clearing and found only one path before him. With no turns or other trails to choice from, he followed the single path and found himself standing before his brother’s abode.

“Has the Garden fulfilled your request?” Destiny asked, his face still hidden.

“I think you know it has, brother,” Dream answered. “I thank you for your assistance,” he added, and with a parting nod, he disappeared in a whirlwind of sand.

***

“This one could be good,” you commented as you scrolled down the webpage. Sitting beside you on the bed, Beryl leaned over to read the billet you had found and sighed.

“’Librarian?’ Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you’re no Lucienne.”

“Well, I have to find something to do!” You chided. A roar of laughter sounded from the bustling tavern below and you and hummed. “Maybe Hob has an opening,” you wondered.

“My lady!” Beryl gasped. “Waitressing is not a profession suitable for a queen.”

“I’m not a queen anymore, Beryl.” You sighed as you leaned back in your chair. “He doesn’t want me back in the Dreaming, so I’ve got to find a life here in the Waking World.”

“Did he say that, though?” Beryl asked, leaning towards you. “That he doesn’t want you back in the realm?”

“He didn’t have to,” you said, quietly. “Not after what happened last night. What he said was entirely out of line,” you began.

“Absolutely, it was,” Beryl agreed.

“But that doesn’t justify my reaction,” you sighed. “I can’t believe I used my abilities against him, Beryl,” you sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead.

“I can’t believe it took you this long,” she muttered and you shot her a look. “But I suppose you’re right, ma’am. Wasn’t really your finest moment.” You groaned as you covered your face with your hands. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t want you back in the Dreaming!” She added optimistically, as she pulled your hands from your face.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head. “He can be quite prideful. And lashing out at him the way I did – kicking me out of the realm isn’t the worst he could do,” you realized as you remembered Nada and Etrigan’s warning. “Let’s keep looking,” you deciding as your attentions returned to the laptop Hob had let you borrow. A knock sounded at the door as you considered a position for a local florist. “It’s open, Hob,” you called out.

The door opened and when Beryl fell uncharacteristically silent, you looked up.

“Oh,” you remarked, quietly.

“May I come in?” Dream asked, gesturing to the room.

“Yes, of course,” you blinked, standing up quickly, as you placed the laptop aside. You clasped your hands in front of you to avoid nervous fidgeting.

“I’m going to see if Hob needs anything,” Beryl explained slowly, walking towards the door. “My lady, my lord,” she nodded before closing the door behind her. You watched him carefully, and you couldn’t help the relief you felt now, seeing him awake after having pleaded with his unconscious form to wake up.

“Why did you stay?” He asked, after a tense silence.

“What?” You questioned with a furrowed brow.

“After that night, after I betrayed your trust, your love, so unforgivably, why did you stay?” He asked.

“I couldn’t. Not because of Zeus or because of how much I love the Dreaming,” you paused, searching for the right words to describe something you always found inexplicable. “Because I couldn’t stand to be somewhere you weren’t. I couldn’t stay in the palace because I couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking of me like that. Looking at me like that,” you quickly at your nose as you sniffled. “But I couldn’t possibly leave the realm.”

“Then why did you care for me so delicately, so reverently when the dream stone incapacitated me?”

“Lucienne told you about that,” you concluded, as you wiped at your eyes, recalling how she had walking in on you.

“No,” he shook his head. “I went to my brother, Destiny. I went to find the truth about your meeting with Zeus, but The Garden of Forking Ways showed me how deeply you have always cared for me. Despite everything I’ve done to you,” his voice cracked with regret and shame.

“I suppose that’s the foolish thing about love,” you scoffed, ruefully. “It just keeps going, despite how wrong someone tries to prove you.”

“Give me the chance to prove you right. Please,” he paused to take your hand in his. “Please come home. I’m so sorry, my darling. For everything I’ve done to you. Please,” he begged. “Let me spend the rest of our lives rectifying this.”

“I – I thought you would be angry,” you whispered. “After last night. And that you wouldn’t want me,” you added as your gaze fell to the ground.

He shook his head lightly with a rueful smile as he tilted your chin to raise your gaze. “I have always wanted you, Elpis,” he admitted, as his thumb smoothed over your knuckles in his hand. “From the day our forests glowed under your touch. From the moment the beauty of our realm elicited laughter from you, as though your joy was their only purpose.” You felt a pricking at your eyes and you took your lip between your teeth to stop it from quivering.

“Do you really mean it?” You asked, shakily.

“More than anything, my darling,” he responded, as he held your face in his hand. “And if you come home, you will never doubt that again,” he promised, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

You searched his eyes and the hope you found within him made you smile. You leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. “I believe you.”

A/N: I heard that last chapter was the best yet, but I think this one might just beat it… Also, Hope’s skirt & blouse outfit is inspired by Audrey Hepburn’s in “Roman Holiday.”

<- Prev. Chapter

“If I let you love me, be the one adored Would you go all the way? Be the one I'm looking for?” - Paramore’s “Adore”

“One day, Morpheus, we shall destroy you,” Lucifer threatened with a smile.

“Until that day, Lightbringer,” Dream bowed.

Helm now in hand, Dream watched as you crossed the stage to meet him. With so much to say, but standing before an audience of Lucifer and Mazikeen, you suddenly felt vulnerable. You slipped your hand in his and the three of you disappeared in a whirlwind of sand.

As the sand dissipated and the greenery of the Dreaming returned to your view, your hand remained in his. You turned to him only to find that he was already watching you with cautious eyes. He hadn’t expected your presence in Hell and you certainly hadn’t expected him to find your presence so moving.

“Hope,” he whispered, squeezing your hand lightly. Your lips parted as you looked at him.

“What is wrong with you?!” You yelled, pulling your hand from his.

“Oh, boy,” Matthew said, lowly as he hopped backwards slowly before flying away entirely.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to Hell?!” You yelled, and he simply watched you with wide eyes. “Did you not think that would be crucial information for me to know?! I mean, I finally get you back and you run off to Hell?”

A small smile played at the corners of his lips at your choice of words.

“I didn’t –,” you paused, suddenly feeling very exposed as you watched his expression. “That is not what I meant.” You emphasized.

“No, of course not,” he agreed, lightly as his smile took a smug turn.

“That is not –” you tried argue, but his self-satisfied expression didn’t falter. “You are infuriating!” You cried out, as you turned to leave.

“Hope, wait,” he called out, reaching for your arm. You let him take it and turned around with a wordless glare. “I’m sorry,” he began, and the sincerity in his eyes caught your attention. “And I know that I have much to apologize for. All I ask is that you give me the chance to do so.”

You watched him for a moment and took your lip between your teeth. “I don’t know,” you whispered, looking down.

“Elpis, please,” he pleaded, his hand slipping down from your wrist to settle in your hand. “I know that I have broken your heart far too many times and that I have blamed you for acts you had no part in. I know that I have no right to ask this of you, but please,” he paused to look deeply at you and you swallowed thickly at the desperation in his eyes. “Please,” he began, taking your other hand in his, as well. “Give me the chance to mend what I have selfishly broken so many times before.”

For a moment, you considered his plea. But then you remembered the night you had trusted him so intimately and the next day, when his words and actions took a part of you that you could never regain. “Why should I?” You asked, recalling how ashamed and degraded you felt after you realized how he had used you that night. You pulled your hands from his grasp before continuing. “When have you ever given me reason to trust you with something so precious?”

He watched the pain in your eyes as your voice trembled. He knew you had every right to question him like this, but your words still cut him deeply. “I admit that I have never given you such a reason,” he began as your jaw tensed. “And when you did trust me, I betrayed that trust in an entirely unforgivable, inexcusable way. I ask only that you allow me love you the way I have never allowed myself to.”

“’That you never allowed yourself to?’” You scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. “Gods, you really have a gift for making your cruelty sound so inconsequential,” you laughed, mirthlessly.

“I repaid your kindness and devotion with ingratitude and cruelty.” He admitted, frankly. You blinked at his candor. “And I did so because I saw loving you as allowing Zeus’ ploy to succeed. I refused to love you at every turn because I could not admit to the hold I knew you held over me. A hold that even Calliope could see. A hold that I know you feel, too,” He added, slowly, as he stepped closer to you. “Because I know that you love me as I love you.”

An unsteady breath left you as you exhaled in anger. “How dare you presume something like that?” You said lowly, as you stepped away from him. “I don’t love you. I never loved you, Dream!” You cried. “I was young and naïve and infatuated with you. I was infatuated with idea of being married to someone I loved. So maybe I convinced myself that I loved you, but I don’t. Not really. Not in any way that matters.”

He watched you for a moment, your breath unsteady after your confession, before speaking. “I don’t believe you.”

You blinked at him and your arms dropped to your sides, stunned by his response. “I—what?”

“Why did you free me from Burgess’ prison?” He asked as he stepped closer to you.

“Because the Dreaming needs you,” you scoffed, defensively.

“You could have taken the opportunity to leave the Dreaming,” he explained with another step towards you.

“I couldn’t abandon the realm without a ruler like that!” You offered, crossing your arms across your chest as he stood just a breath away from you.

“Then why didn’t you simply stay here and rule the Dreaming as its sole ruler?” He asked, accusatorily, probing you and slowly wearing down any excuses you had left.

“Because – because,” you stuttered, your lip trembling as you tried to conceal a truth you had wrestled with since you learned of his capture. “Because I’ve been imprisoned before and I couldn’t stand the thought of you going through that!” You cried. “Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you there, like that,” you explained, deflated, remembering how helpless he appeared in Roderick Burgess’ dream. “Because I couldn’t stand by and let that happen to the man I love. The man I stupidly, inexplicably love.” You wiped at the wetness at the corners of your eyes, looking off to the side. “There,” you sniffled. “Are you satisfied now?”

“No,” he whispered, just shy of your lips. You looked up at him and he thumbed at the tears on your cheek. “Because I never wish to be the cause of your tears again.”

You swallowed hard as you gauged  the sincerity in his eyes. “I believe you,” you whispered before leaning up to press your lips to his softly. He moved against your lips slowly, his hand moving to the small of your back. Your hands went to his chest and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss with his hand tangled in your hair, but you pulled away as his touch became uncomfortably familiar.

“I—I can’t,” you whispered, your head hanging low as you stepped back. “I just, keep seeing it, feeling it,” you paused as your skin began to crawl and your eyes closed at the uncomfortable memory. “That night.”

Realization washed over his features and he swallowed thickly. When you looked up at him, you could see the regret in his eyes as you felt the hope in him die away. 

“I meant what I said,” you explained. “I do love you, Dream. And I do believe that you wish to make amends, but,” you paused to swallow down the aching in your throat. “It’s going to take some time,” you paused to search his eyes. “I don’t think I can just forget what you did to me.”

“I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect you to forgive me, either. But perhaps, it would be easier,” he paused to step closer to you. “If you left the Dreaming.”

You peered at him for a moment before speaking. “Is this because I pushed you away?” You scoffed. “Because I said I needed time?” You asked, voice cracking with something between anger and desperation.

“No, my darling,” he whispered with a soft smile. “Between Zeus and me, you ever had a say in your life here. It was never your decision to stay in the Dreaming or become its queen. I want you to go to the waking world and decide for yourself.”

“You’re asking me to leave the only home I’ve known? Where I’ve lived for millennia?”

“When you first came to the Dreaming, you asked if you were to interact with mortals as part of your responsibilities here. I was quick to dismiss the idea then, but I shouldn’t have been. I know you’ve longed to leave the realm at times and I do not wish to stand in your way any longer. You deserve to know the world outside of the Dreaming. And you deserve to live your life as you wish.”

You swallowed hard at his words. “And if I don’t wish to leave?”

“I would never force you, Elpis,” he responded softly, before taking your hand in his. “Whatever you wish to do, I will not stand in your way.” You watched him carefully as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“Alright,” you nodded slowly, looking off to the side as something occurred to you. “What about Zeus?” You asked and he peered at you for a moment. “Didn’t he forbid me from entering the mortal realm? Entering the Waking World to rescue you was one thing, but what happens if he learns that I’m staying there?”

“If the ruler of Olympus objects to the Queen of the Dreaming’s travels,” he explained, as he moved a strand of hair behind your ear. “I shall address him myself.” You had to bite your lip to hide the smile that threatened to form at his protectiveness.

***

“Beryl, I really don’t think I’ll need all these gowns,” you chucked lightly as she pulled more intricate dresses from one closet.

She turned to you, her arms full of tulle and satin and silk. “But, my lady, these are you favorites!”

“They are,” you began, as you led her back to the closet. “In the Dreaming. I don’t think they would be considered fashionable in the Waking World,” you explained with a smile. “I was thinking more along the lines of … jeans,” you muttered and the gowns fell from Beryl’s arms.

“Jeans?” She gasped. “My lady, jeans are not the appropriate attire for a queen.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to be a queen down there.” You moved to your dresser and pulled various blouses and skirts you found suitable for the mortal world. “I need to fit in, Beryl. I need to dress like a mortal. And this,” you gestured to the maroon gown of organza with an embroidered hem that you were wearing. “Is not how mortals dress. At least, not according to their dreams,” you added.

“As you wish, my lady,” Beryl sighed as she replaced the gowns. As she pulled some simple tea length and midi dresses, you fashioned various jeans with a few gestures. Beryl would consider wearing jeans in the Dreaming an affront to her position as your lady’s maid, so you placed them in a suitcase.

“Alright,” you said after you packed the dresses into the second suitcase. “Now, the shoes.”

***

After convincing Beryl that arriving to the Waking World with more than three suitcases would be impractical, you found yourself at the entrance of the palace with two bags in hand. You watched as Beryl descended the stairs with two more in hand.

“Beryl, I thought we agreed on three bags,” You wondered, gesturing to the fourth that she was carrying.

“Oh, this one’s mine, my lady,” Beryl explained as she raised the bag in her right hand slightly. You furrowed your brow and let out a laugh of disbelief at her. “I’m coming with you, my lady! Did you really think I’d let you venture out into the Waking world on your own?”

“Okay,” you laughed lightly. “Well, does Lord Morpheus –”

“My lady, it was his idea,” she answered before you could finish, as she reached the floor.

“Oh,” you replied, surprised at his forethought. “You know, I almost thought he’d come to say goodbye,” you said, shyly, as a joyless chuckle left you. Beryl offered a comforting smile and a warm hand on your arm. “Anyway,” you began with a forced smile. “It seems we’re off to the White Horse Tavern in England,” you explained as you read the note from Dream that Lucienne had given you.

“Hope,” he called out as he neared you.

You turned, your hair whipping around at the sound of his voice. “Dream,” you responded with a small smile. He took in your changed attire: a plain white blouse paired with a brown midi skirt. It was simple enough to pass as mortal, but elegant enough to meet Beryl’s regal standards. With your hair loose and framing your face, your features were accentuated perfectly and he had to wonder how he could have ignored your beauty for so long.

“I thought, perhaps I could see you to your new dwelling.” He explained, looking to you expectantly.

“Really?” You asked lightly, a sly smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. “It almost seems like you don’t want to leave me.” You tested the waters by stepping closer to him. You bit your lip nervously when he didn’t respond.

But then his voice came low as he stepped closer to you: “Perhaps.” His hand reached out for yours, his fingertips just grazing your hand when a cough sounded.

“Ahem,” Beryl cleared her throat. You turned to find her with her arms crossed against her chest. You tilted your head and shot her a glare, but with a pointed look, she continued. “I believe we have somewhere to be, my lord?”

“Yes, of course, Beryl.” And without warning, he slipped his hand in yours, just out of Beryl’s sight. Your breath hitched as a whirlwind of sand encompassed the three of you and your bags.

***

When the sand cleared, a Tudor-style tavern stretched out before you. You imagined that it was welcoming in its prime, but now it was covered in graffiti, its windows boarded up with plywood, and fenced in by weathered sheet metal. You turned to Dream who wore a distant look and squeezed his hand lightly. His gaze shifted lower to a spray-painted message with directions to the New Inn.

“Alright, then,” Beryl said with a sharp inhale after reading the sign. You quickly pulled your hand from his before Beryl’s new position could give her a better view of you two. She passed one suitcase to you and took another, leaving two by Morpheus. He looked from the suitcases to her and she gave him a look of mock ignorance. “Well certainly, you’re not expecting us ladies to carry all the bags by ourselves, are you, my lord?”

He looked from Beryl to you and found you barely holding in the laughter that threatened to bubble from you. “Of course not,” he said, taking the bags. You stayed a step behind him to chide Beryl lightly for her actions. You followed the path, but stopped when you were met with a field of grass.

An irritated sigh left you as you spoke. “You just had to have me wear heels,” you grumbled.

“It’s not my fault that heels go with this outfit, ma’am,” Beryl replied, and she followed as you continued forward.

The New Inn was certainly newer than the White Horse, judging by its Victorian architecture, and in far better condition. As you neared the entrance, Dream turned to you.

“It may be best if I go in alone at first. Our last meeting was not a pleasant one.”

“You missed the last one, didn’t you?” You asked, recalling how you had arrived at the palace in anticipation of his departure to the Waking World for his centennial appointment, only to be told by Lucienne that he would not be attending and your presence was not needed in the palace.

“Yes,” he confirmed as he turned back towards the building. “He made an assumption that I found impudent at the time. But perhaps he was right.” He looked to you one last time before heading inside. You sat down at a table outside of the tavern and Beryl followed your lead.

“He seems different, doesn’t he?” You asked, as you looked to the door. Beryl looked off to the side, unsure how candidly she should respond. “I mean, he never would have admitted he was wrong before,” you added, as you turned to her.

“Well, yes, I suppose that’s true,” she began, slowly. “But does that really mean you should forgive him?”

You tilted your head at her. “Are you saying I shouldn’t forgive him?”

“No, I’m not saying that, my lady. I mean, just because he does a few considerate things, does that really mean he’s changed? All I’m saying is maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to forgive him.”

“Who says I’ve forgiven him?” You asked, coyly.

“Says the smile you had on when he met us at the palace entrance. Says the long looks and deep silences you two shared at the cottage a couple days ago,” she added after a thought. She reached across the table to place her hand over yours. “I’m just saying, ma’am, you should be careful. I’d hate for you to be hurt again because of him.” The door opened and when you turned towards the sound, you found him standing there. You both stood as he walked over to help with the suitcases and Beryl leaned over to you. “And don’t think I didn’t see that hand-holding when we left the realm,” she scolded, quietly.

You blushed lightly wondered what she’d think of the kiss you shared after your return from Hell.

***

“Wife?” Hob had asked as he took the bags from you and Beryl. Leading the three of you to a staircase, he turned back to Morpheus. “You know, when you said you needed a room for someone this is not what I was expecting,” He explained as he continued up the stairs.

“In all your meetings, you never mentioned that you were married?” You teased Morpheus at the bottom of the stairs.

“Typical,” Beryl muttered under her breath and you shot her a look.

“It didn’t arise in conversation,” he answered after a moment of thought.

“Really?” You asked, as you folded your arms. “So in all those conversations about life and death and eternity, the concept of marriage never arose?”

He peered at you for a moment and the tense silence unnerved Beryl. “Um, Mr. Gadling, just a moment!” She called out as she grabbed a bag and raced up the stairs after him.

“I did not want to disclose too much about myself to a human,” he answered after Beryl disappeared.

“I mean, I’m not surprised,” you explained, ignoring his obvious excuse. “It’s not like you ever thought of it as a real marriage, right? ‘A marriage only in name.’ That’s what you told Calliope, isn’t it?” You smiled bitterly, as the memory of his return to the realm with his love resurfaced. He swallowed thickly as the heartbreak was painted anew on your face.

“You were not meant to hear that,” he responded in a low voice.

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t mean it,” you whispered. Placing your hand on the handle of the last suitcase, you continued with an averted gaze. “I should go. And you have a ruby to retrieve, don’t you?”

“I shouldn’t have said it,” he began as he pulled your hand from the suitcase. “What I said to Calliope that day was a lie I was desperate to convince myself of.

“You have no idea what it felt like to hear those words, Morpheus,” you explained through your aching throat.

“I know what it did to you,” he whispered, regret setting in as he remembered how your regions of the Dreaming had decayed that night. He closed his eyes against the image of you desperately staring up at him that night with red eyes and an aching voice. He swallowed thickly as he opened his eyes, recalling how completely he had broken your heart that night. “But you must know that you mean everything to me. You always have,” he whispered as he smoothed his thumb over your knuckles.

You felt your resolve wearing thin and you sniffled, looking off to the side. “I should go,” you repeated, pulling your hand from his. You lugged the suitcase upstairs without looking back at him. At the top of the stairs, you found Beryl speaking to Hob with a threatening finger pointed at him.

“If you’re planning on doing any spying on Lady Hope for Lord Morpheus, I strongly suggest you reconsider, Mr. Gadling.” She demanded.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. “I promise you I’m not spying on anyone,” he explained, with his hands up defensively. You laughed at the sight of your petite, polite lady’s maid threatening a man almost twice her size. He turned to you then and nodded in Beryl’s direction. “Do you mind disarming your guard dog?”

“Beryl, it’s okay,” you sighed, your laughter dying down. Hob’s shoulders slacked and after a breath he led to a room. It was cozy and rustic, and its warmth reminded you of your cottage. You smiled sadly at the memory of your home, but you smile turned genuine as you looked out of the window to see people laughing, walking, eating, and simply enjoying the day.

***

Olympus had fallen to considerable ruin. Its once towering columns and vast courtyards were now crumbling and wild. The ruler of Olympus had since left his home, seeking instead a vast estate in an isolated island off the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. Dream scoffed at the unnecessarily grand abode and its regal adornments. Altered to his presence, Zeus sent a servant to receive him.

“Zeus.” He acknowledged as he entered the study to find Zeus sitting on an ornate chair unmistakably meant to be his throne.

“Morpheus,” he nodded. He remained seated as Dream approached. “What brings you to my humble dwellings? Have you rekindled your love with my daughter?” He smirked. “Or does she still find your very presence abhorrent?”

“I am not here to engage in petty insults with you, Zeus,” he began.

“Then by all means, King of Nightmares,” he mocked as he leaned back in his chair. “Why are you here?”

“To inform you that Lady Elpis will be residing in the mortal world for some time.”

“Putting aside that violates the one condition under which I gave you her,” Zeus leaned forward with a grin. “Does this mean she’s finally come to her senses and left you like my daughter?”

“She was not yours to give, Zeus. You toyed with her life and you should be grateful that I do not punish you for that.”

“Ever the protective husband,” he cloyed, sarcastically. “But I’m afraid I will not allow her presence in the mortal realm,” he resounded as he stood.

“You will not allow it?” Dream laughed at him. “With your dwindling sacrifices and altars, I doubt you have the power to defy me, Zeus. And if you object to her presence in any way, I will consider it defiance.”

Zeus held his gaze unwavering, but the Dream Lord was correct. He was certainly at a physical disadvantage, but Zeus couldn’t allow him to leave without striking some sort of blow.

“Did she ever tell you about our late night rendezvous in Olympus millennia ago?” Morpheus ignored the jealousy he knew Zeus was attempting to evoke.

“I am aware of your meeting to request that she return to Olympus.”

“Is that what she told you?” He laughed. “My dear Morpheus, if I don’t want here in the mortal realm now, why would I have wanted her in Olympus then?”

For a moment, thousands of possibilities for the true purpose of that meeting arose in his mind. But he cut through them as he asked, “Then why did you meet with her?”

“To kill Orpheus, of course.” Zeus answered plainly. Morpheus’ lips parted but he couldn’t seem to say anything. “I told her how if she was anything like Hera, she wouldn’t allow the living, breathing symbol of her husband’s infidelity to live.”

“She wouldn’t,” his voice came low and unwavering.

“No, of course, she wouldn’t,” Zeus sighed as he left his desk. He moved to the window, watching the leaves on the laurel trees sway gently in his courtyard. “But she knew of my plans, Morpheus. She knew that I would come for him eventually and eliminate the threat he posed to my rule as the inevitably powerful child of an Endless.”

“All you have exposed, Zeus, is that you were responsible for my son’s death,” Morpheus responded as he stepped closer to Zeus’ turned back.

“Indirectly responsible,” Zeus corrected. “I only killed Eurydice. The “death-by-Maenads” plan was his idea.”

“I should kill you for this,” Morpheus threatened as stepped only inches from Zeus.

“Certainly! Send me to my brother’s land if you wish, but dear Morpheus, you are missing the point!” He exclaimed as he turned around. “Why didn’t Elpis tell you the true purpose of this meeting? Why didn’t she warn you?”

Morpheus considered his words for a moment. Why hadn’t you warned him? But he pushed the thought aside, electing instead to slam Zeus into the wall. “Guard your tongue, Zeus.”

“She wanted him gone, don’t you see?” Zeus laughed, despite the choke hold Morpheus had him in. Morpheus considered choking the life out of him, but he could tell Zeus had more to say. And for the first time in his ages of knowing the god, he found himself wanting to hear it. His grip on Zeus’ throat eased slightly and he continued. “She may not have been willing to kill him herself, but certainly she wanted it to happen. And it worked, didn’t it? After Orpheus died, Calliope left you and she had you all to herself.”

Morpheus swallowed thickly as Zeus’ reasoning began to sink in. He released Zeus and the god slumped against the wall. Morpheus turned towards the door wordlessly.

“Is that all, Dream Lord?” Zeus laughed as he rubbed at his throat. “Are you not man enough to kill me?” He called out after him.

Pausing at the door, Morpheus turned his head slightly to answer him before leaving. “The mortals that once served you now consider you a myth. A story. A lie. You will live for eternity amongst the mortals you once believed beneath you. And you will live amongst them as a forgotten god. What could be a greater punishment than that for a god as vain as you?”

***

According to Matthew, a private consultant named Johanna Constantine had helped Dream retrieve his sand. Convincing Beryl that to let you go to her office alone was difficult, but you needed to speak to her without Beryl’s slanted views against Dream. You arrived at her building and pressed the buzzer next to her name.

“Yeah, yeah, come on up,” came the rushed response through the intercom. You entered the building, knocking when you arrived at her door. “It’s open!” She called out.

When you entered, you were met by a clutter reminiscent of the dreams of a 76 year old woman from Arkansas whose living room was filled with newspapers dating back to the 1950s.

“Excuse me?” You called out, looking for the woman. She was seated at a desk and popped her head out from behind a stack of spell books

“Just a sec,” she smiled before clearing the books off the desk. “How can I help you?”

You walked over, sitting down after she nodded to the chair across from her. “You recently helped someone retrieve a pouch of sand,” you began.

“I might have done,” she responded vaguely as she propped her feet upon the desk.

“Well,” you began slowly, completely unsure how to broach the strange topic you had in mind. “Did he say why he needed it?”

She narrowed her eyes at you before dropping her feet from the desk and leaned forward. “No fucking way,” she breathed, as she peered at you. “You’re real.”

You blinked at her before scoffing uncomfortably. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re real,” she repeated, nodding slowly. “You’re Dream’s wife, aren’t you?”

“I – I am,” you breathed in shock with raised brows.

“You know, I told him the sand was at my ex-girlfriend’s place and that getting it could get ugly. Didn’t seem like he got my meaning, so I asked if he had any ex-girlfriends. Fucker looks me right in the eye, right, and says he’s got a wife. No follow up.” She explained, leaning back in her chair. “Hmm,” she hummed. “No, I take that back. He did say you had been captured and that he needed his sand to free you. He was all business after that.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of him desperate to rescue you. You pushed the thought away with a cynical smile. “I must say I’m surprised he admitted to being married.”

“So what did you want to know?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Something’s changed,” you began, slowly, looking off to the side. “He’s been different since I’ve gotten back. You’re the only person who’s talked to him since then and doesn’t work for him. Or isn’t friends with him,” you added, after thinking about Hob. “Did something happen when you were retrieving the sand?”

“I’m surprised he’s got friends,” Johanna commented with a raised brow and a chuckle. Her smile turned sad after a moment, as she recalled her quest with Dream. “The sand had gotten to her,” she began with a distant gaze. “My girlfriend, Rachel,” she explained, looking up at you. “She became so addicted to it, that she hadn’t left her bed weeks. Not even to eat,” she added, a bitter breath leaving her. The guilt in her eyes helped you fill in the gaps of her story.

After a moment, she picked up again looking off somewhere to the side of you. “She was dying already. He just helped it along. Gave her a sweet dream to focus on while it happened,” She explained, the sad smile returning to her face as she looked at you.

The Dream you had known certainly wouldn’t have wasted his time comforting a mortal when his tools were at stake. You rolled your lip between your teeth as you began to seriously consider his recent apologies.

You placed your hand on the desk to reach out for Johanna’s. “His sand wasn’t meant for humans,” you explained, as you placed your hand over hers. “You had no idea this would happen.”

She chuckled before speaking. “That’s exactly what he said.”

***

“So, what has he told you about me?” Hob asked with a glint in his eye as he sat down at your table.

“I’m afraid not much,” you said with an apologetic smile. “We don’t really talk much.”

“Yeah, he isn’t really the talkative type,” he nodded. After a moment, he piped up again. “Not even a ‘He’s an incredibly handsome fellow?’”

“No,” you laughed. “Before these past few days, I don’t think we’ve talked in,” you paused to consider the time. “Two millennia or so.” At Hob’s horrified look, you continued, defensively. “But we still communicated! You know, letters, messages through proxies.”

“And what was this last letter about?” He questioned, knowingly.

“A land dispute involving residents from each of our regions,” you muttered after a moment.

“Very romantic,” he responded, dryly.

“You’re telling me,” Beryl sighed as she approached the table with three glasses of wine and Hob pushed a chair out for her.

“You know, I don’t recall asking either of you for your opinions,” you scoffed, as you took a glass from Beryl. You took a sip before speaking again. “But I do know I bit about you, Hob Gadling,” you smiled.

“Oh, this sounds bad.” He said, before turning to Beryl. “This is bad, isn’t it?” To which Beryl put her hands up defensively, denying any knowledge of what you were about to say.

“Well,” you began as your grin widened “I know a bit,” you offered, vaguely. Your curiosity had gotten the better of you centuries ago, and after enough pestering, Lucienne had given you the name of Morpheus’ centennial appointment. You had read through his dream journals whenever you had the chance, looking for any he may have had of Dream. Though you would never admit to it, in your weaker moments, you found yourself creating illusions of those dreams, longing to see even the illusion of him since your estrangement. “As Queen of the Dreaming, I know every dream you’ve had.” You waited until his mouth fell open in shock. “And most humans only have around 70, 80 years of dreams that you can learn from. But I’ve seen over 700 years-worth of your dreams, Hob. And it is truly astonishing what you can learn about someone from their dreams, isn’t it, King Arthur?” You teased recalling one particular dream of his.

“Alright, that’s not fair,” he said as he crossed his arms. “Wait, does that mean he’s seen my dreams, too?” He asked, leaning forward.

“Well, yeah,” Beryl chimed in. “He’s Dream of the Endless, King of the Dreaming. He sees everything dream-related,” she explained as she took a sip of her wine.

“He didn’t tell you that?” You asked, as you looked carefully at Hob. He shook his head and suddenly Hob’s ignorance of your marriage seemed less severe.

“He’s the reason I’m still here after 700 years and,” he sighed with a bitter smile. “I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

The door creaked open, and with the “Closed” sign on the door, you knew there was only one person it could be. The smile the spread across your face rivaled the one you wore that morning when you left the Dreaming with him.

“Dream!” You called out as he entered. You smile faltered as you noticed the rather grim look he wore. Hob turned at the sound to greet him.

“You’re back,” he smiled. “Why don’t you grab a seat?” The bar filled with a tense silence that gave Hob pause.

“I need to speak to my wife,” he said lowly and you looked at him with a creased brow. Hob turned to Beryl to ask if she could help him with some vague task upstairs and she was eager to follow.

“Dream, what is it?” You asked, standing as he approached you.

“Why did you meet with Zeus in Olympus that night?”

“What? The night after the event in Olympus?” You asked, caught off guard by his strange question. When he didn’t correct you, you continued. “He wanted me to join him in Olympus. I told you that,” you added, recalling the lie you had given him.

“Elpis,” he stepped closer to you and his voice was low, dangerous even. A chill ran down your spine and suddenly you were that naïve, unknowing girl in a torn dress cowering before the King of Nightmares once again. “Tell me the truth,” he fumed as he gripped your wrist to prevent you from backing away like you had the first time you met him.

“He wanted me to kill Orpheus,” you breathed shakily. “I refused him, Dream. I told I would have no part in something like that.” You swallowed hard as his grip on your wrist tightened.

“But you knew,” he seethed. “You knew that Zeus wanted him dead!”

“What could I have done?” You asked, searching his eyes for any sign or understanding or mercy. “Either you wouldn’t have believed me or you would have; you would have assumed I was in on it and sent me back to the pithos!”

He released your wrist and the force of it sent you a step backwards. “But he would have lived!” He countered with a force that had you flinching.

“I was scared, Dream! I-I didn’t know what to do! I’m sorry!” You cried, reaching for his hand out of desperation. He was quick to pull his hand away and look down at you with contempt.

“You wanted Zeus to do it, didn’t you?” He accused in a low voice.

“What?” You voice cracked as you tilted your head up at him.

“You wanted Orpheus gone. So that Calliope would leave and I would have no one but you.”

“You really think me capable of something like that?” You whispered, but when the realization of his accusation set in, your tone changed. “You really think I would sit around and let him kill a child just so, what?” You shook your head in angry disbelief. “I could have someone who has caused me nothing but pain and misery since I’ve met him?!”

“Right now, I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

You let out a breath that was part disbelief and part anger. “What I’m capable of?” You asked with raised brows, considering everything he had put you through. Your briolette hung around your neck and you remembered that he hadn’t retrieved his ruby yet. You might not be Endless, but at this moment, you might hold more power than he. “I suggest, Lord Morpheus,” you breathed, reaching into yourself to invite the False Hope within you to come and play. “You leave my sight before I show you what I’m truly capable of.”

His eyes glazed over as your False Hope played a scene behind his eyes. If he were truly as repentant as you had thought he was, this particular illusion would serve well. It was you, leading him to bed with coy look and a sly smile. Then him, sitting on his throne with you in his lap, peppering kisses all over his face. You, lying on your back in the grass of the Eastern Gardens as he entered you from above, and breathy moans leaving you as he painted bruises on your skin with his lips and hands. You could see the bliss wash over his features as each scene played for him.

Then you lifted your chin, letting your powers wound him as his words had done to you. The light of the scenes darkened and their tone shifted. Confusion spread across his face as your False Hope reached its climax: him, uttering the words he never thought he could admit to you, and you, laughing at him. Laughing. At his vulnerability and his belief that you truly loved him. You laughed harder as he realized that you had decided to give a taste of his own medicine. You doubled over as you watched the heartache in his eyes that had been in yours so many times before.

Your eyes were alight, watching the pain infect his face at your will. The clouds in his eyes cleared and you returned to his view. “Go home, Dream King. And be grateful that I do not come after you.” He swallowed thickly with wide eyes at the threat that was strangely reminiscent of one he had uttered, before disappearing in a whirlwind of sand.

Next Chapter ->

A/N: It was SUCH a shame that Etrigan wasn't in the show. He was my favorite Batman character from the animated shows when I was growing up, so when I saw that he was in the Sandman comics, I kinda lost it. So, I’ve decided to add him in this fic (and use his incantation for this chapter’s intro quote). There are also a few elements from the comics regarding Hell that I’ve used here instead of/along with those from the show. I also had a lot of fun writing for him. Iambic pentameter OR heptameter? Why not both?

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“Gone, gone, the form of man Rise the demon, Etrigan!” - Jason Blood/Etrigan, DC’s Batman Comics

The pouch weighed heavily in Ethel’s hand as she showed it to the elderly woman.

“It belonged to a very powerful being, Mrs. Harding,” Ethel began. “One with the ability to manipulate dreams. And this sand –”

“Yes, yes,” the woman rushed, her hand reaching across the small table towards the object. “I know what it is. And what it can do.”

Ethel slipped the pouch back into her bag. “First, I need to see the money.”

The old woman sighed and pursed her lips. “Jonathan!” She called out harshly and a young man emerged from a side door. He placed a laptop on the table between them and opened it for the woman. She dismissed him with the wave of her hand and he disappeared through the door. After a few clicks and keyboard presses, she turned the laptop to face Ethel. “There,” Mrs. Harding announced. “You have your money. I’ll have the pouch now.” She demanded with an outstretched hand.

Ethel’s hand went to her purse and the woman watched hungrily, but scoffed when her hand came out with her phone. After she ensured that the money had reached her account, she slipped her phone back into her bag.

“Don’t you trust the word of a little old woman?” She asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Ethel scoffed as her hand went back into her bag. “A little old woman who now holds the power of a god,” she replied as she eyed the woman and handed her the sand. The old woman sighed and clutched the sand close as Ethel rose from her seat. She headed for the door, and for a moment, she considered warning the elderly woman about the dangers of something so powerful. With a sigh, she turned away and headed through the door. She had seen the hunger in Mrs. Harding’s eyes and knew the sand already had a hold on her.

“I’ll see you soon, my dear,” the old woman smiled at a photograph of her late husband as she pulled open the strings of the pouch. “In my dreams.”

***

She flipped through the newspapers, discarding everything but the obituaries and local sales. “Hmm, ‘Estelle Harding’,” she hummed as looked through an ad.

“What’s ‘at, luv?” A woman with far too many jackets and a weathered look indicative of her time on the streets approached the young brunette.

“An estate sale,” she explained as she folded the newspaper up. “The ones with the really good stuff, the really old stuff, that is,” she corrected, as she stood up from the bench. “Always have an ad in the papers.”

“You shouldn’t go pickin’ over the things of the deceased, Johanna. It ain’t good karma,” she warned.

“But the dead ones have always got the best stuff, Hettie!” She joked as she stowed the paper in her coat. “Especially the ones who die gruesome deaths. Emaciation, in this case.” She raised an allusive eyebrow and with a mischievous smile, she continued. “And as for karma, I’ve already got loads of the bad stuff. What’s a bit more?”

***

“I didn’t think Father would give you the money,” John remarked as he looked through the sterile room with his hands behind his back.

“He didn’t,” she replied. John turned to her and she continued. “I sold something of his. Something that didn’t belong to him in the first place,” she added.

“What was it?” John asked as he approached his mother.

“It doesn’t matter, John. All that matters is that you’re safe now. And that this,” she pulled the ruby from her purse. “Will keep you that way.”

“What is it?” He asked as his finger reached out towards the glowing jewel.

“It’s something else your father had taken. It’s very powerful and it will keep you safe, John. And only you,” she explained. He raised an eyebrow at her words and she continued. “If anyone knew the kind of power they could hold with this, they would kill you to have it for themselves. But not if it only worked for you,” she explained as she pulled a book out of her bag. “With this enchantment, it’ll be bound to you and should anyone try to use it or take it from you,” she smiled as she placed a hand on his cheek. “It will protect you from them.”

She began the spell and when she neared the end, she held the ruby out for him to touch. He leaned forward and she swallowed hard at the way the jewel seemed to pull him in. His fingers closed around it in seconds as he pulled it from her.

“What if its true owner comes looking for it?” He asked as he examined the way it glittered in his hands.

“This enchantment will protect you from him, too.” She explained with a frown, watching the way he studied the ruby hungrily. “The old woman who bought the sand looked at it that way, too,” Ethel thought, but she pushed the thought away when she remembered seeing the notice for Mrs. Harding’s estate sale.

“What about you?” He asked, looking up at her. “What if he comes after you?” He asked.

“That’s why I have this,” she smiled as he seemed to forget about the ruby. She pulled the amulet from inside of her blouse and presented it to him. John watched as the rotating brass rings spun around a cobalt orb.

John nodded and looked back at the ruby in his hand. Ethel pursed her lips and sighed as she rose. She adjusted her bag over her shoulder, but when she moved towards the door, an attendant stepped inside.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you’re going to have to take that back with you,” he explained, gesturing to the ruby in John’s hands.

John looked from the attendant to his mother as his fingers closed tightly around the jewel. “Mother?” He asked, expectantly.

She looked from her son to the attendant, who remained motionless. “What do you mean?’” Ethel asked the attendant. “It’s an old family heirloom. He’s not going to hurt himself with it!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s hospital policy,” the attendant shook his head. “He’s not allowed to have metal of any kind.”

With a sigh, she turned around to face her son. “I’m sorry, John,” she said with an outstretched palm. He stared at her hand for a moment before reluctantly placing the gem in her hand. She clutched the amulet at her neck that she wished she could give him. “But you will be safe here, John.”

“But what about the ruby? What will you do with it if it only works for me?”

“I’ll keep it safe for you,” she tried to reassure him with a smile, but when he didn’t return it, hers faltered. His eyes remained trained on her bag and the pulsing jewel inside. She shifted her bag, pushing it and the ruby inside farther away from John. But she could see the hold its power already held over him. “Goodbye, John,” she said, and with a kiss to his head, she was gone.

***

Beryl’s heels clicked faster as she neared the library doors and she swung them open with more urgency than she had intended. Lucienne turned towards the sound and found the young woman breathing heavily with bewildered eyes.

“Lady Hope hasn’t returned yet, Lucienne. What’s happened? Has Lord Morpheus returned, at least?” She asked as she approached the librarian.

“He has,” Lucienne replied and gestured to a nearby table. She took a seat as she continued. “But I’m afraid my lady hasn’t. I believe she may have been imprisoned during her attempt to rescue Lord Morpheus.”

Lucienne’s words stopped Beryl in her tracks, her hand lingering on the chair she was about to sit in. “So he’s here,” she began, her grip on the chair tightening. “And she’s trapped in the Waking World?!”

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Lucienne sighed, but Beryl’s anger interrupted her.

“You’re damn right that isn’t what I want to hear! What the bloody hell is he still doing here when she’s been captured in the Waking World?! She risks her life for his and he doesn’t even have the decency to repay the favor?!”

“Beryl!” Lucienne scolded as she rose form her seat. “Certainly you aren’t accusing our king of abandoning the queen?” She asked slowly, to remind the young lady’s maid how her words could be misconstrued. But Beryl continued, her indignation causing her to disregard the librarian’s well-intended warning.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t put it past him! Not with everything he’s put my lady through!” She cried, as she recalled how she found you one morning all those years ago, leaving his wing of the palace.

Beryl had just fetched fresh flowers from the Celestial Gardens for your chambers when she caught you hurriedly leaving the Western Wing of the Palace. She furrowed her brow at the sight of you leaving Lord Morpheus’ wing of all places.

“My lady?” She questioned and when you turned to her with red eyes, she wasn’t surprised.

“Beryl,” you rasped, and she recognized the crackle of your voice when you were holding in a sob. She stepped closer to you and your lip began to tremble when you saw the compassion in her eyes. You fell into her arms and couldn’t help the sob that escaped you. She held you close, rubbing soothing circles on your back as your tears soaked her dress.

“He – he used me, Beryl,” you whispered through your aching throat. “Despite everything, I never thought he would,” you choked as you struggled with the words. “Would do something like this. Never.”

She pulled away slightly to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks as she wondered what unfathomable act he could have possibly committed now. She glanced down to see drops of white tinged with red on the floor between your feet.

“Oh, my lady,” she whispered, and when you looked down to follow her gaze, embarrassment and shame flushed through you. You turned around to see a similar trail leading back towards his chambers.

“I didn’t – I don’t,” you stuttered as you turned back to Beryl. “Oh, gods,” you breathed as a hand flew to your mouth. “Beryl, I must have gone through half his wing like this while looking for him.” Your heart dropped as the embarrassment burned hotter inside you.

“It’s alright, my lady,” she soothed as she held your arm and led you back to your chambers. She ran a bath as you peeled off your dress. With a warm hand and gentle words, she helped you into the tub and sat on the porcelain edge with a reassuring smile.

“It’ll be alright, my lady. I’m sure of it,” she said before rising and closing the door behind her. She rushed to Lord Morpheus’ chambers then, determined to arrive before the cleaning staff did. She pulled a cloth from her apron when she reached the hall she had found you in. “The floors will have to be scrubbed,” she thought, as she wiped at the white and red residue on the floor. After the tiles had been sufficiently cleaned, she turned towards his chambers. She opened the towering doors and glanced around the room for any sign of you. She crossed the room and picked your petticoat and undergarments off the floor. She plucked two hair pins of yours from a pillow and stared at the tousled sheets for a moment as the pins twisted in her grip. “The sheets will have to be changed,” she thought as she eyed the white stains accompanied by spots of dark red on the satin bed. She let out the breath that had been trapped in her chest and set out to her work.

“I know he hasn’t exactly been kind to Lady Hope, but he wouldn’t leave her there, Beryl.” Lucienne’s voice brought the young woman out of her thoughts. “He’s gone to the Waking World to regain his sand,” Beryl’s lips parted, but Lucienne continued before the young maid could say something especially treasonous. “To ensure that he has enough power to retrieve the Queen.” Beryl’s lips closed with a surprised hum.

“I suppose,” she huffed as she crossed her arms. “That makes sense.” Lucienne smiled knowingly at the frustrated maid.

“Right on time,” Lucienne breathed as Mervyn entered with heavy knock on the library doors. “I assume you’ve brought our new resident along?”

“Yeah,” the groundskeeper grumbled. “Talkative little guy,” he muttered as he approached the two.

“’Talkative?’” A voice chimed in from behind Mervyn. “If you woke up in the body of a bird, I think you’d have questions, too, pal.” The two women looked down at the raven who hopped in after Merv.

“Another raven?” Beryl questioned as she turned towards Lucienne. “Didn’t Jessamy return with Lord Morpheus?” Beryl asked, but Mervyn simply shuffled in place with an awkward cough while Lucienne tilted her head with a sigh. “Oh,” Beryl breathed, her shoulders deflating. “I see.”

“Geez,” the raven exclaimed looking at the three. “Who died?”

***

His brow furrowed as beads of sweat collected on his forehead. Eyes still closed, he turned onto his other side, desperate to shake the dread that came over him. A whimper escaped his lips as the feeling solidified and began to infect his dreams.

And then he was following a black cat down a hallway. “Strange,” Alex thought to himself. ”I could have sworn I was in bed just a moment ago.” But he pushed the thought aside, following the feline as though in a trance. It jumped and sat upon an ornate chair and Alex chuckled at the almost human behavior.

But then thunder tolled and the light in the room disappeared between flashes of lightning. And in the darkness, Alex felt a presence of pure malice and vengeance. He felt the being’s piercing gaze and a chill ran down his spine.

“No,” he whispered. “You – you can’t,” he tried to voice the threat he had practice in anticipation of this day, but he couldn’t seem to get the words out with his breath trapped in his chest.

“You once asked how I could get so hung up over a bird,” his voice reverberated through the space. “What did you think I would do after you imprisoned my wife?” Lightning split the sky behind him, but it wasn’t nearly as threatening as his penetrating gaze.

“Your wife?” Alex whispered as his eyes widened. “No, no, please!” He begged as he backed away from Morpheus, whose image began to grow. When Alex’s pleas were ignored, he said the only thing he could: “I – I could kill her. If you don’t let me go.”

There was a silence and Alex’s terror seemed to subside as he assumed the being was considering his offer. But then Morpheus’ presence encompassed the entirety of the space, his eyes dark and piercing.

“You dare threaten me in my own realm?” His voice echoed and the ground began to shake. As Alex looked down, the floor beneath him began to crumble and fall away.

“I – I’m sorry! Please!” Alex cried as he watched more and more of the floor disappear, leaving him stranded amid empty space. “She said you wouldn’t care! That – that it wouldn’t matter if – if I captured her or even killed her! If I had known who she was to you –“

“You knew who I was and still you imprisoned me. No, Alex Burgess, you would have kept my wife here the way you did me. And for that, you shall suffer.”

The ground fell from beneath Alex’s feet and then so did he. He fell through the empty space for what felt like an eternity until he was encompassed by sand that weighed eyelids shut in an eternal sleep.

***

Morpheus wasted no time in returning to the Waking World; specifically, the basement of Fawney Rig. There was a light settling of sand that raised your attentions from the ground you were staring at vacantly. And then you saw him. He seemed so different from last you saw him. Granted, it was an illusion of him taken from a dream of the man who had captured him, but you couldn’t help the relief that flushed through you at the sight of him with his power restored.

He watched you, frozen in place on the ground with wide eyes, and it was as though he could finally breathe again. He felt a guard rise from behind him and without turning, he splayed his fingers, dust flowing outwards and placing the guard in a deep slumber. Your gaze remained fixed on him as the man hit the floor.

“You came,” you breathed as you stood. You winced at the way your ribs ached as you pushed off the ground.

“Of course I did,” he responded softly, saddened by how unexpected you found his aid. He stepped closer, leaning down to break the warding circle. When he straightened up, he offered you his hand. You stared at it for a moment and he swallowed thickly, wondering if he should simply withdraw it. But then you placed your hand in his, wincing again as you raised your arm. “You’re hurt,” he noted gently, his eyes full of worry, and once again you felt what you had the night you were captured: enduring hope wrapped tightly around something you refused to admit he held for you.

“I’m fine,” you retorted, pulling your hand from his. You didn’t miss the way his fingers tried to close around yours, wishing the touch lasted a little longer. “Once we return to the Dreaming and I have my briolette back, I’ll be fine,” you explained, turning to stand at his side and avoid his gaze. His hand twitched at his side and in a moment of unexpected faith, he slipped his hand in yours, squeezing lightly as you both disappeared in a whirlwind of sand.

When the sand cleared and the beauty of the Western Plains filled your vision, you felt tears prick at your eyes. A shaky breath left you as you took in the view you thought you may never see again. It took a moment for you to realize your hand was still in his. You pulled your hand away quickly then, as you blinked back to reality.

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat and as you stepped away from him. His hand remained at his side, feeling the lingering warmth of your hand. You stared at him for a moment with your hands clasped in front of you before glancing at the door of your cottage. “Well, if that’s all, my lord, I should be going,” you explained, and you winced internally at the coldness of your words.

“Yes,” he replied after a moment, “I suppose that’s all.” But he stayed, his eyes still fixed on you. And you couldn’t seem to turn towards your door, either. You felt the need to reach out for him, to feel his gentle touch again, but then you remembered the last time you had felt him against you. And the tears and anger and shame that followed. You swallowed thickly and turned to reach for the doorknob. You slipped inside the cottage without looking back. But something occurred to you and you reopened the door to find his back to you.

“Wait,” you called out, and he turned immediately at the sound. He stepped forward expectantly and you could feel the hope buzzing under his skin. “Could you ask Lucienne to bring my briolette?”

He blinked at your request with parted lips, taking a moment to process as the hope within him seemed to subside. “Of course,” he nodded. “My lady,” he bowed slightly before taking your leave. You considered the reverence of his actions with a furrowed brow before closing the door.

***

Matthew hopped nervously from the top of one bookshelf to another. Lucienne could understand the raven’s worry, but she desperately wished he would exhibit it in a less distracting manner.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now? I mean, I know getting the sand took a while, but now that he’s got it back, shouldn’t getting his wife or the queen or –“

“Lady Hope,” Lucienne offered.

“Yes, that, her. Shouldn’t rescuing her be a snap?”

“I thought so, too, Matthew,” she sighed. “But perhaps we should wait a few more hours before we raise any alarms.”

“Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. Sure,” he muttered before flying down to the table where Lucienne was working. “And hey, I mean, it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other. Maybe they’re just getting reacquainted, if ya know what I mean,” he offered, suggestively.

Lucienne immediately wished she hadn’t taken a sip of her tea at that moment, because she was now choking on it. “I don’t,” she paused to clear her throat before continuing. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

“Why not? He seemed pretty determined to get his sand and her back. Seems like he really cares about her.” Matthew asked and Lucienne couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped her.

“I suggest you not mention that in front of Beryl,” Lucienne warned, lightly. The raven cocked his head to the side but was interrupted before he could ask anything.

“Lucienne,” Dream’s voice entered the library before he did. She stood as he approached.

“It’s good to have you back, my lord,” she said, with a smile on her face.

“So, where is she? When do I get to meet her?” Matthew asked, as he hopped forwards. “Lady Hope, I mean.”

“She has retired to her cottage in the Western Plains.” He turned to Lucienne, then. “Could you bring her the briolette she left with you?”

“Of course, my lord,” Lucienne nodded. Matthew looked between the two as Lucienne considered asking Dream how his interaction with Lady Hope had gone.

“Can’t you just give it to her?” Matthew said slowly to Dream. Lucienne shot him a look and he continued, defensively. “I’m just saying! I mean, he went through all this crap to get the sand to rescue her! What’s the big deal about giving her –” he paused to try and recall what it was Dream wanted Lucienne to give her. “The whatever-it-is himself?”

Lucienne parted her lips, intending to remind Matthew that this was none of their business, but to her surprise, Dream answered the raven’s question.

“She does not wish to see me, Matthew.” He turned to Lucienne. “So you shall take it to her, Lucienne.”

“Actually my lord,” Lucienne began as she stepped forward. “Perhaps Matthew has a point. It’s been millennia since you two have spoken. After everything that’s happened, perhaps now is the time to make amends.”

He considered her for a moment before speaking. “She told Alex Burgess that I wouldn’t care that he had captured her. And that I wouldn’t care if he had killed her,” his voice dangerously low, as though he wished for Lucienne and Matthew not to hear it.

“Perhaps she was simply trying to assuage his fear of your retaliation in order to lower his defenses,” Lucienne offered, but Dream shook his head.

“The surprise she held at my rescue was genuine, Lucienne. She truly believed that I would leave her there.” He paused, and Lucienne had no other explanations to placate him with. “She thinks that I care so little for her that I would simply stand by when she was in danger. And I cannot blame her,” he sighed. “I have ever given her any reason to believe otherwise, I suppose,” he scoffed.

“Well,” Matthew began tentatively and hopped forward. “And hey, this is just a bird here talking, but have you tried talking to her?”

***

A few moments later, Morpheus found himself walking to Western Plains with your briolette in his hand. He rolled the slight jewel between his thumb and forefinger, looking down its soft white glow. He smiled, and for the first time since he had created The Seer, he found its shining hue endearing. Just as he had found your admiration of the Dreaming’s beauty endearing that night you first met. Your words and actions had always cut him deeper than he wished to admit, even when he was still with Calliope. Even before you were married.

“I assure you, she means nothing to me,” Morpheus had pleaded, trying to convince Calliope that he was only in your bedroom to prevent you from fracturing the realm.

“No, Morpheus,” she had shaken her head, as her tears fell freely. “If she can change the Dreaming it’s because she’s deeply connected to it and that means she’s deeply connected to you.”

He had stared at her in silence after that because he had no way to disprove her words. But he continued to deny it, simply because he refused to prove Zeus right. He couldn’t possibly admit that he had fallen for you and that Zeus’ plan to tear him away from Calliope had worked. So he did the only thing his pride would allow him to: push you away.

He had done it at every possible turn, eager to foil Zeus’ ploys by destroying any possibility of a relationship with you. He had started early in your time together, beginning with his overreaction to your proposal for The Seer.

“Go.” Thunder had rolled outside, lightning had split the sky and turned the study pitch black for a moment. “And be grateful that I do not return you to your pithos.”

“No,” you had choked out. “Please,” Your lip had trembled.

His jaw tensed as he continued through the prairie on his way to your cottage. He had threatened to imprison you just as Zeus had done, and yet you still came to his aid when he was captured, willingly risking imprisonment once again. And once you were captured, you truly believed that he wouldn’t come to your aid. But how could he blame you? He had made quite the habit of reminding you that didn’t matter to him.

“How could you bring her here?” You had asked when you felt Calliope’s presence in the Dreaming for the first time. “To the Dreaming, to our home?”

“Of course, I would bring her to the Dreaming. This is my realm and I love her.” He had said, as though it was the clearest thing in existence. You had tilted your head up at him with a breath of desperation.

“But I’m your wife,” you had whispered, as a tear escaped your eye.

“Do you truly believe that matters?” He had scoffed. “You mean nothing to me,” he lit the match, eager to burn the bridge of whatever connection lay between you. “It should be her in your place.”

He rolled the briolette in his hand and suddenly, holding such a delicate, intimate part of you in his hand felt wrong. He didn’t deserve to hold it or any part of you after he had betrayed your trust on the night you shared together.

“I actually thought you cared about me.” You had looked to him, desperately hoping that he might prove you wrong. “That maybe you even loved me.”

“I don’t love you, Elpis,” he began and stepped closer to you. He watched as the light in your eyes died away and continued with his denigration. “I used you because you were there and I longed for Calliope.”

He placed the diamond pendant in his pocket, reluctant to stow it away, but too ashamed to hold it any longer. He was at the door of your cabin now, and Lucienne’s and Matthew’s words of encouragement were long gone. His mind was filled instead with every reason he had given you to slam this door in his face.

His apprehension reminded him of the time you had come to his study to propose the Seer.

Morpheus had felt your presence outside of his study. He kept his eyes glued to the pages in front of him, awaiting your entrance with what he hoped would appear as nonchalance. When no knock sounded and the doors remained closed, he stared at the doors in confusion.

“Are you planning to come in?” He called out from inside his study.

“I’m not sure.” You responded, standing outside the closed door.

His hand hovered over the doorknob of your cottage. Hopefully, you would have more grace than he had, and this meeting would end differently than that one had.

But before he could turn the knob, the door flew open and he moved quickly to the side to avoid colliding with it. Beryl stepped out and closed the door behind her in a swift, silent motion.

“Beryl,” he said, slightly taken aback.

“My lord,” she dipped her head, curtsying slightly, before continuing. “The realm is glad to have you back. May I help you with something?” She asked.

“I was hoping to speak to my wife,” he responded, as he slipped his hand into his pocket, nervously rolling the pendant between his fingers.

“Well, I’m afraid she doesn’t want to see you, my lord,” Beryl explained, as she clasped her hands in front of her.

The pendant fell from his grasp in his pocket. “Are those her words?” He asked, his heart dropping at the distinct possibility that he may never have the opportunity to make amends with you.

“No, they’re mine, sir. And I don’t care if you send me to the darkness again,” her voice firm as her accent and manners began to slip. “I’m not letting you in there to hurt her again. If you’ve got something to say to my lady, you can tell me and I’ll pass it on.”

He stared at her and for a moment, Beryl thought he might call her bluff and unmake her for her forwardness. But he simply nodded with downcast eyes, reaching into his pocket for the briolette. “Would you please give this to her?” He asked as he held out the pendant.

Beryl blinked as he did the completely unexpected: offer a reasonable request and take “No” for an answer. “Of course, my lord.” She answered softly, taking the pendant from him. She curtsied and turned to the door, but his words stopped her.

“Beryl, wait.” He called out. “I know this may not be possible and that I may be completely undeserving to even make such a request, but,” he paused to take a breath. “How can I make things right with her?”

Beryl tilted her head. She knew exactly what he was asking, but she wanted to see if he truly understood the extent of his mistakes and what exactly he meant to make amends for. “Sir?”

“Millennia ago, before she left the palace, I did something,” he looked down, and continued in a small voice. “Unforgivable. To her,” he tried to explain.

“I know,” Beryl nodded as she clasped her hands in front of her. His gaze lifted to hers as his lips parted wordlessly. “Why do you think she moved out of the palace?” She asked, with her head tilted. “She couldn’t stand to look at you after that.”

“I – I didn’t know,” he whispered.

“You are the Dreaming,” Beryl said, shaking her head lightly. “Don’t you know what she went through after that?”

“I confess, I did not want to know. I did not want to see how badly I had hurt her.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Beryl scoffed with a mirthless smile. His jaw tensed, but Beryl continued. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” Beryl thought. “She didn’t leave just because she was rightfully pissed at you, which she was, but because she was embarrassed to be used like that. Because in that palace, she was supposed to be a queen, not a concubine to be used and thrown away.”

“That night,” he began, and Beryl squinted slightly at what she thought were tears at the corners of his eyes. “It was never supposed to be that,” he whispered as he swallowed thickly. “I had known that she was the one for me for decades before that night. And that night, I had finally lost everything; so I finally let myself feel the one thing I had denied for so long. But then I remembered how this was what Zeus wanted: for me to be with Elpis and Calliope to leave. And so, yes, I said something entirely unforgivable afterwards, but I did care for her, Beryl. I do still care for her.”

Beryl sighed and crossed her arms. “I’ve always noticed that everyone’s always got a million excuses for something they’ve done, but never one good reason for why they did it.”

“I did it because I was a coward,” he said, and Beryl blinked in surprise and the immediacy of his response. “And because I let my pride and willfulness get in the way of my love for her. And that is a mistake I will never make again.”

Beryl nodded slowly and dropped her arms. “You know, on second thought,” she began, as she extended her hand to him. “Maybe you should give her this yourself.” She opened her hand, offering the briolette to him. His gaze shifted from the pendant to her, and before he could ask if she was sure, she thrust her hand out further to him. “Go on! Before I change my mind,” she warned. He nodded, taking the pendant delicately, and she opened the door for him.

They stepped inside, but before they could enter the sitting room, Beryl stopped him with a wagging finger. “If you say anything even marginally out of line, you’re done. Sir.” She added, after a thought. She opened the door and stepped inside first. “There’s someone here to see you, my lady,” she called out.

“Oh,” you said, placing your book down on the table. You smoothed out your dress, looking up with a smile. Without another word, Beryl let him step inside and your smile faltered at the sight of him. After a moment, you stood before addressing him. “My lord.”

His shoulders deflated slightly at your formal tone, but he continued anyway. “I brought your briolette,” he explained, holding the pendant out for you. His soft tone threw you for a moment and you watched the jewel shimmer lightly in his palm. Its white glow, the soft way it refracted light in his hand, the delicate, almost reverent way he held it: it almost felt like it belonged there, in his hand. With him. But you blinked and pushed the thought away, taking it gently from him.

“Thank you,” you responded, quietly. A silence fell between you two; one that neither of you had the words to interrupt, nor the will to leave.

“I must leave the Dreaming again,” he said finally, watching your expression.

“What? Why?” You asked and there was a confusion that almost seemed like a panic in your eyes.

“I must retrieve my helm,” he explained.

“So you’ve come here to ask me to watch over the realm while you leave it once again?” You scoffed as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“No,” he thought. “I came here because if I fail in my quest and do not return, I would like to have seen you one last time.” But he decided against it. He didn’t deserve the worry or concern you would feel if he told you he was going to Hell. “I only leave the Dreaming because I must. And because I know that in your hands, the realm will be safe.”

You stared in stunned silence at how he complimented your rule and devotion to the realm. “Alright,” you nodded, slowly.

“Then I shall take your leave. My lady,” he dipped his head slightly, before leaving you.

***

“Lucienne!” You called out with a smile as you entered the library. The librarian turned away from the books she was shelving to return your smile.

“My lady, it is so good to see you!” She responded as you pulled her in for a tight hug. You swallowed hard as you realized the last time you had been here, Jessamy had, too. “I hear we have a new resident,” you asked instead, eager for news that would distract you from Jessamy’s death and Dream’s departure.

“Yes,” Lucienne began. “Matthew. He’s quite the talker, though,” she sighed and you laughed.

“I can’t wait to meet him!” You looked around the library. “Is he here?”

“No, I’m afraid he went with Lord Morpheus in search of his helm.”

“Oh,” you exhaled, as you sat at a nearby table. “Well, they shouldn’t be too long, right? Since they’re just going to the Waking World?”

“No, my lady, they’re going to Hell to retrieve it.” Lucienne explained slowly. You stared at her for a moment and she realized that he hadn’t told you this.

“Gods, this is so typical of him!” You yelled as you rose from your seat. “I mean, he was just captured in the Waking World and when he finally gets back to the Dreaming, he goes to Hell?!”

“Well, technically, he left to rescue you first.” You glared at her and she raised her hands, defensively. “Sorry.”

“I just,” you sighed, deflated. “I just don’t understand why he didn’t just tell me.”

“Perhaps he didn’t want to worry you. Or he didn’t want you to come after him and risk your own safety.” Lucienne offered, and you peered at her.

“Well, that’s too fucking bad,” you responded as you left the library.

***

The walls of flesh and bone and sinew loomed over you, the stone bodies that made up the archway turned to you as one provided you with a gong. You struck it and a resounding bang, the gates opened. Lucienne’s occult section had given you the instructions to request an audience with the Morningstar, but did little justice to the utter carnage of the gates.

“Another at the door?” One face croaked. “So soon after the other?”

“What is it, then? Sister, daughter, lover?” Another melted face chimed in with a rasp.

“Queen,” you responded, as you raised your chin. “And as Queen of the Dreaming, I am a guest in this realm and wish to speak with the Morningstar. Now,” you said, as you stepped closer to the gate. “Will I receive a guide or has Hell lost its decency?”

“I’ll take the Dream Queen, play her guardian,” a deep voice rumbled from behind the gates. “For innocents abroad need guides of note – and who notes more than me?” You tilted your head as the being emerged from within. “Than Etrigan?”

“Etrigan,” you smiled as he offered you a slight bow. “Merlin’s demon protector bound to a mortal soul. How is Jason Blood?” You asked, recalling the demon’s account from one of Lucienne’s archives.

“When last of Jason Blood I saw, Batman and he escaped death’s maw.” You raised an eyebrow at the strange account and the demon turned with the flourish of his cape. “Now follow close and quick, my queen, for here in Hell, one must be keen,” he warned as he guided you through the Forest of Suicides. Taking his warning to heart, you stayed only a few steps behind him. “Treach’rous are the paths of Hell, unless like me, you know them well.”

He led the way to a winding path that circled a precipitous mountain. You began the climb in silence, taking in the wailing cries of the damned souls entombed within the mountain. Almost halfway to the peak, Etrigan spoke again.

“Behold, my queen, and take care to hear, the screams of one Lord Dream held dear.” The demon’s warning had just left his tongue when you heard it.

“Kai’chul!” The cry came from ahead, just around the corner.

The voice was unfamiliar, but the name she called out was one you knew. You swallowed hard, and after a moment, you continued to walk towards the voice, careful not to let any emotion wash over your features.

“These piercing cries from ‘nother queen come. To the Dream King’s love, she did succumb,” Etrigan recounted as you continued your ascent, nearing the voice with every step. “Queen Nada was held in high esteem, but most of all, by the Endless, Dream.”

“My husband has lived for eons,” you responded, apathetically. “Of course he’s had other lovers. Is this why you’ve brought me here? To show me that my husband loves me not? And that his affections lie still with this Nada?”

“He may care for her even still, but from their tale, a lesson will spill. Never was a love so cursed, as that of Nada, whom he loved first.” Etrigan explained over his shoulder. “When an Endless for a mortal falls, the mortal pays, most of all.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not mortal,” you mused as you arrived at her cell. She was kneeling now with her face in her hands and tears dripping through her fingers. He stood aside and you stepped closer to her cell.

“T’was not her mortality that caused her bleak reality. The Dream Lord caused her lamentation when he sent her to damnation.” He recounted. “For when his love she did spurn, his affections took a vengeful turn.”

“Dream Lord?” She questioned as she rose to her feet. She clung desperately to the bones that caged her as she looked from Etrigan to you. “Do you know my Kai’chul? Please, please tell him that I beg his forgiveness! Please!”

“I- I’m sorry,” you whispered before moving past her. She called after you, but you continued up the mountain. After a moment, Etrigan caught up to you. “Are we here then for you to tell me of my husband’s cruelty?” You accused, sharply. “Because I know of that quite well.”

“No, fair Dream Queen, I mean but to warn,” he explained as he stepped in front of you. “For love with this Endless may leave you forlorn.”

“Etrigan, I am here to speak with the Morningstar. Not to hear a lesson about my husband’s past paramours. Or how his love can wound.”

“Of course, my queen,” he lowered his head before continuing the ascent. “The Morningstar shall be seen.” The rest of your journey was filled with silence and eventually, you reached the peak, where you were met with a gate of rotting flesh entwined with metal spikes and spears. You stepped towards them and heard the demon’s voice from behind you.

“I leave you now at the arena of Lucifer, but to these words I hope you do defer: be wary of the Dream King’s affection, for love may not be his final intention.”

You swallowed thickly at his warning, but there was one word that caught your attention: “Arena?” You asked, but when you turned around, the demon had vanished.

The vile gates opened to thousands of demons with their attentions turned before them. You pushed through the demons, their wretched faces turning towards you with disdain as their biting remarks and crude insults fell deaf on your ears.

“I am anti-life,” Lucifer’s voice finally reached your ears and you recognized her tone and word choice as that of a move in the Oldest Game. You stepped hurriedly as you recalled the stakes of such a challenge from readings. “The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything.”

The hooting and hollering was deafening and the fires the demons stoked blinding as you approached the center stage. But something else cut through the uproar, pulling you forward with an urgency you had not felt before. Racing to the center stage, his hopelessness reaching out to you, you found him on the ground.

“What will you be then, Dream Lord?” Lucifer taunted. You watched as he struggled to push off of the ground. The words of Lucifer and a raven you assumed was Matthew fell deaf on your ears as you saw him, his body gray and frail as he struggled to breathe. He shifted slightly on the ground as he tried to rise and a shaking breath left you as you took in his feeble state.

“Dream,” you whispered, as warm saltwater raced down your face at the weakened sight of him. At the sound of your voice, his attentions turned from the floor to you then, watching your concern and worry as you stood just behind Lucifer. And something began to bloom inside of him. Something that turned your eyes bright as you felt it grow within him.

“I … am…” He whispered as he rose from the floor, a small smile playing on his lips, empowered by the hope that blossomed within him at your presence. You couldn’t help the shaky laugh that left your lips as you watched him rise and regain his strength. “Hope.”

Your lips parted wordlessly at his move. He rose, his gaze still fixed on you, as the surprise registered on your face. Lucifer turned to you at Dream’s sudden recovery and considered disqualifying his move. But your presence hadn’t violated the rules of the Oldest Game, and invalidating the game over a technically legal move would be far more embarrassing than simply accepting defeat. Lucifer turned back to Dream at the sound of his voice.

“Well, Lightbringer, it’s your move.” He responded to Lucifer’s silence. “What is that kills hope?”

Next Chapter ->

<- Prev. Chapter

'Cause nobody's gonna try for you Nobody's gonna do like I for you … I don't bend, I just break in two Somebody like me, I'd die for you. - The All-American Rejects’ “I For You”

“It’s been five days, Lucienne. Something’s not right,” you sighed, as you paced the throne room.

“It is strange that Lord Morpheus hasn’t sent word.” Lucienne watched as you stared at the floor with your eyes darting back and forth as you considered every possible reason for his absence. “Perhaps we could scour the dream journals of mortals in Berlin for any sightings of him,” she offered.

“No,” you sighed and looked up at her. “That would take ages.” You paused and peered at her before supplying the suggestion you had been considering all along. “You have the exact location in Berlin of The Corinthian’s last sighting, correct?” You asked slowly.

“Yes,” she began, hesitantly. “But I’m not sure sending another raven or a dream would be wise.”

“I’m not talking about sending a raven or a dream. I would go to the Waking World.” Lucienne simply stared at you and you sighed knowingly before continuing. “I know, I know: Zeus has barred me from walking the mortal world, but this is an unforeseen circumstance. This realm needs its king and at this point, I don’t care about defying Zeus.”

Lucienne pursued her lips as she considered your plan. “Would risking the wrath of Olympus amid the absence of the King of the Dreaming be wise?”

Before you could answer, the fluttering of winds graced the throne room as Jessamy landed in between you two.

“Jessamy!” You breathed as you both turned to her. “Where is he?” You asked, and you couldn’t keep the paradoxical mix of relief and panic out of your voice.

“I’m afraid my lord has been captured,” she croaked.

Silence filled the room following Jessamy’s devastating announcement. Thousands of questions filled your mind, but you asked the one that would prove the most useful. “Where?”

“Fawney Rig in England. A manor owned by Roderick Burgess, a powerful sorcerer.” As Jessamy answered, Lucienne watched your breathing quicken and your eyes narrow to focus singularly on the raven. That combined with the low, direct tone of your voice earlier set the librarian on edge.

“My lady,” she turned to you, but your gaze remained fixed on Jessamy, who held the only information you wanted hear at this moment. “Whatever you’re thinking, may I suggest that a clear head –”

“I’m going to get him,” you interrupted her, but turned to face her before continuing. “But first, we will do our research on this Roderick Burgess and I will arrange for my absence before I leave.” She seemed to be convinced by your reassurances and a few moments later you were in the library, studying the dream journals of anyone residing at Fawney Rig, including Burgess, his son, Alex, and his various staff.

“The manor has a vast layout,” Jessamy began as you read from Burgess’ journal.

You scoured the pages and found a dream he had last year about ruling the country from his very own manor. With the sweep of your arm, the air shimmered and the bookshelves and tables were replaced by the grand entrance of Fawney Rig. Jessamy flew ahead of you and Lucienne, leading you down to the basement. Jessamy perched at the edge of a column and cocked her head.

“It’s been altered since this dream. There were wards and sigils drawn to confine my lord,” she explained and you looked down to flip through the pages of Burgess’ journal to find a more recent dream. With a simple gesture, you recreated an illusion of it: in the days following Dream’s travels to the Waking World, Burgess had dreamt of his disciples at his feet, eager to serve him after he had successfully captured a being of immense power.

But your vision shifted from Burgess and his prostrating followers to the warding circle behind him. Jessamy and Lucienne stayed where they were, but you stepped past Burgess and neared the circle. His bare body lay within it, unconscious and unmoving. He was stripped of his robes and his tools were nowhere to be found.

“Leave me,” you whispered, as you took another step, standing just outside of the circle now. Lucienne and Jessamy obliged wordlessly, leaving you alone with the illusion of him.

Kneeling down beside him, you took in his bare form lying helplessly with the warded circle. You reached out despite knowing that it was just an illusion lying on the ground before you. You shifted his hair and found his eyes closed, just like the night you were together and he found ecstasy in your warmth. You swallowed thickly at the memory and let your hand slide down, your fingertips brushing his cheek, but the illusion held none of the warmth and softness you had felt in him that night.

You rose and let the illusion continue in the form of Burgess’ next dream. The followers in the basement disappeared and guards flowed in, taking their positions around the floor, but you stayed situated just outside of the warding circle. You watched as a glass sphere suddenly appeared and contained his unconscious form.

The illusion continued and you sped it along, until he shifted slightly within the glass. You inhaled sharply, stepping closer and placing a hand on the glass as he woke from his slumber. He shifted, sitting cross-legged at the very bottom of the sphere as he took note of his surroundings. He looked right through you and your breath caught in your chest. Much the way it had when you first met him.

His very gaze had terrified you then, and the shadows that bowed behind him only added to his formidable presence. You remembered how his voice had chilled your bones and how his approaching form had sent you stepping backwards, eager to escape him. And although his gaze held the same withering power and ire it held that day, there was something beneath it, something imperceptible to most, but not you. You had seen it before: when you returned from your meeting with Zeus that night in Olympus and when you told him you were leaving the palace. It was a slight unease, almost a panic that began in his eyes and infected his body and the way he held himself. Even in his seated form, you could see it.

Your False Hope thrashed within you at the sight of it. Your fists clenched and you pursed your lips to keep them from trembling. The air shimmered and the illusion fell away as you reached the end of Burgess’ most recent dream. The library and its two occupants returned to your view and you brushed past them to retrieve the dream journals of his guards and son, Alex.

“I will stay here and review the remainder of these journals,” you lifted the books to their view as you walked past them to return to your previous position. “Jessamy, you’ll return to Fawney Rig and remain with Lord Morpheus until I arrive in the Waking World. Until then, I’m not to be disturbed.” Lucienne looked to Jessamy before reluctantly taking your leave and exiting the library.

***

After a few hours, you had analyzed every aspect of Burgess’ megalomania through his dreams and how his desperate plan to retrieve his older son, Randall, from Death had resulted in his mistakenly capturing Morpheus. You had also comprised a list of the various physical and magical safeguards in place that trapped Morpheus. You considering simply walking into the manor and breaking the sigils yourself, eliminating any guards or personnel who stood in your way, but there were two reasons preventing you from doing so.

One lay within your grasp: a teardrop briolette diamond pendant of glowing white that now contained most of your power. The jewel glittered softly in your palm, refracting the light in your study brilliantly onto your skin. You would give it to Lucienne, who would use its power to rule over the Dreaming in your absence. Your decreased strength would make the full-scale assault you had previously considered logistically impossible.

The second reason that discouraged such an assault was far more emotional. You hadn’t spoken to, or even seen, Dream since he had introduced you to ill-intended creation, The Seer. He was convinced that your criticisms of his creation had been a way to punish him for the night you shared. He was so certain that you would continue to punish him for that night despite his attempts to rectify it, that he refused to speak to you since then. And you had welcomed his silence.

But going to him now and freeing him in the grand manner of a full-scale assault would be far too telling. After millennia of silence and communication strictly through proxies, rescuing him would make you seem far too vulnerable and caring. And ever since your night together, you refused to be either of those things with him.

You sighed and walked to the window in your study as you considered the safeguards Burgess had constructed. The physical confinements, such as the glass sphere, suspension chains, and moat, would prove futile if the warding circle broke. With those sigils, his abilities would return to him and he could free himself from the basement with little difficulty. And a simple warding circle could always be broken by a single mark…

***

The flutter of wings pulled Dream’s attentions from the banality of his imprisonment. He raised his head and smiled as Jessamy came into view, hovering just outside of the glass.

“My lord,” she began. “I have informed Lady Hope of your condition.” His smile faltered and his expression took on a more stoic look. “She has preparations to make before she leaves the Dreaming,” she explained, and his brow furrowed as his lips parted, but his response was interrupted by a resounding bang.

A red slurry splattered against the glass and a lifeless mess of feathers lay outside the sphere. His gaze remained fixed on the raven as her wings twitched for the last time.

“Idiot!” Roderick Burgess’ voice came through the room. “You could have shattered the glass!” He scolded as he pulled the gun from his son’s hands. Alex stared blankly at Dream, mouth agape with surprise that he had actually pulled the trigger. Dream’s eyes remained on his lifeless companion, rising only when Alex approached gingerly to collect her body.

***

The next day, Roderick Burgess stormed into the basement with an urgency Dream had not seen in him before. He explained that the woman who lived with him had stolen his ruby, sand, and helm. Apparently, their son, John, was in some mental asylum in the States and he required assistance, financial and supernatural, to remedy his condition. Burgess had refused, of course, as a matter of principle. After all, why should he pay for the care of his son, who was a fully grown man now? Despite the reasons for the theft, Burgess offered to release Dream, who could then retrieve his tools from the woman, if he agreed to grant him wealth, youth, and immortality.

It wasn’t long before Dream’s silent refusal sent the man into a frenzy. His anger led to irrationality which caused him to rap his cane against the glass sphere as he demanded that Dream speak to him. His son entered the basement, alerted by the old man’s ranting and raving, no doubt. He attempted to calm his father, who simply turned his frustrations to the young man and began to strike him with his cane. He seized the cane and as the two men struggled for control of it, the older Burgess fell against the sphere, his skull cracking open on the glass.

As the guards rushed over and Alex knelt at his father’s side, the dying man turned to Dream, voicing his final wish to him: “You’re never getting out of there.”

Alex looked from his father to the being within the glass, to whom his father’s last words had been directed. Alex neared the glass and watched as he rose with an outstretched hand. He had known how hateful and cruel his father had been, locking up this being and demanding wealth and power for his release. But he was dead now, Alex realized, and all that was once his was now Alex’s. Including the being trapped within the glass sphere. He took a step closer, mirroring the being’s outstretched hand with one of his own, and tilted his head as he peered closer at him. He looked so human.

But then a guard’s voice broke through the trance Alex had found himself in. “What would your father say?” And with those words, Alex’s hand fell away, along with any hope Dream held for his release.

***

A day passed before Alex gathered the courage to confer with the being trapped in his basement. At the behest of Paul, he agreed to negotiate for the being’s release, if he agreed not to harm them. The two young men pleaded with him, but his response was the same as it always was: silence.

“Show him that he can trust you. Show him that you mean it,” Paul had encouraged Alex. And something stirred in Alex. He stepped forward, entering the warding circle filled with the hope that if he could connect with the being, perhaps he would leave them be. “Just promise that you won’t harm me or Paul and I will let you go,” he offered. But he simply sat there, with his elbows on his knees, silently observing the two young men.

After a moment, the hope within Alex dissipated as Dream’s refusal sunk in. “I haven’t done anything to you!” He pleaded as he wondered why the being would have any reason to harm him. “It was my father! My father was the one who locked you in here!” He explained erratically. “I couldn’t free you then, but I could now!” Dream’s expression remained unchanged and Alex’s eyes skittered wildly as he considered how he could possibly have wronged the being. And then it hit him. “Is this about your bird?”

Dream’s eyes lifted at that. “It is, isn’t it?” He said, stepping closer to the glass. And just like that, any remorse Alex had shown after killing Jessamy vanished. “It was just a bird! You – you can’t get so hung up over a bird!” He pleaded.

“Alex, darling, please,” Paul soothed as he tried to lead him away. After a moment, Alex yielded and let Paul turn him away from the glass sphere and the silent being within it. But as they turned, now close enough to the glass that they were within the warding circle, Paul felt hopeful. Perhaps if they freed him, despite his silence, he would grant them peace. Maybe his silence now was simply because he did not believe that they would free him. And maybe freeing him, Paul hoped, would be the key to their own freedom from the being locked in his lover’s basement.

And so as Paul turned to leave, he let his shoe scuff the warding circle, breaking the sigils it contained. He glanced at Dream one last time over his shoulder before leading Alex out of the basement.

***

With most of your power trapped within the briolette diamond you had left with Lucienne, you would have to be strategic with the limited power you held. Entering Fawney Rig through a rear entrance, you encountered little resistance in the form of two guards whose hopes you exploited to distract them. They were now obsessively checking their phones, one in the hopes that the novel he had written had been picked up by a publisher and the other eagerly awaited a response from a nightclub in SoHo that he hoped would let him DJ this weekend.

You slipped past them and descended the basement stairs, stopping just outside of the basement doors. You listened closely as Alex and his boyfriend, Paul, negotiated with Dream. Your breath hitched in anticipation of hearing his voice: a low rumble that you hadn’t heard in centuries. But no response came from your husband.

You could feel Alex’s desperation and imbued him with the hope that Dream wouldn’t harm him or his boyfriend. When Alex’s pleas were met with silence, you fueled his hope further with your draining powers, but Dream’s repeated lack of response seemed to unleash a fury within Alex that expelled the hope you had instilled in him and knocked you against the wall.

You winced in pain as you rolled over, pulling yourself closer to the basement door. You listened to the ongoing negotiations, ignoring the way your ribs ached. Paul’s voice came through the door as he convinced Alex to leave and you reached out with the last of your powers. You poured everything you had, everything you were, into Paul’s hopes that Dream would let him and Alex go. The room began to tilt and flicker and as the floor came up to meet you, you felt an immense power surge through the basement.

***

You brought the heel of your hand to your head to ease the throbbing there, but winced at the way the movement seemed to exacerbate the aching in your ribs. With your other hand, you pushed off the ground to sit upright. A slight shuffling followed by hurried footsteps ensued and then Alex was standing in front of you.

“You’re awake,” he stated, slightly surprised. He looked down, careful not to touch the warding circle that had been reconstructed to contain you.

“I am,” you began. “I don’t suppose you’ll be letting me go?” You scoffed. You had always expected this possibility; in fact, you had planned for it. It was why you gave Lucienne the briolette with your abilities. The pendant would allow her to maintain your regions of the Dreaming if needed, even after Dream returned.

Alex was taken aback by your almost easy-going attitude regarding your capture. “I – no,” he stuttered. “I don’t think so.”

“I thought so,” you hummed, as you tucked your legs under you. “So, any plans for me then? Or am I just to rot here?” You questioned, probing the boy’s uncertainty. He clearly hadn’t planned any of this, so perhaps you could use his ignorance to your advantage.

As if he could sense that you were assessing him, he took a more dominant stance by placing his hands at his back and pushing his shoulder back straight. “You’re my hostage,” he proclaimed and you let out a chuckle.

“Hostage?” You smiled as you raised an eyebrow at him. “And whatever would you be using me to negotiate for?” His arm tensed and you could see him start to squirm under your questioning.

“My and Paul’s life,” he responded, keeping his voice surprisingly even. “As long as we have you, he won’t come after me or Paul.”

“Ah, I see,” you nodded. “But there’s only one flaw in your plan, Alex. Why would he care about me?”

He blinked at your response and his shoulders slacked. “You came here. To free him.” You tilted your head at that, pretending to miss the connection to coax more information from him. “So you—you must have some connection to him.” And so you realized he really had no idea who you were. He sounded nervous now, as if his desperate plans were starting to come apart. “He won’t hurt us if we have you – something that matters to him.”

“You imprisoned him, Alex.” You began, rising to your knees. “You kept him locked in here like an animal,” you continued, as you stood on your feet. “Do you really think he would care if you threatened to kill me? There is no price he wouldn’t pay for the opportunity to punish you for what you’ve done to him.”

“But – but, the bird,” he stuttered and the truth you didn’t want to face had been confirmed. “If he cared that much about the death of a bird,” his eyes skittered wildly on the ground before rising once again to yours. “Then he has to care more about a person!”

You fought hard not to let the news of Jessamy’s death appear on your face. “He’s already lost someone close to him, then. Do you really think he’d care about losing another if it meant he could make the one responsible for these losses pay?” Alex’s breathing became erratic then, and although you couldn’t affect it, you could feel the hopelessness that grew within him. You stepped closer, your toes just touching the yellow sigils, as you intended to stoke the fires of his hopelessness. “So you can keep me here, you can try to negotiate with him, but I can tell you right now what’s going to happen. Whether you kill me or not, he’s going to come for you. And he will make you pay for what you’ve done.”

Alex swallowed thickly, staring at you a moment longer before turning his back and exiting the basement. Two guards took his place and with a sigh, you returned to the ground, tucking your legs beneath you. You glanced around the basement; it wasn’t nearly as dark and confining as the pithos.

***

The black sand shifted under him and the scuffling of it alerted him to the presence that was approaching him.

“My lord!” He smiled at the familiar sand and voice of his librarian.

“Lucienne,” he smiled as she helped him up. She looked to his shoulder and he suddenly became aware of his raven’s absence. His smile dropped at the memory and he stepped past Lucienne. “Where is she?” He asked with an anger that carried him quickly to the castle.

“Who, my lord?” She asked, struggling to keep up with him. He looked over his shoulder at her with disdain painted over his features.

“The queen,” he sneered and Lucienne furrowed her brow. Her lips parted with a reply, but he continued with his brisk pace and venomous words. “I was imprisoned in the Waking World and she made no attempt to aid her king.”

“My lord,” Lucienne began, as they arrived in the throne room. “Lady Elpis left the Dreaming to assist you at Burgess’ Manor.”

“Is that what she told you?” He stopped in his tracks, turning slowly towards her with a scoff that echoed through the empty hall. “It seems Jessamy was under the same impression.”

“What are you implying, sir?” Lucienne asked with narrowed eyes. “And where is Jessamy?”

“Jessamy died delivering a message from Elpis that she didn’t even bother to fulfill,” he spat.

“Jessamy’s dead?” Lucienne asked in a quiet voice, as the possibility she had considered, but refused to accept prematurely, was solidified.

Morpheus moved past her words, letting his anger for his wife eclipse the loss he felt for Jessamy. “Elpis saw an opportunity and seized it. I always knew she would leave, Lucienne,” he shook his head in contempt. “But I never thought she’d do so at the expense of the realm.” Lucienne stood in stunned silence as he continued, pacing the floor of the throne room. “How low of her to leave at such a crucial time, when this realm finally had a use for her,” he scoffed. “Of course she would –”

“Lord Morpheus!” He turned to face the mild-mannered librarian at the sound of her raised voice. “Lady Elpis left this,” she pulled the briolette pendant from her coat pocket. “With me to maintain the Dreaming in her absence. It contains nearly all of her power. Why would she do such a thing if she meant to abandon the realm?”

He watched the diamond sparkle in her palm, refracting the light around it in a soft white glow that pulled at a memory he had spent centuries trying to bury. He stepped closer to it, the essence of her very being pulling him in. Lucienne closed her fingers around it and placed it back in her pocket at the sight of its hold over him.

“How do you know that she didn’t help you, my lord? Perhaps her assistance was minimal. After all, her powers were significantly reduced and –”

“I managed to escape because one of my captors made a mistake, not because of her.” He interrupted, his patience wearing thin as Lucienne continued to make excuses for you.  

“A mistake? After all this time, and immediately after Lady Hope leaves to assist you, your captor made a mistake?”

“Are you saying that she’s responsible for this mistake?” He asked slowly, as though he was trying to test out the words.

“I think I should show you something, my lord.” Lucienne led him to the library and when the doors swung open, he was faced with disarray uncommon for the librarian. He moved past the first two tables which were littered with open books full of warding spells and sigils. The next few tables were a bit neater: dream journals stacked and organized by person. He picked one up and glanced at the cover before flicking through the pages.

“Ernie was one of the guards tasked with watching me,” he explained to Lucienne, who simply watched as he took in the tables full of similar stacks of dream journals.

“Those tables are the other guards and staff,” she offered as his attention turned to an adjacent section. “These,” she explained as she turned to the table next to her. “Are Roderick and Alex Burgess. And Paul, Alex’s lover,” she added, gesturing to the table on the other side of her. He joined her at the table that contained the Burgess’ journals.

“You did this?” He asked as he thumbed through the journals.

“No, my lord, she did.” His eyes rose to hers at her response. “After Jessamy returned with news of your capture, Lady Hope spent days here researching everything she could about Fawney Rig and its inhabitants.” She watched as he moved the journals aside to find pages of her notes on the table.

“She could have just left me there,” he said softly as he thumbed through the pages of handwritten notes that accompanied the journals. He looked at the chair tucked into the table and imagined you there: pen in one hand, tracing lines in the journal with the other.

“I think we both know she couldn’t, sir,” she offered with a hesitant smile. Something tugged at him at the sheer affection Lucienne’s words implied. But after everything that had transpired between you two, he couldn’t imagine you still holding anything of the sort for him.

“If she did come to help me, where is she now?” He retorted, convinced that she may have still used the opportunity to escape the realm and him.

“If she didn’t return to the Dreaming with you, sir,” Lucienne sighed as she tilted her head. “Then I’m afraid she may still be there.” He stared at her for a moment before dropping the notes and turning to leave the library. He pictured you in the basement of Fawney Rig, imprisoned the way he had been, but with the added torture of having been imprisoned before in the pithos.

Lucienne rushed after him, once again struggling to keep up with his brisk pace. “My lord, where are you going?”

“To get my wife.”

“You need to rest, my lord!” She called after him, but he ignored her. “You can’t save her in your current state!”

He stopped at that, turning towards her before speaking to her. “Lucienne, I had planned to return to the Waking World to make Alex Burgess pay for imprisoning me and killing Jessamy. But I returned to the Dreaming first to –” To confront my wife for not coming to my aid, he thought, but he couldn’t get the words out. He sighed and continued in a desperate tone Lucienne had not heard from him before. “I have to help her, Lucienne,” he explained instead.

“I understand, my lord. But Jessamy told me that your captors took your tools,” Lucienne began. “They will be expecting you to come for her and if they still have your tools, they may capture you again.” She reached into her pocket, her hand closing around the pendant you had given her. “But perhaps with her powers,” she began, but he raised a hand to stop her.

“I cannot,” he began. The thought of holding something so intimately, so wholly you when he had not moments ago accused you of abandoning the realm you loved and him was too much for him. “Her powers, while immense, may prove too volatile for me to use,” he covered, recalling how her powers withered the Eastern Gardens in her first few weeks in the Dreaming. It wasn’t a complete lie, but he couldn’t explain to Lucienne how ashamed he felt to hold such a precious part of her when he had thought such treacherous things of her. “It shall remain here, with you, to maintain the Dreaming in my absence. As for my tools, they were taken from my captors. I know not where.”

“There is only one sure way for me to find my tools. I must summon the Three-in-One.”

***

With a steadying breath, your eyes fluttered closed. You placed your palms flat on the ground you sat upon, letting the cool stone ground you as you reached out to the Dreaming. Dream was free now, but you had to be sure that he had returned and that the realm was safe. Your powers were dwindling, but you let the scraps of it drift out towards the Dreaming and your eyes shot open when they clung to something there. A sharp inhale left you as you realized what it was and whom it was coming from. It was a yearning, desperate sense of hope wrapped tightly around something you never expected from him: love.

A/N: The last three chapters of this fic have gotten waaaay too long, so I might have to split some into two chapters. That means we've got 4-5 chapters left.

<- Prev. Chapter

While seated behind your desk, you smoothed the parchment with your hands and surveyed the various adjustments that the pumpkin-headed groundskeeper had added to your initial blueprints.

Say the words I cannot say Say them on another day Fragile words like these will cut your tongue Was I good enough? Was I bad enough? When I wanted more, yeah, you had enough - The All-American Reject's "I For You"

“I see,” you hummed, studying his revisions. “And has Lord Morpheus approved this addition to the Endless Forests?” You asked, looking up at Mervyn.

“Uh, no, m’lady,” he mumbled. “Not yet, at least,” he added, optimistically. You scoffed, certain that his approval was unlikely.

“Well,” you said, rising from you seat. “The Endless Forests fall under my purview, so please go ahead with these plans, Mervyn.”

You rolled up the blueprints and handed them to him with a smile. His carved-out eyes peered at you for a moment, wondering if it was technically treason to defy one ruler while obeying the other.

“As you wish, m’lady,” He shrugged after a moment and took the plans from you. You thanked him and Beryl entered, leading him out of your study and to the front door of your cottage.

You moved to your sitting room, tucking your legs underneath you as you took a seat on the armchair. You reached for the book you had left on the coffee table to pick up where you had left off before Mervyn had knocked on your door. Beryl returned a few moments later with tea and placed it on the small table before you. She sat at the couch beside your chair and poured a cup for you, pouring hers after you took yours.

She took a sip from her cup, watching as you brought yours to you lips without taking your eyes off the page. “Are you sure it’s wise to construct a new addition without Lord Morpheus’ approval?” You lowered your book, peering at her over the top of it. “Even if you don’t need his approval, maybe it would be better to have it. To preserve the peace, at least.”

You placed your cup back on the table and your book on the arm of your chair. “Beryl, he most likely turned down the proposal simply because it had come from me,” you sighed. “And as for preserving the peace, that is exactly why I’ve moved out of the palace and into this cottage,” you said, gesturing to the simple home you were now in.

“He wasn’t exactly happy about that either, my lady,” she chided lightly, tilting her head at you. She recalled his tense reaction when he found her in your chambers, packing up your things.

“Well, he’s certainly happy to not have to see me anymore,” you huffed, picking your book up again. Beryl sighed as you ended the conversation, finishing her tea in silence as you read. You stared at the page, but the words had long since become nonsense to you as you thought about the day you left the palace, only a few days after your night together.

“Alright,” you called out as you nudged the door open further with you hip. “I’ve located a few more trunks and that should cover the rest of the gowns.” You looked up from the cases you were carrying when no reply came. “Beryl?”

Your lady’s maid twisted a necklace in her hands as her gaze skittered from him to you. You found him staring at you with clenched fists and a tightening jaw. Placing the trunks down, you swallowed thickly, but when you straightened back up, you held your head high and folded your hands in front of you.

“May I help you with something, my lord?” You asked in a completely innocent, oblivious tone.

He refused to play your game, knowing full-well that you knew exactly what he wanted. “Why is Beryl packing your things?”

“Because I no longer wish to be here,” you responded as you tilted your head. And then you saw something in his eyes. Something akin to panic.

“You cannot enter the Waking World,” he began, quick to dismiss the possibility of you returning to Olympus. “So where will you go?”

“I’m not leaving the realm,” you scoffed, and you thought you saw his shoulders relax at your answer. “I’m just leaving the palace.” And you, you thought. “I’ll be residing in the Western Plains from now on. In there’s anything you require of me, you can send word to me there.”

He considered your news for a moment and you almost thought he might ask you to stay. “So you will no longer reside at the palace, where your subjects expect to find you?”

You ignored the way he insulted your devotion to your subjects. “They can find me just as easily in the Western Plains,” you countered. He remained silent after that and you picked the cases off of the ground before looking back at him. “If that’s all, my lord?” You asked, but didn’t wait for his response. You turned your back to him, walking over to Beryl to discuss the most efficient way to pack your gowns.

***

After he found Mervyn constructing the addition to the Endless Forests that he had denied, Morpheus considered confronting you about it. After all, it would give him a reason to see you. Ultimately, he decided against it, telling himself that visiting you over such a petty issue wasn’t worth his time. And he certainly wasn’t looking for reasons to see you. Of course the palace did seem quieter, emptier, without you in it. Even if he didn’t see you, your presence within the palace walls had offered him an unexpected sort of comfort. And of course, there was the way you felt against him that night.

But there was nothing he could do to convince you to return to him. He had tried once before just after you had moved to the Western Plains, but you were quick to cruelly spurn his offering.

He added a light touch to the shoulder as its complexion shined softly. He stepped back to observe his work with his arms crossed against his chest. He stepped to its left, studying the faint white glow that pulsed under its skin. The corner of his lip twitched as he recalled how the trees had glowed the same shade under your touch the night you had first met.

“You summoned me, my lord?” You questioned, clasping your hands in front of you. He turned to you, taking in the soft blue dress you wore that lacked the tulle and frills typical of your gowns. Your hair was pinned in a simple, slightly messy partial updo. He wondered if you had dismissed Beryl.

“I wasn’t sure if you would accept Lucienne’s message.” He explained after a moment.

“If it is my lord’s wish, then I must grant it.” You replied, tactfully. His jaw tensed at your diplomatic words. You had used this tone before to further the idea that everything between you was professional, official, cold. As though you weren’t husband and wife, simply colleagues with shared interests.

In the early days of your marriage, he would have welcomed such an attitude. But now, when the palace seemed to lack a certain warmth only you could provide, he found himself eager to bring you back to him. And so here he was: ready to present you with an offering that would convince you to return to him.

He turned his gaze to the being before him. “This is The Seer,” he explained as his arm swept your attentions to it.

You stepped forward and your lips parted at the creation. You watched as a white glow traced through its body, the pulsing shade oddly reminiscent to you. Its eyes were closed, but the rest of it seemed to be in a state of flux, the lines of the being buzzing, twitching as its complexion shone lightly. “It’s fascinating,” you breathed as you brought a hand up to study the ever-changing lines of its shoulder. A faint smile graced his face as he watched you study his new creation.

“I modeled it after the nightmare-dream creation you proposed in my study all those years ago.” You turned to him then, with raised eyebrows and a silence that urged him to continue. “Depending on the dreamer,” he began as he circled the creation, taking it in from every angle. “It becomes either nightmare or dream, meant to punish with possible futures of hopelessness or false hope,” his movements brought him behind you, watching as you carefully considered every part of the being. “Or reward with the hopes of success and prosperity.”

“This is not the creation I proposed,” you sighed, taking in the elegant, but ultimately, misconceived creation. You stared at the creature sadly and the slight tilt at the corner of his mouth dropped. “What I proposed isn’t either-or,” you explained as you looked up at it. “It’s both,” you continued as you turned to face him. “It contains a dichotomy within it of both a nightmare and a dream. It’s a creation that shows a dreamer how their actions may play out. It’s the dreamer’s response to the outcomes that decides if it’s a nightmare or dream.”  You paused to continue in a soft voice. “And the false hope that would inspire such a being is not a means for punishment: it serves as a warning, to discourage misdeeds and inspire virtue.”

His considered your words, every critique, every judgment you voiced with the intention of pointing out the flaws of a being he had created just for you. His jaw tensed and his voice came low and threaded with irritation. “Are you still so angry with me that you cannot see that I’m trying to make things right?”

“And you think this makes up for what you did to me that night?” You scoffed, looking at him in disbelief. He stepped closer to you and the False Hope within you sparked brightly, eager for a fight. But you closed your eyes and a steadying breath left you, taming the False Hope that threatened to lash out of you. “I’m not angry with you anymore, Morpheus,” you sighed, opening your eyes. He hadn’t moved, but his fists were clenched in frustration. “Maybe I was before, but you’re not worth my anger. Or my time. So if that’s all, my lord, I’ll take my leave of you.”

He said nothing then, simply turning his back on you and folding his arms across his chest, the same way you had found him here. He glared at the glittering, shining, buzzing creation before him as his fingernails dugs into his upper arms in their crossed position.

And then you were gone and he was left with his ill-intended creation. He watched as its outline buzzed and its complexion shone, but it was the fluttering white glow swimming through its body that finally tipped his rage over. That pulsing glow of white that reminded him of a moment he had secretly treasured for years, but that he now longed to forget.

In an instant, he reached into the being’s chest and his fist closed around the swirling white glow. It gasped and lurched, a silent scream spilling from its gaping mouth. He withdrew his fist, still clutching the delicate soft white glow of it, and the creation fell to its knees, desperately struggling for breath as it turned to dust when it fell to the ground.

***

As the myths of old fell away, and the centuries turned to millennia, the rulers of the Dreaming became more widely known by the concepts they embodied. For mortals in the Waking World, hopes and dreams were closely related, one affecting the other deeply, but in the Dreaming, Hope and Dream were estranged. Each being ruled over their individual regions of the realm and saw to their respective responsibilities and never met, communicating solely through proxies or letters.

In the 21st century, Beryl opened the door to your cottage to welcome in one such proxy. She exchanged light words with the librarian as she escorted her to your study.

“Lucienne,” you smiled, as you rose from behind your desk. She returned it with one of her own as you continued. “How is the library? I’m afraid I don’t get to visit as much as I’d like to.”

“Actually, we received a new collection of unwritten poetry this morning that you may be interested in,” she explained, but her light tone and smile faltered when she spoke again. “Perhaps you could peruse them when you return to the palace today.”

Beryl looked from Lucienne to you as neither of you said a word. The muscles along your jaw worked and Beryl stepped close to you, ready to provide you with a grounding presence.

“What are you talking about, Lucienne?” You questioned in a low voice as your hands turned to fists on top of your desk.

She pursed her lips and inhaled sharply before continuing. “I’m afraid my lord has business in the Waking World.”

“Is this to do with his centennial appointments? I know he missed the last one,” you wondered aloud.  

“No, but,” she sighed and stepped closer to your desk. “My lady, he ordered me not to tell you this, but he’s going to retrieve the Corinthian.”

“The Corinthian is missing?” You asked with wide eyes. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?!”

The librarian pursed her lips before answering you. “I’m afraid he forbade me from telling you, my lady.”

“Of course he did,” you sighed, looking down at your desk. After a moment, your gaze returned to hers. “How long has he been gone?”

“A few weeks now.” You exhaled at her response and Beryl could have sworn she saw smoke. “But we’ve been able to isolate him to Berlin, Germany.” Lucienne added.

You moved from behind your desk to gather the papers and plans we had been reviewing. “I shall return to the palace within the hour,” you explained and Beryl led Lucienne out.

***

You sighed, letting your chin rest in the palm of your hand as your elbow dug into the arm of the throne. You looked over the empty hall, its grandeur and opulence doing nothing to assuage your boredom. The fingernails of your other hand rapped against the obsidian armrest as you recalled your return to the palace a few days ago. You had entered the majestic palace doors and although you hadn’t expected him to welcome you back, you certainly hadn’t expected him to have already left for his quest.

And now you were left with a decision to make. Five days had passed and Dream hadn’t returned. You could raise the alarms and start a search for the Dream Lord, but it could turn out that he was simply delayed in his quest and you had panicked unnecessarily. The Corinthian was quite cunning, by design of course, and his evasiveness could certainly explain Dream’s continued absence. But he also hadn’t sent any word of his progress via Jessamy which seemed strange, considering how dedicated he was to his realm and how he hated to leave it. Perhaps this is a test.

You sat up at the biting whispers of the False Hope within you. Your eyes fluttered closed and you pushed aside the uncertainty and worry in your mind, leaving nothing to fuel the False Hope with you. But which decision would mean failure? The False Hope screeched as it fell away inside of you.

Settling back into the throne with a rigid posture, you summoned Lucienne to the throne room.

***

He would bide his time, he had decided.

He sat up and peered at his guards through the spherical glass. It had been days since Jessamy had narrowly escaped imprisonment and by now, she would have left the Waking World after finding no way to free him by herself. Now, she would most certainly be on her way to the Dreaming. She would alert Lucienne to his predicament and… The muscles along his jaw tensed as he considered the ensuing course of events: she would tell you.

Of course she would inform the Queen of the Dreaming that its King was held captive. As certain as he was that the news would reach you, he was completely unsure how you would react. Perhaps you would simply let him rot in this cage, glad for a punishment finally worthy of the pain and heartache he had caused you all these years. Or perhaps you would take this opportunity to finally leave the realm you had been confined in for millennia. Maybe you would stay and enjoy ruling the realm as its sole monarch without his overbearing rule infringing upon yours. Or worse, you’d save him. He would forever be indebted to you for rescuing him. 

He looked from the guards to the circle of sigils that bound him. The simple paint could be scuffed and the sigils broken, the glass enclosure could crack or the chains that suspended it could give way, the stimulants could prove ineffective for a guard with a particularly high drug tolerance. Dream considered the various ways Roderick Burgess’ plans could fail and concluded that perhaps he wouldn’t need your help at all.

He could simply bide his time and Burgess’ safeguards would fail. And in the meantime, you would care for the realm. The more he considered it, the less likely it seemed that you would abandon the Dreaming to pursue your own freedom. Over the millennia, you had always completed your duties with dedication and found the realm endearing in a way that made him value it all the more. He thought about how dearly you loved your new home, the Western Plains, and his eyes lightened as he recalled your first journey through the region.

It was your second week in the realm. You had been charting the region for a few hours when you decided to rest among the tall grasses. You dropped your satchel beside you and pulled your knees in towards you as you gazed over the prairie to watch the sun dip below the horizon. A sparrow fluttered its wings and landed on a light twig a few feet from you. It had light brown speckles like any other sparrow, but there was a certain glint in its eyes that brought a smile to your face. You watched it for a moment longer before continuing to enjoy the sunset in the sparrow’s company.

He never knew if you had been able to see through his sparrow disguise, but ever since that day, the sun would set twice a day whenever you visited the Western Plains.

-> Next Chapter

A/N: When he explains The Seer, I had to fight myself to not write: “You watched, as he completely missed the point.”

A/N: I'm not a huge fan of the "spilling family blood" bit of the show, so I've decided to adopt Ovid's rendition of "The Death of Orpheus" for this story. In this telling, Orpheus goes to the Underworld without the help of Death (so she can still take him to the Sunless Lands) and is killed by the Maenads. He is then reunited with Eurydice in the “fields of the blessed”, or Elysium. An excerpt of Ovid's rendition of the myth begins the chapter.

<- Prev. Chapter

“And Orpheus’ ghost fled under the earth, and knew The places he had known before, and, haunting The fields of the blessed, found Eurydice And took her in his arms, and now together And side by side they wander, or Orpheus follows Or goes ahead, and may, with perfect safety, Look back for his Eurydice.” -Ovid’s Metamorphoses (11.60-66)

“You are alive. So live.” His father’s words rung through Orpheus’ ears again as he walked through the Celestial Gardens, his fingers absentmindedly reaching out along the spiral bark of an ageless silver maple tree. He watched as you knelt to the mossy ground with your hand outstretched, the soft growth glowing beneath your touch.

After his meeting with his father, Orpheus had come to the Dreaming in search of you, hopeful that perhaps you could convince Morpheus where he could not. In the years following your encounter in the Celestial Gardens, Orpheus had learned of your position in the realm and your marriage to his father. Despite Calliope’s initial reservations, you were happy to show Orpheus around your wing of the palace and your grounds in the realm. Over his many visits you had grown quite fond of him, despite his parentage.

“Lady Elpis,” He greeted you with a smile, but something lurked beneath it that seemed to pain him.

“Lord Orpheus,” you teased back, before walking over to him. “Gods, how you’ve grown,” you sighed with a smile. “I remember when you were this tall,” you gestured his childhood height with your hand, “and I showed you these gardens.” You paused a moment when the lurking pain beneath his smile seemed to pollute his whole expression. “Orpheus, what’s the matter?”

“He didn’t tell you?” He scoffed, knowingly. You furrowed your brow at the contempt his words held for his father. When you shook your head, he continued. “Eurydice is dead.”

You stared at him, your mouth agape, before speaking. “I don’t, I –,“ you stuttered in utter disbelief. “But you were just wed,” you breathed. Orpheus stared at you as his lip began to quiver. “Oh, Orpheus,” you sighed, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your hand cradling the back of his head as he sniffled. After a moment, you pulled away to ask, “But why did you come to your father? If he already knows about her passing?”

“I came to ask his help in retrieving her from the Underworld.” You inhaled sharply; Morpheus’ answer was already known to you. “I see you’ve figured out his response,” he scoffed with a rueful smile.

“It’s really not his place to interfere with such things. And such a request typically comes with a price that is far too steep.” He stepped back from you, turning around as you echoed Morpheus’ words. You pursed your lips, fully aware that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But you must know, Orpheus,” you continued, calling out to him as he began to pace, “that if he could, he would do it. He loves you and he would do anything for you.”

He turned to face you then, his words impatient and frustrated. “If he loved me, he would grant me this!”

“That is exactly why he won’t grant it.” You responded, exasperatedly. “If the price for her life is yours, he would never accept.”

“And that is exactly why I no longer consider him my father,” he spat and you blinked in surprise.

You approached him with careful steps. “You’ve already lost your wife, Orpheus,” you sighed as you took his hands in yours. “I urge you not to lose your father as well.” He considered you for a moment, and you thought perhaps you had gotten through to him, but he looked away.

“If he will not help me, and you won’t either,” he began, but paused to gauge your reaction one last time. You pursed your lips as you tilted your head pleadingly at him. “Then I will retrieve her myself. I have heard of a portal, Taenarian, that leads to Styx. I will go there and plead for her life.”

You considered convincing him to abandon this course of action, but realized that if he was anything like his father, your words wouldn’t make a difference. You sighed before pulling him in for another hug. “I know that you will be reunited with her, Orpheus,” you whispered, imbuing him with the hope that such a future would pass. You released him and his smile seemed genuine, then.

“Thank you, Lady Elpis,” he said, before leaving the Dreaming entirely.

***

“Lucienne,” you called out, glancing between the towering shelves for the librarian. She entered from an aisle at your right and you smiled. “Ah, there you are. I was looking for Morpheus. I have some new proposals for the Memory Gardens that I’d like to discuss. Have you seen him?”

Lucienne inhaled sharply before speaking. “I have, my lady.” She paused before continuing, “But I don’t think he’d like to hear them now.”

Her tone was familiar to you; it was one she often used when he was otherwise occupied, typically with Calliope. “I see,” you scoffed. “Do you have any idea when he’ll be done with her?”

The librarian tilted her head with a furrowed brow before a sigh of realization left her. “He’s not with Lady Calliope, my lady.” It was your turn now to don a puzzled expression. “I just think he’d like to be alone. After the recent news, and all.”

Your expression didn’t change as you responded, “What news?”

***

“Morpheus,” you called out from the doors of his chambers, but he didn’t move. You took another step, crossing the entryway and found him at the balcony, watching as a hurricane ravaged the Dreaming. His taut shoulders and the stone railing that cracked under his grip echoed Lucienne’s sentiments. You thought about leaving, but with Calliope nowhere in sight, you couldn’t let him brace the death of his son alone.

When you called out for him again, the ground beneath you rumbled and stopped you in your tracks. “Leave,” he said, in a low tone that seemed to resonate with the deep vibration of the floor. Your gaze lifted from the shaking floor to his tense form at the balcony.

“No,” you answered, taking a few steps towards him before thunder shook the walls of his chambers. But you ignored it, approaching him with cautious, yet determined, steps. Lightning split the sky as you came up behind him and took your place at the balcony by his side. You watched as he kept his gaze trained on the continuing storm. Drops of water slid down his face, a saltwater mix of rain and tears that left streaks on his pale skin.

You placed a hand on his arm and felt him tense under your touch. A deterring bolt of lightning split the sky, but the lack of booming thunder rendered it toothless. Your hand trailed down to his right hand, where the stone of the balcony was quickly turning to dust under his crushing grip. You let your hand cover his fist and the storm seemed to still mid-thunder as his fist relaxed beneath your palm. His grip on the railing loosened as he spoke, his gaze still set on the dark clouds as they cast pouring rain over the lands below.

“Orpheus is dead.” His voice was small, barely audible.

“I know,” you replied in a small voice of your own. His gaze shifted then, watching the sadness you held for the death of his son. “I’m so sorry, Morpheus,” you sighed. You gasped lightly in surprise as he turned and fell against you. After a grounding moment, you wrapped your arms around his shaking body as he let out a wailing sob against your neck. Your hand drifted upwards, cradling his head the way you had done with his son mere days ago. His hands gripped you tightly, his fingertips pressing into your skin as if you were a lifeline.

“My son,” he sobbed, “is gone.” His face pressed further into your neck as his arms tightened around you, unwilling to let you go.

“I know,” you soothed, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “This is a pain no parent should ever have to know.” You pulled back enough to look at him and swallowed thickly at the sight of his red eyes and sorrowful expression. “I’m so sorry, Morpheus,” you sighed as you shook your head sadly.

He considered you for a moment: the woman he had kept at arm’s length, whose pain he was the sole cause of, and who now, at a time of his great sorrow was there to comfort him. Calliope may not have been at his side, comforting him through this loss, but you were.

He leaned forward and your hand went to the back of his head again, ready to hold him as you had before. But his head dipped as his eyes closed and captured your lips in a slow, but searing kiss. For a moment, you remained motionless, caught between the years of pining and longing for him and the years of agonizing heartbreak he had caused you. The False Hope within you flared brighter than the Good Hope and you pushed away from him with both hands on his chest.

“Morpheus,” you sighed and he peered at you in confusion. “You’re – you’re distraught and not thinking clearly,” you stammered, trying to push further away from him.

“I am,” he began and with his hands on your wrists, he pulled you closer to him. “I am finally thinking clearly, and,” he paused to lean closer, stopping just short of your lips. “I want you, Elpis,” he whispered before closing the short space to capture your lips.

You paused for a moment, but the Good Hope within you erupted, melting the False Hope in its wake. Your lips worked against his and your hands moved to tangle in his hair. He turned you both, pushing you back against the railing as his attentions trailed lower, leaving kisses along the column of your neck.

“Morpheus,” you gasped as his teeth nipped against your pulse point. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned your head back to give him better access to your neck. His hands drifted south, resting on your hips with his thumb rubbing tantalizing circles on your skin. The enticing touch caused your muscles to tense, your thighs pressing inwards to find some sort of friction. He grinned against your neck at your impatience.

In a second, he obliged your wordless plea as you found yourself lying on jet black satin sheets as he leaned over you. He smoothed his knuckles over the side of your face and your lips parted at the gentle act. He moved slowly then, kissing you lightly as though his want had been replaced by something far more unyielding that he could never bring himself to admit.

You reached up to hold his face in your hands and deepened the kiss, your tongue desperately searching for his. He pulled at the straps of your gown and slid them down your shoulders, letting his fingers trace along your skin. He left your lips then, and in a swift motion, he slid the gown off of you entirely, tossing the delicate material aside. Your eyes went wide at his ravenous actions, your body tensing slightly under the cool air and his continued attentions. Your undergarments were next in his process of hungrily disrobing you. His eyes trailed down you and his hands were quick to follow as he mapped the expanses of your body with his touch.

“You are,” he breathed, as his fingers slid from your breast to your waist. “Exquisite.” A light blush ran through you at his words and reverent gaze. You pushed your bashfulness aside to reach up for him and pull his lips down to yours.

“And you are everything,” you whispered, as you pulled away to watch the silvery blue of his eyes and convey, as much as you could, the affection you held for him. He shed his robes with the flick of his wrist and the bed dipped under his weight as he climbed over you.

You pulled him down to you once again and let your other hand trail down his chest, as his lowered, tracing along your slit. You gasped against his mouth at the delicate caress and with a wicked smile, he let a finger delve between your folds, eager to hear more of your pitchy gasps. But you grabbed his wrist then, and he pulled away just enough to watch you with a furrowed brow.

“I—” you stuttered, looking back at him. “I haven’t,” you bit your lip, unable to continue, and looked down.

“You are untouched,” he concluded. You swallowed hard and nodded, still unable to look at him. He leaned down until his cheek was flush with yours. “I will proceed with the utmost care,” he assured you with a whisper in your ear before lowering his lips to leave a bruising kiss on your neck. Your hands went to tangle in his raven locks then as you leaned your head back to give him better access to the column of your throat. As he took the soft flesh between his teeth, two of his fingers entered you. You gasped at the intrusion, your eyes shooting open as your body arched slightly off the bed. He took the opportunity to leave more marks across your throat as his fingers begin to massage inside of you.

“Morpheus,” you whined, as his fingers continued their ministrations within you, despite your tightness. “It’s – it’s too much,” your voice cracked and you pulled harder on his locks.

“Relax,” he cooed in your ear. “Relax and let me in, my darling,” he whispered, before muffling your whines in searing kiss.

You broke the kiss to let out a broken, heavy breath as you released your hold on his dark tresses slightly. Your eyes fluttered closed and you took in a steadying breath as you forced your body to relax. His fingers curled inside you, enticing more wetness from you. He watched as your face shifted from discomfort to ease to something akin to pleasure as he hooked his fingers at a certain angle, eliciting a broken gasp from you. He smirked at the sound and the decreased resistance your core held before pulling his fingers from you completely. You whined at the sudden emptiness, your eyes opening at the unexpected loss of him.

The confused, almost petulant pout you wore at his abrupt absence within you made him smile. He dipped his head then, kissing you softly to assure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. Your expression softened at the act and you smiled against his lips as your hands went to the sides of his face. You pulled away slightly, just enough to look at him. And for a moment, the years of anger, heartache, and hurt disappeared from your eyes, replaced entirely by adoration. For him. The sight of it was almost enough to break him. He ducked his head then, eager to break free of your adoring gaze, to leave marking kisses along your collarbones. Your hands dropped from his face to lock at the back of his neck as his attentions shifted lower on your body. He let his body do the talking, marking you in every way his words never could.

He shifted then, settling between your legs and pulling your thighs over his. His hands settled on your hips, his fingertips digging into the supple flesh. From this angle, you glanced at his hardening length and swallowed thickly before looking back up at him.

“Morpheus, I don’t think I can–” You began, but he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Simply say the word, my darling,” he said, just shy of your lips. You looked up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, as the head of him nudged at your entrance. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hip and you nodded, pulling him in for a kiss as he pressed into you. You gasped into his mouth and your body tensed as your hands gripped his shoulders. “Relax, my dear,” he soothed. “You won’t break.”

A shallow breath left you as your eyes squeezed shut and when he felt your body ease under his touch, he pushed deeper inside your warmth. He stilled within you, forcing himself not to move despite the tight fit your body offered. His hand left your hip to graze the side of your face and your eyes fluttered open at the gentle touch.

“Are you alright?” He whispered and your lips parted in awe at the genuine concern he showed for you.

“Yes,” you whispered, as you placed your hand over his, gazing into the enchanting blue of his eyes. Something shifted in his features and he leaned down to kiss you as he pulled out of you slowly. Before you could protest the loss of him, he pressed back into you. You broke the kiss to let out a surprised gasp at his swift motion. Your hands grasped his shoulders tighter as he pulled out of you once again. You dug your nails into his skin in anticipation of his next thrust, but your precaution did nothing to prevent the breathy moan that left you as he entered you once again.

He picked up a steady pace that had your moans increasing exponentially. His thumb went to your clit and your eyes shot open as he timed his thrusts with his thumb’s motions to maximize your pleasure. He shifted your leg over his shoulder and he found himself pushing even deeper inside of you. You couldn’t possibly help the wanton moan that slipped from your lips as he entered you from this new angle.

“Oh, my darling,” he sighed at the new, warm fit. “How tightly you hold me.” He groaned, before pulling out of you. He gripped your hips harder and slammed you back onto him.

“Oh, Morpheus!” You moaned as you tried to hold on to him. Your arms searched desperately for purchase, settling at last on his biceps. Your nails dug into the defined muscle there as you rolled your hips to accommodate his length even further. He groaned at the deep fit and his thumb moved to reward you by rubbing tight circles at your clit. Your pitchy moans filled the room as he picked up his pace, both his hips and thumb moving at a tempo you could barely register amid the all the pleasure stacking on top of you. “Mor-Morpheus,” you stuttered between his thrusts. “I – I can’t, I’m—” you stammered, nonsensically, as you tried to explain the indescribable pleasure you were experiencing.

“Let go, darling,” he whispered. “Come undone for me.”

And you did. You shook in his arms as his name left your lips in a deafening scream and your nails left harsh red crescents on his arms. Your body went limp, your arms falling from his arms to lie uselessly on the bed, as he continued his thrusts, hurriedly chasing his own release. His movements became less even, less measured as he slammed into you with his eyes closed and his head thrown back in ecstasy. And you watched him, completely enraptured by the sight of him so overcome with pleasure because of you. You watched it wash over him and gasped as you felt his essence coat your walls. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and you fisted your hands in the sheets to ground yourself.

His breath steadied and after a moment, he pulled out of you slowly, chuckling lowly at needy whine that left you as he did so. He shifted your bodies then, settling behind you and placing a protective arm over your waist as he pulled the covers over both of you. You sighed contentedly and placed your own arm over his as you settled into him.

“I love you,” you breathed and he let the words fall, unreturned. Whatever he felt for you, he could never verbalize it. He could never say the words that would prove Zeus’ plan had worked. The simple phrase was a sentiment he knew he felt, but it would confirm Zeus’ assumption that you could tear his affections from Calliope: the woman for whom his heart had truly broken. The woman whose absence, combined with the loss of his son, had sent Morpheus into the depression that he found himself in now. And now here he was, desperately trying to find the cure for this despair in your arms.

***

Sunbeams filtered through the windows and tickled your eyelids with their warmth. You grumbled at the waking intrusion, reaching across the bed for the warm body that had held you close last night. When your hand found nothing but silken sheets, you raised your head from your pillow to find his side of the bed empty. You sat up against the headboard with a frown and pulled the sheets up around you.

“Morpheus?” You called out, but no response sounded. You moved to the other side of the bed to gather the garments Morpheus had pulled off of you last night. “Gods, where is Beryl when I need her?” You cursed under your breath as you struggled to adjust and fasten and hook the various closures and laces of your gown. When the laces and gathers seemed mostly in place, you gathered up your skirts, slipped on your shoes, and exited his bedroom. You wandered through his chambers, calling out for him to no avail.

After a rather thorough search, you left his chambers to search the rest of the palace for him. His study was utterly devoid of him, as was the throne room, and you had almost given up when you heard the low timbre of his voice. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way it seemed to reach your eyes. You were about to call out to him, an undeniable skip in your step, when another voice joined his.

Your heart dropped as you realized who it was. You couldn’t see them and their voices were just out of range, so you stepped closer, pressing your back against the cold stone wall to keep out of sight but within earshot.

“Why am I even here, Morpheus? I told you that we’re done. I have nothing to say to you,” Her voice was measured, as though she had practiced for this exact scenario.

“Calliope, please do not say that,” he pleaded and a shaky breath left you at the tenderness he still held for her after your night together.

“Our son is dead because of you! Because you refused to help him!” She yelled, her grief palpable.

“Calliope, please,” he implored. “There was nothing I could do!”

“All your power as an Endless and you couldn’t save his wife? You couldn’t travel to the Underworld with him to retrieve her?!”

“If I had gone with him, Hades would have demanded his life for hers and that is not a bargain I was willing to make,” his voice was deliberate, final, but wavered with grief. “And I told him as much when I spoke to him,” he explained, gently.

Her voice came quietly after a moment. “You told him that?”

“Of course I did,” he responded, matching her soft tone. “I told him that I could never trade his life for hers.”

She stepped closer to him and part of her yearned to reach out to him. But her hand stopped midway, and her softening expression faltered. “Something’s changed,” she wondered aloud with a frown as she tilted her head at him, assessing the recent change in his expression.

“I,” he sighed, looking down. After a moment, he raised his gaze to meet hers. “I do not wish to lie to you, my love.” She furrowed her brow at him and he continued. “I spent a night with Elpis.” The silence hung heavy in the air and for a moment, you felt sick at the way he sounded almost ashamed of your night together.

Calliope’s response came a few moments later in a low tone, measured to hide her ire. “How soon afterwards were you with her?”

“I was only with her because I was in pain, Calliope. Orpheus was gone and you had left and I had no one.” He pleaded and tried to take her hands, but she was quick to pull them away. “I was weak and broken, Calliope, but I assure you it was a mistake. She was a mistake. I love you, Calliope. Please do not leave me.”

His apologetic tone and pleading manner did nothing to sway the muse and she stepped away from him. “Go to your wife, Morpheus,” she spat. “I want nothing to do with you.” She turned then, leaving the Dreaming and him without another word.

You turned the corner and found him with his back to you, still watching the place that Calliope had been.

“You used me?” Your voice broke, hanging in the air, pathetic and weak. He turned at the sound of it, staring at you blankly, with wide eyes.

“Elpis.” He began, but was at a loss for words at your cracking words voice and trembling lip.

“You were just using me to get over her?” Your voice was pitiful, and normally you would be embarrassed to show such an emotion before him, but you couldn’t possibly care about that now. Not when the first tender night in your decades of marriage had turned out to be nothing more than a quick fuck meant to sooth the loss of his Calliope. “How could you do that to me?” You breathed and the tears raced freely down your cheeks. He stepped closer to you and as much as you wanted to run away, you found yourself frozen in place.

“It was a mistake, Elpis,” he began in a gentle, even voice. “I shouldn’t have taken you last night. I didn’t mean to –” he began, but you cut him off, uninterested in whatever excuse or lie he wanted to placate you with.

“To what?” You bit back, your heartache turning to anger. “To use me? To fuck me to get over Calliope?!” You watched the muscles along his jaw tense at your coarseness. It was the mention of her name that sent the gears turning in his mind. His love with Calliope had finally been destroyed, cemented by the revelation that he had slept with you.

“How do I keep falling for this?” You laughed incredulously. “How do I keep falling for you?” He stood silently, as he watched you. “I,” you paused, to let out a rueful chuckle, before continuing in a soft voice. “I actually thought you cared about me.” The Good Hope in you forced you to look to him, desperately hoping that he might prove you wrong. “That maybe you even loved me.”

He watched the desperation in your eyes, how you longed for him to challenge your words. He wondered if you had orchestrated your night together purposefully to further Zeus’ ancient plot. But your tears and heartache seemed genuine, and you never were any good at concealing your emotions, especially not when you were upset. He was certain then that you hadn’t planned any of this, but he refused to give Zeus the satisfaction of knowing his scheme had succeeded.

“I don’t love you, Elpis,” he began and stepped closer to you. Your Good Hope died away, taking the light in your eyes with it. Zeus’ plans had finally come to fruition; Calliope was gone and here he was, left only with you. “I used you because you were there and I longed for Calliope.”

You blinked blankly at the frankness of his response. Your lips parted, but there was nothing to say. You looked at him for a moment before wiping your eyes and turning towards your wing of the palace.

***

And over time, your love for him faded, transforming into something entirely else: acceptance. Acceptance that he would never truly love you and you in turn could never love someone who had used you the way he did. And your acceptance of this fate led you to find love in other places: the dreamfolk, the various landscapes and regions of the realm, and your friends, like Beryl. While you found no love in him, you found it in the Dreaming. How odd, you thought, that the realm that was him was still loved by you when you no longer held anything of the kind for him. But, you supposed, part of the realm was you. And perhaps that would be enough.

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“And Orpheus’ ghost fled under the earth, and knew The places he had known before, and, haunting The fields of the blessed, found Eurydice And took her in his arms, and now together And side by side they wander, or Orpheus follows Or goes ahead, and may, with perfect safety, Look back for his Eurydice.” -Ovid’s Metamorphoses (11.60-66)

As Orpheus grew, Calliope had returned to Helicon to raise her son in the Waking World. Morpheus met them frequently there as well as within the palace walls in the Dreaming. You could feel their presence within the realm and typically withdrew to your study on those days. Today, however, you had met with Mervyn regarding some renovations in the Celestial Gardens. After your meeting, you turned to exit the Gardens and the very same child ran right into you.

“Sorry!” He blurted out, staring up at you with round green eyes.

You took a step back and looked down at him with a kind smile. “That’s okay, Orpheus,” you said, gently, kneeling down to his height. “How do you like the Celestial Gardens?” You turned to look over the ethereal grounds and Orpheus matched your gaze.

“They’re beautiful!” He exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. “I haven’t seen them before. I don’t think I’ve seen anything on this side of the palace before!” You pursed your lips as you realized that Morpheus had barred his son from visiting your wing of the castle.

“Well,” you said, pushing off of your knees to stand. “Shall we take a look around?” You asked with an outstretched hand that Orpheus eagerly took.

You showed him the planetary zinnias and the endless chrysanthemums that held entire cosmos in a single petal. He studied every plant and flower with careful diligence and listened to your every word with ardent curiosity. While he considered the spiral bark on a silver maple tree with the fascination of an arborist, you decided to ask about something that had chilled your bones since your meeting with Zeus all those years ago.

You let your fingers graze the leaves of the maple tree, watching a trail of white glow in its path. With a gentle, almost casual voice, you asked, “Do you see your grandfather, Zeus, often?”

If the question bothered Orpheus, he didn’t show it. “Sometimes. Not much though,” he shrugged. He paused to watch the nebulas spattered across the leaves of an oak tree. “I don’t think he likes spending time with me very much,” he explained sadly as he toyed with the star-speckled petals of a hyacinth.

“Well, I’ll let you in on a secret,” you leaned down to fake-whisper to him. “You’re not missing out on much!” Orpheus’ doleful expression was replaced by ecstatic laughter at your words. You smiled, laughing lightly as his expression.

“Orpheus!” Calliope’s worried cry had both of you looking towards the entrance of the Gardens.

“I’m here, Mother!” Orpheus yelled out and Calliope turned towards his voice. She stopped in her tracks when she saw you.

“Lady Elpis,” she breathed, nervously. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion,” she said, reaching out to grab Orpheus and pull him in to her.

“Nonsense,” you smiled, looking from Orpheus to her. “He was a delight.” You looked back down to Orpheus to find him beaming at you. You returned his ecstatic smile before continuing, “I should be going, though. Good day, Calliope. Orpheus.” You bid them farewell with a smile before returning to your chambers with quick steps.

Closing the door as soon as you entered, you leaned against the solid wood as your lip trembled. You recalled the way Orpheus took in the wonder of the Celestial Gardens, the fascination he held for each plant and flower, and the way it all made him smile. The excitement you saw in his features as you held his hand and walked the various paths flashed before your eyes and your throat ached. You had always thought that you’d lead your own child through the Gardens that way. That you’d tell them how their father had created the beautiful greenery and how you had added to it, and they would listen to you with the same curiosity that Orpheus had shown. And maybe their father would even walk beside you two.

The truth came crashing down on you as you slid down the door to fall to the floor in sobbing heap; you would never experience the joys that Calliope did. You would never have a child with the man you were still infuriatingly, tragically in love with. You wept as you considered an eternity of this torment: forced to watch as he enjoyed the family that should have been yours, forced to watch as Calliope raised the child that should have been yours. Your stomach lurched and you let out a wailing scream before dragging yourself to a nearby wall, pulling your legs in and hugging your knees. A broken, desperate cry left you as you wondered, if the pithos was torture, then what was this?

The door swung open suddenly, with Beryl entering as you had tucked your head into your arms.

“Alright!” She announced, her typical cheer ever present in her tone, “It seems you have a meeting with Cain and Abel regarding a border dispute, so business as usual, I suppose!” She turned to find you looking up at her with tear-filled eyes. “My lady,” she gasped as she kneeled down next you, “What’s happened?”

You swallowed thickly before answering. “I saw Orpheus,” you whispered. Beryl sighed knowingly as her expression dripped with pity. “I’m never going to have that am I?” You asked with a rueful smile. “A family? Children?” You shook your head, letting the tears fall. “Happiness?” You scoffed, with a derisive laugh. “No,” you sighed, “I suppose not.”

“Oh, my lady,” Beryl sighed as she wrapped her arms around your shoulders. “Of course you’ll find happiness,” she soothed as she pulled away enough to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Maybe not with him, but I know you’ll find it. Maybe you just have to look for it in other things.” She gave you a tentative smile before rising and offering her hand. “Why don’t you go for a walk through the Western Plains? You always love it over there.”

“I suppose that would be nice,” you sniffled as you took her hand. Rising, you dusted off your dress slightly before putting on a crooked smile. “Better than crying on the floor, at least,” you joked as you wiped the last of your tears away.

“That’s the spirit, my lady,” Beryl responded, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly and your smile turned genuine at her words. You pulled her in for a hug before letting her go. You thanked her in a low voice for all her support before leaving your chambers. She smiled as you left, content that your spirits had been lifted. She approached the door, but waited until you had disappeared behind a corner before walking down the opposite corridor. Your may have been ready to move past this incident, but Beryl wasn’t.

She approached the throne room with a knock, but didn’t wait for a response before barging in. Lord Morpheus sat atop his obsidian throne, powerful and commanding as ever, but Beryl walked through the hall with a determination that disregarded his authority. He raised an eyebrow infinitesimally at the typically shy, mousy young woman, but allowed her to approach.

“My lord,” she curtsied, but there was a haste and edge to her movements and words that surprised him.

“Beryl.” He nodded slightly at her before continuing. “Has Elpis sent you?”

“No,” she answered flatly. “I’m here of my own accord. She doesn’t know I’m here.”

He tilted his head as he spoke. “Then why are you here?”

She took a steadying breath and recalled the way she had found you in tears to spur her on. “To ask that Lady Calliope and Lord Orpheus limit their time in the Dreaming.”

A stunned silence filled the hall. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at her. She felt the urge to shirk away as a chill ran down her spine, but she forced her head up high. He stood then, and thunder rumbled, shaking the stained glass windows behind him.

 “I suggest,” he began as he rose from his throne. “That you drop this matter entirely. And I will forget the insolence of your request.”

Beryl ignored the storm that threatened outside of the palace walls and continued. “Knowing that you’re with Lady Calliope and you have Lord Orpheus is painful enough for her without having to see them. Without having to see the family and love that she so desperately needs. And deserves.” His fists clenched and he breathed in quiet fury. “Please limit their time here, my lord. Seeing them is killing her,” she pleaded in a soft voice.

Lightning split the sky as the windows finally cracked under the pressure of the sudden storm. He spoke lowly, but with the conviction of a slighted monarch. “You dare ask that I banish my child and his mother from my own realm?”

The ground rumbled beneath Beryl’s feet, but she kept her gaze deadset on him. When she answered, her voice was firmer than even she thought possible. “All I ask, my lord, is that you offer your queen a modicum of respect.”

***

You returned to your chambers from your walk unexpectedly reinvigorated.

“Ah, Beryl,” you sighed, as you closed the doors behind you. “You were right. As always,” you added with a smile as you continued to your sitting area. “A stroll through the Western Plains was exactly what I needed.” As you dropped onto the divan, stretching your legs out over the plush cushions, a young woman with blonde hair entered the room.

“Good evening, my lady,” She greeted you with a nervous curtsy and a hesitant smile.

“Hello Imogen,” you offered a similarly hesitant smile, complete with furrowed brows. You recognized the anxious young lady, but she was typically assigned to guest chambers. “Where’s Beryl?”

Imogen’s smile dropped, replaced by parted lips and wide eyes. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what to tell you. “I – He – I mean, Lord Morpheus didn’t tell you?” Imogen’s more-than-usually-nervous expression caused your heart to drop.

“Tell me what?”

***

Your fury radiated through you, cracking the marble walls and glass mirrors as you passed them. The thunderstorm that Morpheus had previously fashioned was supplanted by a blustering blizzard of your own creation. Frost clung to the windows and icicles dripped from the eaves as you neared his throne room. Your angry breaths condensed before you in the freezing air, but you were far too irate to notice.

The looming wooden doors burst open at your will. The resounding bang turned both the heads of the dreamfolk and the Dream Lord who occupied the room. You approached him with piercing eyes and clenched fists, stopping at the bottom of the winding stone staircase. Your voice was low, trembling with a wrath you hadn’t known you could possess. “What did you do?”

The dreamfolk crept away with wide eyes at the queen who had never even raised her voice before them. Their king, however, remained seated with a look of indifference. “To what are you referring?”

Your face contorted with a mix of irritation and anger. “Enough!” Your voice echoed through the grand hall and howling winds shook the walls. “What did you do with Beryl?!”

He waited until the winds quieted before speaking, unfazed by your actions. He leaned back in his throne, assuming a relaxed, but regal posture. “Certainly Imogen would have told you by now.”

His indifference about the subject boiled your blood and tested your patience. “I want to hear it from you!” You screamed, and a billowing gust of icy winds broke through the windows behind him. The resulting shards of glass sprayed against the back of his throne, an act that startled even the King of Nightmares. “I want to hear you say it!”

He turned his gaze from the empty window panes behind him to watch you as you shook with anger, your fists clenched tight enough to bleed. He considered you for a moment before answering you. “I unmade her. She made an audacious request that insulted my rule.”

You knew what he was going to say, but his words still struck you. You couldn’t imagine Beryl saying something so insulting to warrant her unmaking, but with a being as prideful as Morpheus, you weren’t entirely surprised. “She hurt your feelings so you destroyed her? How petty and insecure are you?!” The armrests of his throne cracked under his palms at your words. You watched as the muscles along his jaw tensed. You continued, ignoring his thinly veiled anger. “You’re no monarch, Morpheus,” you spat. “You’re a tyrant.”

He rose from his throne then, the ornate seat sliding back with the force of his action. “She told me to banish Calliope and Orpheus from the Dreaming.”

“Well, maybe she was right!” You yelled, leaning forward. “What queen would possibly allow her husband’s mistress and illegitimate child stay in her palace?”

“Watch your tongue, Elpis,” he warned, lowly, through gritted teeth.

You ascended the staircase, each stone step fracturing as you passed it. He watched as you approached him with measured fury, and the fire in your eyes almost made him step backwards. Your voice trembled with anger and desperation. “I had one friend, one person I could truly trust in this entire realm, and you took her from me!” You paused, halfway up the stairway to shake your head in disbelief. “Are you just committed to making me miserable?!” Yes, the False Hope within you hissed. He blames you for this marriage, for coming between him and his love. You finally welcomed that cruel presence within you, letting it fuel your steps as you continued your ascent. “You have Calliope and your son and I have nothing! No one!”

The walls began to shake and the starry ceiling that you had once admired began to swirl with dark supernovas, pulsing and twisting like the False Hope inside of you. His gaze turned upwards to watch the stellar explosions turn to black holes, consuming the light from the throne room and your eyes. That bitter sensation curled deeper within you, enticing you to let it out. Show him what means to have nothing. No love, no child, no realm.

He watched in stunned silence you let out an unsteady breath with closed eyes. He glanced around as light illuminated the throne room once again and the cosmic ceiling returned to its former stellar glory. The shards of stained glass rose in the air, shifting slowly towards the windows until they fit together, forming the intricate images they once depicted. The Dreaming thawed and the frost along the palace walls melted, leaving a gloomy autumn day in its wake.

Your eyes fluttered open as a low sigh left you and caught his attention. Your shoulder sagged and you shook your head, deflated, before speaking again. “You couldn’t even let me have Beryl?” Your voice cracked at that, as you realized you had lost the only good thing in the Dreaming you had all these years. You didn’t bother wiping away the tears that came with that realization. “You’re worse than Zeus,” you scoffed, as you suddenly pined for your days imprisoned in the pithos. You turned, descending the winding staircase, and each stone step reformed as you passed it. The looming doors of the throne room closed behind you as you left Morpheus’ presence without another word.

A heavy silence hung in the air as Morpheus considered your actions and your words. You had almost let your False Hope destroy his throne room and plunge the realm into an unforgiving ice age, but it was your comparison to Zeus that truly struck him. If you truly thought that, perhaps you’d finally accept Zeus’ proposal from all those years ago and take a position at his side in Olympus. Perhaps his act of sending Beryl to the darkness would finally send you into the welcoming arms of Zeus. With a whirlwind of sand, he retrieved the small totem that held the remnants of Beryl’s form. He considered the consequences of returning her to you: perhaps you’d realize that with a show of strength, you could undo any decree or decision of his. Would granting you such power over him be wise? But the image of you perched at Zeus’ side with a tempting hand on his chest and his hand sliding dangerously up your thigh convinced him to recreate your lady’s maid.

***

The years turned to decades and Zeus watched with a careful eye as Orpheus followed in his mother’s eloquent footsteps by becoming a bard. His grandson’s choice of profession set Zeus’ mind at ease; after all, what power could a bard hold over the ruler of gods and men? But then news of Orpheus’ song and the sway it held over those who heard it reached Zeus, who realized that his pawns and traps had been ineffectual. Now, he decided, it was time for him to take an active role in disarming the threat his grandson posed.

But it wasn’t as though he could kill the boy himself; such an act would invite the wrath of his Endless father. And finding someone else to kill him had been fruitless, he realized as he recalled his conversation with Elpis. But if the boy were to kill himself? The story of Pyramus and Thisbe crossed Zeus’ mind and he recalled Calliope’s recent invitation. Perhaps he would attend the boy’s upcoming wedding…

The silvery moonlight and cacophonous celebrations were nowhere to be found at Zeus’ location on the edge of the wedding venue. The lilting voices of Eurydice and her naiads drifted over the green lawns, and hearing them, Zeus’ form shifted, and he slithered through the grassy blades with his lethal tongue withdrawn, reserving his venom solely for the new bride.

***

“You are alive. So live.” His father’s words rung through Orpheus’ ears again as he walked through the Celestial Gardens, his fingers absentmindedly reaching out along the spiral bark of an ageless silver maple tree. He watched as you knelt to the mossy ground with your hand outstretched, the soft growth glowing beneath your touch.

After his meeting with his father, Orpheus had come to the Dreaming in search of you, hopeful that perhaps you could convince Morpheus where he could not. In the years following your encounter in the Celestial Gardens, Orpheus had learned of your position in the realm and your marriage to his father. Despite Calliope’s initial reservations, you were happy to show Orpheus around your wing of the palace and your grounds in the realm. Over his many visits you had grown quite fond of him, despite his parentage.

“Lady Elpis,” He greeted you with a smile, but something lurked beneath it that seemed to pain him.

“Lord Orpheus,” you teased back, before walking over to him. “Gods, how you’ve grown,” you sighed with a smile. “I remember when you were this tall,” you gestured his childhood height with your hand, “and I showed you these gardens.” You paused a moment when the lurking pain beneath his smile seemed to pollute his whole expression. “Orpheus, what’s the matter?”

“He didn’t tell you?” He scoffed, knowingly. You furrowed your brow at the contempt his words held for his father. When you shook your head, he continued. “Eurydice is dead.”

You stared at him, your mouth agape, before speaking. “I don’t, I –,“ you stuttered in utter disbelief. “But you were just wed,” you breathed. Orpheus stared at you as his lip began to quiver. “Oh, Orpheus,” you sighed, pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your hand cradling the back of his head as he sniffled. After a moment, you pulled away to ask, “But why did you come to your father? If he already knows about her passing?”

“I came to ask his help in retrieving her from the Underworld.” You inhaled sharply; Morpheus’ answer was already known to you. “I see you’ve figured out his response,” he scoffed with a rueful smile.

“It’s really not his place to interfere with such things. And such a request typically comes with a price that is far too steep.” He stepped back from you, turning around as you echoed Morpheus’ words. You pursed your lips, fully aware that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But you must know, Orpheus,” you continued, calling out to him as he began to pace, “that if he could, he would do it. He loves you and he would do anything for you.”

He turned to face you then, his words impatient and frustrated. “If he loved me, he would grant me this!”

“That is exactly why he won’t grant it.” You responded, exasperatedly. “If the price for her life is yours, he would never accept.”

“And that is exactly why I no longer consider him my father,” he spat and you blinked in surprise.

You approached him with careful steps. “You’ve already lost your wife, Orpheus,” you sighed as you took his hands in yours. “I urge you not to lose your father as well.” He considered you for a moment, and you thought perhaps you had gotten through to him, but he looked away.

“If he will not help me, and you won’t either,” he began, but paused to gauge your reaction one last time. You pursed your lips as you tilted your head pleadingly at him. “Then I will retrieve her myself. I have heard of a portal, Taenarian, that leads to Styx. I will go there and plead for her life.”

You considered convincing him to abandon this course of action, but realized that if he was anything like his father, your words wouldn’t make a difference. You sighed before pulling him in for another hug. “I know that you will be reunited with her, Orpheus,” you whispered, imbuing him with the hope that such a future would pass. You released him and his smile seemed genuine, then.

“Thank you, Lady Elpis,” he said, before leaving the Dreaming entirely.

***

“Lucienne,” you called out, glancing between the towering shelves for the librarian. She entered from an aisle at your right and you smiled. “Ah, there you are. I was looking for Morpheus. I have some new proposals for the Memory Gardens that I’d like to discuss. Have you seen him?”

Lucienne inhaled sharply before speaking. “I have, my lady.” She paused before continuing, “But I don’t think he’d like to hear them now.”

Her tone was familiar to you; it was one she often used when he was otherwise occupied, typically with Calliope. “I see,” you scoffed. “Do you have any idea when he’ll be done with her?”

The librarian tilted her head with a furrowed brow before a sigh of realization left her. “He’s not with Lady Calliope, my lady.” It was your turn now to don a puzzled expression. “I just think he’d like to be alone. After the recent news, and all.”

Your expression didn’t change as you responded, “What news?”

***

“Morpheus,” you called out from the doors of his chambers, but he didn’t move. You took another step, crossing the entryway and found him at the balcony, watching as a hurricane ravaged the Dreaming. His taut shoulders and the stone railing that cracked under his grip echoed Lucienne’s sentiments. You thought about leaving, but with Calliope nowhere in sight, you couldn’t let him brace the death of his son alone.

When you called out for him again, the ground beneath you rumbled and stopped you in your tracks. “Leave,” he said, in a low tone that seemed to resonate with the deep vibration of the floor. Your gaze lifted from the shaking floor to his tense form at the balcony.

“No,” you answered, taking a few steps towards him before thunder shook the walls of his chambers. But you ignored it, approaching him with cautious, yet determined, steps. Lightning split the sky as you came up behind him and took your place at the balcony by his side. You watched as he kept his gaze trained on the continuing storm. Drops of water slid down his face, a saltwater mix of rain and tears that left streaks on his pale skin.

You placed a hand on his arm and felt him tense under your touch. A deterring bolt of lightning split the sky, but the lack of booming thunder rendered it toothless. Your hand trailed down to his right hand, where the stone of the balcony was quickly turning to dust under his crushing grip. You let your hand cover his fist and the storm seemed to still mid-thunder as his fist relaxed beneath your palm. His grip on the railing loosened as he spoke, his gaze still set on the dark clouds as they cast pouring rain over the lands below.

“Orpheus is dead.” His voice was small, barely audible.

“I know,” you replied in a small voice of your own. His gaze shifted then, watching the sadness you held for the death of his son. “I’m so sorry, Morpheus,” you sighed. You gasped lightly in surprise as he turned and fell against you. After a grounding moment, you wrapped your arms around his shaking body as he let out a wailing sob against your neck. Your hand drifted upwards, cradling his head the way you had done with his son mere days ago. His hands gripped you tightly, his fingertips pressing into your skin as if you were a lifeline.

“My son,” he sobbed, “is gone.” His face pressed further into your neck as his arms tightened around you, unwilling to let you go.

“I know,” you soothed, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “This is a pain no parent should ever have to know.” You pulled back enough to look at him and swallowed thickly at the sight of his red eyes and sorrowful expression. “I’m so sorry, Morpheus,” you sighed as you shook your head sadly.

He considered you for a moment: the woman he had kept at arm’s length, whose pain he was the sole cause of, and who now, at a time of his great sorrow was there to comfort him. Calliope may not have been at his side, comforting him through this loss, but you were.

He leaned forward and your hand went to the back of his head again, ready to hold him as you had before. But his head dipped as his eyes closed and captured your lips in a slow, but searing kiss. For a moment, you remained motionless, caught between the years of pining and longing for him and the years of agonizing heartbreak he had caused you. The False Hope within you flared brighter than the Good Hope and you pushed away from him with both hands on his chest.

“Morpheus,” you sighed and he peered at you in confusion. “You’re – you’re distraught and not thinking clearly,” you stammered, trying to push further away from him.

“I am,” he began and with his hands on your wrists, he pulled you closer to him. “I am finally thinking clearly, and,” he paused to lean closer, stopping just short of your lips. “I want you, Elpis,” he whispered before closing the short space to capture your lips.

You paused for a moment, but the Good Hope within you erupted, melting the False Hope in its wake. Your lips worked against his and your hands moved to tangle in his hair. He turned you both, pushing you back against the railing as his attentions trailed lower, leaving kisses along the column of your neck.

“Morpheus,” you gasped as his teeth nipped against your pulse point. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned your head back to give him better access to your neck. His hands drifted south, resting on your hips with his thumb rubbing tantalizing circles on your skin. The enticing touch caused your muscles to tense, your thighs pressing inwards to find some sort of friction. He grinned against your neck at your impatience.

In a second, he obliged your wordless plea as you found yourself lying on jet black satin sheets as he leaned over you. He smoothed his knuckles over the side of your face and your lips parted at the gentle act. He moved slowly then, kissing you lightly as though his want had been replaced by something far more unyielding that he could never bring himself to admit.

You reached up to hold his face in your hands and deepened the kiss, your tongue desperately searching for his. He pulled at the straps of your gown and slid them down your shoulders, letting his fingers trace along your skin. He left your lips then, and in a swift motion, he slid the gown off of you entirely, tossing the delicate material aside. Your eyes went wide at his ravenous actions, your body tensing slightly under the cool air and his continued attentions. Your undergarments were next in his process of hungrily disrobing you. His eyes trailed down you and his hands were quick to follow as he mapped the expanses of your body with his touch.

“You are,” he breathed, as his fingers slid from your breast to your waist. “Exquisite.” A light blush ran through you at his words and reverent gaze. You pushed your bashfulness aside to reach up for him and pull his lips down to yours.

“And you are everything,” you whispered, as you pulled away to watch the silvery blue of his eyes and convey, as much as you could, the affection you held for him. He shed his robes with the flick of his wrist and the bed dipped under his weight as he climbed over you.

You pulled him down to you once again and let your other hand trail down his chest, as his lowered, tracing along your slit. You gasped against his mouth at the delicate caress and with a wicked smile, he let a finger delve between your folds, eager to hear more of your pitchy gasps. But you grabbed his wrist then, and he pulled away just enough to watch you with a furrowed brow.

“I—” you stuttered, looking back at him. “I haven’t,” you bit your lip, unable to continue, and looked down.

“You are untouched,” he concluded. You swallowed hard and nodded, still unable to look at him. He leaned down until his cheek was flush with yours. “I will proceed with the utmost care,” he assured you with a whisper in your ear before lowering his lips to leave a bruising kiss on your neck. Your hands went to tangle in his raven locks then as you leaned your head back to give him better access to the column of your throat. As he took the soft flesh between his teeth, two of his fingers entered you. You gasped at the intrusion, your eyes shooting open as your body arched slightly off the bed. He took the opportunity to leave more marks across your throat as his fingers begin to massage inside of you.

“Morpheus,” you whined, as his fingers continued their ministrations within you, despite your tightness. “It’s – it’s too much,” your voice cracked and you pulled harder on his locks.

“Relax,” he cooed in your ear. “Relax and let me in, my darling,” he whispered, before muffling your whines in searing kiss.

You broke the kiss to let out a broken, heavy breath as you released your hold on his dark tresses slightly. Your eyes fluttered closed and you took in a steadying breath as you forced your body to relax. His fingers curled inside you, enticing more wetness from you. He watched as your face shifted from discomfort to ease to something akin to pleasure as he hooked his fingers at a certain angle, eliciting a broken gasp from you. He smirked at the sound and the decreased resistance your core held before pulling his fingers from you completely. You whined at the sudden emptiness, your eyes opening at the unexpected loss of him.

The confused, almost petulant pout you wore at his abrupt absence within you made him smile. He dipped his head then, kissing you softly to assure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. Your expression softened at the act and you smiled against his lips as your hands went to the sides of his face. You pulled away slightly, just enough to look at him. And for a moment, the years of anger, heartache, and hurt disappeared from your eyes, replaced entirely by adoration. For him. The sight of it was almost enough to break him. He ducked his head then, eager to break free of your adoring gaze, to leave marking kisses along your collarbones. Your hands dropped from his face to lock at the back of his neck as his attentions shifted lower on your body. He let his body do the talking, marking you in every way his words never could.

He shifted then, settling between your legs and pulling your thighs over his. His hands settled on your hips, his fingertips digging into the supple flesh. From this angle, you glanced at his hardening length and swallowed thickly before looking back up at him.

“Morpheus, I don’t think I can–” You began, but he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

“Simply say the word, my darling,” he said, just shy of your lips. You looked up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, as the head of him nudged at your entrance. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on your hip and you nodded, pulling him in for a kiss as he pressed into you. You gasped into his mouth and your body tensed as your hands gripped his shoulders. “Relax, my dear,” he soothed. “You won’t break.”

A shallow breath left you as your eyes squeezed shut and when he felt your body ease under his touch, he pushed deeper inside your warmth. He stilled within you, forcing himself not to move despite the tight fit your body offered. His hand left your hip to graze the side of your face and your eyes fluttered open at the gentle touch.

“Are you alright?” He whispered and your lips parted in awe at the genuine concern he showed for you.

“Yes,” you whispered, as you placed your hand over his, gazing into the enchanting blue of his eyes. Something shifted in his features and he leaned down to kiss you as he pulled out of you slowly. Before you could protest the loss of him, he pressed back into you. You broke the kiss to let out a surprised gasp at his swift motion. Your hands grasped his shoulders tighter as he pulled out of you once again. You dug your nails into his skin in anticipation of his next thrust, but your precaution did nothing to prevent the breathy moan that left you as he entered you once again.

He picked up a steady pace that had your moans increasing exponentially. His thumb went to your clit and your eyes shot open as he timed his thrusts with his thumb’s motions to maximize your pleasure. He shifted your leg over his shoulder and he found himself pushing even deeper inside of you. You couldn’t possibly help the wanton moan that slipped from your lips as he entered you from this new angle.

“Oh, my darling,” he sighed at the new, warm fit. “How tightly you hold me.” He groaned, before pulling out of you. He gripped your hips harder and slammed you back onto him.

“Oh, Morpheus!” You moaned as you tried to hold on to him. Your arms searched desperately for purchase, settling at last on his biceps. Your nails dug into the defined muscle there as you rolled your hips to accommodate his length even further. He groaned at the deep fit and his thumb moved to reward you by rubbing tight circles at your clit. Your pitchy moans filled the room as he picked up his pace, both his hips and thumb moving at a tempo you could barely register amid the all the pleasure stacking on top of you. “Mor-Morpheus,” you stuttered between his thrusts. “I – I can’t, I’m—” you stammered, nonsensically, as you tried to explain the indescribable pleasure you were experiencing.

“Let go, darling,” he whispered. “Come undone for me.”

And you did. You shook in his arms as his name left your lips in a deafening scream and your nails left harsh red crescents on his arms. Your body went limp, your arms falling from his arms to lie uselessly on the bed, as he continued his thrusts, hurriedly chasing his own release. His movements became less even, less measured as he slammed into you with his eyes closed and his head thrown back in ecstasy. And you watched him, completely enraptured by the sight of him so overcome with pleasure because of you. You watched it wash over him and gasped as you felt his essence coat your walls. Your eyes fluttered closed at the sensation and you fisted your hands in the sheets to ground yourself.

His breath steadied and after a moment, he pulled out of you slowly, chuckling lowly at needy whine that left you as he did so. He shifted your bodies then, settling behind you and placing a protective arm over your waist as he pulled the covers over both of you. You sighed contentedly and placed your own arm over his as you settled into him.

“I love you,” you breathed and he let the words fall, unreturned. Whatever he felt for you, he could never verbalize it. He could never say the words that would prove Zeus’ plan had worked. The simple phrase was a sentiment he knew he felt, but it would confirm Zeus’ assumption that you could tear his affections from Calliope: the woman for whom his heart had truly broken. The woman whose absence, combined with the loss of his son, had sent Morpheus into the depression that he found himself in now. And now here he was, desperately trying to find the cure for this despair in your arms.

***

Sunbeams filtered through the windows and tickled your eyelids with their warmth. You grumbled at the waking intrusion, reaching across the bed for the warm body that had held you close last night. When your hand found nothing but silken sheets, you raised your head from your pillow to find his side of the bed empty. You sat up against the headboard with a frown and pulled the sheets up around you.

“Morpheus?” You called out, but no response sounded. You moved to the other side of the bed to gather the garments Morpheus had pulled off of you last night. “Gods, where is Beryl when I need her?” You cursed under your breath as you struggled to adjust and fasten and hook the various closures and laces of your gown. When the laces and gathers seemed mostly in place, you gathered up your skirts, slipped on your shoes, and exited his bedroom. You wandered through his chambers, calling out for him to no avail.

After a rather thorough search, you left his chambers to search the rest of the palace for him. His study was utterly devoid of him, as was the throne room, and you had almost given up when you heard the low timbre of his voice. You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way it seemed to reach your eyes. You were about to call out to him, an undeniable skip in your step, when another voice joined his.

Your heart dropped as you realized who it was. You couldn’t see them and their voices were just out of range, so you stepped closer, pressing your back against the cold stone wall to keep out of sight but within earshot.

“Why am I even here, Morpheus? I told you that we’re done. I have nothing to say to you,” Her voice was measured, as though she had practiced for this exact scenario.

“Calliope, please do not say that,” he pleaded and a shaky breath left you at the tenderness he still held for her after your night together.

“Our son is dead because of you! Because you refused to help him!” She yelled, her grief palpable.

“Calliope, please,” he implored. “There was nothing I could do!”

“All your power as an Endless and you couldn’t save his wife? You couldn’t travel to the Underworld with him to retrieve her?!”

“If I had gone with him, Hades would have demanded his life for hers and that is not a bargain I was willing to make,” his voice was deliberate, final, but wavered with grief. “And I told him as much when I spoke to him,” he explained, gently.

Her voice came quietly after a moment. “You told him that?”

“Of course I did,” he responded, matching her soft tone. “I told him that I could never trade his life for hers.”

She stepped closer to him and part of her yearned to reach out to him. But her hand stopped midway, and her softening expression faltered. “Something’s changed,” she wondered aloud with a frown as she tilted her head at him, assessing the recent change in his expression.

“I,” he sighed, looking down. After a moment, he raised his gaze to meet hers. “I do not wish to lie to you, my love.” She furrowed her brow at him and he continued. “I spent a night with Elpis.” The silence hung heavy in the air and for a moment, you felt sick at the way he sounded almost ashamed of your night together.

Calliope’s response came a few moments later in a low tone, measured to hide her ire. “How soon afterwards were you with her?”

“I was only with her because I was in pain, Calliope. Orpheus was gone and you had left and I had no one.” He pleaded and tried to take her hands, but she was quick to pull them away. “I was weak and broken, Calliope, but I assure you it was a mistake. She was a mistake. I love you, Calliope. Please do not leave me.”

His apologetic tone and pleading manner did nothing to sway the muse and she stepped away from him. “Go to your wife, Morpheus,” she spat. “I want nothing to do with you.” She turned then, leaving the Dreaming and him without another word.

You turned the corner and found him with his back to you, still watching the place that Calliope had been.

“You used me?” Your voice broke, hanging in the air, pathetic and weak. He turned at the sound of it, staring at you blankly, with wide eyes.

“Elpis.” He began, but was at a loss for words at your cracking words voice and trembling lip.

“You were just using me to get over her?” Your voice was pitiful, and normally you would be embarrassed to show such an emotion before him, but you couldn’t possibly care about that now. Not when the first tender night in your decades of marriage had turned out to be nothing more than a quick fuck meant to sooth the loss of his Calliope. “How could you do that to me?” You breathed and the tears raced freely down your cheeks. He stepped closer to you and as much as you wanted to run away, you found yourself frozen in place.

“It was a mistake, Elpis,” he began in a gentle, even voice. “I shouldn’t have taken you last night. I didn’t mean to –” he began, but you cut him off, uninterested in whatever excuse or lie he wanted to placate you with.

“To what?” You bit back, your heartache turning to anger. “To use me? To fuck me to get over Calliope?!” You watched the muscles along his jaw tense at your coarseness. It was the mention of her name that sent the gears turning in his mind. His love with Calliope had finally been destroyed, cemented by the revelation that he had slept with you.

“How do I keep falling for this?” You laughed incredulously. “How do I keep falling for you?” He stood silently, as he watched you. “I,” you paused, to let out a rueful chuckle, before continuing in a soft voice. “I actually thought you cared about me.” The Good Hope in you forced you to look to him, desperately hoping that he might prove you wrong. “That maybe you even loved me.”

He watched the desperation in your eyes, how you longed for him to challenge your words. He wondered if you had orchestrated your night together purposefully to further Zeus’ ancient plot. But your tears and heartache seemed genuine, and you never were any good at concealing your emotions, especially not when you were upset. He was certain then that you hadn’t planned any of this, but he refused to give Zeus the satisfaction of knowing his scheme had succeeded.

“I don’t love you, Elpis,” he began and stepped closer to you. Your Good Hope died away, taking the light in your eyes with it. Zeus’ plans had finally come to fruition; Calliope was gone and here he was, left only with you. “I used you because you were there and I longed for Calliope.”

You blinked blankly at the frankness of his response. Your lips parted, but there was nothing to say. You looked at him for a moment before wiping your eyes and turning towards your wing of the palace.

***

And over time, your love for him faded, transforming into something entirely else: acceptance. Acceptance that he would never truly love you and you in turn could never love someone who had used you the way he did. And your acceptance of this fate led you to find love in other places: the dreamfolk, the various landscapes and regions of the realm, and your friends, like Beryl. While you found no love in him, you found it in the Dreaming. How odd, you thought, that the realm that was him was still loved by you when you no longer held anything of the kind for him. But, you supposed, part of the realm was you. And perhaps that would be enough.

Next Chapter ->

Taglist: @iamempty13 @uniquehijo @lovelisting @mensbestfriend @sister-of-stars @luula @waifu4lifeu @cosmosnkaz @lilywrath97 @thelady-of-dragonfire @leah-halliwell92 @iknowwhatilikeperiod

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A/N: This ended up being far too long, so I've split it up into two chapters. Next one should be up soon, maybe in a week?

Also, I wrote this on planes, trains, in various hotel rooms and houses, in about 6 different cities, so I hope it doesn't feel too disjointed.

As soon as the sand dissipated and you were within the palace, you left Morpheus at the entrance and climbed the staircase to your wing. He watched as you ascended the staircase, a shadow of the cold, confidant woman you had been when the evening began. He finally turned away when he saw your hand leave the railing to wipe at your eyes.

With a slow turn of the doorknob and a slight creak, you entered your chambers. You let your hand fall slowly over the laces at the back of your gown and they unfastened at your will. You stepped out of the gown, the satin slip still clinging to you, leaving the dress on the floor in your sitting room. You crossed to your dressing room to sit at your vanity when a knock came at the door.

“Come in, Beryl,” you rasped through your aching throat as you felt her presence outside of the door. She entered wordlessly, gathering up your discarded gown as she approached you. She did so with a cautious step and a careful gaze as she placed the dress in the closet. You were silently staring at your reflection as you removed your earrings. Between your scratchy voice and puffy, red eyes, she knew the evening had been disastrous. So she said the only thing she thought would help.

“Why don’t you get some rest, my lady? I’m sure it’ll all seem better in the morning,” she explained as she walked behind you to unfasten your necklace. You nodded slowly, but you couldn’t possibly sleep with what you had just learned.

“He has a child through her, Beryl,” you said as you pulled the pins and moonflowers from your hair. The necklace dropped from Beryl’s hands as her mouth fell open. She scrambled to pick it up and regain her composure.

“I – Are you certain, my lady? Perhaps there’s –“

“There’s no other explanation. He admitted to it. I had to learn about it from someone else, but he admitted to it. All of Olympus knows.” You ran a hand through your hair and watched in the mirror as it fell through your fingers. “Everyone knows that he has fathered a child with her and I,” you paused as the False Hope within you placed a scene behind your eyes: the entire Pantheon whispering and smirking and laughing at you. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling it buzz under your skin. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, letting that unwelcome feeling assure you that this was only the beginning of an eternity of humiliation and loneliness. “I can’t be here. I can’t be married to him anymore.”

Beryl peered at you through the mirror, her grip on the necklace tightening as she witnessed your despondence. “Where will you go, my lady?” Beryl asked in a small voice.

You considered her question and the False Hope that you wrestled with internally taunted you with the reminder that you couldn’t enter the Waking World. Even if you dared to spite Zeus by ignoring his rule, you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. You had read about the Waking World and other realms like that of the Fae, but none of them held your curiosity and heart the way the Dreaming did. And as much as staying married to Morpheus hurt, you weren’t going to let him be the reason you left the realm you loved. “I don’t know.”

***

The morning came far too early for your liking, its sunbeams forcing through the dreary clouds at just the right angle to rouse you from your slumber. You rolled over on your side and hissed as pain blossomed along your arm. You sat up quickly, leaving your bed to stand before the full length mirror in the corner of the room. You turned your shoulder to get a better look at the source of your pain: a deep violet imprint of his grasp on you last night.

You swallowed thickly at the sight and touched the area gingerly; outlining the mark he had left on you. You called for Beryl and after a few moments, she arrived at your chamber doors.

“Come in, Beryl,” you said as you held the door open for her and she slipped inside with a simple hello.

“What’ll it be for today, my lady?” She asked with a hesitant smile as she moved to your closets. “Checking in with the residents of the Western Plains? Or visiting the Endless Forests?” She wondered as she began to pull outfits from your closets.

You followed her into your dressing chambers. “Actually, I think I’ll be staying in today. Some time in my study and then perhaps the library.”

“Oh, of course,” she smiled. She began to return the various dresses to their closets, leaving a stand-collar emerald gown out. “How are you feeling, my lady?” She asked, gently.

“Better,” you lied with a smile. “Could you get me a salve or balm for this?” You asked as you showed her the bruise on your arm. She gasped as she rushed over to you, delicately assessing the area with both hands.

“My lady, what happened?” She breathed in surprise, looking up at you.

“I must have done it in my sleep,” you lied. She peered at you for a moment before letting the false explanation slide.

“I’ll find something, my lady,” she assured you with a nod before helping you into the emerald green gown she had left out. You smoothed out the material after it was on and noticed Beryl’s frown in the mirror as she stepped back to look over her work. You turned around to return her frown with one of your own.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Well, there aren’t any sleeves on this gown, so, that” she pointed tentatively to the bruise on your arm, “will be visible.” She paused to rush to your closets again. “Perhaps a different gown would be better.”

“No,” you reached out to stop her, placing a hand on her arm. Let them see, the False Hope within you hissed. Let them see the true nature of their king. “I think fabric on the area would cause more irritation. Better to leave it open.” Beryl nodded with a soft “oh” of understanding. After explaining that you would be in your study for the remainder of the morning, Beryl left with a short curtsy.

***

Beryl had just finished applying the salve to your arm when Lucienne knocked at your door. You called for her to enter from behind your desk. Beryl offered you both a curtsy before taking her leave.

Lucienne stood before your desk with an envelope in hand. “Good morning, my lady. A letter has been sent to you from Olympus,” she explained, extending the paper to you.

“For me?” You questioned, rising from your desk to take the envelope from her. The wax seal had already been broken and you scoffed under your breath as you realized he hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that he was monitoring your correspondence.

“Yes. It was addressed exclusively to you, Lady Elpis of the Dreaming,” she explained, watching your reaction carefully as you read through the letter, an invitation from Zeus to Olympus. You kept your expression blank, careful not to show any response that she could report to him. You returned to your seat, placing the letter dismissively on the side of your desk.

“Thank you for delivering this, Lucienne,” you looked up at her with a thin smile before looking back to the reports you were reviewing. “But you can have any future correspondence sent through Beryl.” Lucienne adjusted her glasses, shifting awkwardly as her cover was blown. You both knew your request was entirely pointless, given that he would never allow it.

Even if Lucienne returned to him with news of your nonreaction, her presence served as a reminder that he was watching your every move. The idea that he would hold the upper hand after this interaction despite your careful moves didn’t sit well with you, and in your frustration, you dropped the act, refusing to play these games of unspoken control with him.

“Did you know?” You questioned, watching her expression, just as she had watched yours.

Her features remained blank, just as yours had, with the practiced precision of a question she had anticipated. “I’m not sure what –”

“Lucienne.” You interrupted with a firm tone and a withering gaze that she hadn’t expected from you.

Lucienne shifted slightly in her position before answering you. “My lady, I was not at liberty to tell you. He gave strict instructions –”

“Of course he did. And you could never disobey your one true ruler,” you scoffed, looking off to the side. It wasn’t Lucienne’s fault, of course. You would never truly be ruler of the Dreaming – it would always be him. No matter how long you tried to play the monarch, the realm would only ever be his.

“My lady, I assure you that’s not true,” she argued in a pleading tone.

You tilted your head. “Let me ask you this, Lucienne. Whom did you inform first of this letter: me or him?” She dropped her gaze from yours; no answer was needed.  “That’ll be all, Lucienne,” you dismissed her with a plaintive smile.

***

“All ready for your meeting then, my lady?” Beryl asked, adjusting the hem of your gown.

“Yes, I believe so,” you smiled at her, tugging slightly at your collar. Beryl stood then, straightening out her apron. She peered at you with a furrowed brow as she wrung her hands. “What is it, Beryl?” You asked, gently.

“Are you sure about this, my lady?” Your shoulders relaxed as you realized the source of her anxiety. “I mean, isn’t Zeus the one who imprisoned you in the first place? Should you really be meeting with him without any, I don’t know, any assistance? What if he tries to imprison you again, my lady? What if –“

You interrupted her with a reassuring smile and a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine, Beryl. And besides, I’m all the assistance I need.” Your words didn’t seem to allay her fears, but you squeezed her shoulder before pulling her in for a tight hug. “But thank you,” you whispered as she held you tight. “I should get going, though,” you said, pulling away from her.

“Of course,” she said with a slight sniffle. “But please, my lady, be careful.” You were about to reassure her again, her concern truly touching, when a knock pulled both of your attentions. Your jaw tensed as you sensed who was on the other side of the door, your fists clenching in anticipation of the fight you knew would ensue. “My lady,” Beryl pleaded gently, placing her hand over your tightened fist. “It’s not worth arguing with him.”

Yours eyes stayed trained on the door as you spoke. “You should go, Beryl.” After a moment, she sighed before leaving the opposite way through your study.

You turned to stand before your full length mirror, adjusting your earrings with lidded eyes. “Yes?” You called out in a disinterested voice, readying yourself for the fury he held regarding your impending meeting.

The door clicked as it opened, followed by his measured footsteps as he neared you, watching you through the mirror. You kept your attentions on your reflected image, suddenly finding the waist of your gown in need of adjustment. He waited for you to acknowledge him, but you refused, forcing him to make the first move.

“So you have accepted Zeus’ invitation.” His voice came evenly, but you could feel the ire threaded through his words.

You responded with an aloofness meant to push him further. “I have.”

Your move seemed to land, as your heedlessness convinced him that you hadn’t considered the significance such a meeting could hold. He narrowed his eyes in irritation, taking another step closer to you. “Why did he call this meeting for you alone?”

“I don’t know,” you said, disinterest chilling your words as you leaned closer to the mirror to fix your lipstick. “But I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.”

“Elpis, this is serious,” he insisted, his voice now wavering slightly with impatience. Your eyes slid over, connecting with his through the reflection of the mirror. He watched you, but when your gaze shifted to adjust the pendant at your throat, apathy washing over your features once again, he stepped closer to you. “You don’t know what Zeus is capable of.”

“I don’t?” You laughed, derisively, turning slightly towards him. He clenched his jaw at your dismissal, but the violet imprint on your arm caught his eye then, and your meeting with Zeus was momentarily forgotten. His gaze softened as he leaned forward to get a better look at the bruise on your upper arm.

“Your arm,” he breathed out, his hand reaching instinctively to graze the injured area. You turned sharply to pull away from him, glaring at him as you took two steps back. His hand stayed afloat midair between you as he watched you back away from him. He wasn’t sure if you had reacted out of anger or fear, but either way, the move struck him deeply.

“Stay away from me,” you warned with an unsteady breath as your heart beat faster. You watched him warily as his hand dropped to his side. His eyes flickered to yours and for a moment, you thought you saw a flash of hurt in his eyes.

“At least let me heal it,” he pleaded after a moment. He studied the bruise more carefully and he could almost make out where his fingertips had dug into your skin. His eyes connected with yours again, silently begging you to let him rectify this wrong.

You tilted your chin to the side, setting your jaw as you continued to glare at him. “Don’t you dare touch me,” you demanded, your voice pained and cracking. You were sure you saw it then: a flash of hurt in his blue eyes as his throat bobbed. But you pushed it aside, refusing to relent at his hurt expression.

He took a tentative step towards you and you let him. He watched you try to hide your hurt behind a strong front by steeling your expression and his voice softened. “Take Jessamy,” he pleaded. “For protection.”

The Good Hope in you flipped at the possibility that he cared for your safety. That he cared for you. But you shut that part of you down quickly. “Protection?” You scoffed, with a bitter tone that mocked his good intentions. “You don’t care about me or my safety. You just want an excuse to watch my every move.” You paused before turning your voice ice cold and letting a chilling sneer poison your features as you crossed your arms. “In fact, why not just come yourself? You can stop at Helicon and see your child and mistress.”

He straightened then, his shoulders pushing back and setting a rigid posture as he realized you wouldn’t be quick to forgive him. And in the meantime, you would weaponize your pain through cutting words and biting remarks that struck him to his core as your words always did. Of course, there was also the possibility that you would simply never forgive him.

“Meet with Zeus,” he said, straining to keep his voice even. “If you do not return by midnight, I will come to Olympus to retrieve you myself.”

You weren’t sure if he spoke out of concern for your wellbeing or possessiveness, but for the moment, you didn’t care: you just wanted him gone. “Fine,” you begrudgingly accepted. He considered you for a moment and you squeezed your upper arms tighter in their crossed position under his continued gaze. You inadvertently pressed on your bruise and he watched as you winced in pain. His hand twitched at his side, eager to reach out to you, but he thought better of it and clenched his hand to a fist to keep it at his side.

***

Night in Olympus was cooler than you had expected. A servant found you outside and led you to Zeus, who was walking through the courtyard. You raised an eyebrow at the informal location, but lowered it, keeping a stoic front when Zeus turned towards you.

“Elpis,” he greeted, with a smile that filled you with unease. “I’m glad to see that you accepted my invitation. And that you didn’t bring the Dream Lord.”

His continued insistence to meet with you alone shook you and for a moment, you regretted not taking Jessamy with you. But you remembered that Morpheus would come for if you didn’t return to the Dreaming and your voice found its strength. “Does this meeting concern him?”

“In a way,” he replied, slyly. He left the laurel tree he was admiring to approach you.

Your patience worn thin and you took a step towards him with clenched fists. “Enough games, Zeus. Why have you called me here?”

“Straight to business, then,” he sighed. “Very well. I’m sure you’ve heard that he has fathered a child with my daughter, Calliope.”

He let the words hang in the air, watching the way you strained to prevent your face from contorting in anger. “Yes, I have,” you gritted out.

“Then it seems we have a common obstacle.”

Your heart dropped at his implication. But the Good Hope in you forced you to ask, “What are you saying, Zeus?”

“Come now, Elpis,” he began. “Certainly you wouldn’t want the bastard offspring of your husband and his mistress to continue to humiliate you. I know Juno felt the same about Arcas after my time with Callisto.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. “You would kill your own grandchild?” Your voice trembled with loathing.

If your words caused him to feel shame, he didn’t show it. He only responded with a conviction of a power-hungry god. “The child of an Endless would hold insurmountable power. Such a child could follow in my or my father’s footsteps and usurp my rule. I would do anything to prevent such an outcome.”

You shook your head in disgust. “You would murder a child to prevent just the possibility of losing power? You are sick,” you breathed.

“My reasons are mine,” he defended. “But you? I must say I am surprised, Elpis. This child is but a testament of your husband’s infidelity. Would you really let such an injustice pass by? And beside,” he continued, despite the disgust painted on your face. “Without the bastard child, you could have a real chance at a marriage with him.”

His words made something click in your head. “Is that why you asked him to release me into the Dreaming?” You took a step towards him. “Because you thought I would lead him to stray from Calliope? And prevent the birth of a child who would usurp your power?”

Zeus’ words came slowly, but they landed like stones. “Are you not grateful to be released?” Your stomach lurched as you realized your position in his scheme. You were meant to be nothing more than a temptress to seduce Morpheus and ruin his relationship with Calliope. The way he avoided you when you first arrived in the Dreaming, the day he threw you out of his study for proposing a new nightmare, and that night in his study when you almost kissed – it all made sense now: he had viewed every move you made as a vicarious plot of Zeus. Of course he would keep you at a distance if he believed you were part of Zeus’ plot.

“I am not grateful to be a pawn in one of your schemes, Zeus!” You cried in frustration. Every part of your life now had been a result of Zeus’ selfish plans. Your marriage to Morpheus, the loneliness and invisibility you felt as a secondary ruler of the Dreaming, the heartache you suffered watching him with Calliope.

“Then be a queen,” he resounded. “Be the Queen of the Dreaming outright by ending his relationship with Calliope. You can do it with one move and then you could have him all to yourself.”

You paused, and for a moment, Zeus thought he had gotten through to you. But you took a deep breath, pushing your anger and frustration aside. “Morpheus and I had a chance to make this marriage whole before Orpheus was born. Even before Calliope returned,” you explained with a sigh. “It didn’t happen then and I won’t kill an innocent child to regain that opportunity.”

“Then do it for yourself,” he countered, his gaze dropping to the bruise on your arm. “I saw you two last night. I know how cruelly he has treated you,” he said, his voice turning suspiciously gentle. “If you eliminate this child, I will give you the freedom to walk the mortal world. You would no longer be bound to the Dreaming. To him.”

The gentleness of his tone did nothing to change to repulsive nature of his words. “You think I would be so petty to kill an innocent child for his father’s trespasses against me?” You scoffed in disdain. “You are sick.” You turned to leave, but stopped to add one last comment. “If you come anywhere near that child,” you threatened, “I will end you. Ruler of Olympus or not.”

***

Morpheus felt your presence in the Dreaming as soon as you returned. He was grateful that Calliope had returned to Helicon with Orpheus, because it allowed him to pace his study without interruption or judgment. At your return, his shoulders slumped in relief. He was quick to meet you at the palace entrance.

“What did he want?” His words were edged, but there was something in his tone that sparked the Good Hope in you.

You closed the palace door gently before turning to face him. “I believe most husbands would say something like, ‘Welcome home,” when their wife returns,” you responded, lightly.

“Elpis.” He demanded, his patience wearing thin.

You watched him for a moment. You couldn’t tell him that Zeus asked you to kill his son. Even if you assured him that you would never do such a heinous thing, he would never believe you. Especially if he still believed that you were part of Zeus’ scheme to ruin his relationship with Calliope. And certainly, he would take any precaution necessary to protect his son – including imprisoning you within the pithos. You fought to keep your expression stoic, to not let your fear of his reaction reveal itself through your expression.

“He offered me a place in Olympus,” you lied, clasping your hands in front of you. You kept your voice as even as you could and your posture relaxed to further the lie.

For a moment, Morpheus was speechless. The thought of you leaving the Dreaming to sit beside Zeus made his heart drop. The possibility that you might leave him to serve whatever purpose Zeus had in mind was too much. You watched with a furrowed brow as his throat bobbed. He pushed aside the question that was at the front of his mind to ask one that didn’t reveal the panic he felt. “And why would he offer the Queen of the Dreaming such a lowly position?”

“I’m not really Queen of the Dreaming, though, am I?” You scoffed. “In nothing more than name, at least,” you added, crossing your arms.

He peered at you and his confusion almost seemed genuine. “You rule over various grounds and regions of the Dreaming alongside its king. Does that not make you its Queen?”

You let out a breath of disbelief at his ignorance. “Who do the dreamfolk come to with their concerns? Who sits at your side when you hold audiences in the throne room? Who does everyone think should hold this position?”

His silence hung heavy in the air, the answer to your questions obvious between you two.

“And anyway,” you continued. “It’s not as though the state of our ‘marriage’ is a secret. Everyone knows about you and her. And him,” you added, softer. “And I suppose it didn’t help that he saw us arguing last night.” You looked down, unable to look him in the eye as you continued, “And the aftermath of that argument,” you explained, gesturing to your arm.

He glanced down at the area you had gestured to. His swallowed thickly, afraid to ask the question that was tormenting him. After a moment, he tried his best to steady his voice. “And what did you say?”

“To staying at Olympus?” You wondered aloud, with a furrowed brow. Morpheus didn’t trust his voice not to shake, so he simply nodded. “I said ‘no’, of course,” you explained. Relief rushed through Morpheus as he took in a steadying breath. The Good Hope in you didn’t miss his reaction, but you let your False Hope guide your next words. “As much as it pains me to stay here in the Dreaming with you,” you sighed, “I hate Zeus. I could never stay in Olympus with him.”

“I see,” Morpheus answered simply. You waited for him to say something more, that he was grateful for your continued presence in the Dreaming, or that he shouldn’t have allowed Calliope to usurp your role, but he remained silent.

You let out a rueful breath, disappointed in yourself for hoping that he might feel anything of those things. “If that’s all, Lord Morpheus?” You asked with a thin smile full of disdain. He watched you for a moment before turning and leaving you alone at the palace entrance. You scoffed at his turned back before shaking your head dolefully and climbing the marble stairs to your wing.

Morpheus tried to cling to your response that you hated Zeus, but that night, images of Zeus with his hands on you plagued Morpheus. He pictured you meeting with Zeus that night, his eyes roaming your body salaciously and whispering lecherous things to you as Apollo had presumably done the other night. Thunder echoed through the Dreaming as he pictured you with your hands on him, bewitched by his advances. The thought of you in Zeus’ arms or worse, underneath him, screaming his name in blinding pleasure, set him on edge and flooded the Dreaming.

Next Chapter ->

A/N: Wrote this in India under the absolute worst conditions possible. To everyone who wished me well on my vacation: thank you, but it's been unbelievably terrible and I can't wait to get back to the US. Also, Elpis' dress in Olympus is 100% inspired by Princess Di's revenge dress.

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The news of Virgil’s death and Calliope’s subsequent release were more than unwelcome to Zeus. They were proof that he could not stop his daughter from seeing the Endless. After two failed ploys, Zeus was convinced that he could not keep the two apart and prevent the birth of a child powerful enough to dethrone him. Instead, perhaps he would follow his father’s cue and simply kill the child after it was born. But killing a child of such parentage would almost certainly incur the wrath of its Endless father. Perhaps he could keep his hands clean of such an act by finding a patsy to commit it for him…

***

Referring to the palace atmosphere in the days following Calliope’s arrival in the Dreaming as “tense” would be quite the understatement. In the years afterwards, the tension dulled to an unspoken silence between the realm’s two monarchs. There stood a harsh divide between the halls of your wing of the palace and theirs. For it had become theirs: Morpheus’ and Calliope’s. She became a constant in the castle, hanging on his arm at every opportunity since her imprisonment. He took her hand and led her through the Dreaming whenever he walked it and he reintroduced her to the residents of the Dreaming. Everything he should have done with you, the Queen of the Dreaming.

He had even begun to hold audiences with her. She sat perched on the armrest of his throne as he listened to various residents’ complaints or pleas. With Calliope seated beside Morpheus, she offered him the advice you had become used to supplying. He took her guidance with a dutiful ear, unlike the disinterest he would respond to you with followed by the eventual, unhappy acceptance of your advice.

You felt worse than invisible. You felt useless. Unnecessary.

Calliope didn’t need to be the Queen of the Dreaming; she had the King’s ear and his heart and that was more than enough to essentially usurp your role in the Dreaming. As a result, you refused to use the throne room when addressing residents. Instead, you used the small, unassuming study attached to your chambers, which you hardly left.

Your gardens didn’t wilt or turn to ash. Instead, they simply lost their sparkle and vibrancy. The cyan lilies that had once filled you with pride no longer gleamed and held a lifeless pale blue. Keeping the Memory Gardens from souring was especially difficult when the only memories that played in your mind were of him and Calliope.

Your duties in the realm had dwindled, limited mostly to maintaining your regions in the Dreaming and assisting the few residents who still came to you for help. The worst of your duties were the official appearances you had to make beside Morpheus. Like the one you had to make tonight at Olympus.

***

You were sprawled out on the covers of your bed with your hand over your eyes when Beryl entered.

“Well then, my lady, I believe it’s time to get dressed for this evening!” She opened every door in your closet and began pulling out gown after gown for you to select from. You grumbled your disdain and rolled over onto your stomach in response. Beryl peeked out of the dressing room to observe your refusal to prepare for the event. She sighed and took a seat on your bed, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I know how much you hate these events, but you know you have to go,” she offered in a gentle tone.

You rolled over to look at her and sat up against your headboard. “But this isn’t like the others, Beryl,” you sighed, exasperatedly, grabbing a pillow to clutch close to your chest. “It’s so much worse,” you whispered. “Calliope will be there.”

Beryl had nothing to say to that. She had known Calliope’s attendance was a possibility, but she had hoped that the Good Hope in you would be enough to ignore that possibility.

You ignored her silence and downcast gaze, continuing your tirade. “I have to sit there and pretend to be his wife while his mistress is right there!” You threw the pillow across the room. “If people aren’t laughing at my forced obliviousness, they’ll be staring at me in pity!” You slid out of bed to pace the room.

“Everyone knows that he’s seeing her and nothing happens to him. He doesn’t have to deal with the pity or the smirks or the snide comments! I’m the one who has to sit there and smile while everyone talks about how this position that I didn’t even want should be hers!” Your words left you out of breath and you felt the False Hope within you pulsing, buzzing under your skin, but a deep breath pushed it back to where it couldn’t affect you. “I just – I just can’t do it.” You sighed, dropping down onto your bed.

Beryl moved to sit beside you. “I know, my lady,” she said softly, placing a hand on your knee. “But I’m afraid it’s something you must do. Despite how disparaging it may be. But if I may suggest something, my lady?” She peered at you with a cautious smile and waited until you were looking at her before continuing. “I think you should hold you head up high at this event. Show them all that you don’t need to hold the heart of the Dream King to be the Queen of the Dreaming. That you’ve deserve this position because of your own merits, not simply due to circumstance. Because you do deserve it, my lady.”

You couldn’t help the slow smile that appeared on your face at her words. “Thank you, Beryl,” you said as your rose from the bed, taking her hands in yours. Beryl smiled, laughing softly at your changed attitude. “Then let’s make me look every bit the Queen of the Dreaming.”

***

You descended the stairs with a light hold on the railing, the click of your heels on the marble staircase echoing through the hall. Morpheus turned towards the sound from his position by the palace doors and his lips parted as he took you in: hair loose, but pinned to one side with delicate moonflowers, red, full lips and cold eyes that froze him in place. The off-the-shoulder neckline of your gown pulled his eyes to the delicate dream stone necklace that dangled at the swell of your breasts. The midnight black silk gleamed lightly and hugged your every curve, falling just past your ankles, and a chiffon train trailed behind you as you reached the floor.

“Shall we leave?” Your voice was firm, but you couldn’t help the slight amusement at his stunned expression.

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered, blinking, before offering you his arm.

You looked down at it before looking back up at him with disdain. “Are you sure Calliope won’t mind?”

“Elpis,” he warned, still holding his arm out.

“Fine.” You took his arm and the two of you disappeared in a whirlwind of sand before appearing in Olympus. As soon as you arrived, you pulled your hand from his arm. “I wouldn’t want Calliope to think we were sharing a tender moment,” you sneered without looking up at him. You moved quickly to take a goblet of wine from a nearby server, leaving Morpheus in his place. You took a sip from the glass and he couldn’t help but watch the way your lips touched the glass so delicately. He was about to say something when you spoke up. “Speaking of,” you scoffed as you watched Calliope walk up behind him. He felt her behind him, but he didn’t turn to her; his eyes were trained on yours, watching the way you turned your pain into anger. “I’ll take your leave then, Lord Morpheus,” you said with a thin smile and contempt masked as tact.

“Elpis, wait.” He took a step towards you, but you had already turned your back on him. He watched as you disappeared into the crowd, smiling politely and engaging with various dignitaries: everything expected of the Queen of the Dreaming. He almost didn’t notice Calliope as she placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Hello, my love,” she smiled as she stood before him.

“Calliope,” he said, and her smile faltered at the use of her name rather than the typical pet name. He caught her confusion and continued, “We are at a public event, after all.”

“That never stopped you before,” she teased with a smile. Your laugh carried through the air, pulling his attention from Calliope, and it brought him back to the first time he had heard it: when you laughed in wonderment at the beauty of the Dreaming. But now, he watched as you laughed at something a lesser god said and swatted his arm playfully.

“No, I suppose it didn’t.”

***

“I just mean that compared to a pithos, I’m sure any realm would be considered a paradise!” Apollo exclaimed, arms wide. You knew better than to respond to his slight with rage or contempt.

“Spoken like someone who has never explored the Dreaming before,” you responded with a sly smile.

“Is that an invitation, Lady Elpis?” Apollo replied, letting his voice lower suggestively. You took his advances on the chin, laughing it off as a joke.

“You know, you are far too much, Apollo.” You laughed, swatting his arm lightly.

“More than the Lord of Dreams?” He teased, lowly, taking a step too close.

“You forget yourself, Sun God,” you warned.

“Please,” he chuckled, derisively. “How could he ignore such a beauty before him?” He let the back of his hand fall gently against your cheek, the coarseness of his knuckles rough against the softness of your skin. Your breath hitched at the contact and you swallowed thickly as you saw the want in his eyes.

“Don’t,” You voice came out shaky, uneven, as though even you weren’t sure if you meant it. It had been so long since you had been touched so reverently, your mind going back to that day in your chambers when Morpheus had held to stop you from fracturing the Dreaming.

“Do you really think it fair that he is free to bed muses as he sees fit, while you remain chaste in a loveless marriage?” He leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper: “I could be everything for you that he is not.”

You let out a shaky breath before attempting to steady your voice. “No,” you took a step back, distancing yourself from him. “There’s nothing fair about this marriage. But I won’t betray him the way he’s betrayed me.”

“So then what? Will you wait around, hoping that one day he’ll wake up and love you?” He asked, incredulously.

“I am Hope, aren’t I?” You joked, mirthlessly.

“Do you truly believe that he will ever leave his muse? After they’ve had a child together?”

Your heart dropped at his words. Morpheus had left the Dreaming more often recently, but you hadn’t pressed him about it. In fact, you were grateful for it. You simply assumed that he was spending time with Calliope where you wouldn’t see them. You hadn’t expected a child to be the cause of his absence. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” you responded, but even you weren’t convinced by your words.

Apollo sighed before taking your hand. “Elpis, you deserve to be adored. And if the Lord of Dreams is too blind to see that, then please,” he paused to look deeply at you. “Let me be the one to worship you as you deserve.”

You watched him closely, trying to gauge his true intentions. Whatever they were, you knew you could never go through with such a thing. You parted your lips, about to voice just that when Morpheus’ voice cut through.

“Elpis.” You turned to him, your hair whipping around with the action, and pulled your hand from Apollo’s. You stared at him with your lips still parted with an empty reply.

Apollo took a step towards him and began with an apologetic tone. “Lord Morpheus, I-“

“I was speaking to my wife.” His words were absolute and his gaze remained fixed on you.

“Apologies,” he mumbled, before glancing at you and backing away. When it was just the two of you, Morpheus grabbed your arm roughly, leading you away from the throng in the main hall. You tried to pull out of his grip, but he wouldn’t let you.

“Let go of me!” You cried, and he finally released you when you were outside. He threw his hand out and you stumbled a few steps away from him. “What is wrong with you?!” You yelled, rubbing your hand where he had gripped you hard enough to bruise.

“Is that any way for a monarch to behave?” He hissed, referring to your interaction with Apollo. You scoffed derisively. Was he really calling Apollo’s unreturned advances improper?

“Is fathering a child with your mistress any way for a monarch to behave?” You bit back. He went still at your words and you watched as his throat bobbed.

“Oh, gods,” you whispered through an unsteady breath. “It’s true,” you said as your hand went to your mouth. Your tears sparkled in the Olympian moonlight.

“Elpis, wait,” he stepped towards you with a cautious outstretched hand, his anger dissipated by the tears in your eyes.

“Don’t,” you warned with a wavering voice as you stepped back from him. “Don’t!” You screamed before turning on your heel. You shook your head and let out a mirthless laugh that haunted him. “I can’t believe I ever thought this would change! You know, no one ever talks about how foolish and blind hope can be!” You turned back to face him before continuing. “I can’t believe I ever hoped you would change! That you would stop loving her!” You screamed, gesturing towards the crowd which undoubtedly contained his love.

He watched as you gestured wildly with wide eyes and a heaving chest. “Compose yourself, Elpis. There is a hall full of gods and demigods eager to watch your spectacle,” he warned in a low voice.

“I don’t care if they see!” You yelled taking a step closer to him. “I want everyone to know what you’ve done to me! I want everyone to know how much you’ve hurt me!” You cried as you stuck a finger towards your chest. “I’m sick of suffering in silence and acting like this isn’t killing me!” Your throat began to ache from the screaming and the sobs you were holding in. “Like watching you with her isn’t killing me!”

He swallowed hard, watching all the pain he had caused you. He thought about telling you how Calliope’s pregnancy wasn’t planned, that it was a surprise he had reluctantly welcomed, and that he was waiting for the right moment to tell you. That he knew how much it would hurt you. But he couldn’t tell you all that. After all, it would almost sound like he cared for you.

“Keep your voice down,” he gritted out the words.

You didn’t bother pushing away the False Hope that bubbled inside you. You stepped closer to him until you were just a hair’s breadth away. “Or what? You’ll return me to my pithos like you threatened to all those years ago?” You bit back, fists clenched, as angry tears slid down your face. “Then do it! Do it!” You cried, pushing at his chest, while he remained motionless. “Because frankly, I’d prefer soul-crushing loneliness and eternal imprisonment to being married to you!”  You pushed at his chest again, but this time he held your wrists to stop you. “Let go of me!” You yelled, struggling in his hold, but it came out a sob. “Let go, Morpheus!” You pulled again, but he didn’t release you. “Let go,” you sobbed as your body sagged in his hold. Your eyes closed and your breath evened, and he loosened his grip, letting your hands fall from his. He took in your heartbroken form and his arms ached to pull you in to him, to hold you close against him as you cried. But he knew that Calliope close by and he wasn’t willing to repeat the events of the day you withered the Eastern Gardens.

“Elpis,” he whispered, lips parted with everything he wanted to say to you. Every apology he knew you deserved. You looked up at him, the Good Hope in you flaring at the possibility of those words. But his silence said everything to you.

“Just take me home,” you whispered, looking down, as a tornado of sand brought you back to the Dreaming.

***

Zeus watched your argument with Morpheus with a careful eye. Inviting the rulers of the Dreaming to an event that the Dream King’s mistress would most certainly attend had stoked the flames of your contemptuous marriage perfectly. Zeus smiled as he realized you wouldn’t need much convincing to eliminate the child before it could dethrone him.

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