#dark morpheus

You break off with an exasperated huff. You have been at this for a while now. Palm flush with the wood of the door, trying to somehow channel the power within your soul to get out of the cage that Morpheus so effectively persuaded you into.

Moving closer, you lay your right cheek against the lacquered surface.

"Let me out of here," you whisper. "Please. Just let me out without him knowing. It can be our little secret."

It's not lost on you at how unhinged you sound - talking to an inanimate object, hoping to coax it into obedience but no other feasible course of action springs to mind. Not with the pressure of his return looming over you. There is no telling how long you have and the words he had spoken hadn't exactly given you faith that he was going to yield.

Escape is your sole option.

To get out of the palace and into whatever lies beyond its walls. There's no guarantee that you will find a way back to home but in the very least you will have space to think. A change of scenery usually brought benefits to mental clarity when you felt restricted, though your bindings were always non-physical.

The dire thought lets slip a humourless cackle. Being kidnapped wasn't exactly a consequence you had considered in accepting Morpheus' affections. Then again, do the majority think things will end badly when starting any kind of relationship? Not if the blindfold of lust had any say in the matter, you suppose, and you have no grounds whatsoever to say that your case is any different.

This also isn't an ending, you remind yourself. The end comes when all options have been exhausted and you haven't even begun to try.

You close your eyes and focus all effort onto mapping out the energy housed in your chest. Endeavouring to picture it. Opulent blue intertwining with the natural luminescence, showing your attachment to him and the potential for goodness knows what else.

His abilities could be limitless. Mind influencing. World altering. Universe conquering. But for now you just need simple. You hone in on that word, devoting every ounce of concentration to picturing one, single eventuality. The door no longer being in your path.

The threads of his power tremble as your manifestation sets in stone, in turn reaching out with the likeness of a handshake, nudging you to trust them with your getaway.

They whisper promises with their gentle touches, echoing your want, reaching out out out beyond the confines of your chest.

Let me through.

Your hand passes through the wood.

You stumble at the sudden boundary change, forearm following up to your elbow joint, breath hitching with an audible click as the fascinating realisation hits. The door is still there - for you can see it when you look down but its molecules have become as dense as vapour. All it takes is one large step and you're all the way through.

The hallway beyond is just as dark as you pictured, eerie even, but it doesn't deter you from throwing yourself into its gloomy unknown. A short landing gives way to a torch-lit stone staircase; you descend them at the briskest pace you can achieve without it feeling unsafe.

The sections wrap back and forth on each other, blocking everything more than a minute in front of you, fuelling your fear of interception even further. It's some time before you reach the bottom. There's no door; you simply walk out into a corridor. This confuses you. It seems too easy. You can't take it for granted though for you must keep moving.

You head for a window positioned about ten paces away from where you emerged. It's a shame that you are unable to appreciate the view for anything more than the 30 seconds you assign to finding your bearings. You're quite a way from the ground floor of the building, and also from the bridge that traverses a lake. It's clear that you need to move left and down.

You start with the first direction, creeping down the corridor, allowing yourself a bit of bandwidth to notice the details around you. The décor is gorgeous; with the intricately patterned wallpapers, the sunlight refracting prettily through the crystals of chandeliers, and the cabinets and credenzas laden with artefacts and trinkets - it's a world away from the horror that Morpheus had implied when discouraging your curiosity.

Every time you reach an intersection, you pause and listen - for footsteps, voices, any signs of life before launching hastily into the next stretch. Finding none is confusing for the size of the palace.

Surely there had to be someone else here?

You don't let the thought deter your progress. In fact, it becomes even brisker when you find a spiral staircase that takes you down into the belly of the castle. The speed of your heart rate makes you feel unsteady as you jog down for there is no where to hide in between the landings; each offshoot you clear without incident is a small victory.

Soon enough, according to a panoramic window you find in an airy antechamber, you are within touching distance of the ground floor and it's tough not to throw caution to the wind by ditching your hypervigilant measures. It is only the firmness of your inner voice that prevents you from ploughing ahead, and you are rewarded by the grand entrance hall.

The skeleton hanging from the ceiling makes your eyes widen. Manta ray like in form, its shadow flickers in the light cast by numerous candles and torches. Warmth thrown from those same flames bring a flush to your exposed skin as you sneak past the open archways leading off into other parts of the palace, and go for what can only be the front door.

It is the first one you have seen since you left Morpheus' chambers - an infinitely larger and grander one yet you don't let it intimidate you. Confidence sparks in your nerves as you approach and lift you hand. You don't even have to make contact for it to dissolve into translucency.

The change in air pressure sets all the mini fires behind you guttering violently. Golden light pours in. The windows set into the ceiling of the entrance hall had hinted at the strength of the sunlight outside, however you are wholly unprepared for the fortitude of the output from the winter sun that hangs low in the sky. It makes you squint, throwing a hand up to protect against its glorious glare as you register an unsettling noise in the distance. Like hardened keratin across a slate or the banshee cries of foxes, the notes of the sound cause chills to erupt all down your back. Everything about it indicates that something is wrong.

Perhaps it is the reason for which Morpheus was forced to leave. Concern niggles your conscience; was it a serious matter?

The thought is fleeting - you are going to use whatever it is to your advantage. You cross the threshold and take yet more steps down to the bridge.

It would be impossible to miss just how exposed you are going to be for the next part of your journey. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to go if you are noticed by someone, except for jumping into the lake below. And while it looks perfectly placid, you are quite adverse to trying. The stillest of waters can often run the most dangerous.

You can't turn back now though. Not when you've got so far. Plus, come to think of it, would the adrenaline-spiking act really pose a risk to you? You are immortal after all.

Immortality. It's a horrific notion, one that you really don't want to accept as your truth, causing a quiver to permeate your body juddering all the way through to the bone. The very thing that defined your humanity had been taken. Snatched from you without forewarning and covered up by the person who had behaved towards you with such passion and tenderness. Apparently his affection didn't stretch that far though.

Your teeth clench in a show of anger. It's the secrecy of it all that stokes the fierce emotion. You cannot abide his deception, nor his disregard for your sanity. Going home is the only thing you want - to be among the people you love, those who don't lie and manipulate and coddle.

But even then, if you did manage to find a way back to your waking life, would you still have a place there with the immortality? It's not exactly something that people would overlook; their growing old while you remain frozen in time. All your relationships and interactions would be temporary, fleeting.

So caught up in your morbid thoughts, you are taken aback when your feet make contact with a surface other than stone.

Grass. The greenest you've ever seen, made dewy by the winds coming off of the water - you feel the mist clinging to your skin too.

With a curious gaze, you take in the village and the fishing boats to the right of you. The stillness here is not as profound as it was by the castle; an indication that there are likely people within the houses.

You pick your way along the path that runs adjacent to the village, enjoying the sink of your heels into the compacted peaty soil - though not quite enough to stop you from anxiously fiddling with the ring on your finger. The stakes feel infinitely higher now and you have to really stop yourself from squeaking when you hear a dulcet, gravelly voice coming from the house you have just walked by.

"Do you think it's over yet?"

Unable to control yourself, you pause in walking to curiously listen in. You've not heard another person except Morpheus since you got here.

A second voice answers, this one equally soothing. "From the lack of dreamers, I'm pretty sure the answer is still no."

"But I'm bored."

"I am more than aware, my dear."

The unmistakable noise of pacing footsteps starts up.

"Why can't we just go across to the pocket dimension that he sent the dreamers to?"

"I imagine because it is safer that they remain separate to everything made in the Dreaming, and because Lord Morpheus has bigger things to worry about than your boredom levels."

A couple of seconds of silence ensue.

"I guess you're right."

You hear the scrape of a chair's legs on floorboards.

"Would it help if we went on a walk together to pass the time?"

You don't wait to hear a reply; the risk of interception becoming a shade more realistic for your liking. You run, grateful for the muffling ground underfoot, silent as a deer. There are trees up ahead - they can be your cover.

Even when you reach them, you do not let your guard drop, choosing a much less straightforward route than perhaps is necessary, keeping to the grassy verges over the lone marked path; the crunch of frosty gravel too risky after such unimpeded progress.

That unsettling noise from before is dampened by the denseness of the trees; cedars and pines and firs standing strong in the winter air - and many other deciduous species that are hard for you to identify with the absence of their leaves. The mix of tree types is not particularly reflective of real world biomes but, as you remind yourself: this is a place of dreams. There are no fixed rules. It's a beautiful environment to be surrounded by, one that contributes to the slight calming of your heart rate.

The elevation of the terrain to the left of your vision field is sharply inclining leaving you with a choice: go up what you assume is a hill, or stay on your current course. The climb will no doubt slow you down but the lure of a lookout point is tempting. If only you had a coin to toss.

You opt for left and with every ascending step you take, you are prompted to wonder if it is adrenaline or immortality that's stopping your legs and feet from hurting. Whatever it is, it's no match for the horrible sound; it gets louder as the trees shrink in size and you are wincing from exposure by the time you reach the comprehensive vantage point at the crest of the hill.

You shield your eyes once more and survey the landscape. A snow smothered mountain range giving rise to the lifeblood of the region; spring to stream to river. A valley cut in half by that passage of water. Copses, glades, meadows. A gate.

That really piques your interest. A gate maybe meant further passage was attainable. You dial into your power once more and ask the question: Can I get home through there?

The warm flutter in your chest is all the answer you need. Even better, it appears that the route is straightforward - find the river and follow it almost to the mountain on its flank. You set off in search of it, using the ever-intensifying sound of the running water as your guide.

The river is as clear as freshly polished glass. Shards of ice bob in the gentle current, their slow passage a stark contrast to the erratic flight patterns of the small birds that forage for food in the now desiccated thistles and bulrushes.

Some of their wings feature patterns and colours that you know cannot be found in ones from Earth. Dream birds. Ones that he must have created.

How you wish that Morpheus could be here beside you in this moment. He should have been showing you all this stark beauty.

The thoughts are hurtful ones, pricking at your eyes, trying to tease out tears. You tilt your head back with an inhale, like you could somehow coax them back into your tear ducts with gravity.

You cannot afford to cry. Not when your sense of hearing is still so impacted by the hideous tone; your eyesight needs to be in tact for perceiving potential threats. You pick up your pace again, building to a run. The width of the river gets narrower as you close the distance to its source.

Your stamina holds well, as does your speed. It's impossible to quantify without the necessary tools or equations however the blur of the scenery implies you are fast.

The feat would be exhilarating if it wasn't so tragic - you are quite literally running for your life. Your waking life.

It's feels within reach, until the hair-raising noise stops.

You stop short, gulping in breaths, knowing all too well that things were likely to take a turn with the fortuitous distraction gone. There is no way of circumventing the eventuality that your soulmate was about to discover your fleeing. And you have no idea how far you are from reaching the gate.

You take in a slow and steady abdominal breath and close your eyes to re-centre yourself. Repeatedly counting to four as you employ box breathing. Your brain calms.

What you find upon opening your eyes sends you back the other way.

A figure. Humanoid - to a point, for there are wings sprouting from their back; the winter sun catches on the electric pink and aquamarine colouring as well as the intermittent snowflakes that have begun to fall around them. Distressingly, you are in the scope of their vision.

Or at least you would be if not for the good fortune that they are currently facing away from you. That changes quickly, doubtless caused by your once more panicky breathing.

With the lack of nearby foliage it's near certain that they will see you, bringing the risk of game over to probable odds, for you deduce that they are a dream that has been allowed back to their work.

Only one thing crosses your mind as the entity begins to turn.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

And fortuitously they do not.

Instead they look right through you. There is no interpreting it as anything else. Their expression is perplexed, gleaming eyes focused right where your nose should be, searching for a sign that their auditory sense hadn't been inventing stimuli.

You take an exploratory sidestep, praying that the illusion holds and rejoicing when the dream flies away humming a beautiful song.

As soon as they're out of sight, you're swiftly back to running all the while repeating your mantra. Don't see me. It works for the handful of other beings you pass by. It's thrilling; you begin to truly believe that you'll get out. A dangerous spark of hope to have, however the reappearance of the warm rumble in your chest makes it hard to quash.

You must be close.

The terrain changes with the river becoming a stream that curves away. You are so preoccupied with chasing it that you fail to clock an oncoming blip in the green.

In fact, it appears to be an absence of light entirely. A space shrouded by a swirling fog; a double of the void-filled box that had featured in your recent nightmare. You don't have enough time to stop yourself before you are hurtling into it.

The effects of the space are instant. Clammy skin and goosebumps and trembles; not unmanageable but nonetheless unpleasant.

Even though you cannot see past the fog, your intuition tells you that the gate is just beyond the clearing. It's not as if you have a choice anymore other than to press on. You can barely tell up from down, let alone backwards. You force your feet to take a couple of steps, trying to push the feelings away but all this achieves is provocation.

An icy breath caresses the nape of your neck. You startle, muscles engaging to get you away. Yet you cannot move.

There's little time to process this paralysed state before claw tipped fingers are stroking over the shell of you ears, velvet coated whispers crowding, delving, permeating.

"You can't leave."

"You've only just got here."

"Stay with us."

Had you been able to shriek you would have done with fervour. Alas your mind has left your body. It thrashes, desperate to regain control - you are instead forced to watch from the third person. Your ashen face, pupils gaping holes seeing too much and not enough.

The concentric rings of gravestones surround you like ominous sentinels. A statue of an angel watches on in pity. Ironic - for there is no prospect for miracles here, that you are certain of. Right in the middle of a widow's web, the nightmare has you suspended in weightlessness.

You wonder if this is for Morpheus' benefit? Does he know that you have fled? Has he put out a plea to find you? Are you being punished, or worse trapped in another prison?

Ultimately, anything was better than being confined to that room. You have been so achingly alone. At least you were able to fucking feel something here.

A hand finds purchase on your own.

"It's okay. We've got you," the echoed whispers raspingly console.

The sensation of the nightmare's cool skin, the charges of preternatural energy snaking up your limb to your most vulnerable centre; it comforts you despite the melancholia, feels good to brush up alongside your soul. Perhaps a small piece of it decides to take root. Or you let it. Maybe if you had to stay in the Dreaming you could exist here. Your soul is at peace in this darkness. You can see yourself smiling now.

But then comes a downward plummet. You are knocked from the curious reverie by a great tremor that rips through the Dreaming. The sun is blotted out and an almighty storm is unleashed.

Though dazed and reeling, you are lucid enough to know the period of grace is over. You swear you can hear the notes of his desirous temper threaded among the curls of wind that cut against your cheeks.

The draw inside you to reach the gate transforms to acute and with no time to waste and adrenaline spiking, you pick your way through the neglected gravestones, nearly slipping on the mud that the deluge so effortlessly fabricated.

The instant you see the gates up close triggers a visceral reaction. The energy coming off the stone pulsates with such intensity that you feel you might puke. It is how you imagine a nuclear reactor might feel. Volatile and incomprehensible. Capable of wiping out all matter, tangible or not.

For the second time in a few minutes you feel kinship to the power on show. It is archaic. A parallel to your soul bond. You are one and the same.

A sharp caw punctuates the storm, startling your concentration, drawing your attention up. Right to the blade-sharp beak that the ominous sound came from. An imposingly large corvid glides atop the slip streams. So large that it could only be a raven, its feathers beautifully glossy as it fixes its beady gaze right on you.

Whether due to the nightmare or the bird's call, you are no longer invisible - the bird's course correction tells you as much. Your dread is plutonium; another jolt of adrenaline somehow overcomes the weight of it.

Senses sharpened, you can hear the sound of waves lapping, smell the scent of salt. Is there an ocean past the gate? You make the final few strides towards your escape, ready to slam your hand onto the stone when...

Morpheus appears at your side.

Your soul leaps. That traitorous fragment of you that threatens to override your logic - all achieved by one look at his perfect face. You would hate yourself for it if you had the cognition; between the gate's energy and the desire to be in his arms, you are losing your rationality.

"You left," Morpheus states. He blinks slowly taking a reading of the probably unanticipated situation, head tilting, a showcase of his intrigue. "How?"

"The room let me leave," you say with as much neutrality as possible, head turning back to the immense structure before you.

He comes into your peripheral vision with startling speed, his tone just as urgent. "What do you mean by that?"

To answer him would be to delay your escape even longer. You focus instead on the green growing on the walls. Mosses, lichens. The tightly twisting ivy that mirrors the hold he has on you. You are having trouble tuning into your power with his proximity.

"Y/N." He coaxes gently, searching your drawn features with unblinking, trepidatious eyes.

It scares you that you notice this. You cannot remember making the decision to look at him. Perhaps it is the sibling of the involuntary impulse that makes you answer him.

"I asked for help in leaving and the door dissolved."

His lips part in surprise. "You manipulated the fabric of the Dreaming." He sounds impressed.

You huff sardonically, muttering, "Another side effect of the soul bond, I guess." Then reaching towards the stone gate with a flattened palm.

"What do you think you are doing?" Morpheus' question is authoritative however you can detect a note of fearfulness in the mix. It gives you courage that your journey here was not for nothing.

"I'm going to do the same with this gate as I did with the doors. I'm going home."

"I cannot allow you to do that." Morpheus moves into a wary stance, as if you have just transformed into a scorpion and he is trying to avoid your sting. "It is dangerous to wield such power when inexperienced."

Your soul burns astringently as you dismiss him. "It's been serving me well so far."

The rain lessens a fraction, a little too late for you are both soaked through. Morpheus does not seem to notice - he is unfalteringly focused on you.

"Y/N, I implore you to listen to me. There is a significant risk you would find yourself in the space between realms. Or somewhere considerably worse."

A flare of rage manifests at the ease of which he can still be so vague with his threats.

"How do I know you're not just saying that!? You told me that it was unsafe to leave that room and yet I got here without any problems."

Not entirely truthful; you purposefully neglect to tell him about the absolute terror the graveyard initially caused, the information does not serve you at present.

You take a step away from him and internally root for the power to get you through the gate. Morpheus zeroes in on your chest, clearly feeling you engage with it.

The rain turns back to torrential and his eyes darken as you hear his commanding voice inside your head. "Stop this now."

"No, you fucking stop!" You explode. "I am done listening to your lies, and I am done with your fucked up fantasy. I don't care what fate intended or what is in my soul. I am leaving you and if you have any sense at all you will leave me the fuck alone!"

Your words are so full of vitriol that it is clear that no amount of pleas can be made to sway your decision. It pushes Morpheus to sheer, instinctual desperation as he finally tries to snag your hand with his, and with the residual anger inside it's all the encouragement you need to press your outstretched one to the gate.

The energy recoil is punishing. It takes everything within you to stand your ground. Morpheus is speaking - the precise words are lost to pressure change in your ears.

Let me go home. You assert to the gate.

The stone becomes translucent and then you are falling.

--------------------------------

Without Morpheus there to steady you, your passage is far less smooth. For a moment you fear that his talk of ending up in limbo was rooted in accuracy. Yet you make it unscathed. And you're right back where it all started. The same rain washed street outside the function hall, the same flyers up by the entrance begging the question: could you have been returned on the same day that you left?

You nudge the door to see if the venue is still open. It is, so you slip inside. You reason that being around other people is the safest thing for you should you have been followed the Dreaming's king. The warmth of the central heating is tempting too for you are still saturated from the storm.

The squeak of your boots on the wooden floor draws attention. You hear a chorus of assuaged exhales, see a blur of movement.

Danisha. She's in your personal space within seconds, a justifiable mixture of fury and relief sparking in her big brown eyes. "Oh my god, where were you? I was so worried."

Your other colleagues stand nearby at the front desk, and you overhear them trying to tell the staff that everything was okay. That you weren't missing after all. What trouble you've caused.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, throat thick with guilt and tears. "Something urgent came up."

"Urgent enough to go missing for over an hour without telling anyone?"

Only an hour? It felt like a week had passed in the Dreaming. The adage that time passed differently in dreams carried some weight.

You twist the ring on your finger as you tell your half-truths. "It was an emergency. Everything happened so fast. I know how it must have looked."

"Damn right. I got the venue staff to check the CCTV outside but the memory was corrupted. I was so close to calling the police."

"What stopped you?"

She pauses, contemplating how to phrase her reply.

"I don't know. I had this weird feeling that you would come back if I stayed here..." Danisha smiles for the first time since you were reunited. "And you did, thank the universe."

You can't help but wonder if divine intervention stepped in for you both.

"I'm really sorry I worried you."

She nudges your shoulder playfully.

"Yeah, me too. I had to make that speech you promised me you'd give."

Your mouth drops open. "We won?"

"Hell yes we did," She says feistily. "And thank fuck you left your shout-out list on the table 'cause I'd have been absolutely screwed without it."

Your chest swells with pride. "I'm so proud of you, D."

Her nose crinkles endearingly.

"Don't pass judgement just yet. I'm fairly certain that Tomas recorded it, the little shit." She turns around and shoots your colleague a joking death glare. Tomas clutches his chest in mock pain and all three of you laugh.

"We're still going to The Bridge like we planned?"

Danisha hands your bag and phone over. "Yeah. You need a drink?

You laugh dryly. "You have no idea."

----------------------------------

Danisha refrains from asking more questions about your AWOL moment as you traverse the damp streets to your team's favourite bar - a fact that you are infinitely grateful for because it would be much more challenging to disguise your unease.

Naturally, you are relieved to be back in familiarity with your beloved friends but every movement out the corner of your eye or snippet of conversation in a deep voice is a jump scare.

How could it not be? Morpheus made his disposition clear; he wants full possession of you, which is why it is surprising that he has not followed you thus far. Not that it would serve him well; you would scream bloody murder if he came near you.

The feeling of shedding your sodden coat when inside the warm bar is luxurious, as is the first sip of the espresso martini you ordered - chosen for its sleep repelling caffeine content.

Friday night means the establishment is packed and the hours slip by in relative delight. Full of celebration and throwing caution to the wind.

The award is passed around with the realisation that you'll need to get a bigger shelf installed in the office. You crowd round Tomas' phone to watch the video of Danisha's speech, which is promptly deleted after she wrestles it out of his hand, claiming that: 'no one else ever needs to be subjected to her sweaty face'. The whole tussle had been immensely comical and you laughed so much that your stomach went into spasm.

With happy tears in your eyes, you get the attention of the middle-aged bartender and order yourself another drink. There's a group of students to the right of you, living it up with the exuberance of those who are still too young to know the meaning of debilitating hangovers.

One of them begins to fake whispers excitedly. "Don't look now but a 'sunglasses indoors' just walked in the door. And they're seriously hot."

The whole group look in unison and you are ashamed to admit that you do the same - not because you want to gauge their attractiveness for yourself but rather to check if they were famous. Who else would wear sunglasses inside at night?

The instant you spot him, you notice a disconcerting tightness settle in your chest.

You feel like you know him.

And from the beaming smile he is directing towards you, it seems like he feels the same way.

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"Cause they watch us in sleep. And the language that we speak. And the secrets that we keep to ourselves in our dreams, in our dreams."

“Will you be back?” In all honesty, each time Morpheus spoke those words, it worried the chief librarian very much. She was afraid the Burgess events would happen again. However, she was sure that Morpheus would not allow that to ever happen to him again.

Morpheus, too deep in thought to realise that Lucienne had attempted to catch his attention. She cleared her throat and finally, his eyes flickered in her direction and just as he did, he felt a hard squeeze to his heart. A low grunt escaped his lips, hand gripping the armrest of his throne. Only when the pain subsided did he release his iron grip.

“My Lord? Are you alright?” Lucienne enquired, concern on her face. Morpheus only grunted in response, standing from his throne.

“I will be away. I leave the realm in your care,” He instructed, descending from the stairs.

“I will be,” He murmured, leaving his realm.

Lucienne let out a soft sigh, watching as her King left. She knew his predicament all too well. It got worse after news travelled to The Dreaming that Destiny too had found his soulmate, a woman who shared a similar personality with him.

This sent Morpheus into a fit of silent rage. All of his siblings had finally met their significant other and he has not? Did he not travel to the Waking world enough? Were his sinful acts over the long aeons insufficient? Those unfortunate humans who had the displeasure of experiencing his rage were either dead, overwhelmed greatly from their nightmares or died from their madness. A dark part of Morpheus found joy in their suffering. After all, it was a way to ease his anger. Lucienne absolutely despised when he spiralled so low, doing everything in her power to calm her King down. So far, she had been successful and she could only hope that her King’s path finally crossed with his soulmate.

The sun was cool against Morpheus’s skin as he sat back on the park bench. A soft mewl averted his attention to his foot, a little, black and white feline brushed her little head against his ankle. Morpheus leaned over, picking up the mewling kitten as it shook slightly in his hand.

“Hungry?” He asked quietly, conjuring a can of wet food for the feline. She mewled loudly, pawing on the King’s lap as he opened the can. She stood on her hind legs, paws supporting herself on his arm as she mewled again and again. A tiny smile curled on the corner of Morpheus’s lips, guiding the kitten to the empty space beside him and set the can down. She didn’t hesitate to stuff her little mouth with as much wet food as she could.

Morpheus turned back to the view before him. Children giggling, chasing one another around the playground. Mothers chatting with other mothers, updating one another about their daily gossip. Joggers passing by, going about their day. Dogs barking, tail wagging excitedly as they initiated ‘play time’ with their owners. The Waking world may seem perfect but to Morpheus, it had flaws. Way too many flaws. A perfect example was his soulmate.

Then, his mind drifted. Morpheus could only imagine what his soulmate would be like. A female? A male? He didn’t mind either. What was their personality like? What colour was their hair? How tall were they? What was their name? Morpheus imagined himself, arms tight around his soulmate as he nuzzled into their hair, taking in deep breaths of the scent of their lovely shampoo. He imagined his hands caressing his soulmate, studying every inch of their skin, marking them as his. The possibilities itself were endless and yet, where was his soulmate? As much as he wanted to seek the help of his siblings, but he was not like that. They have their own matters to attend to.

Morpheus allowed his mind to continue drifting as long as they could, until he felt a sharp pain in his heart again. The pain was getting more and more frequent over the aeons but never this closely timed as today. His hand grabbed the front of his shirt, jaw tight and teeth grinding as he hunched over in pain. The pain was a stabbing pain, a tearing pain, a pain only he could bear. His other hand gripped the wood panel of the bench, cracking it under his grip. A harsher stab struck his heart and Morpheus hunched further. The loud cracking scared the little feline away.

For once, Morpheus thought he was going to die.

That was until he felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly, the pain disappeared, as if it was not tormenting him just mere seconds ago.

“Hey, are you alright?” A soft voice asked, a little shaky, Morpheus admitted. The grip on his shirt and the bench eased up as he slowly lifted his head. As he did, he allowed his eyes to trail up to their arm and that’s when he saw it.

Two blank ovals and a bony trunk, peeking under the three-quarter sleeve just enough for him to see. Morpheus’s head snapped up quickly, eyes meeting with a pair of brown so dark, he was lost in it. They held everything beautiful, like a universe swirling among the pool of chocolate. Morpheus was deep in it very quickly but the hand shook him again and his trance faded.

[Name] pursed her lips, worry clouded her gorgeous face.

“Are you okay?” She repeated, his voice sweet in his ears. His throat bobbed, inhaling deeply.

“I am alright,” Morpheus replied lowly. As her hand moved from his shoulder, he frowned. He found himself craving more. The feeling of want overpowered the pain he felt for aeons.

He felt an insatiable hunger and excessive thirst for his soulmate. He wanted more..

More

More

MORE

“Hey, babe!” Another voice called out. A man, jogged over to where his soulmate was.

“You alright?” He looked between [Name] and Morpheus, confusion clear on his face.

“Um, yeah! Yeah, everything is alright,” She smiled sweetly. The man leaned in, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Come on, let’s go,” He took her hand and led her away from him.

By now, Morpheus could only watch silently as his soulmate ran from him. A small spark. A small spark was enough to create a raging flame and that was exactly how Morpheus felt. He stood up, watching [Name] until he was out of her view. He needed to go back to his palace, find out every information he could about his soulmate. She was not going to get away from him that easily. He didn’t care if she was involved in a relationship with another man who was not her true love. He would get rid of him if he had to get himself in the picture.

Nothing gets away from Morpheus..especially not his soulmate.

Lucienne’s worry grew even more for her King as he had locked himself in his personal study within the library’s premises. He had requested books after books about his soulmate, digging deeply into whatever he could find. He didn’t rest. Not even once, ever since he came back from that particular day. She was glad that her King had finally found his soulmate but he had devoted himself to her. Even though he was still attending to his duties, he rarely spoke outside during whatever little free time he had. Day and night he spent in his personal study. Lucienne could only watch. After all, she was in no position to stop her King from every irrational act he has done or will do.

His time in isolation had been fruitful. He learnt many things about his soulmate such as her name, her address and her whole life. It brought a smile to Morpheus’s lips, his heart feeling lighter than ever. His thin fingers brushed over the neatly written address. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, he was going to pay his soulmate a little visit in her dreams.

[Name]’s fingers brushed against the tips of the high grass, wind blowing gracefully against them. Before her, stood a tall apple tree where she bore such red apples, it rivalled rubies. A sad sigh left her lips as she stopped before its trunk. Her fingers now brushed against the trunk, the mark she wore on her forearm. She raised a forefinger, tracing the odd mark. What did it represent? Where was her real soulmate? The pain she felt in her heart was growing by the years and she wanted the pain to finally go away. Kevin was a good boyfriend and his soulmate would be so lucky to have him, she noted. Then, [Name]’s mind drifted to the man she saw at the park. Even in her dreams, she thought about him. Before she approached the man, she felt an ache in her chest and just before the pain could strike her, it disappeared as she approached the man in pain.

That should have been the first sign

That should have been the first sign [Name] should have realised but she was too deep in her own sorrow to realise the possibility that her soulmate is out there.

Then, [Name]’s eyes focused on a black, shadowy figure in the distance behind the apple tree. The figure stood out like a sore thumb as the sun shone brightly behind him.

“Hello?!” She called out loudly but received no reply. It looked vaguely like the man in the park but she simply brushed the thought off.

Soon, all of her dreams melted away. Time to snap back to reality

Nowadays, [Name] kept on having these weird dreams where this black, shadowy figure was always following her. Every turn, there it was. Every dream, no matter how different it was, there it was. Her heart would race as she tried to outrun or hide from the figure but her actions were useless. What was haunting her? Were they nightmares? Everynight, she had to have Kevin with her, consoling her and reminding her that they were only dreams.

Yet, why did they seem so real?

Her nightmares seemed to affect her in the waking world too. Once, she had just gotten off work at the office. The route back home was fairly simple because she lived a few blocks away from the office. Usually, it was very safe. However, it didn’t seem to anymore especially after the first dream about the black shadowy figure. [Name] rushed back home, constantly looking over her shoulders with her handbag clutched so tightly and closely to her chest. She finally got home safe, telling Kevin all about her experience.

The next few days felt the same, until the next day where a thief had snatched her bag off her shoulders.

“Hey!” She called out, chasing after the thief down the streets. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest as she followed the thief through turns and finally, a dark alley. Coincidentally, the light was busted so she couldn’t see the thief at all.

[Name] swallowed, peering closely into the darkness.

The thief screamed, slammed down on the floor. The bag slid to her foot as she looked at the thief and for the first time in her life, she saw real, genuine fear. The thief screamed as he was pulled back by..by something. [Name] jumped in shock, shakily picking her bag up as, through the darkness, she saw a pair of eyes..? The pair of eyes mixed so well with the darkness but there were two prominent reflective dots that stared directly at her.

She swallowed, taking a step back with the bag pressed close to her chest.

“T-Thank you,” Her voice quivered and Morpheus felt shivers from it.

Even her fear was beautiful.

“Go,” He instructed deeply and watched as his love scurried away. Morpheus gripped the thief’s hair, forcing the human to look at him. The blood trickling down his face was a sight indeed.

“You messed with what’s mine. Your punishment can only be death,”

Only the thief’s screams were the last thing heard by those unwilling.

If [Name] thought her life couldn’t get any worse, boy, was she in for a ride. Night with Kevin has..lessen. He complained of having nightmares worse than those horror movies and they differ. Some involved in total darkness, others involved in his own death; all brutal and gruesome that even he couldn’t even explain further. [Name] would sob as she watched Kevin spiralled further and further, unable to sleep and constantly drinking himself to death. Her heart was cracked and it broke when Kevin had left her. Packed his clothes and whatever belongings he had and left without even saying a word to her.

She had tried to contact him several times but he had blocked her everywhere. So, she cried and cried and Morpheus only watched with a smirk and a gleam in his eyes, Lucienne knew enough that her King was in such a bright mood due to soulmate. The Dreaming mirrored the effect of his happiness. Though it was a good thing, it came with a cost. Lucienne could only sit back and watch as the story unfolded itself.

[Name], with tired and puffy eyes and aching muscles, dragged herself to bed. She sniffled, tugging the duvet open to crawl under it. She couldn’t let her tears out anymore. No point crying over something that was done, right?

Her eyes fluttered close..

The floorboard creaked and they flew open. Morpheus stood before her, a sick smile on his lips as he pressed a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t scream,” He instructed, slowly lifting his hand. She wanted to but nothing came out. The only way she could convey her emotions was through those eyes Morpheus loved so, so much.

“It represents me. I knew you were mine when we met at the park. When you helped me ease the irritating pain in my heart,” He continued, trailing his lips up her arm. [Name] whimpered, shuddering under her breath as tears pooled in the corner of her eyes.

His cold fingers traced her forearm, over the soulmate mark she wore.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? This mark?” Morpheus began, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed. He brought [Name]’s arm up to his lips, caressing the mark with his lips.

“Remember the dreams of the black shadowy figure? Oh, how he enjoyed watching you from afar, admiring his soulmate from far. Even in the Waking world, he was watching. Every move you made, he watched and watched. Simply waiting for the perfect time to strike,” Morpheus’s words were like poison to listen to yet they carried so much honey.

It was very calming.

Morpheus pulled away, rolling the sleeve of his coat up to show his own mark.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you, my queen? I am your soulmate. I am Dream Of The Endless, your soulmate. Do you know the effort I had to put in to get rid of that man who bed with you?” Morpheus now wore a dark expression on his face, refusing to speak his name because it disgusted him greatly. [Name] whimpered louder, tears falling this time as she realised that this was his work.

This..This monster’s work.

“I will kill everything and everyone you ever loved,” Morpheus whispered to her ear. Sand engulfed the two, transporting them to his palace.

Morpheus caught a tear, bringing it up to his tongue for a taste.

“Perfect..You are perfect for me. You are perfect for me. I will love you so much. I will give you everything you could ever dream of. In time, you will learn to love and accept me, my love, because if you don’t…,” He stood, arms moving under [Name]’s knees and shoulder. He picked her up with ease and all she did was bury her face in his face and sobbed.

[Name] knew that was a promise.

She knew better than to go against it.

'Where are they, Lucienne.' Asked Morpheus, knowing already that they where not in the dream realm.

'They left, my lord, just some decades after you.'

'Mere decades where enough?' Morpheus was as irritated as he has ever been. 'And you didn't stop them?!'

'I tried, sir, but without you there were so many responsibilities and... y/n took advantage of this and left without anyone notice.'

'Has anyone looked for them'

'I would've sent them, but there's no one left...' Morpheus turned around, thinking of where could they be. 'But, lord Morpheus, if I may insist. I may have an idea on how to find them. You know that they love big monuments, they can't be very afar of any big city, that makes our search easier.'

'Yes... of course...' Morpheus looked at his hand with anger at his lost power. 'But I can't do this just now...'

*

Now with his powers back, he didn't have anything in mind more than y/n. He almost felt guilty: some died, and some others were sent to an endless nightmare that would last as long as he would, just because they got in his way. But finally, he was able to go in search of his lover.

No one has seen him like this before. Yes, they knew how much Morpheus loved Y/n, but this... this sure was another level of madness.

Through his journey, the thing that the King of Dreams cared most was not his realm, but he showed the most deep obsession towards Y/n, in Matthew's words, "He cares for no one or anyone but Y/n and his realm but... he's merciless, it's... scary, more than anything has frighten me. When I told him maybe Y/n wanted to be alone for a while, it costed me every word I could ever say to get out of trouble."

And Y/n got sloppy, and eventually -less than two days-, they fell asleep. Morpheus looked from afar. Just when Y/n noticed they were in a dream, they tried everything to wake up, and when they did, they couldn't believe it: they weren't alone, even if with the pass of time all of their family should be dead, he found another, and another... And he showed an expression Morpheus hasn't seen in a while: pure, utter happiness. Why didn't they look at him that way, what did he do wrong?

Y/n was... happy, and they didn't need a whole kingdom for them, but what the hell did they want then? Morpheus didn't take long to come to Y/n, just when they were alone, they felt an unsettling presence. First, a crow, and they knew they were in trouble.

'Y/n...'

'Morpheus...' In y/n's eyes were not relief, where not happiness of seeing his lover, that was fear. Morpheus knew then something was wrong. They where not to fear him, he would give everything for Y/n, and would do everything for them. 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left.'

'No, Y/n, just...' and hope, Y/n looked at Morpheus with hope of not being punished. With a broken heart, the king of dreams got on his knees and took Y/n's hands. 'what did you fear so much about me? Did you not love me as much as I do, that when I come after a century of imprisonment I found you gone, and not the gentle arms of my lover to welcome me? What didn't I give you that the humans did?'

'I wanted to see.' Y/n hugged Morpheus to his surprise. 'I'm so sorry, I'll go with you.'

But Y/n was not relieved or happy; they were trembling in fear, fear they Morpheus would hurt the family that treated them so kindly. Morpheus couldn't feel any more broken. Do they really see him as a ruthless monster? What did he do so wrong that his lover fears him so much?

'You are afraid... why?'

'You know I don't want to lie to you...'

'Then don't. I just... I want your happiness more than mine, you know that.'

'Just... don't hurt them...'

'Who? The humans that treated you as a same, that cared for you?' Y/n just nodded lightly, not knowing what to expect of kind words. 'Oh I won't, my love. I just...' His embrace was now angry, but not at them. 'Why did you leave me? Why? Am I so little to you? Do you not truly love me?'

'I do, Morpheus. I didn't have any lovers while you were gone, even if I wanted to be caressed, if I wanted to hear those "I love you" or had someone care for me. I didn't want anyone, but you. I wanted to see how they live, how they are happier the more difficult their life is, to know why they don't just end their suffering and choose to live... I knew that while you were here I wouldn't be able to come here, because you said it was dangerous.'

'Oh my Y/n please, what did I ever do to you? Am I so hateful to you? Do you fear me so much and think I care so little that I wouldn't give everything for your love? That if you were to live among humans, I wouldn't rather follow you to secure your safety that to imprison you as I have lived?' Y/n stayed silent. 'Do you... feel I imprisoned you?'

'I felt I didn't have freedom, because if something was dangerous, you wouldn't let me be close, and to you everything was dangerous.'

'We will do something, alright, love?' Morpheus stood up and looked at Y/n's eyes. 'You can stay here for as long as you want, with your family, happy. But I will be watching your every move, I will know everything, you will never be alone... and whenever you want, just say my name, and I'll be there. Your family will be safe, you'll have your freedom, and you will eventually know I do not deserve your fear.'

'You will be so kind?'

'Of course, with and for you, always. I just want something in return.'

'And what is this?'

'To stay a little longer by your side right now. I haven't felt your touch for a century, I might need another century just to enjoy your warmth.'

*

What Y/n didn't know, is that he would notice every look anyone did at them, and he couldn't stand how some looked at them not with kindness, as they deserved, but with either lust or annoyance. Every single one of those ants would meet some of their worst nightmares until not only they stopped, but they went away for good and had fear of going to sleep. And every night, Morpheus and y/n would meet, with their love growing stronger, because even if Morpheus couldn't love any more Y/n, they now where not afraid, they trusted Morpheus... they trusted Morpheus just enough to not see that having no privacy meant no freedom, and that anyone that tried to warn them would eventually go missing or would take back their words.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You open your eyes to a million galaxies cradled in ocean blue.

The eyes of your creator, so soft, so benevolent, so full of affection. Slowly, your lips widen to match his tender smile as his hands gently cup your cheeks, so warm you could melt in them. He dips his head closer to yours as if his eyes could see nothing else before him. You could feel heat spread across your cheeks as he caresses your lips with his touch - he hums, as if in approval of your reaction.

“My little dream, you’re beautiful. You’re perfect,” with his lips barely moving, he whispers in a deep, velvety, hypnotic voice. 

“The entire realm pales in comparison to your radiance.”

Speechless at his praise, you watch as he pulls away, instantly depriving you of his warmth, his expression never changing.

“I am Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm.”

“My Lord,” you speak for the first time, in awe of your master’s beauty, wanting nothing but to venerate him for giving you life.

“My Mera, tell me,” your King says, a look of concern marring his ethereal features. “What do you last remember?”

You furrow your brows in concentration, but your thoughts land on mere snippets - glimpses of what seems like a former life, now long-forgotten; lines of tall, wooden shelves filled with books as far as your eyes could see, bodies drawn together, flushed in a fevered embrace, soft lips searching yours with hunger…

And you eventually giving in and kissing him back just as passionately.

The picture is suddenly crystal clear. You blush at the vivid image of you and your creator in each other’s arms, so you speak bashfully, “We kissed…in the library…”

Worried you might be wrong and upset him, you peer into his eyes in search of a sign that you have displeased him, but there was none - his eyes, sparkling with all the stars they hold, are full of nothing but adoration.

“My Lord, were we lovers?”

Your innocent question brings a shine to his eyes you could not read. He gathers your cheeks in his palm once more and brings your forehead close to his.

“We are.”

Your mind runs through the memory - the only memory you seem to have - in search of clues about your supposed relationship. You would never show it, but it frustrated you a little to have no recall of his love, especially when it seemed to run deep and with utter devotion.

“We loved each other, didn’t we?”

He closes his eyes and hums in satisfaction.

“You vowed to devote yourself wholly, only unto me, for eternity.”

He is gentle when his lips descend on yours as if wanting you to make true to your promise. Tentatively, you return his kiss and wrap your arms around his neck - he is your King, your creator and lover, and you trust him with your life, so you stay in his tight embrace until all that you know is his love, burning and all-consuming.

At the back of your mind is something telling you it isn’t right, but you pay it no mind: what wrong could there be, when your creator is by your side, ready to take your troubles away?  

***

You were more than eager to begin your duties, crafting inspiring dreams in your master’s name, but he himself was adamant that you stayed in the confines of his palace where he could always reach you. Even though you were temporarily taken out of commission, you took his orders to heart: the accident which robbed you of your former self was still fresh in his mind, so for you, it was clear that his actions meant he was trying to keep you from further harm.

But it also frustrated you a little - if you could just remember what had happened to you and why it happened, maybe you could help prevent it from ever happening again. You decide to tell him this one day in his throne room, where you find him sitting on the bottom of the winding stairs to his royal seat. Your king greets you with a small, warm smile - a rarity, you discovered, but which he gives you freely - and closes the book he had opened on his lap. Curtsying just as you get close, you open up to him about recovering your memories, to which his expression goes sombre before beckoning you closer.

“My dream, it is possible that your memories may never come back.”

As soon as you’re within his reach, he snakes an arm around your midriff and strokes your cheeks with another. You could tell how deeply saddened he was about you forgetting many things. There were, after all, memories he shared with you.

“Why is that, Lord Morpheus?” you ask, not at all comforted by soft gestures. “What happened to me?”

He tilts down your chin so you could look only at him. “It was a loss I almost could not bear,” he reveals while he traces your lips with his eyes and toys with your hair. “You met a terrible accident, my Mera. I wish for you to be spared the details.”

You run your fingers idly through his hair, fascinated by how soft it is. “And you saved me, my Lord?”

“I did.”

You let out a tiny yelp just as he pulls you to his lap and cradles you in his cloak. “I thought I was too late, but you held steadfast. I will not allow such a terrible fate upon you again, you have my word.”

***

He calls upon you to his chambers one night. You had an inkling what for when Morwyn gave you the word, and perhaps you had been expecting it; he’s allowed you privacy in your own chambers for months since the day he gave you life anew, but you were aware he has needs that have to be fulfilled.

Knowing that, however, does not make it any less nerve-wracking.

You decide to enter your King’s quarters early in the night. Thankfully, you find it empty of his presence, so you spend the next moments alone, circling the wide expanse of his room, getting increasingly anxious as you watch the night sky from his window turn from orange to purple, to midnight blue and littered with the glittering stars of your master’s creation.

You’re admiring a particular marble sculpture in a corner of his room when you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand, and arms pulling you tight and pressing your back tightly against a warm, rumbling chest.

Gasping audibly at the pair of lips nipping at your earlobe, you whisper, “Lord Morpheus, you gave me quite a fright!”

“My apologies, little dream,” he says with a seemingly pleased hum. “I have missed you terribly.”

He spins you around and instantly places his mouth on yours in a heated kiss that makes your knees weak, so you hold on to his shoulders, while one of his hands grasps the back of your neck, the other you could feel stroking your back and fondling your dress ties. With his lips tracing yours and his tongue making yours dance with his, he takes your breath away.

Which is why even you don’t understand why you break it off so suddenly.

Is he going to be mad? You ask yourself. 

“I’m sorry my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” you whisper apologetically against his cloaked chest, wrapping your arms around him in a hug and hoping you could placate him. You could feel your heartbeat soar through the roof and you could swear he could feel it too.

“There is nothing to apologise for, my dream,” he replies, rubbing your back in an effort to soothe you. He places a lingering kiss on your temple while his finger traces circles on your shoulder. Releasing a low, rumbling hum, he nuzzles your neck as he pulls you ever closer to his body, taking in your scent, an act that leaves goosebumps all over your arms.

“Lord Morpheus, were we…intimate in my previous form?”

Your innocent question does not seem to faze your creator.

“We were passionately in love, my Mera. We indulged in the pleasures of the flesh night after night.”

As if to prove his point, his lips travel down from your neck to your shoulders, peppering your skin with soft kisses and hot licks, all of which leave you panting in his hold and a feeling of wetness gathering between your thighs as you rub them together.

But, once again, no matter how good he was making you feel, you still find yourself pulling away from him. Breathless, you back away into a wall, thinking you’ve angered him this time, but you brave a look at him, only to see him look forlorn as he slowly approaches you.

“It wasn’t just you who I mourned for that day.” Stopping just a few feet from you, he reveals, “You were with our child in your previous form when you…when you passed.”

You clasp your hand over your mouth at the only information he reveals about your passing. His eyes, dulling at the pain of such an enormous loss, are glazed with tears unshed for your unborn child, and it was all because of you.

“I didn’t know.” You muster the courage to close the distance between you and place a trembling palm on his cheek. Welcoming your touch, he leans onto it, clasping it with his own and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. His grief was all your fault, and you couldn’t even remember. With tears cascading your cheeks, you say, “I’m sorry, I’m terribly sorry, Lord Morpheus. I should’ve taken better care of us…”

“That was not your doing, my dream,” he responds with the gentleness you know you don’t deserve. He kisses your forehead, then your cheeks, still wet with tears, which he wills away. He then captures your lips with his in a slow, searing kiss, and this time, you kiss him back without reservations, hoping you could share even just a tiny amount of the pain he bears.

It isn’t long before the kiss becomes more passionate, his lips more insistent and his tongue swirling around yours insistently. He suckles your bottom lip before he grows bolder - his lips make their way to your jawline, then to your neck, where he licks and nips at your skin. He seems to be spurred on by how your chest starts heaving up and down, for he starts biting the strap of your dress and lowering it to your arms, exposing more of the flesh he seems adamant about marking. Licking his way back up, his lips brushing over your ears, he whispers in a tone laced with hunger:

“There is no one else I desire, my Mera, no one, across all realms and dimensions. Just you.”

He bites your earlobe just as you feel his hands undo the ribbon at the back of your dress. For some reason, the anxiousness you felt before comes back, making you close your eyes and whimper, just as he pulls away to take your mouth in his.

You bite your lower lips as you hear a tiny, disapproving growl from the back of his throat.

“Why do you reject my touch?” he whispers against your temple. “Losing you was painful enough, so why do you spurn me and hurt me still? Do you not love me, my Mera?”

Sniffling and choking back your tears, you respond, “I do, Morpheus. I love you.”

“Then, grant me this.”

Your actions cost him his child. It’s the least you could do.

With your lips trembling, you give him a small nod. “Take comfort in me, my King: do with me as you wish.”

Ignoring the way your skin crawled at your words, you let your King take you in his arms and carry you to his bed, with your dress barely clinging to your form. With all the gentleness he possesses, he lowers you on the silken sheets, and with a single move, removes all your clothing, just as his own disappear in a wink - all while not breaking eye contact with you for even a single moment.

He takes a while to appreciate the sight you offer: you, bare underneath him, bashfully peering into his face. His eyes, laden with barely contained lust, roam your form freely while you squirm at the attention.

You love him, you tell yourself. You’re doing this for him.

After a long, agonising minute, he descends on you at last, his sculpted chest hovering over you almost threateningly as his mouth finds yours, and his hands rake every inch of your skin he could reach. You lie back down and take all of it - his mouth licking and nipping your jaw, your neck, and your collarbones, his hands groping and squeezing your breasts, his knee parting your thighs so he could nestle between them - you take them all.

You love him.

You let out an involuntary moan as his hot mouth finds its way to your nipple. Biting down and suckling, his other hand pinches your other nipple while your back arches further to welcome his touches. With your breathing turning shallow, your hips squirm underneath him, intent on finding more of the friction he provides.

Chuckling darkly, he pulls away, only for a brief moment, to chide you:

“Patience, my little dream. I shall have you soon. For now, I thirst for something only you could quench.”

From your stomach, he licks his way down to his goal: that increasingly throbbing mound between your legs.

You watch him as he teases you further by planting butterfly kisses on your inner thighs, then surprising you by biting down the flesh and leaving bruising marks on your flesh. When he reaches your pulsating flesh, already wet even before he laid you down, you let out an embarrassingly loud, high-pitched moan, unable to help yourself. With that devious tongue of his, he parts your folds at an achingly slow pace, flicking your clit with it as he does. He repeats the action over and over, before delving further down, licking your entrance and lapping up everything you offer. You could do nothing but cling onto the pillow on your head as you close your eyes, mewling at his ministrations.

But he squeezes your thighs in a warning.

“Eyes. On. Me.” he enunciates every word of his command.

Jerking them open, you maintain eye contact with your King just as he sucks your clit - it’s all you could do to come undone within minutes as he holds your hips down and gorges on the feast that is your elixir. Immediately, you’re thrown into a world of pleasure your current body has yet to be familiar with, and you’re left weak and panting, and somehow yearning for so much more.

“Your sweet nectar will be my undoing. I crave more of you, my Mera. I must have you now.”

You’re broken from your lustful reverie once he looms over your body. As he parts your thighs further apart and nestles his hips between them, a trepidation awakens in you, and your hands, of their own volition, claw at his chest, and tears you don’t know the source of come bursting forth. You glimpse a flash of onyx in your Lord’s eyes of what looks like fury just before he takes your wrists and pins them to your sides, amplifying your bizarre fear. You tilt your head to the side, weeping and apologising profusely, dreading punishment from him. His lips descend to your exposed ear, shushing you gently.

“Shh, little dream. You have nothing to fear from me.”

You give a small nod as the anxiety you felt dissipates as soon as it came. You swallow a lump in your throat - you could feel his hips shift slightly, his hard member pushing against your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, while your creator releases your wrists and lovingly wipes your tears away. “Will it hurt, my Lord?”

He takes your question as a sign, so he starts aligning his cock over your entrance, untouched in this body, all while he cups your cheek as if trying to be a source of your comfort.

“Fear not our joining, my dream. We are fated, and so is this.”

As you lay within his hold, already resigned to your fate, you feel something large and hot and pulsating invade your body, tearing through your flesh and making you cry out in pain. Your King shushes you, this time peppering your tear-stained face and neck with soft kisses; he pushes himself further inside your protesting body, groaning above you in pleasure while you sob profusely at his intrusion.

You love him. This is all for him.

“Relax for me, dream of mine,” he whispers hotly against your skin, then proceeds to leave open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone and breasts. 

You try to relieve yourself of the tension, but it’s impossible, especially as he shoves his entire length inside you, stretching your walls more than you could ever imagine. He pulls his head away to look into your face, and you focus on his eyes, brimming with lust he could no longer contain. Still whimpering and breathing shallowly, you feel him withdraw his cock almost entirely before pushing it back in with slightly more force and speed. Tears continue to spill from your eyes at the unfamiliar friction, but you take it all, you take it all for him. He repeats his actions, settling for a pace that eventually allows you to adjust to his size. Moaning and making strangled noises at the back of your throat, your thoughts of wriggling away from underneath him die down as he grabs your waist and starts bringing you to his hips to meet his thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to mount in your body and you arch your back, your muscles now clenching and unclenching his cock uncontrollably, eager for more. Your hips, now meeting your King’s thrusts, melts in his hold, so when he picks up a pace at a slightly different angle that makes you see stars, you all but welcome the endless amount of pleasure he’s giving with heavy moans that echo his chambers.

You love him.

The eyes that refuse to leave yours darken, glistening with unbridled carnal longing, and with a bruising grip on your hips, he begins an uninhibited pace.

“You are perfect, my Mera,” he praises. “You’re mine. Mine.”

You try to bite down the embarrassing sounds coming from your mouth, but this earns you a displeased look from your King; he draws his body even closer as he wraps your legs around him, the angle making you scream into the night while his unforgiving pace brings an intense heat in your abdomen. It isn’t long before the heat explodes, and immediately, you fall - you come with your creator’s name on your lips, a screaming, sweaty, writhing mess, while his hands anchor your hips, unceasing and growing increasingly erratic with his thrusts to seek his own. Amplifying your orgasm, he, too, comes undone with a loud groan that shakes his castle. An almost overwhelming warmth floods your core, making you moan incoherently, and as he pumps more of it inside you, he whispers your name over and over in utter ecstasy. He waits for your breathing to even out, pulling your foreheads close and cupping your face before his mouth descends on yours and rolls his tongue languidly on yours, kissing you with so much adoration you couldn’t help but moan in satisfaction and run your fingers through his messy locks.

As with everything, your high fades, replaced with an indescribable, dull ache between your legs, where his cock is still buried. You break away from the kiss, releasing a tiny whine from the back of your throat. Perhaps recognizing the pain you’re in, your master pulls out of you completely. You roll over your stomach to find some sort of relief, and as your inner thighs brush together, you could feel some of his sticky substance spill out, coating them with the evidence of your union.

Your Dream Lord does not lie down beside you like you expect him to - instead, you could feel his lips caressing your shoulders, biting down on the skin you could feel it sting. He continues doing this all across your back, while you could feel him press up on your backside, his once-again hard cock probing your entrance. Your whimpers of protest are all but ignored, and in a swift motion, he sheathes his entire length inside your still-aching walls, which earns a soft squeal from you. He kisses his way from your back to your ear, purring wantonly:

“You took me so well, dream of mine. You will take one more for your King.”

You could only nod, helpless, when he grabs ahold of your waist, bringing your hips to his as he starts pounding relentlessly, parting your cheeks so he could get further access. Grabbing the pillow and squeezing with your might so you could take it, you remind yourself that you’re doing this for your creator, the King who fathered the child you lost, the being you pledged your life, your heart and your soul to. You love him.

Right?

***

“Dream, if I ever hear her soul call out for me in any way, I will snatch her away from you without warning, I will take her soul where even you can’t go, and you’ll never find her again!”

Dream of the Endless recalls his sister’s threat in the cave of the Great Void with an inward flinch. She was kind enough to allow him to keep your soul (it is his right, after all, and he didn’t need her permission), but he is aware he is treading on thin ice, now that his sister is forever going to keep an eye on his affairs. He had made a vow to her to give you a choice in your resurrected form: one between him and the other, to remain only as his dream, free of his pursuit and his love. He had made true to his words, of course.

Conveniently, he had glossed over the part about modifying your memories - just a little, just enough so he could gently push you into choosing him.

Even more aware is he of the fragile state of your soul - as disturbed as he was when he saw your bright light flicker and dim, he knows it would prove useful to him. Apparently, your soul had been using its energy and manifesting itself as a voice, calling out to his sisters for help. He had no prior knowledge of this until Death had inadvertently revealed this important little tidbit - was this why even your past forms have been resistant to him? How long had your soul been rebelling and turning your mind against him?

But, none of that mattered now - your soul is all but close to being diminished - it would no longer bother you nor him. He had been seeing remnants here and there of your defiance, causing you to pull away from him several times on your first night with him in this current body. He could see how it brought you so much distress, not knowing why you were doing it, you had been so regretful of those actions you could not control, so he is patient - he could be, for you - he will continue to push that disobedience in you aside until it baulks. It will only be a matter of time, he surmises.

Even more vexing to him was the manner with which his siblings had obtruded with matters they should not have. His little sister, Delirium, who had confessed to helping you by leading you to that mortal you had claimed to love, and then, his sister Death, who had attempted to wrench your soul from his grasp: why had the two of them become so invested in his affairs, when his other, normally-meddlesome sibling had gone unusually silent since the events related to the Vortex?

This is the reason why he isn’t much surprised when the sibling in question requests his audience for the first time in centuries.

“Dream, dear brother, I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil. Can I come in?” comes his sibling’s smooth, echoing in his throne room. “Pretty please?”

Morpheus feels his eyes narrow at his sibling’s request. What could they possibly want at this time?

“Desire,” he mutters. He exhales audibly as he closes the book he was reading only a few moments ago, emitting a small cloud of dust from its pages. He’s lost interest in the book.

“You may enter.”

Drumming his fingers on his throne’s armrest, he watches his sibling’s lithe form manifest at the foot of the stairs leading up to his throne, wearing a sleek, double-breasted suit.

“Hello Dream,” they greet, a wide, toothy smile adorning their cat-like features.

Morpheus does not feel like returning the smile. Sand rises from the ground to form an ornate, high-backed velvet seat for his sibling, which they gracefully plop onto. “To what do I owe this visit, sibling?”

“Oh, I was just checking up on you - worried, actually,” Desire says with a bat of their eyelashes, crossing their legs and leaning back on the velvet chair. “Tell me, how's your ongoing project? Have you perfected her yet?”

Dream feels his eye twitch in slight annoyance. “My current undertakings are my business, my little sibling.” None of your business.

Humming thoughtfully, his sibling places a well-manicured nail on their lips. “I'm just surprised how, even after you've recreated her over and over for the past millennium, you can't seem to make her...bend to your will. Pun most definitely intended.” 

Desire laughs, throwing their head back in their mirth. “Truth always seems to have a way of worming its way to her.” They sling their knees over the armrest and lay their head back on the other, continuing, “I remember her visit to my Threshold about.. four centuries ago, I suppose. She was the seventh, I think? She was so distraught, so desperate for my guidance. And, like the Mera before this current one, she was in love.”

They let their tongue roll on the last phrase for emphasis, which somehow Dream finds incredibly irritating. Quietly, he drags a nail against the marble armrest, while feigning disinterest:

“Oh?”

His sibling pouts and places a hand on their chest, saying, “Looking back now, I think it was cruel of dear Destiny to have orchestrated this on the man’s poor lineage. She was in love with a Chapman.” They side-eye Dream for a gauge of his reaction. “The poor doctor and his ancestors seem to have a penchant for attracting your stubborn, wayward creation. Did I not mention this before? Wait, I did!”

The laugh they let out, louder than the former, is mirthless and bounces against his throne room walls.

“That’s why you cursed his descendants!” They sigh deeply, and in what sounds like contentment, before placing their palms in the air to admire their nail polish. 

“Anyway, the poor thing had no one to talk to, no friends, no family…I didn’t know you could go so low as to keep her isolated. But it wasn’t her love for the Chapman fellow that drew me to her. Surprisingly, her heart’s deepest, innermost desire was freedom - for everything to end. Sadly, it wasn’t mine to give. Anyway, you should be thanking me for what I did. I may have nudged her little mortal lover to take another woman. My twin sister indulged in her misery, she practically bathed in it.”

“Enough.”

Dream, already on the verge of banishing his mischievous blood relation from his realm, shifts in his seat in his ire, his jaw clenching and eyes turning silver and wanting very much to break something. He need not be reminded of how the dream he’s fallen in love with seems to choose anyone else but him, no matter what form they take. “I have no need to hear of the petty games you and your meddlesome twin play at my creation’s expense. I should have your blood for that, if not for the fact that I have remedied your misdeed.”

“By ‘remedied,’ you mean ‘unmade.’”

Feeling his self-control wane in an instant, he stands to his feet abruptly, the book on his lap falling several steps down the stairs. They dare insinuate that he had caused your demise?

Desire just rolls their eyes and curls their lips at his outburst, brushing it off. “Oh Dream, it was merely a joke. I mean, she doesn’t always get to be unmade by you, of course.”

They follow their brother’s action and get to their feet. They walk up the stairs to get closer to the monarch, who’s currently fuming in rage underneath his composed mask. 

“Let me get to my point, then. I came here to help you.”

Dream replies with a biting tone, “And what on earth makes you think that I am in need of your aid?”

“Oh, dear brother, you know of my expertise. Surely, you know just what I can do to your little dream. I can make her want you. Make her crave only your touch. Imagine, a Mera, completely under the spell of her master, her King, submitting to her Creator's wildest fantasies. I mean, there is no one better suited for that task than me. All you have to do is ask.”

Always suspicious of his devious sibling’s intentions, he purses his lips with a heavy scowl marring his pale features. “You’re assuming this one will fail.”

Desire sits on one of his armrests and places a hand on his shoulder, the other toying with his hair. “Oh, I don't know. I just want to spare you the heartbreak of her being uncreated for, what, the tenth, twelfth time? I'm afraid I've lost count. I'm only looking after you, big brother. Isn't that what family is for?”

Ignoring his younger sibling’s manicured nails grazing his scalp, he actually finds himself smirking, finding the idea ridiculous at best, and devious at worst.

“I appreciate the gesture, sibling, but given your propensity to bring sabotage to my personal affairs, I'm inclined to refuse. I have reason to believe this Mera will succeed where the others have failed.”

“Suit yourself,” his sibling shrugs. They pull away from him and begin to descend the stairs, but not before declaring, “You know that when this one proves faulty, my offer still stands. You need only call me.”

Dream’s only reply is taciturn. “I will keep that in mind.”

Flashing that large, crooked grin Dream has come to associate with the craftiness unique only to them, they wave playfully and say, “Till then, big brother.”

His realm would have to freeze over first before he lets them touch you.

***

He’s done for the day - and it was a long, exhausting day, too - so he comes home to you.

Morpheus knows you’d be waiting for him dutifully in his chambers - his dream, his only lover, splayed all over his bed on the softest silk sheets, your hair fanning the pillows, your eyes glazed over in desire - it’s a sight that only he gets the pleasure of seeing, and it makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

When he enters his room at last, he finds your silhouette hiding behind the curtains of his four-poster bed. You had heard him arrive, so you got out of bed just to meet him.

He finds his breath taken away by your beauty, as always.

You’re wearing a sheer ruby nightgown that cascaded just a little above your knees and nothing else underneath.

Just like he had instructed.

Dream makes his approach, never taking his eyes off your form. Once you’re but inches away from him, he grabs ahold of your body and immediately plants his lips on yours - engaged in passionate liplock, he could feel your hands travel beneath his coat before taking it off from him. He obliges, not wanting to deny you of anything, much less undressing him. He only pulls away to undo the ribbon, the only thing that holds your nightgown in place. The flimsy article of clothing falls to your feet, revealing your body - one he’s crafted with care, one he’ll never get enough of no matter how many times he takes it. 

His eyes, after scanning your entire, naked form, bathed in the moonlight, land on the bulge on your belly. It’s small, but he sees it - he can feel the life you had formed with him four months past, swirling happily, safely tucked on your bosom. He lets his palm brush over your abdomen. As if recognising the touch of his father, his son’s energy spikes slightly, making you jolt a little in excitement - wide-eyed, you look up at him as you place your hand over his, wanting to share the experience. He could feel his own eyes glowing with so much emotion - you will be round with his child in no time, and who knows, maybe you will be again after this. He leans on the next being a girl - a princess, just like you in every manner, except maybe she’ll have his eyes, or his hair - he brushes the thought aside; he has an eternity with you to plan this out.

Hating to waste any more time, he gives a little nudge on your shoulder - a silent command for you to lie down for him. You offer no resistance, it seems: you happily get on the bed, your eyes glimmering coyly as you wait for him to climb on top of you. The fight in your soul has died down. Inwardly, he celebrates this victory.

Willing his own clothes into sand and disappearing completely, he descends on his ultimate prize: your body, now completely his and waiting for him to ravish over and over, like he does night after night, indulging in the pleasure only you could satisfy for him. Underneath him, you gaze up at him with so much reverence, so much love, and his heart sings in utter triumph. Just like that, all the work he had poured into you for more than a thousand years, bearing fruit right before him, and it’s all for him to bask in, to take.

This little dream of his is never getting away from him ever again.

******************************

Author notes on the Chapter:

I. AM. SCREAMING. !!!!

Did I just finish my first-ever fic? Yes. Is it long? Oh, yes. Did it take so much time out of me? Double yes. Did I have fun with it? Immensely. Will I write another? Absolutely.

But seriously, thank you for being with me this entire fic, this journey of mine in writing a fanfic for the very first time. It’s a ride I’ll never forget. Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for following thus far! Look out for my next ones featuring the same, mopey, sopping-wet cat of a man (endless)!! ILY

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 3/23/23

Edit date: 3/23/23

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