#morpheus x f!reader

Standing outside the small café a few streets down from the pub, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, he could see Hob sat at the counter, a grimace painted on his face. A small stack of papers piled next to him, Dream chuckled. His friend was not one to slow down. Ever. In fact, this café was just another one of Hob’s attempts at keeping busy. He had bought this place after the pub became one of the most popular gastropubs in the area. It inspired him to buy another. And then another. This café was the latest in a long line of (less-than-smart) investments. 

The café was a small, welcoming place that was popular among the crowd of local university students. The scent of coffee and ink permeated the air, curling into the quiet hum of conversation and the clatter of porcelain.

A girl passed by Hob, grabbing a few mugs, and seemingly cracking a joke, seeing as Hob turned his head towards her and he burst out laughing, throwing his head back in the delightful way that only Hob could. Dream smiled slightly.

The bell above the door announced his entrance and both Hob and the girl turned to face him as he made his way to the counter.

“Didn’t think you were the café type,” Hob mused, gesturing to the seat opposite him.

Dream regarded the chair for a moment before lowering himself into it. He had no need for human comforts, yet something about the space felt... grounding. Hob slid a steaming cup toward him. “Coffee?”

Dream barely glanced at it. “I have no need for mortal stimulants.”

Hob chuckled.

Dream’s attention drifted elsewhere, drawn by a quiet presence moving through the space. You. There was something familiar about you, though he did not yet understand why. The rhythm of your steps, the ease with which you carried the weight of exhaustion, stirred his curiosity. He found himself speaking before he had even decided to do so.

“I’ll have whatever the lady recommends.”

“The lady?” You laugh, “Never heard that one before.”

Hob blinked, before bursting into laughter. Dream simply waited. 

Hob’s smirk widened. “Oi, love,” he called, drawing your attention. “Bring us whatever your favourite is, will you?”

You glanced between the two of them, curiosity flickering in your gaze before you nodded. A few moments later, you returned and placed a drink in front of him—a chilled cup with golden swirls threading through the ice. “Here you go. My personal favourite.”

Dream lifted the glass, taking a slow, deliberate sip. He had expected something rich and bitter, perhaps reminiscent of the dark depths of human longing. Instead, the overpowering sweetness clung to his tongue, thick and cloying. He coughed, setting the cup down with an uncharacteristic flicker of surprise.

Hob roared with laughter. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand, and Dream turned his gaze to you. The sound of your laughter, light and genuine, resonated within him in a way he did not fully understand. He allowed the corner of his lips to curve, just slightly.

“Lucienne?” Dream called out as he wandered through the vast halls of his Library. His shoes tapped against the floor as he traced his fingers along the endless shelves.

“Yes, my lord?” Lucienne responded, jumping down from the ladder on which she was perched.

“I seek a book,” Dream said, his voice echoing through the grand chamber.

Lucienne nodded, “Their name?”

He spoke it, your name lingering in the air like a whispered secret. Lucienne’s eyes flickered with surprise at Dream’s inflection, but she turned to search the shelves without a word. Dream watched as she moved efficiently, fingers ghosting over spines that pulsed with the memories of dreamers. But as the minutes stretched on, she hesitated.

Lucienne frowned. “That’s… odd.”

Dream stepped forward. “What is it?”

Lucienne turned back to him, her brows furrowed in concern, a thin book in her hands. “There’s no entry. Not one.”

A rare flicker of confusion crossed Dream’s expression. “Impossible. Every dreamer has entries.”

Lucienne hesitated before meeting his gaze. “Unless they’re not.” At his confusion, she elaborates, “A dreamer. What if they do not dream?”

Silence settled between them. Dream’s mind turned, considering the implications. A mortal without an entry in their book —without a single dream to call their own—was a rarity. An anomaly.

And yet, as he recalled the exhaustion in your eyes, the way you carried the weight of sleeplessness with such resigned acceptance, he realized the truth of it.

You did not dream because you did not sleep.

For the first time in a long while, something within Dream stirred. A curiosity. A question. A pull toward the sleepless mortal who had unknowingly drawn the attention of the Lord of Dreams himself.

To everyone’s surprise, the next night, Dream found himself at your doorstep.

It was not often that he visited mortals outside the realm of dreams. And yet, here he stood, a figure of shadow and starlight against the quiet hum of the city. He did not knock, but you noticed him anyway—perhaps you had felt the shift in the air, or perhaps you were simply used to the strange.

You opened the door, blinking up at him with tired eyes, unsurprised. “You found me,” you said, voice warm with amusement rather than fear.

Dream stepped forward. “You do not sleep.”

A beat passed before you shrugged. “Never have.”

He studied you, expecting denial, discomfort—something. Instead, you tilted your head, unbothered. “I’ve always had trouble sleeping,” you admitted. “Ever since I was a kid.”

Dream frowned. “Why?”

Another shrug. “No reason. Sometimes, I just… don’t.”

He was silent for a moment, searching your expression as though the answer might be buried there. You met his gaze without hesitation, unshaken by the weight of it.

“This is unnatural,” Dream finally said, more to himself than to you.

You smiled wryly. “It’s normal for me.”

Dream did not like that answer. Sleep was meant to be a comfort, a necessity—his gift to mortals, whether they realized it or not. And yet, you had gone without it for so long that your exhaustion had become part of you, worn like a second skin.

“Do you wish to sleep?” he asked, voice softer now.

You hesitated, the question heavier than you expected. Finally, you exhaled. “Sometimes.”

That was all the answer Dream needed.

He raised a hand, fingers brushing lightly against your temple. A warmth bloomed in his touch, soothing and unfamiliar. Your eyelids grew heavy, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the pull of sleep.

As you swayed, Dream caught you before you could fall. With careful hands, he guided you to your bed, watching as you surrendered to the quiet oblivion of dreams. And as he stood over you, watching the steady rise and fall of your breath, Dream found himself lingering longer than he should have.

The following night, you found yourself lying awake in your room, the soft moonlight filtering through the window. The world beyond seemed distant, muffled in its own stillness. Yet, as you drifted into sleep, the familiar sensation of being pulled into the Dreaming swirled around you. This time, however, something felt different.

You stood at the foot of a large castle, its spires looming tall and towers shimmering with faint, unearthly light. The stone beneath your feet was warm, as though the castle itself pulsed with life. As you stepped forward, a presence emerged from the shadows, his recognisable black coat giving him away. Dream stood tall, regal, his dark robes billowing slightly in the non-existent breeze. His pale face was unreadable, but his eyes… they lingered on you with an unfamiliar softness.

"You’re… here?" Dream asked, his voice low but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. There's a flicker of surprise, followed by curiosity.

"Couldn’t stay away," you replied, a playful edge to your voice. There was an ease between you now, as if you’d always belonged here, even though the reality of it was quite different. He studied you quietly, as though weighing the moment.

"Come," he said, stepping aside to let you enter. "I was not expecting company, but I am not displeased." His lips curled into the faintest of smiles, a small, uncharacteristic gesture. You followed him deeper into the castle, the walls whispering softly with the echoes of dreamers' thoughts. He led you to a tall balcony, where the whole Dreaming was visible beneath you. Your mouth dropped open of its own accord. It was stunning. To your left, Dream only smiled.

As the night progressed, you spoke - about the realms of dreams, about your own world, and the surrealness of this place. Dream listened intently, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. He seemed fascinated, as if there was a part of him that finds something new and intriguing in your presence. You, too, began to feel it—the pull, the way Dream seemed to understand you in ways others didn’t. 

As dawn approached, you bid him goodbye as he set off to do his duty. There was something lingering as he bid you goodnight, almost as if he didn’t want to let you go. You shook your head. You were seeing things that weren’t there. Still, you left a soft kiss on his cheek, as your vision faded to black and you woke up in your own bed. You scoffed at the pinking of his cheeks that you thought you saw as you closed your eyes.

The following night, Dream arrived earlier than expected, standing at the edge of the castle once more. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, though now his expression seemed softer, less guarded. When you appeared, he gestured toward the castle, but this time, there was a certain eagerness in his movements.

"I thought," Dream began, his voice almost uncertain, "that you might like to meet some of my… creations." His eyes flickered away from yours for a moment, then returned, brimming with something almost shy.

You could only nod.

The first person to meet was Lucienne - Dream's right hand, you nicknamed her.

Tall, regal, and striking in her stillness, she was surrounded by towering shelves of books that stretched beyond what seemed possible. She was focused, her brow furrowed as she carefully adjusted the placement of a book on one of the shelves. Her appearance was immaculate, her dark hair braided in a complex pattern, her eyes sharp and intelligent. There was an air of calm wisdom about her that made you feel as though you were in the presence of something far greater than you could comprehend.

"Ah, Dream has brought you here," she said softly, without turning to face you, her voice smooth and warm. "You must be the new arrival. I am Lucienne, the librarian of the Dreaming."

She turned to you then, offering a kind, welcoming smile. Her gaze was kind but assessing, as if she were quickly measuring you. "It is an honor to meet someone from the waking world," she continued, the smile never fading. "I manage the stories, the dreams, the knowledge of this place. Everything that happens here is recorded in some form or another."

You nodded, somewhat awestruck. There was a gravity to her presence that made you feel both small and important at the same time.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, her tone inviting but controlled, as if she had seen all manner of souls wandering through the Dreaming.

Before you could respond, there was a loud, gruff voice from behind you.

"Lucienne, I’m not sure that book belongs there! You know how I feel about misplaced…" The voice trailed off as a figure appeared in the doorway—a squat, pumpkin-headed man, his face carved into a permanent frown. He wore a janitor’s uniform, though it was a little worse for wear, and a cigarette dangled from his lips. His eyes, barely visible beneath his pumpkin head, flicked between you and Lucienne.

"This is Mervyn," Lucienne said with a barely contained sigh, though her expression softened with a hint of affection. "He’s our… custodian of sorts."

Mervyn rolled his eyes but gave you a quick nod, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around him like a tiny storm. "Nice to meet you, I suppose. Watch out for the dust in here, it’ll choke a person. And try not to knock anything over, we don’t want the big guy—" He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, "—to come down here yelling."

Before you could ask who he meant, a dark shape flitted across the room—a raven, perched on the windowsill. Its sharp eyes studied you with an intensity that was almost unnerving. The raven cawed loudly, flapping its wings slightly as it hopped onto a nearby chair.

"And this is Matthew," Lucienne said, her voice filled with quiet amusement. "He’s one of Dream’s newer companions."

Matthew the raven cocked his head, giving you a sharp look before hopping closer to Lucienne’s side. He gave a low croak, as if offering a greeting of sorts, though his attention never wavered from you.

"You’ll get used to the oddities of this place," Lucienne added with a smile, before gesturing for you to follow her deeper into the castle.

As you walked through the winding halls, you eventually arrived at a large, open space where two figures stood facing each other, bickering loudly.

"Cain, Abel," Lucienne greeted them, her tone even, though there was a hint of warmth there.

They turned to face the three of you, bowing as they caught sight of Dream. Dream leaned his mouth towards your ear: "Constant property disputes, those two. Never satisfied."

You hid your laugh behind a cough.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Both Cain and Abel bowed to you, before bursting into another argument about who's bow was better. Before anyone could say anything.

Before you could respond, a massive form appeared behind them—an enormous dragon, its scales gleaming like emeralds, its eyes glowing with an ancient wisdom. The dragon’s wings folded against its back as it lowered its head to greet you, its breath warm and heavy, though not threatening.

"This," Dream said with a small smile, "is Gregory - a gift of mine to Cain and Abel." Gregory came up to you slowly, sniffing not unlike a dog. You reached out your hand and waited patiently. Gregory sniffed your hand slowly before jumping up and licking your face. You laughed out loud: it turns out dragons are exactly like dogs.

You bid adieu to Cain and Abel and disappeared to the balcony again. As the evening wore on, Dream’s interest in you never waned—it had only deepened. The way he watched you when you spoke, the subtle way his fingers brushed against yours when he handed you something, all of it spoke of a growing, unspoken affection. It wasn’t clear to you, but he was all too aware: Dream, the Lord of the Dreaming, one of the Endless, had begun to harbour feelings for you.

Dream sits with you on the balcony as you stare up at the stars. His eyes rove over your face - almost as if he's searching for every answer on your face.

"What?" You chuckle, turning to face him, head leaning against the railing, "Do I have something on my face?"

"Nothing you shouldn't? Are you expecting there to be something there?"

Your chuckle turns into a snort as you realise that Dream has never heard that saying before. You try to explain it but give up as Dream's face contorts into more and more confusion.

"Why do you not sleep?"

You suppose you shouldn't be surprised by the question, given that predicament is what led you here in the first place, but it still catches you off guard.

"Umm, I guess I don't know?" You say sitting up properly. "I've never really slept well - my mother always used to say that it was the one bad thing I did as a child. I was just never tired, according to her."

"You didn't feel the need to sleep?" Dream was surprised.

"I suppose, sleeping was lonely - my mother spent a lot of time sleeping as a girl because of the sickness," that made a lot of sense to Dream, "so maybe that had something to do with it. And, I suppose, as I got older, sleeping felt unnecessary because it was lonely."

"What do you mean?"

"I just felt like..." You turned away from him to admit this next bit because you now felt embarrassed that you even thought this way, "Everyone else had dreams to keep them company while they slept. I never had any of that."

You were surprised when Dream took your hand.

"You'll never be lonely here again."

Dream waited for you at the gates again, his black coat flowing around him as the wind picked up. You were late. He was disappointed. And apparently - tonight - disappointment meant winds that were rustling all throughout the dreaming. You were supposed to be here on time tonight. Dream had promised to show you the most beautiful place in the Dreaming - Fiddler's Green, of course, nearly everyone in the Dreaming would agree - and you had almost screamed in excitement when he explained it to you. But now, you were nowhere to be seen.

Hours of waiting later, he decided to check on you. Just because friends look out for each other. No other reason. He briefly thought of sending Matthew, but he knew that Matthew would be slow and may get distracted. Endless don’t get distracted.

Your bedroom window was large and faced away from the street, but there were many street cats in your area. Your fence was not that high - that would have to be fixed - but your window sill was a comfortable place to sit. A small light lit up your entire room. The reason you had not shown up at the dreaming that night, was because you had not fallen asleep 

He had not expected it—not after the last time, when he had guided you gently into slumber, ensuring you found rest within the Dreaming. And yet, here you were, sitting up in bed, eyes shadowed with exhaustion, stubbornly clinging to wakefulness.

“You resist sleep once more,” Dream observed, his voice quiet, edged with something that was not quite concerned but close to it.

You huffed a quiet, tired laugh, rubbing at your temples. “Dream? What are you doing here?”

Dream studied you, his pale gaze unreadable. “Why?”

You hesitated, shoulders curling inward slightly. He could see the weight pressing on you, something heavier than just exhaustion. The words slipped out before you could stop them, slow and drowsy, as if your defences were weakened by fatigue.

“Because I love you.”

The room felt impossibly still.

Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, and yet it echoed between you. You swallowed, staring down at your hands, as if regretting saying it out loud. But in your haze of exhaustion, you kept talking.

“I—” You exhaled shakily. “I didn’t want things to be awkward. I didn’t want to ruin anything. But also… I didn’t want to let you go.”

Dream did not move, but something in the air shifted, something ancient and careful. He watched you with an unreadable expression, as though he was considering the weight of your words, the way they settled in the space between you.

Then, at last, he spoke.

“I am fascinated by you as well.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh, more of a tired exhale than anything else. “That’s… probably as close as I’m gonna get to you saying it back, huh?”

Dream did not answer. Instead, he stepped forward, his hands curling around your waist, pulling you close to him. His face just above yours - Dream seemed impossibly tall when he was this close to you - you leaned in, his lips ghosting yours. A small smile pulled at his lips as you blinked up at him, blearily. His fingers barely brushed your temple, and a cool stillness washed over you, easing the tension from your bones. Your eyelids fluttered, your body finally giving in.

“Rest,” he murmured, more of a command than a request. You smiled and acquiesced.

The world around you shifted as you drifted deeper, the familiar comfort of Dream’s arms a constant, grounding force. The dreamscape transformed, and when you woke, you weren’t in the Castle of the Dreaming anymore. The scent of fresh grass, the rustle of leaves, the soft hum of life—it all welcomed you into a new place. Fiddler’s Green.

You blinked, your surroundings coming into focus. Dream was still beside you, but now you were lying in a meadow, the sky above a soft blend of twilight colours. The soft hum of wind around you was gentle, calming. You sat up slowly, looking around, amazed by the serenity of the place.

Dream was watching you with quiet affection, a soft smile on his face as he reached for you. Without thinking, you leaned into him, resting your forehead against his. He didn’t hesitate, cupping your face gently with his hands, as if he’d known this moment would come.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

His hand lays on top of your stomach, forcing you to quit moving “Behave” he warns, the word vibrating against your core as he devours you with a patience that he only shows you in these moments.

But it becomes too much , too quickly.

Overwhelmingly so.

“Morpheus” you scold, and he actually scoffs.

“Take it” he demands, kissing more hungrily down on you.

You bring yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him “I’ve been taking it” you point out, and gasp softly when he moves his tongue a certain way.

He gives you his eyes, and you need to calm yourself down— he looks so awfully pretty like this: between your lovebitten thighs, kissing you hungrily as he feeds from your sweet core. Pupils blown wide, responding with fervor at every whisper of his name you let out, each prayer crashing against him as if he was the only God you would ever ask for saving.

For mercy.

He sighs, a deep rumbling growl, as he leaves a parting kiss on your bundle of nerves before pulling slightly away— temple falling on your thigh “You must despise me” he rasps, feigning sadness.

You click your tongue, thigh pushing softly against him before you speak “I adore you”

“You cast me away every time I need you the most”

“You can not be denied, can you?” You shake your head, hand reaching for the one that’s laying on top of your stomach— squeezing it as you want his eyes. 

But he keeps on looking at your hands, a frown appearing on his brow “Something’s changed” 

You frown, looking around his face “My love?” You whisper, careful.

He shoots his eyes up, ready to calm the slight anxiety in your tone “I meant, in your body” he explains, “You’ve been more—”

You purse your lips, “I know” you whisper “It’s— I’m more sore lately, it is nothing to be worried about”

He hums, cheek squished against your thigh as he looks around your face “Am I overwhelming you?” He asks, worried.

Squeezing his hand, “You know exactly how to give it up when it’s too much” you whisper “You’ve been nothing but excellent”

He purses his lips, turning his lips to kiss softly at one of his lovebites. Then further down your inner thigh before he decides to slide upwards towards your pelvis— lips kissing your plump stomach, “You taste different as well”

You frown, “How so?”

“I can not explain it” he whispers, cheek laying on top of your abdomen as he rest his head on you “Cosmically”

You almost snort, “Love—” you call.

“Like metal and stardust”

You roll your eyes, hand combing through his constantly bed ridden hair “What an exhausting mood you find yourself in tonight” you let out, amused.

Silver stars shoot from his eyes as he gives you a glare.

You shush him, hand on his cheek “Would the Dream Lord ever allow me to jest without taking offense”

“I do not take offense from you” he manoeuvres himself and you until he’s surrounding you from behind— holding you close against his chest “Otherwise you would know”

You hum, “I am sure of it” you tease, allowing him to part your legs with his hand “My Dream never keeps quiet” you keep on going, and hiss slightly as he grasps at one of your breasts— soreness shining through.

But he acts unforgiving this time, “Just like you” he lets out against the skin of your neck “Who never quits your complaints” you gasp into a soft moan when he slides inside of you with ease, your core welcoming him.

“Dream” you whisper, breathless.

“Like metal and stardust” he reminds you, swallowing your moan as he kisses you feverishly.

You would feel sick, nauseous and even be disgusted by smells you would once crave for.

The fresh air of the gardens were your only friend when you got like this, the spring coated breeze helping you relax your stomach. 

Like metal and stardust resounds in your head as you keep a small lavender under your nose, hugging yourself with your free arm as you wander around the Palace’s grounds. 

You’re not oblivious, nor live up in the clouds: you know what these symptoms could mean.

And what would they mean for your life from now on.

Before you could ponder on it too much, you feel his stare before you can see him— turning to the exact direction he was watching you.

In a blink of an eye, he was already in front of you “I need to make my leave” he announces.

“Leave?” You ask “To where?” Completely lost.

“Destruction’s calling onto me, and I could not deny him” he sighs, annoyed as he looks around “I worry”

“Of?” You ask.

“Lately the dreams the mortals crave for are far more— soft” he sighs “They do not accept my nightmares as easily as they used to”

You tilt your head, looking around his face “Hard times?”

“Harder than any others” he looks back at you, and suddenly all the worry leaves his features “Will you wait for me?”

You take a step closer, and he takes your hand “Up and awake?” You ask, teasingly.

There’s a ghost of a smile on the corner of his mouth “Are you denying me?”

“I’m asking for the conditions of your request” you give him a smile, guiding his hand upwards— straight to your stomach and covered by your hand, hugging it against your as your other hand plays with the sleeve of his coat.

He looks around your face, “I do not have any requests, other than you waiting for me on my bed— the same bed where you chase me in my dreams”

“Is that what the Dream Lord dreams about?”

“Not the only thing” he shakes his head, “But I rather show you than tell you”

And with that, he’s gone.

That same night, he’s welcomed to his own bed by you: moonlight leaking it's showers on your figure, the gauze of your sheer nightgown flowing around you as a small summer breeze breaks his way in through the window of the tall tower.

You stir awake when his weight dips the mattress under you, and you look up at him— “My Dream?” You whisper softly.

He hovers above you, weight on his hands and knees as he examines your face “You were dreaming” he whispers. 

You hum, “Was I?” You ask, feeling one of his hands gather the hem of your nightgown as he started bunching up the skirt— stopping once it was above your hips.

“You don’t remember?” He asks, his hand goes under the fabric and looks for one of your breasts.

You need to stop yourself from hissing, “Love” you call, as a small warning when the soreness overwhelms you. 

He hums, dipping down and pecking at your lips “You were dreaming of something incredibly beautiful and impossible” he whispers inside your mouth, massaging softly at the sore skin. 

“Was I dreaming of you?” You tease softly, smiling against his lips.

“No” he rasps out, “The best next thing” he shoots back as his hand goes down.

Spreading across your belly.

You open your eyes, looking up at him— swallowing “I think,” you cover his hand with yours.

“I know,” he whispers.

Beautiful and impossible, he said.

Hormones, simplistic as it was, did not match with you.

You would spend days crying, hiding from him— and days craving and feeding off of his love.

Restless and incredibly needy, you needed him to reassure you this was alright. 

This was meant to be. 

This would be easy.

This would not kill you.

And you barely believed him.

“Quit it” he warns, and you pout at him through the mirror.

“I do not want—” you try to force it to close. 

It does not.

“I could have them make you this exact same dress in an instant—”

“I do not want another dress, I want this one” you try to close the buttons once again, but they won’t resign.

He gives up at that point, stalking away towards a window.

Which makes you go nuts.

“Are you walking away from me?” You turn to him, dress still open on your side as you look at him utterly offended.

“I offered a solution—”

“You leave me like this and then you walk away?” You huff out “You did this to me! I am growing out of my size because of you!”

He looks around your face from his position, “I think we could skip tonight festivities—”

You turn around and go straight to the large room besides your bedroom, filled with dresses “Can not believe—”

He calls your name, closing his eyes as he gathers patience.

He could not believe how incredibly quick you were to anger lately.

“Or—” he keeps going “we could announce it tonight, in front of my court”

You stop going through dresses at that, pursing your lips “Do not start with that” you let out in a whisper as you feel him come closer now, stepping into the room.

“You’ve started showing” he points out.

“Barely” 

“Beautifully” 

You stop— sigh, try to calm down. 

When you turn back to him, your lips tremble into a pout.

He crumbles and envelopes you in his arms, hiding your against him “I would want you to stop worrying about discretion” he whispers against your hair, kissing it “and start enjoying”

“Enjoying what?” You let out, almost sobbing “That my whole body is turning against me?” 

He scoffs, “That I am trying to fill myself with the most caring and persistent patience, the one I have never believed myself capable of”

You chuckle at his jest, looking up at him with tears in your eyes “I’m afraid”

He looks around your face, then purses his lips “I would not allow anything to happen to you, and what’s ours” he promises, hand slipping down to the small swollen part of your stomach “Will you believe me, this once?” 

You swallow, nodding “Fine” you whisper.

He leans down, kissing you softly “My beautiful shooting star” he whispers, “You have made the most precious of my wishes come true”

And you chuckle against his lips, “Cheeky little God”

He smiles against yours now, and you finally relax under him. 

Maybe you could cut him some slack.

Especially after he makes a bigger replica of the same dress appear out of nowhere.

"Hello starlight," you jumped out of bed, your face hot with embarrassment.

"Morpheus," He noted how shrill your voice went. How you clenched your legs together. He noticed how you had inched far from the bed aswell.

"It seems you are in-"

"Nothing! absolutely nothing," you shaky legs howwver denyed you the pleasure of walking as you stumbled back from the bed. Morpheus on a hunch entered your thoughts. He was well....intrigued.

To see a retreating imagery of him in you fucking your brains out.

"Tell me starlight, do you want my help?" Morpheus was in love with you, you knew this, you were in love with him too but you were scared.

A mortal and an Endless.

So you always kept him close but not too close. As you stared into his eyes you wondered.

This could change everything...

Do I want to change everything.

No.

Maybe

Fuck yes

You bit your lip.

Yes.

"I want more than your help Morpheus," His eyes glimmered. He knew what you meant. He knelt down and took up your hand in his. Kissing it softly he smiled.

"It would be my honor," He pulled you towards him keeping eye contact.

He leans in and you feel yourself float as his lips gently graze yours. He kisses you so softly it feels like a dream. You notice how brighter the sky becomes through your lashes. A small smile crosses your lips. You bring him closer and sink into the kiss.

"I promise you this, to give you the world in the palm of your hand. The stars dangling off your skin like jewels, everything and everyone bowing down at your presence, just say the word and it shall be done."

And you knew he meant it

><

Morpheus got me Feral bro i need a sabbaticals of two weeks to properly write the smut bro cus i keep sidelining and avoiding. My brain moves faster than my fingers. Y'all be patient for me yeah. I promise I'll write you proud. Also if you want something custom check my asks and dms <333

The Library of Alexandria…a pinnacle of knowledge, a testament to the wisdom that the Gods bestowed upon humans through their scholars, their muses; a bastion for all those that sought out the unknown, the lessons of both the Heavens and earth. A gift so generously given only to be squandered by human folly and greed.

Mortals can be such fickle creatures.

It is said that the Library burned to the ground over two thousand years ago; the casualty of humans and their need to conquer their need for power. Razed in a war brought on by an Emperor from a foreign land; and it was thought that the books that had burned and the knowledge that they contained was lost forever. And it was…at least to mortals.

As the fires spread and scholars wept, the Gods had predicted this and had delivered the scriptures from the mortal realm back to the kingdom of the Heavens. New Alexandria, a beckon of knowledge now reclaimed and protected by its benefactors; and its caretaker, Thoth, God of the Moon, of scriptures and writings.

For more than millennia and the better half of another Thoth watched over the Library; its corridors and sections ever growing and expanding as time went on…But then Thoth was gifted a child from his devoted wife Ma’at.

Most Gods were known to have many sons and daughters, who then in turn had sons and daughters of their own and so on and so forth, but you, you were the only daughter of Thoth…His only child.

He watched as you grew, taught you of his realm, the realms of others, of humankind; and of the ancient ever presence of the Endless. He taught you the gift that knowledge was, how it shaped both past, present and future. And he taught you the importance of protecting it, so that it might be forever preserved.

However despite his teaching you viewed the importance of knowledge somewhat differently from your father, and at times it brought about tension between the two of you.

You became a Goddess of curiosity, of inquisitiveness finding more in common with mortals than Thoth would care for you to have and you spent much of your time cavorting about on earth, partaking in human customs and curiosities. And with your inquisitiveness and witnessing of the tribulations that man faced you also became a creature of compassion.

Thoth supposed you must have gotten some of that from your mother, though you were definitely more of a handful than she. He deemed that it was high time that he appointed you to a station, and perhaps that would settle you down some.

Around the turn of the century of 1600 to 1700 he gifted you with one of the most important appointments of all: Head Librarian of the Library of New Alexandria. At first you had been disgruntled by the fact you would be spending most of your time in relative solitude, no longer able to have the freedom to galavant around in the mortal realm with such frequency. But as the first decade went by you realized how much you loved being the caretaker of the knowledge that spanned all the way to the dawn of man.

You had always loved to read, how could you not? But the books and scriptures that had always been read to you or presented for you to read had usually been about great events in history, famous ballads and sonnets; epic tales of trials and tragedy. But now as the curator you had access to every story, large and small and you found yourself more fascinated by the very human stories; like a friar that had lost his sandals in the river while washing them. Or a man in a dimly lit tavern that said that he would never die.

The day to day life of mortals was fascinating and they all were so different, no two were exactly alike and you find that to be just as interesting if not more than the rise and fall of an empire. It was just so…human.

During your first century as Librarian you got to see a great number of important visitors; some other Gods, ones that you knew since childhood. Others were fae folk and beings of various magical prowess. But the most interesting guest to grace the halls of New Alexandria was an Endless.

He had arrived with your father one morning and you had watched with great curiosity as your parent spoke in soft tones with him; your father had eventually beckoned you over and you obeyed eagerly.

You had never met an Endless, though you had read about them and of course heard tales. You observed him keenly, non too covertly which had caused your father to scold you for being rude. But the Endless had gazed upon you with a look of amusement, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. And when he spoke his voice was as warm and as rich as honey and just as soothing.

“So you are the keeper of the books.” He had asked.

“Y/n and yes I am,” you bow quickly, watching him still. “Who are you? What realm are you from?”

“I am the King of Dreams and Nightmares and as my title would suggest my realm is The Dreaming.” He replied with a subtle fondness.

“Are you here for knowledge? I have a strict return policy.” You reply puckishly.

Thoth gave you a pointed look, and tapped his quill on the lip of the parchment board in his grasp. Ah, another warning.

“I like to make sure that the books are cared for, looked after.” You corrected hoping to appease your father.

“More should follow that practice.” The Endless nodded his head sagely. “And in a way, yes I am here for knowledge.”

You cocked your head at this, curious.

“The Dreaming has a vast library of its own and I believe it would be beneficial to share that knowledge across them.” He said.

You had heard of the Library of the Dreaming, after all Gods were born in the Dreaming, originally stories themselves brought to life by humankind.

“Might I see it?” You had barely been able to contain your excitement, the idea of seeing the stories yet untold by all living things, what a treasure that would be to witness in person.

“Perhaps one day my child, when the time comes.” Thoth spoke and gave a small nod to the Dream Lord.

“A raven will be in contact with you.” The Endless continued before you had anytime to pout. “They will bring you news of the Dreamings collection as well as ferry desired literature.”

“I will allow you one of my Ibis to do the same Y/n, until your sacred animal manifests.” Your father added.

You had gazed at the ground somewhat ashamed; your sacred creature had still not come to fruition, your worship still young and growing had not yet bore you a beastial symbol.

“I will take my leave Thoth, God of the Moon and Scripts.” The Endless said before he turned to you. “Y/n”

You bristled at that, your station as a goddess was rather small this was true, but he seemed to disregard it entirely.

“And you Morpheus, Shaper of Forms, King of Dreams.” Thoth nodded.

And as the being called Morpheus began to disappear into a cloud of white gold sand his gaze landed on you again.

“I suspect Lucienne will be most interested in speaking with you.” He commented.

“Who is Lucienne?” You called out but he was already gone, sands disappearing into the ether.

You had blinked, thinking for a moment before crossing your arms with a huff.

“He seems a bit-“ your father quickly interrupted you with a look. “…lovely.” You gritted out instead; insufferable you’d rather say.

“This will be a great honor, a partnership with one of the Endless.” Your father turned to leave. “I have the utmost trust that you will face the task with diligence and logic.”

You had watched as your father left the Library, heading back out into his kingdom.

You of course were diligent about your work…but you couldn’t help but take great pause with logic…

____

The smell of weathered pages, bound in leather and pressed paper and permeates the air; a comforting, familiar scent that you had come to love since childhood. The golden light of sun cast through the stained glass windows, casting rivers of iridescent colors across the worn limestone floors of the vast library. When you were given the appointment of head librarian of New Alexandria, Ra had bestowed upon you a gift that while the Library was in your father’s domain of the Moon, a kingdom ever beneath the star sky of the cosmos, you would always have the light of sun grace the halls of your station.

You sigh happily, a thermos of hot tea with milk and sugar in your grasp; you had popped into your favorite tea shop in the mortal realm; you didn’t think your father would be too upset with just a little visit; and innocent one no less! They also made the most delightful breakfast foods there and you took another bite from the pastry you had purchased as well; whoever said the God’s dined on ambrosia had never had Welsh cakes.

You walk further into the expanse of the ever growing library, enjoying your morning treat as you wait for your tea to cool. You hear the flutter of wings and you watch as a kingfisher flies overhead chortling at you, a rolled up parchment paper in its grasp.

You had been expecting a list of possible Gods from Lucienne. While most were never more than dreams, some came to fruition and would be more than figments of imagination and become beings of history.

The kingfisher drops the scroll on your very messy (though you insisted it was organized chaos) desk and lands on a tall reedy piece of drift wood you had set up as a perch. Next to them stands a large ibis, ever watchful of the recent addition to the library.

It had been over two centuries now that the ibis your father had bestowed upon you had aided you in your task, now more of a sentinel, ever keen and observant. Your worshippers had finally bestowed upon you a sacred beast. And while not as prominent or as distinguished as perhaps your fathers ibis or Anubis’ jackal, the kingfisher was a delightful creature that many mortals associated with the freedom and curiosity you so possessed.

You trill gently to the bird and tap their beak affectionately as you come to your desk, it trills in return and ruffles their feathers. You bow to your father’s ibis who ducks their head to you and begins to walk out into the library having completed its duty of making sure you hadn’t gotten lost gallivanting across the realms.

You sit down and begin to unravel the parchment paper, the kingfisher preening themself as you start to read the list from Lucienne, ready to document everything for the Library records.

Being a relatively new Goddess yourself having only come about during the time of the printing press it was still strange to see the concept of potential additions to new and old pantheons. Mortals were always coming up with new concepts to believe in, to worship; some more prolific than others.

Not too long ago you had seen ideas for gods and goddesses of steam after the industrial revolution had spread across the globe. Now it was electricity with the invention of the light bulb (something that you heard Thor was a bit sour about).

You laugh as you read some of Lucienne’s little quips and notes in the margins of her list as you document the ideas formally to fresh pressed papers. It was something that you had both started to do; an entertaining thing to lighten the mood, that and your frequent book exchange you had started doing for the past hundred years. In fact you were almost done with the last book she sent over, perhaps you’d finish it up tonight and tell her about your thoughts in your next letter.

Shortly you come to the end of the list. It didn’t appear that any of the new potentials were manifesting yet past dreams, though you think that perhaps something might happen with the idea of electricity since mankind fancied it so.

You sort the notes and give the stack to the kingfisher to take to the record's section (which now had sprawled far beyond their initial wing of the library). As you hand the papers over, twine forms along the left edge of the papers binding them together, the date appearing at the bottom right of the first page's corner. You would set them in the proper records book later.

As the kingfisher takes off into the belly of the library, you quickly gather up the personal letter that Lucienne also included with the list. You always took great joy in reading about the happenings of the Dreaming. Gods did dream but they didn’t enter the kingdom unless invited, or so your father said. Lucienne had visited you far more times in your realm than you had ever visited her in her lords (which you could count the total on one of your hands, and on one of your fingers). And you hadn’t even seen the Dream King himself while you had attended.

You begin to read through Lucienne’s letter, smiling at the mentions of Mervyn and how he always managed to strike a nerve. You had decided long ago that you would very much like to meet him in person as he sounded like quite the character. You flip the page and continue to read.

You frown at the mention of something more sinister than usual. A rogue nightmare…while it was true that Luceinne had told you about how colorful and at times creepy the Shaper of Forms creations could be, she had always said that they remained in the Dreaming. But here she was saying that he was out in the world of men, preying upon them. You made a note to check the stories of life to see if you could find anything more about this creature and if he had affected the history of man.

You breathe a small sigh of relief when you read that the Dream Lord had left just this morning (or perhaps it was night? Hard to tell sometimes when dealing with the mortal realm) to deal with the matter. You are sure that with the quick intervention that the stories of men will not be too affected.

However you could sense some sort of apprehension in the words that Lucienne wrote. You grab a stack of fresh papers and a fountain pen and begin to write back to Lucienne, hoping to ease your friend's worries. Perhaps you would send back a book as well; a favorite of yours to give some comfort.

Surely it would all be fine…

Days went by, and then weeks and then months, Dream of the Endless did not return to the Dreaming; and you began to get more and more concerned letters from Lucienne. Her normal pristine penmanship becoming more scratchy, fear evident in her writing.

And you yourself began to fear as well…the mortal world was suffering, even the other Gods whispered of a sleeping sickness that plague mankind. Your father continued to bathe the night sky under the light of the moon, but there were no dreamers to be found in its beams.

The library was changing…the stories of mankind becoming something that you feel they never should have been. Countless books now filled with the same suffering; from the pages of a young girl that could no longer find sleep to the pages of a doctor overwhelmed and doing anything they could to find a cure… an answer.

But the thing that scared you most was the pages of those that didn’t wake up; day after day the papers remained blank. Thousands upon thousands of mortals' life stories filling with blank chapters.

Your father had told you that Destiny had a path and to not interfere; if this was the history that mankind must write then it must be written. You had been quite angry with him and whoever this Destiny was…cruelty like this was not something you could bear to see. It was then you also realized that if mankind was suffering then what horrible fate was the Lord of Dreams facing; what horrible cruelties were befalling him that the whole of humanity ailed.

This had to end…

But it didn’t and months then turned into years.

Your letters to Lucienne became so commonplace that one of the Dreaming ravens and your kingfisher had started passing by each other while delivering notes. You had begun to slack on your own duties as a curator and instead of simply documenting and protecting the vast wealth of knowledge you began to pour through it. You looked for anything you could find, hints in the life books of mortals of where the Shaper of Forms had gone. You had also started to disobey your father more and more as well…traveling to the mortal realm in the light of Ra so that your father would not see you in the path of the moon.

And then one day…

“Miss Y/n!” You hear a frantic voice, it’s oddly familiar and you rapidly look up from your research. If you hadn’t been sitting you would have fallen on your behind.

Lucienne stumbles towards you, a waning portal flickering weakly behind her as she gains her footing.

“L-Lucienne?” You are still shocked she’s here in person; she never left the Dreaming to enter your realm unannounced.

“Please Y/n, I know that I did not send word but-“ she ducks her head.

You’ve never seen her so distraught and your heart aches as you worry she might begin to cry.

Quickly you stand and rush to her side.

“What is it, Lucienne, please what’s wrong?” You beg her to tell you, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, urging her to look at you.

“The books… they are all disappearing.” She says her eyes watery as she looks up at you and you feel her hands shake as she takes your other hand in hers. “Whole sections of the library; they are gone.”

Behind her the portal flickers and dissolves into the air. She drops to her knees and you follow, easing her to the cool stone of your own library.

“I used the last of my magic to get here…to seek your aid.” She says.

“Can the books move realms?” You ask quickly.

“I believe that they can, there are millions of them though.” She replies, brow furrowing.

“Can we gather residents of the Dreaming to help us bring the books here?”

“The residents have all left, save for myself and a few others.” You stiffen; they’ve all gone?

You knew that dreams and nightmares had been abandoning the crumbling realm but you didn’t know it had become such a mass exodus.

“We’ll gather those that are left.” You turn your head and whistle to the kingfisher that is by your side in a quick beating of feathered wings. “Gather your friends from the mortal plane please, bring them here and ask them to make haste.” You whisper to them and kiss their soft head.

The kingfisher coos and with the flutter of its wings takes off.

Slowly you stand, facing where the portal Lucienne came through had disappeared; you close your eyes and focus. Plucking at the threads within the ether, pulling them taught, weaving them together until a golden path is spun before you that leads directly into the library of the Dreaming. Lucienne watches, eyes softening and tense posture easing slightly.

“Thank you Y/n.” She says looking up at you, the thankfulness clear in her deep brown eyes.

”You are my dear friend Lucienne, I would do anything for you.” You reply and hold your hand out to her. She takes it, a soft smile on her lips as she stands.

Prelude: Creation

To be created, you must first exist.

It was unfathomable. A darkness so encompassing you felt it possess every crack and crevice or your soul. You tried to take a deep breath, to ease the oppressive feel of the silence clawing at your mind, but you had no lungs. No body, nothing to see, touch and taste with.

You should feel panicked but emotions didn’t exist in such a void. It was empty, enduring, suffocating.

Timeless.

A nothing so deep the only thing you could perceive was it had no beginning, no middle and no end…

“Wake up.” The voice was soft, almost recognisable. “You need to wake up.” Your eyes opened. A soft breeze rippled across your back, the rich rustle of feathers filled your ears. Light struck the back of your eyes making you inhale sharply from the sting. Your fingers curled for the first time, sinking into the black sand with which you were upon. Watching with fascination as it devoured your hand, only to willingly release you, dripping down like fine black rain.

“We have a need of you.” A figure blocked out the weak light, curled pointy ears and round glasses drew into focus as you pushed yourself up. Drawing your knees under you, splaying your hands out to get a good look at them. Brushing the black sand delicately off your skin, marvelling in the way your fingertips felt the fabric of your dress. It hugged your body, flowing out from all sides. The silver was metallic, a splash of brightness against all the dark. Flexing your shoulders you sighed, tipping your head back and glimpsing the deep, inky wings that spread either side of you.

The light was muted, almost grey as it reflected on the shine of the feathers. Your hands quivered, stretching to feel them with the tip of your middle finger. Watching them jostle, feeling the pull on your muscles. They were your wings.

“I am Lucienne.”

“I don’t have a name.” Your hand reached up and your eyes widened. The words came from you, vibrating in your throat, the thin skin of your neck warm to touch. Lucienne smiled slightly, her hand suspended in the space between you.

“Come. I’ll tell you what you need to do.” Her grip was sturdy. A support you needed as you stood on your feet for the first time, your wings flaring to stop you from falling. Looking up you could see you were in some sort of hole. A crater, where sand had exploded outwards in all directions.

“Wh-what happened?” Your tongue tied over the familiar but strange words.

“You, my dear.” One hand held tightly onto Lucienne and the other lifted the tendrils of your dress. Your toes dug into the sand as you both made your way up and out of the crater. Immediately before you were a pair of colossal gates. Intricately carved with all sorts of depictions; it would have taken months to see them all and your wings spread slightly as though you were going to fly up to the top. They were so tall your spine curved as you tilted your head up to get a good look at them.

“What is this place?” Your voice was still so new, the words scratching slightly on their way out.

“The gates of horn and ivory. The King of Dreams carved them himself.” The sound of them opening rendered the air. Creaks and moans of hinges not used in an age until they came to an abrupt stop and you stepped through the gap with Lucienne at your side.

The landscape seemed to stretch from your toes out into the distance as far as the eye could see. Mountains stood tall and squat, but nothing grabbed your gaze as much as the decaying palace before you. You could tell it had once been a castle of great stature. A creation that would have stolen your breath with its beauty and intricacy, now lay in crumbled ruins.

“It’s not much, anymore,” Lucienne told you dryly. A lake, grey and lifeless covered the ground to the right, what was once a bridge now broken and shattered, clouds heavy and angry roiled in the sky but your companion just sighed and began to walk towards it all. The palace was falling down, even now as you approached parts broke away to tumble to the ground. Grass and weeds covered the debris and a sense of immense sadness gathered in your chest.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you whispered. Wrongness twisted in your swirling depths as you looked around. “Why is it dying?”

“In his absence I can only do so much to keep the realm together.”

“Whose absence?”

“You are in the Dreaming,” Lucienne said with undisguised pride. Frowning you crouched beside a chunk of the palace, putting your hand on the worn stone as you tried to grasp streams of information that seemed just out of reach.

“Where is the King of Dreams?” You asked, not fully understanding the question yourself.

“Ah. I see He has gifted you with some knowledge then. Let me see if I can fill in the gaps.” She strode off leaving you no choice but to pick your way after her down the broken path.

Debris was everywhere. Littering the floor of what was once a huge chamber, covered in dust and dead leaves. A tall staircase wound up to a platform but steps were missing. What was once a grand throne still stands proud in front of the empty windows but even that was damaged seemingly beyond repair. Cracks filtered through the whole place, some deep fissures that you had to almost jump over. Your gaze was captivated by the shards of coloured glass strewn beneath your feet. Colours that were once whole and vibrant were now jaded and shattered. Your wings flared as you bent down to pick up a piece of green glass, marvelling at how it tried to capture the essence of light that was strong enough to filter into the chamber.

“I did try to keep it tidy. But I gave up quite a few years ago. It’s like the palace wants to be in this state and no matter what I do, it has no effect.” Breathing in, your chest expanded rapidly. The air in the Realm was heavy, settling inside you as an extra burden. You wanted to fix this, to stop this place from feeling so erroneous. Something was missing, the very fabric of this Realm was tearing apart, drifting in the unseen winds of the Endless.

“Why did he leave?” Your voice carried more than you expected in the large space.

“He left to retrieve a rogue nightmare but then, he didn’t come back.” You never thought weariness could affect a being in such a magical place, but Lucienne’s eyes were coloured with it. “Something has happened to him and that is why you are here.”

“What can I do?”

“You can find him. Help him. I haven’t heard from Jessamy in years and I can’t…leave the Realm unattended.” She peered at you over the top of her glasses. “But you can.”

“What could possibly be keeping the Lord of all this in the waking realm?”

“I have no idea,” she answered mournfully. “But first we must turn you into a raven. Mortals will not take kindly to you just walking in their realm with these.” Lucienne’s gaze drifted purposely to your wings making you drag them into yourself, the soft rustle echoing against the destroyed stone. “And I’m fairly sure Lord Morpheus won’t accept help from you in this form.”

“Tell me what I must do.” She approached, held within her hand was a necklace. At first glance it didn’t look like much, a simple silver chain dangled from her fingers but what hung on it was an amulet depicting a raven's head. As black as the night sky but it shimmered with an otherworldliness that had you reaching out for a closer look.

“Usually a raven is not chosen this way. They enter the Dreaming in the form but you are something quite different.” Your brow furrowed a little, eyes searching hers for answers but all Lucienne did was subtly cock an eyebrow at your unspoken question.

“What am I?”

“I did what Lord Morpheus cannot. I asked for help and I was gifted, you. True, you’re not what I expected…” she explained, slowly walking round you to get a good look at you. “And I think you’re more than what I bargained for but we don’t question the Creator here. You’re certainly not like the others.”

“Others?”

“Never mind. Now. This amulet will help you find him, it is part of the Dreaming and it will seek him out so trust it. You must bring him home.”

“Ok,” you breathed out. The raven's head settled just below your clavicle, an unusual weight against your skin making you reach for it automatically.

Nothing happened. Your feet were still firmly planted on the broken floor of the palace and you threw a worried look at Lucienne.

“You need to go to the waking realm. It will take you, you just have to let go.” Closing your eyes you blocked out everything around you. A pinprick of light glowed in your mind's eye so you headed towards it, thoughts filled of the waking realm and a being named Morpheus…