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By Light Unseen, By Love Unbound | Chapter 5

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022/2025) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Fiddler's Green/Gilbert, Hob Gadling, Death Of the Endless, Desire of The Endless, Destiny of The Endless, Despair of The Endless, Destruction of The Endless, Delirium of The Endless, Lyta Hall, Rose Walker, Daniel Hall, The Corinthian, Johanna Constantine, Nada, Orpheus, Nuala, Titania, Auberon, Loki, Puck, The Kindly Ones, Mad Hettie, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read, swearing. Summary: Fashion designer in the Waking World, Queen Consort in the realm of dreams. While nurturing Morpheus' child and dwelling alongside him as his devoted wife, you yearned to leave the past behind and embark on this adventure with the love of your newfound immortal existence. However, when Destiny convened the entire family to herald an ominous prophecy, the ghosts you thought banished suddenly returned, hitting you with unparalleled force. As Morpheus contended with remorse regarding his previous transgressions, you maintained a delicate balance between your pregnancy, a marriage inevitably challenged by a former flame, and spilled family blood. Your worst nightmare was brought to life, threatening your happiness and the future of your unborn daughter. Nevertheless, your love held the capacity to transcend seemingly immutable cosmic laws, unveiling enigmatic revelations about your true identity—against the absolute and unbreakable.

Transformation didn't require leaving the island; it only demanded reimagining it. Like an hourglass that doesn't end with its final grain, but merely awaits being turned to start the journey again. ⏳

This story is a direct sequel to Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92, @bridkesby @gallantys, @lovelynyah, @misswings1864. If anyone wishes to be removed or added for future uptates, please let me know!

You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!

Just when you thought Nada’s departure would restore some semblance of normalcy, more trouble arrived. Her shadow still lingered in your husband’s mind, and he set out once again with Delirium to search for their missing brother. Refusing to stay quiet, you took charge instead, only to be swallowed by a new hell; boxed in by flames and bodies inside a Philadelphia club. Meanwhile, your dreams kept drawing you toward something strange and impossible to explain.

Author's note: Another long chapter. Usual Sandman drama/angst ahead, mysterious dreams, canon + original lore, etc. In the show, we see events unfolding way too fast, but in reality, I assume a few days pass between the club explosion and Wanda's funeral. I will take this additional time to build story parts. Chapter 6 is going to be particularly important and an actual crossroads.

Nada stayed rigid and wordless, offering no reply to your greeting, teeth clenched, a wet shine gathering in her eyes under the room’s soft glow. She held there, muscles tightening, and you answered the hush with an uneasy exhale.

"I’m sorry I arrived unannounced. I’m Y/N. It’s good to finally meet you."

"I know exactly who you are," she retorted, each word honed to an edge. "The Dream Lord’s wife."

"That… would be correct. Did the doctors give you everything you needed? I found you doing well."

"As well as anyone can be, after ten thousand years in Hell."

You nodded, chin dipping toward the floor. "Right. And after everything you endured, Azazel taking you was probably the last thing you expected. I’m glad you’re safe now."

Her following question struck like a blade, sharp with anger and resentment. "Are you?"

Your brows knitted, a tight furrow settling between them. "Of course. Why would I lie?"

"Because you are bound to a liar."

"Wh—

"Do you know what he did? Do you know your husband is the one who condemned me to Hell?"

You swallowed. "I am aware, yes."

"And yet you’re still here. With him."

"Yes."

"He cannot be trusted. Tell me you understand that."

You drew yourself taller, nails biting into your palms. "That isn’t true."

"Then pray he does not punish you the way he punished me the moment you defy what he expects of you."

You gave a short laugh and shook your head. "If anyone can’t stay put, it’s me. He’s had more than enough chances to send me to Hell, or punish me for being insolent."

"Then you were fortunate."

"Or perhaps he’s no longer the same being you met ten thousand years ago."

"You speak from hope. Kai'ckul isn’t human. He is Endless."

"It isn’t hope. It’s fact. And I know exactly what he is. I’m immortal too."

"This has nothing to do with immortality. I believed he loved me, and I paid dearly for offering him my heart. I pity you, being tangled up with his kind as well."

Nerves stung along your arms, your fingers sparking with light you forced down.

"Did he send you to me, even after I agreed to meet him?"

"No. I came of my own accord. As the queen of this realm, it is my duty to ensure our guests are receiving everything they may require."

"Let me ask you this: marrying him, bearing his child... that was also your choice?"

You bristled, affronted. "What are you trying to say? That he made me marry him? That this pregnancy was forced on me?"

"I wouldn’t put it past him. Not after what he did to me."

You pressed your lips together as heat rushed to your cheeks. "Didn’t I just imply I’m not under his control?"

"Kai’ckul doesn't stop. He takes. That is what the Endless do."

"We’re talking about the one who went looking for you in Hell, even with me and his unborn child here. He knew it was the right thing to do, and he followed through."

She stepped closer, an ancient pain sharpening across her features. "And he is the same being who left me to rot in my prison not long ago, when I begged him to free me."

Was there really anything you could say that would excuse your husband’s actions? Even if he had told you what he felt and what had compelled him then, if you had been in Nada’s position, how readily could you have forgiven someone you once loved, then grew to loathe after such a grievous betrayal?

"I’m not trying to minimize what he did to you. If that’s what you think of me, you’ve misunderstood me."

"Then tell me your intent, Lady Y/N. Because I do not believe you came here for me."

Did she take your visit as a ploy, a polite attempt by Morpheus' wife to soften her and coax her into forgiveness? Did she think you beneath trust simply because you belonged, by marriage, to the Endless and stood at the Dream Lord's side?

Truthfully, if you were pressed to explain why you’d decided to see her, you would struggle to name any solid reason beyond a stubborn instinct that tugged you toward the medical wing before you even felt in command of yourself.

"I have no ill intent, I promise you. Maybe I just wanted to come face-to-face with the reason my husband became involved with the Key to Hell, with Azazel, and with all those deities who demanded it for themselves in our home."

Nada barely flinched, blinking once.

"Or maybe it was curiosity. Meeting you feels like standing before an ancestor of humanity."

"I am not worthy of remembrance. My people are dead because of what I chose."

"You wanted to love and be loved over what might have been only a tale. The outcome was tragic, surely, but you were human, and you acted on human emotion."

The memories seemed to take their toll on her again, breath catching. "I told him I would pay for my selfishness, in this life and hereafter, even if it meant an eternity of suffering. I meant it. But when I refused him, when I opted for duty over the love that had already damned my people, he made my 'wish' come true by delivering me to Lucifer, and he left me with no way out, no freedom, no reprieve, and no mercy."

"And that, like I told him, was an awful thing to do. However, you’re holding on to who he was when you met him, so long ago, and to the version of him who could not bring himself to set you free the second time."

Still unyielding, she kept her hands locked behind her back, knotted so tightly they might have been trussed, and lifted her head a fraction.

"You don’t have to accept what happened, grant him your blessing, or move on. That would be impossible for anyone who has lived through what you did. I might be out of place for saying this, and maybe I have no right to it, either. But I wouldn’t be speaking to you now, wearing his wedding ring, and carrying his child if it weren’t also my choice. I’m here because I want to be here. I’m with him because I love who he has become."

She listened, attention darting to your eyes, dark lips easing into a thoughtful frown.

Then, the verdict. "I hear the sincerity in your words, but I don’t believe Kai’ckul has changed. Not in any way that matters."

"You haven’t spoken to him yet. The fact you’re standing here right now kind of proves he did, doesn’t it? Azazel took you so that he could use you as a means to retrieve the Key to Hell and rule over the realm of the dead. So much hung in the balance, yet the only thing Dream cared about was setting things right. For you."

"That is not enough to wipe away the pain he's caused me. I gave my love to someone who would have made me his queen, only to be torn from my world and everything I knew by the same hand that once reached for me."

As intensely as you adored your husband and could vouch for the distance he’d traveled, adding anything else in his defence would have felt unnecessary and, worse, profoundly disrespectful. Nada had endured something you could scarcely fathom from where you stood; not even a heartfelt apology from Morpheus could have mended a wound that deep.

You had meant to end the discussion, provide a final goodbye, and retire to your bedchamber for the night without taking up another moment of her time. But the next sentence froze you in place before you could move.

"If I were you, I would gather what’s mine, take my child, and go. Far from him. As far as the world allows."

Heat flared behind your lids, your irises hardening into fire stones.

"Before he decides to break what is left of your life, the way he broke mine—"

"Nada."

Startled, she retreated a pace, your stare igniting like incandescent stars.

You took a slow breath, closed your eyes to keep your power from flaring accidentally in a disproportionate reaction, and breathed out until the tightness slackened. "You’ve made it clear that if I ever defy him, he would punish me without hesitation. So, by that logic, leaving him and taking off with his child would be the most foolish thing I could do, wouldn’t it?"

She worried at the inside of her cheek, the contradiction dawning on her.

"I’m sorry for what happened to you. And while I can stand by him for who he is now, I know I could never justify what he did. That would be inexcusable of me."

Her lower lip quivered, yet no words came.

"Nevertheless, I will not let you decide my fate. Your story is not mine, and mine isn’t yours to write."

It might have seemed a little insensitive, but you could no longer stomach anyone dictating how you should behave around Dream or telling you which path to choose for your ‘own good’.

"I know where you’re coming from. Truly. I don’t fault you for it. But it has been ten thousand years, and what happened to you is not something he would do to me in cold blood."

"Have you stood beside him long enough to recognize what he is, once the mask slips?"

You planted your feet, your tone turning even firmer. "You see, I’ve had the privilege of meeting the gentler version of him, becoming his wife, and being loved in a way no mortal man could ever love me. I don’t consider myself better than you, because I’m not. I’m just… me. But fate brought me to him for a reason, and so far I can say, with absolute conviction, that there is no mask to drop."

She looked away, unconvinced.

"Oh, we had our ups and downs, all right. He cast me out of the Dreaming once, irritated that I’d overreached, and he severed our entanglement as a kind of protection when he feared his presence in my life would become my doom, the way it was for you. But then we learned. We grew together. We came to an understanding and found our balance. We are still standing, supporting one another, stronger than ever."

You brushed your thumb over the stack of rings on your hand, almost without thinking: one for the proposal, the other for a vow of eternal love.

"Naturally, I don’t expect you to understand it."

"No. I cannot. But… you are right. Your story is yours alone. I offer you my apologies, my lady."

You smiled. "I am not your lady. You were, and I dare say, you still are, likely one of the first rulers humankind has ever known. If anything, I should be the one to show you greater deference. And I’m doing a poor job of it."

One corner of her mouth flickered, then the sternness returned. "Kai’ckul was speaking the truth. Humans aren’t meant to be with the Endless, not without disaster taking place. But you are not human, are you?"

"I used to believe I was… things have changed. As for what I am exactly, I’m still trying to work it out."

She allowed the tension to drain away, tight muscles easing as her hands finally slid out from behind her back. Unbound, unrestrained.

"I cannot trust Kai’ckul again."

"No one expects you to forget. Not me, and certainly not him."

"Do you truly believe he loves you?"

"I have no doubts. I feel it in everything he does."

She nodded in acknowledgment, but without much approval. "Then I hope you will not come to regret it, the same way I did."

"I will never regret the life I'm building for myself, or for my child."

Finally, with a small inclination of your head, you gave her a courteous farewell.

"My husband awaits you, so I won’t keep you any longer. Please take care of yourself, Queen Nada. I wish you the very best."

As you spun on your heel and headed for the door, Nada remained still, watching you. She voiced no parting word, her stare burning into your back as you left, the lock snapping shut behind you.

You walked through the medical hall with a leaden heaviness lodging in your stomach, the conversation having amounted to nothing, leaving it as little more than a formal visit she could clearly have done without.

Lucienne didn’t move an inch, staying exactly where you’d asked, a soft smile lifting her lips as you came into view. "Is everything in order in there?"

"Sort of. I’m not sure what I expected, but… at least she’s doing okay, all things considered. I doubt my visit did much to please her."

The librarian moved closer, giving your back a reassuring pat. "You’re carrying a great deal at once, my lady. You truly should get some rest."

"Yes, I’ll do that now. Please keep an eye on things for me, won’t you?"

"Of course. Sleep well."

Your shoes clicked against the floor as you retraced your route, your altered green dress expanding around your legs. You climbed the stairs to the upper floor, where your room waited in muted quiet, and a strange hollowness took root in your chest, paired with an inexplicable foreboding of what lay ahead.

Taking off your clothes almost felt sacrilegious, like setting aside a work of art made for your body during this season of change, and hanging it back in the wardrobe to be set aside. You wanted to arrange all his gifts like treasures, to wear them and keep them close all at once, if only you had the chance to show them off without having to select one over another.

You went through your usual nighttime routine, thoughts dispersing elsewhere, back to Nada, prepared to confront her former lover with no desire to ever accept his apologies. Her stance was justified, without question. No matter how hard you tried to frame Morpheus as someone who had grown beyond his past, the unseen wounds she bore would cling to her spirit for a long time yet.

Sleep came quickly once the back of your head sank into the plush pillows, candlelight dimming as the amethyst glow overhead lowered a notch, while the nearby fireplace softened the stillness with the steady crackle of burning wood. No distinct images surfaced, your awareness unmoored in a dark haze, distant voices murmuring words you could scarcely understand.

You could not recall when, or how, you found yourself descending the staircase, the banister solid beneath your hand, each step soft and soundless as your bare soles met the carpet. You were entirely alert, with the palace’s hum subsiding into its usual backdrop, your mind sharp and steady, free of any haze or disorientation.

What betrayed your altered consciousness was the peculiar, never-before-seen bluish glow that cloaked your entire form, with faint trails of vaporous energy streaming from each movement like a dusting of magic. Your body had no real sense of weight; you walked normally, but gravity felt entirely different, as though you were not corporeal at all.

A faint, nearly imperceptible thread streamed from your back, like a tether holding you to another place. You dismissed it, proceeding through the main halls and unlit corridors, until the pull guiding you sharpened into something clear and immediate. You stopped by a wall, dark curtains hemming you in, a gentle draft stirring your hair.

The conversation you were tracking, now close enough to catch every syllable, turned into vivid sound with a slight echo. Morpheus and Nada, speaking in the dining hall while you listened from the other side, an unseen presence you couldn’t be sure he noticed, yet you knew he did. There was no way the Dream Lord would fail to detect you in his own domain. Asleep or awake, you wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Even so, Morpheus behaved as if nothing had changed. "Ten thousand years ago," he said, pausing. "I condemned you to Hell. I now think… I think I may have acted… dishonorably."

Silence.

"I think, perhaps, that I should apologize."

‘Perhaps’…?

"You think perhaps you should apologize?" Nada replied, voice taut with disappointment and hurt.

"I—"

"I spent ten thousand years in Hell," she continued, voice splintering, as though tears might spill at any moment. "I burned by day and froze by night. Glass shards cut my flesh. I starved and hurt."

You could sense the biting cold seep through you, your skin feeling like it would split and scorch, as if her torment had found its way into your form.

"And wept, and waited."

Morpheus’ inability to provide any justification left him hollowed out, guilt gnawing at him, fear locking him in place. Even without seeing him, you could still picture the set of his jaw, his attention fixed on the floor, and his hands held stiffly at his sides.

"All that because of you. And you think perhaps you should apologize?"

You ghosted through the curtains, candlelight flickering at the far end. The barrier between you and the dining hall—if not the Dreaming plane itself—appeared to be rooted, absolute, and unmoving. Impenetrable.

You caught the scrape of a chair against the floor. "Look at me." An order, flat with fury and finality.

Morpheus took a breath, but the quick footsteps that followed told you Nada was closing in.

"Look at me!"

A sound like a slap, a faint gasp, and the growing aura of a Dream Lord tipping into rage.

Your eyes widened, hand pressing against your mouth. ‘Oh no…’

His breathing sped up, the distant light quivered, then dulled. "You struck me." He was furious, shaking, poised to unleash whatever came next.

"Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t."

"No one may strike me. I should—"

"What? What will you do to me this time, Dream Lord? Or will you just send me back to Hell?"

Fortunately, the unsettling atmosphere faded as quickly as it had conjured itself, suggesting your husband had recovered a measure of sense and dignity, taking her blow as an outlet for the frustration she had carried for so long.

Still, for all the empathy you could muster under the circumstances that had brought things to this juncture, you couldn’t quite dismiss your devoted spouse’s instinct, the impulse to brush your fingers along his cheek and soothe the ache, be it bodily or emotional.

"No. I… I am sorry," he sighed. "I will live with eternal regret for what I did to you."

The rest of the exchange proceeded in broken exhales and Nada’s muffled sobs. You could feel their pain, the lingering traces of a love that ended too soon and in complete tragedy.

"To dwell on the past is a Hell on its own," Nada announced. "One I wouldn’t wish on anyone."

The filament at your back suddenly yanked, and your gossamer figure shivered into luminous mist.

"Then perhaps it is time we discuss your future," Morpheus concluded.

You pressed against the wall, angling your head to catch the rest of their exchange, but the thread eventually jerked you back, hauling you into the familiar blackness of transition. Traces of blue vapor floated behind, the sheen on your skin fading as you surfaced back in your bed. Your lids fluttered open on their own, your mind stranded between worlds in a suspended state, fatigue swelling like a stone weight pinning you in place.

You yawned, your thoughts wandering, hypnagogic whispers brushing the back of your wakefulness. You were exhausted, far too tired to move a muscle.

Then sleep took you again, warping and switching from one scene to another until your awareness adjusted once more. Your nightly journey had only just started, and you let it continue and run its course, placing no bounds or restrictions on it.

You crossed the Dreaming’s ever-changing terrain, figures and beasts gliding past, and far-off lives playing out as blurred impressions skirting at the edges of perception, half-seen, half-forgotten. You kept going without sparing them a moment’s notice, driven onward as a broad expanse of tall grass and moonflowers assembled in segments, as if lanterns were flaring to life one by one to illuminate the road. Towering trees bracketed the clearing, and the familiar nebulae and star-strewn canopy hung above. Leaves brushed your skin with a faint, playful tickle as your hands skimmed them, palm to leaf, like a passing salutation.

The deeper you explored, the moonflowers brightened, becoming pearly lamps scattered through the grass. Some blossoms curled near the ground, but unfurled as soon as you came close. Fireflies rose, spiraling around you in a merry little dance, as if honoring someone beloved. You smiled, taken with it, while the leaves parted and the greenery carved a clear way forward.

None of this was unaccustomed, the vision returning with small changes, the Dreaming shaping itself in a way that you would recognize and enjoy.

Further on, the trees drew in tight, the forest knitting itself into a pocket of space that felt markedly different, almost misplaced, as if it didn’t truly belong to the surrounding landscape. It was like walking into another place altogether, somehow fused to the field of flowers, yet wrong in a manner you couldn’t name.

You hesitated, letting your attention shift from side to side as you weighed whether to press on or abandon the idea entirely. In the end, the urge to uncover what lay beyond that stretch of land outweighed any uncertainty that tried to surface, and you moved onward, abandoning the field while the fireflies kept guiding you. They whispered and tittered, assuring you that nothing worrysome waited around the corner.

Your footfalls fell soft and soothing, and the woods stayed serene, bearing the clean perfume of leaves and bark. You expected to reach the gloomy cave at the trail’s end, but instead the trees opened onto a wide lake, with far-off stones and a pale shape emerging on the opposite shore. A temple, old as memory, and oddly alluring. Half-veiled by the mist.

As though spellbound, you tilted your head and listened. A singing thinned into the wind, indistinct, like a hum luring you closer. You went forward, hovering just over the water until your foot dipped beneath the surface, the chill curling around your ankles. You advanced, inch by inch, submerging deeper with every pace, your pulse quickening while the temple stayed stubbornly out of reach. Something rested protected there, something invaluable and consequential. You had no idea what it was, or what compelled you to look for it.

But just as the lagoon lapped at your waist, it wrenched you under in one violent pull, hauling you deeper and deeper, dropping you through the dark like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.

Despite being underwater, you continued to breathe, taking in your surroundings without fear as your hair and gown eddied around you. You couldn’t discern anything past the murky abyss, until something luminous swam into view from the direction of the temple.

You waited in stillness, your downward drift slowing. The sphere of light approached, morphing and stretching into something larger: the outline of a figure you had encountered in a previous dream, one that wore your features like a mirror—its face a radiant blur. It shared your hair, your build, and your choice of dress, each detail woven from golden energy.

It came to a stop in front of you, motionless as it floated in perfect sync with your form like a twin. Then it lifted a hand and cradled your cheek, heat spilling through your skin and seeping straight into your heart.

"Not yet, Y/N," it proclaimed, your own voice made strange, as though another one spoke underneath it. "The truth is almost here."

The lake turned to molten gold, and a searing radiance swallowed everything until you jolted awake, a soundless breath catching in your throat as nausea unfurled, knocking the air from your lungs like a punch.

You flung the covers aside and folded over yourself as morning sickness clenched hard in your gut and made you suppress a rush of bitter stomach acid, while an ugly feeling of chaos breaking loose quickly swelled behind your sternum.

It was no longer about clinging to hope, but about wondering what you should brace yourself to witness.

Freshened up and arranged as carefully as any queen was expected to be, you headed down the stairs, arriving on the lower floors like someone marching toward a sentence. Your smile was strained and fleeting as the palace staff offered their greetings in passing, with no one brave enough to ask, your focus already far away.

You surveyed the palace, from the vacant throne room and your husband’s private quarters to the adjoining chambers and secret corners. Your Dreamstone’s gleam intensified as you made for the entrance hall, honing and holding taut when his voice reached you, low and contained, bearing concern and disappointment, directed at someone else.

You eased behind a column, your back braced against the cold marble.

"Are you certain this is what you want?"

"A chance to see the mortal world," Nada confirmed. "To live again."

After ten thousand years away, with her homeland changed past anything she would identify as home, the human realm may pose another risk, perhaps as punishing as the trials she endured in Hell.

As though he’d caught your thoughts, Morpheus spoke in the same vein. "The mortal world is not as you remember it. Humanity itself—"

"Have I not just spent the last ten thousand years with humanity?"

That, in context, was a genuinely reasonable point, as Hell used to be plainly crowded with mortal souls who believed they deserved to burn, and with those who had committed unspeakable crimes and could not expect anything kinder.

"You should not go there alone," Morpheus stated. "Perhaps I should come with you."

And that was, without a doubt, the last thing you had hoped to hear.

"Kai’ckul."

"It is treacherous there."

Couldn’t he let her follow her own course without interfering? As hard as it could be, didn’t she merit the chance to explore with real freedom, without him keeping to her like a tether, afraid that releasing her in the mortal realm would lead to yet another mistake?

You poked your head out, careful not to be spotted, like the tiny spy you had somehow become. Nada had changed into a casual, better-suited dress, long and still meticulously true to her culture of origin.

She faced your husband with resignation. After all, there was nothing left for her to lose. "More so than Hell?"

As she turned toward the outer world and the sunlight she hadn’t seen in far too long, Morpheus could not restrain himself. Something still rode the air, unspoken, something he plainly needed to set straight.

"Perhaps… I ought not say this, after what I have done. But then… my feelings for you were sincere."

Regrettably, the Queen of the First People refused to listen, just as your own words had fallen on deaf ears.

"No, my Lord."

"It is so. I did love you."

"No," she insisted. "You did not."

She pivoted back, shaking her head.

"I know you believe that you did. But I wonder if you… if your kind is even capable of love."

You knocked the back of your head against the stone, jaw clenching as your lids squeezed shut. Your fists thudded against the marble in silence, blood seething like lava, ready to explode.

"How can you say that…?"

‘Please don’t believe it. Please don’t.’

"How could anyone who truly loved me… do what you’ve done to me?"

You hated it. From your perspective, there was no way you could resent her without, in effect, erasing the pain she’d endured because of that single, noxious choice your husband made.

"I have changed. My wife… she can attest to that."

"It is the same as the last time I refused you. I think you merely wanted what you could not have, and it is still so, for me and for her. Your wife is a trophy, one you are holding up to reassure yourself that I am mistaken about you."

‘What in the bleeding fuck—’

"That is not love. that is desire."

‘No… no no no no no."

"Desire…?"

"There is no shame in it," she replied gently.

The brief pause that followed felt cutting, a clear sign that her words were already taking root in his mind.

"…No. You cannot tell me what is in my heart. I loved you. I love my wife, and the child we have made together."

The small, uninterested nod, and her mouth tensing, confirmed she would not be swayed from considering it a complete falsehood.

"Your wife came to me. Lady Y/N is kind, and she loves you truly. She loves you more deeply than I ever believed possible. If you care for her and for the life she carries, then I suggest you let her go."

It hit you, all at once, that nothing you’d said had truly reached her—none of it. Not your assurances, not your devotion, not the fact that you were here by volition rather than by claim. The realization sat heavy in your chest as you understood what this exchange might carve into him in return: another wound he would accept without protest, another doubt he would nurse until it became something definitive.

"You may disregard my counsel, but in time you will hurt her, as you hurt me. And when the pain is enough, she will leave you, just the same."

To Nada, you were only an emblem, nothing more than a consequence of his desire. He wouldn’t be enraged or stirred to retaliation, but instead worn down in incremental ways, until even your comfort would begin to feel like something he had not earned.

"Fare you well, Kai’ckul."

The moment she crossed the threshold, washed in light and vanishing into it, you wanted to step out of your hiding spot and yell, follow her, and grab her by the shoulders, demanding an apology even though she was a victim to begin with. You struggled to rein in your fury, to set it aside and dismiss her words entirely, her self-righteous certainty doing absolutely nothing to assuage your rancor.

The gates shut behind her, plunging the hall into near-total darkness as the surrounding torches refused to catch, the fires at the foot of the stairs serving as the only source of illumination. Morpheus stood immobile at the center of the room, statue-still, like a shadow poised to sink into the thickening gloom, while thunder coalesced and a storm rolled in, turning the Dreaming’s bright day into driving rain.

And so you marched toward him, spine straight and shoulders squared, a clear furrow forming between your brows—an expression that was fast becoming your new default.

"None of what she said is true. You know that, don't you?"

Slowly, almost menacingly, he swiveled to face you. In his sockets, two pinpoints of glowing light burned. Still beautiful, in spite of everything.

There was absolutely nothing in him that could ever frighten you or drive you off.

"It’s not true," you repeated, steady and sure. "Please tell me you don’t believe any of that."

His rigidity slackened, the remaining lights kindling in sync as his stare returned to its usual look. Gratitude and a flicker of relief surfaced, only to vanish a heartbeat later as he assessed the moment, moving past you and away from the entrance hall.

"I must be alone for a time."

Your heart clenched, a hidden blade slicing through it as he left you there, the rain pattering against the windows. Your lower lip quivered, your breathing sped up, and your posture slumped in defeat.

You hadn’t seen him so dispirited since the day he found the Book of Paradoxes and forced himself to abandon you because of a false prophecy. Was it truly impossible for the two of you to protect your happiness? Was the universe pushing you to the brink, just to prove your love could endure any tempest?

Truthfully, you had borne enough, and whatever this higher power meant to forge, you were ready to tear into it with claws bared.

Half an hour later, you found your husband drenched beneath the downpour, folded over one of the balcony’s parapet with his head bowed. His coat had been discarded, his black shirt clung to him, partially translucent, while his hair lay plastered to his scalp.

"I don’t understand. What is this about?" Lucienne asked, careful not to broach a delicate subject.

"It was Nada," you replied simply, watching from a distance.

"Queen Nada? I thought she’d already left. What happened?"

"She told him some things. Justified, perhaps, given her case… but…"

"Oh dear."

"I don’t know what to do," you admitted. "Maybe you should speak with him."

She winced. "Me? If there is anyone he will listen to, it is you. More than he would listen to me."

You wanted nothing more than to go outside, loop your arms around his waist, and murmur sweet, loving murmurs against his back. The falling rain, the thunder, and the judgments so many carried toward Morpheus meant nothing to you. You knew who you had married. You had watched him change from the guarded, quick-tempered Lord of Dreams into the devoted husband who had opened his heart and his realm to you. You! A woman born mortal, remade by his love, doted upon in countless ways, and raised to a queenship you never imagined for yourself.

But now, watching him so shaken, so raw with hurt that he asked for solitude, even from his wife, you understood there was only so much that you, from your position, could do to make it all go away.

Morpheus couldn’t absorb what had been said with the right proportion, always taking it too personally and with more tragedy than it warranted.

You wanted to fight for him. You would have done it for the rest of your life, just as you promised on the night of your vows. But now… now you didn’t have the strength for it. Tomorrow, certainly. Maybe even in a few hours.

Right now, you only wanted to scream until your throat went raw. He wanted seclusion to work through what he was feeling, and you needed the same.

"Not this time, Luce. I... I think I’m the last person he wants to talk to."

"My lady…"

"Sorry. I can’t handle this."

You receded, ignoring Lucienne’s gentle insistence. The librarian called you once, then again, but eventually chose to give you the space you required. Both her sovereigns were burdened by their own complexes, and she was unfairly caught between them.

The corridor felt too narrow and the atmosphere too thick and suffocating, as if the whole palace had locked itself into a single, terrifying uncertainty: notwithstanding your solidified convictions, you weren’t enough to keep your husband together.

You closed your bedroom doors, rushed to the bed, grabbed a pillow, and shoved it to your face, stifling the frustrated shriek that finally tore from your gullet.

Nearly an hour passed before you chose to take control of the situation, heading back to the main floor after swapping your formal dress for your work clothes, with no intention of returning to your world until you’d had a proper conversation with your husband. You took a moment to reflect, and you decided that letting him spiral into self-reproach again over an idea born of someone else’s pain was not an option.

Your shoes struck the marble like a declaration, leaving no doubt you were present. However, as you passed the dining room, its curtains drawn, something felt odd and out of place at once. From within came a thin, unsteady sound, not quite a sob, more like the ragged breath of someone trying not to cry, threading out as you crossed the doorway. At first the room looked vacant, but the moment you rounded the table, you spotted a figure collapsed against the wall, one knee pulled up, surrounded by a strange bloom of fungi that seemed to have sprouted from nowhere. A chair had been shoved aside and overturned, as if the being there had lashed out in anger.

You blinked. "Delirium?"

She lifted her head in an instant, eyes wide and watery. "Oh, it’s you!"

Compared to her rockish getup at the family gathering, she now wore long trousers with a plain white coat, long and flared at the bottom, pooling around her on the floor. It still carried her trademark eccentricity, with mismatched flower patches stitched onto the right side of her chest, her left shoulder, and low near one of the side pockets.

"What are you doing here? Are you all right?"

"I came to see Dream," she explained. "I asked for his help, but… I don’t think he wants to help me."

You absently dragged your fingertips along the table. "What do you need help with? Is there anything I can do?"

She shrugged, a pout tugging at her mouth. "I just want to find our brother. He’s been gone for so long, and I… I just need to know he’s all right. And nobody wants to help me."

"You mean Destruction?."

"I miss him."

You smiled, crouching attentively in front of her, back straight. "I understand. He’s family after all."

"He is."

"Still, if your siblings don’t want to look for him, maybe they believe it’s the right thing to do, out of respect. Or perhaps… something else is going on."

"But what if he’s waiting for one of us to go looking? What if he’s all by himself?"

You instinctively tucked a strand of hair away from her face. "It was his decision to begin with. If this life away from his duties is making him uncomfortable, then I assume he would come back."

"I don’t know…"

"I’m sure he’s okay. Trust me when I say my instinct is never wrong."

She sighed, resolute in her conviction. "Nobody likes me. They all look at me like I’m a puzzle with pieces from different boxes, and he was the only one who ever knew where I fit."

"I do like you. I may not know you well yet, but I find you interesting."

"You do?" she said, like the words were little pebbles you could turn over and find something bright underneath.

"Absolutely."

"Little sister?"

A dark figure emerged from behind the billowing curtains, slinked in, and approached the two of you with the well-known, practiced silence of a cat. Morpheus looked at you with something close to reverence, though his attention turned to Delirium a second later.

"You came back," she breathed, awestruck.

"Yes."

"I didn’t think you would."

"I have spoken with Desire."

Desire…?

"Are they mad? What did they say?"

"That I should send you home immediately."

"Then I’ll ask our older sister to go with me," she persisted. "And if she says no, then I’ll ask Destiny, and if he says no, then I’ll go on my own."

Morpheus’ expression hinted that something was stirring under the surface. It was the same one he wore before offering that arrangement to Loki.

And you disliked it very much.

"It’s just that I… I often get distracted. And I get lost kind of easily. Sometimes I have very bad days where, you know, I just want to hide or scream or bleed or something."

He straightened, then came closer as you rose to your full height. "If you were to seek our brother, where would you begin looking?"

She smiled happily. "I suppose I’d start by… finding his old friends and asking them if they know. I’d ask them very nicely."

Even his lips formed a little grin. "Do you know any of his old friends?"

Oh, no. There was just no way he was about to leave again. Right?

Delirium stood enthusiastically. "I made a list! And I wrote down…" she hopped to him, taking out a folded piece of paper, "all the people our brother used to know that I’d ever met… that wouldn’t be dead yet."

When she handed him the list, he opened it at once and read the notes aloud. "A long-lived mortal, a god, and a figure of myth. I’m impressed."

"So… will you help me? Because I’m trying very hard not to get lost in the sideways bits."

You could already anticipate the inevitable answer.

"It would be unjust to let you go alone. Grant me a moment with my wife. I will join you."

Everything around you whirled like a vortex, your tongue clicking against your teeth, your blood seething as she cheerfully skipped toward the corridor.

"See you, new sister. It was all spinny-nice meeting you again!"

And just like that, every shred of fondness you had for the eccentric Endless vanished like smoke on the wind.

Your chest flared, an inferno roaring at full strength. "Sure."

The curtains rippled as she passed, and you attempted to collect yourself by gripping the back of the toppled chair and setting it upright, your fingers trembling while tiny sparks of light shot free, concealed under your palms.

Morpheus drew in behind you, hands sliding along your arms. "My love, I owe you an apology."

"You don't say."

"You were there for me, and I did not recognize it. I was… not myself."

"I noticed."

"I asked you for solitude and, in doing so, turned you away. That was unforgivable."

You wriggled free from his hold, wheeling to face him. "But you’re doing it again, aren’t you?"

"Doing what?"

"You’re leaving, casting me aside. And for what this time? To find your lost brother? Convenient, isn’t it, that this happens right after speaking to Desire?"

As your anger surged again at another decision he had made without consulting you, his Adam’s apple jumped. "Desire is not the cause of this."

You laughed, a devilish sound. "Like they weren’t the one who left you drowning in guilt over Nada, right? They have their hands in everything these days. Let’s not sugarcoat it. They could tell you not to do something while secretly hoping you would do exactly that, just to watch you suffer and become miserable."

His mouth snapped shut, unable to find another argument to defend his position.

"Morpheus, I understand you don’t want your sister going alone. But this is Destruction we’re talking about. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about it."

"You persist in repeating that."

"Then you should start listening, don’t you think? Why can’t you take this, or me, seriously enough?"

Your voice cracked, and the urge to cry rushed back as your mood swings slammed into you more brutally with each passing day.

Air lodged in his chest, and his hands braced hard at your waist. Grounding you, and himself. "I do take you seriously, my love."

"And still, you’re going to leave again."

"This journey is not so perilous as my descent into the underworld. It is only a brief search."

You lowered your forehead against his chest, rattled. "Are you sure about that?"

"I would not leave you for long, my sweet. I cannot bear the very thought of it."

"Are you only saying that to soften me, to win my approval?"

"I speak only what is. You may rely upon my word."

Was there truly anything else you could say that might persuade him to stay? In the end, it came down to your own self-interest and a dread that might be unfounded, balanced against the prospect of leaving Delirium to manage the search by herself. She might be Endless, but her scattered state meant she was more likely to create trouble than solve it.

You wished you could stand your ground, but whenever it came to pleasing your husband, you always found yourself yielding and going along with what he wanted.

"Will I see you when I return tonight?"

"I cannot promise Delirium’s list will be cleared before nightfall."

"How long is it going to take?"

"I cannot say."

You tapped your foot. "That is not the answer I was hoping for. How can you call it brief if you don’t even know how much time it will require?"

"I shall endeavor to see this concluded with all possible haste. And in truth, our brother wishes not to be found."

"Then what’s the point of trying at all? Are you really doing this only for Delirium?"

His fingers held at your waist, then loosened, as something flickered across his face. "For what other purpose would I do it?"

"Since when do you involve yourself in something that is certain to fail from the outset? It feels like there’s more you’re not saying."

His gaze went distant, his jaw flexing. "There is nothing more."

You grumbled, shaking your head as you rubbed your temples. Stunned, bewildered, and utterly frazzled.

"Fine. All right. Just make it quick, okay?"

"Yes."

His lips caressed your cheeks and the corner of your mouth, then planted a delicate kiss along your lips. Your arms fell loose at your sides, your head tipping back and your lids closing, before he detached from you with the softest pop.

"You are extraordinary, my queen. I ask much of you, and I will repay it. You have my word."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t push my patience too far."

"I will do no such thing."

You refused to look at him as he departed, your eyes snagged on the candle flames as they swayed together like a choreographed performance. You inhaled, stroked your belly with one hand, and pressed the other to your chest, praying you would not spend the next few days balanced on a razor’s brink, tipping like a faulty boat in a howling gale.

By then, the Dreaming’s storm had subsided, and the sky had returned to a deep, brilliant blue, as though no rain had ever fallen. You prepared yourself, ignited your dreamstone with a single command, then crossed the bridge from the realm of dreams into the mortal world, where your apartment waited on the other side.

"Lucienne," Morpheus called, arriving in the main hall with Delirium beside him, the librarian waiting at the center of the stairs. "My sister and I will be making a short journey together."

Confused, Lucienne followed. "Uh, you will?"

"We will," she said, buoyancy radiant in her voice.

"We will," he reiterated.

"Oh."

"Should any matters arise which require my attention, please feel free to contact me."

Growing even more perplexed, she asked, "Uh, contact you where, exactly?"

"The Waking World. Let Pharamond know we will be calling on him. I trust he still oversees transportation?"

"I’ve heard nothing to the contrary, but—"

"Good."

Lowering her voice, the librarian risked expressing her thoughts while Delirium wandered on ahead, taking in the surroundings. "My lord, do you really feel this is a wise course of action?"

"Lucienne, my brother had his reasons for leaving. He desires his privacy, and I respect his wishes."

"…Then why are you going?"

"Because… my sister seems to need it. And it has been a long time since I properly walked in the Waking World, save for the visits I have made at my wife’s side."

As the truth behind his motives became clear, Lucienne’s expression hardened. "You know who else recently left for the Waking World?"

"This has nothing to do with—"

"Queen Nada. So what’s the plan? To hope you just casually bump into her while not really looking for your brother, with your wife sick with worry over your constant absence?"

"It is not as simple as that."

"Then make it simple for me."

He considered it, recognizing the fierce loyalty she had grown toward you, and taking subtle pride in it.

"There remain matters between Nada and myself that have yet to be resolved."

"My lord, Queen Nada could not have been clearer: she wants nothing further from you. Are you truly going to pursue her after what she said? Again, when you are married, and your wife is carrying your child?"

"When she told me that I am incapable of love… perhaps she was correct."

Lucienne recoiled, grimacing. "You love your wife."

A faint strain showed at the corners of his eyes. "I also believe I do. Yet belief alone is insufficient."

"I have seen it for myself, and I cannot be mistaken."

"It is possible that Desire meddled with what I felt for Nada without my knowledge, though they insist otherwise."

"And now you have convinced yourself it is the same with Y/N?"

"Not necessarily. Yet… what if the love I feel has been tainted at its root?"

She sighed heavily. "Lady Y/N stands by you unfailingly. She knows that you feel for her as deeply as she feels for you. What else do you need?"

"That is precisely why I must be certain I will not destroy what she has so freely given me, as I did in the past."

"Why is searching for Nada relevant at all? I do not see the connection."

Delirium fidgeted by the gates, waiting, humming to herself.

"I have failed my son," he said—no ornament, no defense. "How am I to be a father to my daughter when I cannot reckon with my own wrongs?"

Then it fell into place. For Morpheus, Nada's forgiveness was not absolution meant to soothe a bruised ego, but an axis around which his selfhood turned. The difference between his old self and a new truth. He could rule a realm, command nightmares, shape worlds out of sleep, and still be undone by the simple question of whether his heart was his own and whether he had ever deserved the faith anyone placed in him.

"Nada owes me no forgiveness, nor do I seek her affection. Yet she knew me when I was at my worst. If even she cannot discern any change in me, then perhaps there is none."

Nada’s inability to recognize his transformation likely meant, to him, that it was only a narrative he had clung to for survival. It suggested that the harm he’d done was not a closed chapter, but something breathing beneath the surface of every vow he spoke and every tenderness he offered. What right did he have to ask to be trusted, to be loved, to be followed into a future he promised would be different?

It wasn’t redemption he wanted in the shallow sense. It was continuity: a world where his past could be acknowledged without poisoning his present, where he could be a husband and a father without fearing he would repeat himself, inevitably, as though the old brutality lay waiting behind his ribs.

"My lord, you should trust your wife. She is the one who refused to let you go, and she is also the one who stays, despite everything that has been happening. She does so because of her love for you."

"My wife has known me only since the final days of my captivity. She may have accepted all that I am, but she has not witnessed the real cruelty that I was once capable of. The image she holds of me… may be an illusion, fragile enough to wither with time."

Nada’s absolution was not comfort. It was closure. The final thread tied off, so the tapestry would not come undone in his hands.

"You sentenced her to Hell. She was speaking from pain, and from memories that hurt. What precisely do you hope to gain from this meeting?"

"Nothing. Only one last chance to speak plainly, where before I could not."

Lucienne conceded, since even her word as his long-standing librarian could not persuade him that Nada’s judgment had, predictably, been clouded by her experience.

"And how, exactly, do you plan to do this? The Waking World is vast. She could be anywhere."

"Perhaps, if it is ordained, fate will place her before me once more. And when it does, I will see this matter concluded."

"If you truly wish to see Nada one last time, why leave it to chance? Why not seek her out directly, or find her in her dreams?"

"That would be inappropriate."

"That would be inappropriate? It won’t seem like fate to Nada. It will seem like stalking," she whispered. "And when Delirium finds out that—"

"It will be a brief diversion. Nothing more."

Exasperated, Lucienne withdrew a step and huffed. "I do not believe she is likely to change her mind. And what comes after that? Does it end like it did when you found the Book of Paradoxes?"

"It will not come to that."

"I truly hope so, my lord. For your sake, and for your family’s. I thought you had learned from that, so why does it feel as though we have returned to the beginning?"

"You worry too much, Lucienne," he dismissed it, rejoining his sister as the doors opened, birds chirping outside.

"I can’t think why that would be. Can you?" she replied, voice edged with sarcasm.

As he departed and she urged him to come back soon, Lucienne noticed the scattered remnants of your portal wafting through the corridors amid glittering sand and dying magic.

After all that had occurred over the past few hours, and with so much set in motion anew, what could possibly go wrong this time?

Ella was away from the office again. There had been no prior warning, no message, no call.

As Oliver described how badly her symptoms were affecting her sleep, your unease increased; you were convinced there was some other explanation they were not prepared to give, his stance betraying a nervous restlessness, unable to stay still.

Ella’s messages had become short and oddly delayed, which was unusual for someone who normally kept her phone practically glued to her back pocket at all times. You tried to reach her again, and the breezy "I’m just tired, see you later" almost sounded as if your friend had been swapped out for a badly made duplicate.

Pressed by your own fears and reluctant to court even more trouble, you swallowed your suspicion and threw yourself into your tasks for half the day, steering the creative department with inventive ideas and perfect coordination. You worked like a drowning person clinging to routine, refusing to dwell on returning home to find your husband gone.

Back in your office, you dropped into your chair and let your attention flick from the computer screen to the pen you kept clicking, fretful and suddenly unproductive. You yawned, then opened your notebook and mapped out the next workday’s schedule. You added to-do checkboxes and ideas, then listed the calls you needed to make so your team would have the materials required to continue producing the first official prototypes for the new Autumn collection.

Your vision blurred and your pen stalled, fatigue dulling you from the inside out. You blinked hard and steadied your head with two fingers, elbow braced on the desk. As you kept writing, the words grew more and more illegible, and minutes later, your focus gave way and left you sagging against the wooden surface, the pen skittering off, your face squashed into your arm.

Sound flooded in from every direction, and the cars on the street smeared into wind and rolling ocean surf. The smell of tea leaves mingled with lunch leftovers, then changed into wet stone and sea salt, while the heavy, motionless air around you grew stronger and breezier.

When you opened your eyes, a round pond sprawled before you, with an imposing obelisk towering in the heart of the pool. While the world swam in hazy light, you examined its features, spotting a pale structure behind it that you did not register at first. Then your memory tided back in at full speed, calling up your attempt to reach it, though now the lake had shrunk into a scaled-down echo of the one you’d plunged into before. The place felt broad and spare, with the ocean not far away below, and marble statues stationed along the perimeter like sentries.

The pull toward the temple sent you forward without thinking, twigs snapping underfoot and foliage swishing around you. You sensed your movements were slightly misaligned, as if you were walking in slow motion, unable to resist the space’s invisible undertow. Each breath resounded around you, the monument becoming larger and closer until it presented itself to you the instant you arrived at its threshold.

Mist sheeted the front of the structure in thin, hesitant veils, fluctuating in lazy patterns as though the building itself were exhaling. Towering columns framed the façade, and a stairway led to an entrance with doors standing wide open. Even so, you could not make out what waited inside. The sunlight striking through the fog was too blinding to reveal anything past the round chamber at the rear, visible from the outside.

With misgiving, you climbed the first step, then picked your way up the flight and crept into the chamber, squinting as you adjusted to the soft ambient glow. Your mind was already straying toward the Waking World, your awareness wavering.

Bit by bit, the chamber cleared as the air thinned and the far exit resembled a luminous doorway, gauzy curtains blowing to and fro. The confusion persisted, potent and unrelenting, while a pedestal-like shape resolved into view, crowned by something dark.

It might have been misidentified as a sculpted head, if not for its unnervingly lifelike detail. The shape of its hair, ears lit with that faint, translucent undertone as the light bled through, and the small twitch it gave when you closed the distance.

It was mostly a shadowy outline, but it was unmistakably alive.

The head appeared seated, or posed in a way that mimicked sitting, yet too still to feel natural. You took another step, slow and careful, as though the chamber might punish suddenness. The glow remained gentle and even, but it seemed to recoil around the figure, refusing to settle on it properly.

The room felt smaller and smaller, the temple waiting to see what you would do. You tried to swallow, but your mouth had gone dry. The shadow stirred again, not dramatically, just enough that your pulse kicked hard, and you froze with one hand half-lifted, fingers splayed.

The movement might have been your imagination, your mind struggling to interpret a shape that refused to be understood.

The figure did not speak. Patient and silent, it waited for you to come close. A shiver ran from your collarbone to your wrist, a name rising to your tongue, yet somehow it dissolved before you could grasp it.

A knock sounded, loud enough to jar you from the dream-haze, but not enough to shatter the scene. Then came a second knock, and your lids flew open as the tight nerves in your neck tugged a little too hard, the room changing and reassembling as you fully woke.

Your office had supplanted the bleached-out temple, the head on its pedestal unraveling and evaporating as the afternoon sun made you shield your face and rub at your temples.

"Y/N? Are you in there? Can I come in?" Oliver called through the door.

Your voice was rough, your mind still groggy from sleep. "Yes."

He entered with care, concern plain on his face. "Are you all right? You look tired. You pushed yourself hard today, and I don’t want you to overdo it in your condition."

"Don’t worry, I’m fine. I must have dozed off for a moment."

He chuckled. "I guess feeling sleepy is one of the many parts of being pregnant. Ella’s been dealing with the same thing lately. So I wanted to tell you that, if you’d like, you can head home early."

You fished the forgotten pen from your desk and rolled it between your fingers, your attention trailing off to the clock on the wall. "Really? But it’s only four."

"It’s fine. You’ve done plenty. We can wrap up from here. The weekend starts tomorrow, so enjoy your time."

There was certainly so much to savor now that your husband had set off on yet another journey…

God, you were furious.

"Fine. Thank you, Oliver. I’ll see you on Monday."

"Sure."

He cleared his throat, scratched the side of his cheek, and let his attention wander, feet planted to the spot.

"Uh… is there something else?"

"Hm?"

"You're not going anywhere."

"Oh, sorry about that." He gave a jittery laugh. "I got lost in my own thoughts. So, uh… have a great weekend. Give my regards to Lord Morpheus."

As he reached for the handle, preparing to leave the office and head to his own quarters, you leaned back against the chair, voicing his name.

"Are you sure everything’s all right? You’re not keeping something from me, are you?"

"All’s good. Why do you ask?"

"Because you’ve been dropping hints since yesterday, and then you stop short. Please tell me there isn’t an issue with the baby."

He breathed out, nudging his glasses up his nose. "No, there isn’t. I didn’t mean to upset you with my attitude. I’m just on edge with everything that’s been happening lately. I’m not used to running this place without my wife… sometimes I think she would be a better CEO than I’ll ever be."

Still skeptical, but choosing to let it slide for now, you nodded in understanding. "I get why you feel out of place. You were practically forced to take over her role on top of yours. And you’re doing it quite well.."

He smiled, a little sheepish. "I hope you’re not just saying that to make me feel better."

"I swear, I’m telling the truth. Everyone enjoys working with you, Oliver, whatever task you take on."

"Then I’ll take that as encouragement."

"Good."

"I’m going. Please take care of yourself."

"I will."

He left the office, the door clicking behind him. Your fingers still shook, the pen striking the surface in an aggressive impulse, while the image of that head on the pedestal jumped back into your head. It felt as though it were right there with you in the center of the room, ominous and still.

You could see it move in your inner eye, hair stirring in a passing breeze.

What on earth was your subconscious trying to tell you now, parading mutilated body parts that moved with lives of their own?

Getting home early would have been a luxury, one you could not find comfort in. Morpheus’ absence was obvious in the hush that met you the instant you appeared in the hall, your feet dragging in a slow, heavy rhythm as you moved through the castle, greeting the staff and making a quick circuit to confirm he was not tucked away, occupied in some forgotten corner.

You groaned under your breath, planting your hands on your hips and taking a few slow inhales. The day stretched on, and the idea of sitting down to wait, with no clue what to expect, was already churning your stomach again.

To make things worse, someone approached with timid steps, fingers curled at their sides. "My lady."

As you turned, you found Nuala keeping a cautious distance, her hair tied back in a messy bun and her elegant attire swapped for a comfortable button-up shirt, rolled sleeves, and overalls. She looked far more natural, and much less polished than the first time you saw her at the gates.

Sadly, you couldn’t pretend it was a good time for her to come up to you. Truthfully, you had nearly forgotten she was part of your staff, and would have been content to keep pretending it.

"Hello, Nuala."

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes, don’t worry about it. How are you finding your stay in the Dreaming?"

"Everyone is wonderful, Your Majesty."

"I’m glad to hear it. I imagine this realm is quite a change from Faerie, in both atmosphere and customs. If you need anything at all, please let me know."

As you started back toward your room, hardly acknowledging her, Nuala called after you a second time. Somewhere inside you, irritation kindled; you had no patience for conversation, especially with someone you still viewed as a possible danger.

"If you have a moment, I had hoped to speak with you."

With your mouth set, you did your best to hold back any poisonous remark. "Of course."

"I wished to express my gratitude for what you did when my brother left me here. No one has ever spoken in my defence before."

Oh.

"It was only common sense. He should have had the decency to warn you in advance."

"Unfortunately, it seems Queen Titania and the laws of Faerie matter more to Cluracan than I do."

"For the record, I don’t agree with your queen’s methods either. No monarch should treat a loyal subordinate that way."

Her gaze lowered to the floor. "I have long since grown accustomed to Queen Titania’s rules."

"If you ever feel like speaking your mind here, I can promise you this: you will be heard. Nobody will dismiss you or punish you for it. And for the record, I prefer your natural accent."

You noticed a flicker of hope bloom inside her, something she had always thought forbidden, yet now she had the freedom to speak for herself without her appearance or manner of speaking being mocked or hidden behind a glamorous trick.

"You know, in Faerie, I used to hear stories about the Queen of the Dreaming."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Those who attended your wedding returned with many tales to tell. Some spoke of the palace as though it were alive, attentive in every archway, keeping the memory of each footstep the way a forest keeps the memory of rain. But It seems the question everyone keeps coming back to is… how you made Lord Morpheus fall in love with you."

You folded your arms and raised an eyebrow. "Is it now?"

"Some spoke with admiration. You achieved what no one else ever could; you reached a being so old and distant, and made him regard you as if nothing else in existence could compare. They praised your politeness, your courage, and your compassion. They said you were as bright as golden light."

You caught yourself wondering whether Queen Titania—or perhaps even Nuala herself—belonged more to the envious crowd that viewed you with bitterness rather than esteem.

Noticing your pensive expression, Nuala grew apprehensive. "I apologize, my lady. Perhaps I should not have said that."

"No, it’s all right."

"I swear I meant no disrespect. I only hold you in the highest regard."

"Do you, though?"

She faltered, seeming to shrink where she stood. "I do, my lady. But I fear my presence may be an inconvenience to you. I would understand, if it were so."

Even as you recognized you might be judging her unfairly, suspicion and jealousy kept you from tempering your approach. "Can I ask you something? Bluntly?"

"You may ask whatever you wish," Nuala replied, voice quiet.

It was childish to even entertain the notion, the kind of petty insecurity no queen ought to indulge, especially with her place in this story. You nearly dismissed it, determined to carry yourself with more decorum toward someone who, until proven otherwise, had done nothing to pursue your husband. Your judgment of her might have been unfair from the beginning, but the longer you studied her, the stronger the need became to connect the dots.

The question came, arrogant and direct. "Do you have feelings for my husband?"

The silence that followed contained no outrage, and no insult. It felt more like an unexpected turn she had not been ready for at all.

"I… beg your pardon…?"

"It’s a straightforward question, Nuala. I ask that you answer it honestly."

A faint blush warmed her cheeks. "Lord Morpheus is... worthy of admiration."

"That is not an answer."

The long pause, filled with sound from every direction—the low, ambient thrum in the throne room and the clink of plates in the kitchen—could already be taken as the confirmation you feared was waiting for you.

"I always wished, even if only for a moment, to be properly introduced to him."

"And now you have met him. Haven’t you."

"I did, and I am grateful for it. But you misunderstand me, my lady, if you believe I would ever seek what belongs to another."

Could you truly trust her, when she watched him with the aching yearning of someone trapped in a love that would never be returned?

"If you’re going to be here for an unknown length of time, I need to know that we are on the same page, and that you won’t jeopardize what Morpheus and I are building together. I do not wish to accuse you based on my assumptions, but the way you react around him made me think there might be more than admiration. From your response, it seems I was right."

"Your wariness is entirely justified, Your Majesty. Please forgive me if I overstepped."

She didn’t exactly deny it, though she still retained a fair amount of propriety.

"I get it, you know," you said more gently. "To you and to many others, I’m just a human who arrived at the last minute. Someone who once had no power, and no claim to a crown that would ever earn his attention."

"Wait, I did not mean to—"

"But I am here now, and I love my husband with every fiber of my being, both physical and spiritual. I will not tolerate any attempt to undermine my marriage. I want that to be clear."

A flicker of sorrow touched her expression. Whether it came from your doubt of her intentions, or from realizing she could not go near your husband except when her palace duties required it, you could not say.

"My lady, if I may… do you know what Lord Morpheus speaks about most in your absence?"

"I’d say I don’t."

"You." A small smile touched her mouth. Not bitter, just spontaneous. "Only you. When you were not beside him yesterday, he grew concerned that you had not eaten enough. He hoped you were not pushing yourself too hard, and he worried your pregnancy symptoms might have been difficult for you."

Your legs trembled faintly, hands instinctively moving to your belly, vision blurring. You had never doubted that his thoughts would return to you throughout the day, but hearing it stated plainly, and knowing how steadfast and tender he truly was, only reinforced your belief that no one deserved your love more than he did.

"Those in Faerie who haven’t met you may not understand why Lord Morpheus chose you. Some see only that you were mortal, that you were not born to a throne. That you do not command armies or ancient magics."

Nuala’s eyes flicked momentarily toward the distant windows overlooking the Dreaming.

"I think they simply do not know the truth. You speak to him as though he is both a king and someone you love as an equal. Few manage one. Fewer still manage both. I have heard that you challenge him when he is wrong. You comfort him when he is wounded. You laugh with him when others would kneel. You take his hand without fear. That changes him. I have sensed it since I first walked over your threshold. The Dreaming itself feels different around you… it looks brighter."

You grinned, suddenly sentimental and, to your own annoyance, a bit silly.

"What exists between you and Lord Morpheus is sacred in its own right, and not mine to touch. Believe me, my lady, when I say I would never place myself between something so beautiful."

Nuala clearly knew how to talk her way out of a thorny situation with tact, and you admired her sharp mind and eloquence.

"I will not disrespect your hospitality by repaying it with betrayal."

"Well, I can see why you were sent as an envoy to discuss the Key to Hell. That was a really good answer."

Nuala pressed her lips together, masking a chuckle.

"Thank you, Nuala. I do believe you. So… I’m going to place my trust in you. Please make sure that trust is not broken."

"I will honor it, Your Majesty. You defended me even when you had every reason to doubt me. I will not forget it."

"I cannot abide injustice; my personal feelings were irrelevant."

She eased, relief loosening the tension in her muscles. "I appreciate your kindness, my lady. This is what sets you apart from Queen Titania… and why you are wholly worthy of Lord Morpheus."

Well, that was definitely the sort of praise you enjoyed listening to.

"I’m glad we talked, even if I’m blaming my hormones for this conversation."

"I am glad of it as well. Please, do not let me delay you any longer. I have already taken too much of your time, and you have only just returned.

"You haven’t taken anything. It was my choice to stay and listen. I don’t have much to do right now anyway."

"Then… would you like something to eat?"

You shook your head. "I had plenty of food during my lunch break. If I get any cravings later, I’ll let you know. Please don’t overwork yourself here. I don’t know how it was for you in Faerie, but you’re not our slave."

She bowed, a loose curtain of blond bangs veiling her face. "You and Lord Morpheus have taken me in. It is only my pleasure to be of service. I will be close by."

You watched her return to her post, gliding through the halls and corridors like someone who had served the Dreaming for a long time. Her life in Faerie must have been far harsher than you could ever put into words, operating under a monarch who put herself above all else, alongside a brother who discarded her without a second thought to satisfy his queen’s demands.

You dismissed it, however, dead set against letting even her burdens wear you down, since you were already teetering at the verge of what you could endure.

Feeling mentally consumed, you made it to your chamber and sat at your vanity without even changing out of your workwear. You looked at your reflection, your eyes glowing intermittently, your heart thumbling in your chest with excessive force. The more you dwelled on Morpheus’ and Delirium’s research, the louder that nagging inner voice grew, insisting that catastrophe, in whatever form it chose, was about to bear down.

The mirror did not flatter you the way it usually did. It showed a queen with mussed hair and tension drawn tight across every line of her face, a woman who could cross realms without thinking, but who could not endure an hour of waiting without feeling the floor might give out beneath her. Your pupils narrowed, then widened again, the light behind them unable to decide what it wanted to be. For a minute or so, the glow pooled at the edges of your irises like a ring of fire, only to leave them looking almost ordinary a moment later, until another flash pulsed through and your look brightened again.

You inhaled carefully, like someone trying to negotiate with their own body. Your hands fumbled over the scattered pins, the small glass bottles of perfume, the brush laid bristle-side down like a sleeping creature. You did not pick anything up, only dawdled to give yourself something to do.

Your fingers raked at the vanity’s surface, your vision glitching on its own. "Stop it," you exclaimed, stung by your own power.

You closed your eyes and pressed the heel of your palms to your brows. A pulse beat hard behind your eyelids, nausea and vexation mixing together.

"Don't break. Don't break. Don't break," you told yourself. "It's going to be okay. It has to be."

None of it felt real, ringing like a hollow reassurance while your intuition insisted on a far darker outcome.

Sprawled on your bed like a starfish, the quiet in your chamber felt too pristine, like the pause that arrives a heartbeat before chaos hits. It was the kind of silence that gave your thoughts room to multiply and swell while the Dreaming’s day rolled on, its low murmur seeping through the palace walls. The candles and hearth kept burning unless you commanded otherwise, the canopy crystals chimed their faint little notes, and beyond that came rivers and rustling leaves, nudged by a wind that felt unsettlingly off.

Were you truly prepared to stay put in the meantime? Could you really face tomorrow’s obligations without even knowing your husband’s whereabouts?

You pushed yourself upright, unwilling to lose another second, determined to wrest control back and pull the reins tight. Even if it meant hauling your husband back by the ear, you knew it was time to do something for your family’s well-being. You had waited long enough, and you could not stomach spending the rest of the night—or even another whole day, or longer—trapped in that wrecked state.

Morpheus would likely object, and Delirium might throw a fit, but you didn’t care. You curled your fingers around the Dreamstone and waited for it to ignite.

"Take me to him."

The amulet complied, and reality split as a new portal formed, spreading wider with each stride you made. It offered a sliver of the world beyond, human but unfamiliar, shimmering in and out like heat haze on glass.

Unfazed, you stepped across the boundary between the two realms, and as you moved forward, the portal sealed behind you. You stood alone in a nighttime alley, surrounded by damp stones, trash cans, and abandoned cigarettes. Uncertainty hit you all at once, making you shiver and second-guess whether you had rushed in without evaluating the risks, but you pushed the doubt aside the moment you remembered what was on the line.

With the Dreamstone still glowing, you tucked it between your fingers to keep it out of sight, asking it to lead you to Morpheus’ location, unsure why it guided you somewhere farther away, rather than straight to where he was supposed to be.

When you came out of the alley and found the main street, you thought of all the photos you’d seen of Philadelphia, never once having the chance to travel there. And now, you were in one of the places you had wanted to visit, too keyed up to even think about absorbing it all.

The crystal, acting like a compass, brought you to different streets and public spots, your legs following its glow, doubling back whenever its light faded away. At last, you came upon an outlying stretch that did not exactly promise safety or well-heeled company, with grimy sidewalks and scattered clusters aggregated in a way that could have passed for a drug deal. The energy in your palm spiked, pointing to the very last place you would ever expect someone like Morpheus to be. You paced up and down to confirm its direction, only to discover the Dreamstone was unmistakably urging you into a venue called Suffragette City, nothing less than a bona fide strip club.

Either your husband was hiding a kink you knew nothing about, or this had to involve one of the names on Delirium’s list.

Oddly, the street outside was deserted and quiet, with none of the usual bouncers posted at the front. Through the half-open door came an unfamiliar beat, almost ceremonial compared to the standard club tracks you’d expect in a place like this.

With foreboding prickling at your skin, you went in. One lone spotlight cut across the stage as soft blue LED lamps added to the atmosphere, leaving the rest swallowed by shadow. The bouncers stood rigid at the entrance, fixed on the shape dancing under the light. You moved past by them without a word or a glance in your direction, weaving around tables, confusion and disquiet crawling up your spine at the patrons seated all around—each of them unnaturally still, caught in place by an unseen force.

You surveyed the room. The men were all spellbound, slack-jawed, staring too hard. Even the waitresses were utterly entranced, frozen and unable to look away.

Your attention set to the woman on the stage: short dark hair, an intense stare hardened by bold eyeliner, and a white robe that emphasized her sculpted frame in the backlit shine. She turned in a slow, fluid arc, arms undulating with hypnotic gestures. She snared you like a hook snagging flesh before resuming, rotating again. Quicker, silver coils of power bursting from her body.

Indeed, it was mesmerizing, but you read it as nothing but a warning.

That was when you saw him, Morpheus, silhouetted not too far from where the goddess performed. Delirium was right next to him, also completely immobilized, a wad of cash slipping from her hand.

And yet, it did not affect you in any relevant way, nor did it influence your husband, who tracked the situation as you inched closer, turning his head to inspect the surroundings.

You called to him, his name heavy on your tongue, just as flames crept across the stage and gas hissed through the ceiling tubes. Smoke billowed out when they ruptured, the spreading damage striking your gut like an unseen blow. Before you could even make sense of it, the flames roared up into a whirling column around the woman, tracking her movements and forming a maelstrom that sent the scorch climbing.

In an instant, Morpheus spun around, terrified and urgent, and uttered a deep "Run!"

His voice snapped Delirium out of the spell, as the song’s chanting carried on, feeding the growing witchfire.

"Now!"

Too late. The club detonated in a searing wave of crimson, and Morpheus lunged for you, enveloping you in a tight, sheltering hold. You made a rough sound against his chest, pressing your face into the hollow of his throat, while the Dreamstone’s shield blossomed around you in its usual protective sphere.

Being in the same city but not quite in the right place suddenly clicked into coherence. The amulet had been steering you away, picking up on what was coming and attempting to keep you from getting hurt. Your stubbornness, however, had insisted on the opposite.

You had encountered a situation like this before, and you had no desire to end up at the heart of another inferno.

Glass burst apart, car alarms wailed outside, and people screamed as they were burned or struck by falling pieces. You stood there with no idea what to do, dazed and petrified, as Morpheus’ grip cinced hard, going iron-still. Even with your lids closed, you could still see the world turning orange, the strong stench of gas and smoke dulled by your husband’s nearness, yet still leaving your insides to roil.

After what felt like an eternity, the fire drew back, tongues of flame shrinking and scattering, timber still smoldering in scattered corners as the ash settled. Morpheus’ hands eased away from you, his breath brushing your forehead.

"My love… are you harmed?"

"No…"

You took in the room, every patron sprawled on the floor, dead, mottled with cuts and burns.

"Why are you here? You were meant to await my return."

"Was I?" you snapped. "Is that all I’m supposed to do these days? Wait for you? Worry about you?"

"I—"

"Look at the state of this godforsaken place. All these people. All this… destruction…"

You clapped a hand over your mouth, gagging. With pregnancy sharpening your olfactory sense, the reek of escaping fumes mingled with alcohol and seared wood, threaded through with blood and charred flesh.

And it was utterly, nauseatingly revolting.

‘Ugh, not again.’

"Y/N."

You spun on your heels, spotted an overturned table, and dropped behind it, using it to shield your wretchedness from him. Your knees struck the floor too hard, and your esophagus seared hot as the conflagration. You coughed and vomited onto the already stained tiles, making a rough grunt as pain and ire collided in your chest.

Morpheus’ hand soothed your back as he crouched behind you, careful not to intrude on your misery, but unwilling to leave you to endure the sickness alone. You didn’t protest, waiting for it to pass, then sucking in a thin breath once it was over.

"I need a tissue," you muttered, disgusted with yourself.

A soft whisper of motion followed as your husband’s fingers reached forward, tentative, presenting a spotless, neatly folded piece of cloth, impossibly soft, pinched between thumb and forefinger. A faint "thank you" vibrated in your chest, and when you dabbed at your lips, a bright, clean freshness passed through your mouth and nose, as if by magic, banishing the vile aftertaste in an instant. The scent carried lavender, vanilla, and moonflowers, a blend of familiar, dreamlike notes, threaded through with his own unmistakable fragrance.

Then it disintegrated, vanishing like a mirage, its purpose fulfilled. That was, without question, one of the finest perks of being married to a truly otherworldly being.

He pressed a kiss against the back of your head, then stood to better take stock of the disaster, as if searching for something you could not name. Then he stopped short, face tightening, as he found it, or rather, found her.

You cleared your throat and trailed after him, spotting a woman in a tailored green suit, her open jacket revealing a white shirt smeared with black debris, her stare vacant, her right lid pinched, and her curly dark hair caked with dirt. You had spotted her only for an second, close beside Delirium before the blast.

He lowered next to her body, one knee pulled up. Delirium came from behind a collapsed structure, devastated at the sight.

"Dream?"

"I am here."

Broken lights strobed, electrical cables fizzed. The moment she arrived and spotted the woman’s corpse, Delirium sucked in sharply. "Wanda… Oh."

"She’s dead," he announced.

"Just like Bernard Capax."

Morpheus straightened, brow furrowing. "Do you know what this means?"

Panic seized her. "What it means is… only one person left on my list is still alive."

"We need to stop looking for our brother," he corrected.

"But Dream—"

"And return to our realms."

You had so much to say, anger boiling at how he refused to heed you, only for your grim warning to prove true. But right before you could get a word out, someone else cut in.

"And you think that’s gonna make everything all right?"

Desire.

They arrived at an unhurried pace, their familiar malice delivered with an even, controlled calm. "Did you not just… destroy my house of worship?"

No. Not a chance.

"Of course you have to blame him for it. What else is new?" You countered.

"Ah, sister-in-law… sweet thing. You still don’t understand, do you?"

"It wasn’t us," Delirium blurted. "We would never."

Morpheus, "I suspect it was our brother."

Desire advanced. "No. No, he warned us not to go and look for him. And you ignored his warning."

They moved in on Delirium, scolding. "And mine."

The moment they noticed Wanda right in front of them, Desire gasped and dropped to the floor for a closer look, though you questioned how authentic their reaction really was.

Quietly, "Make no mistake, Dream… you did this."

"Or maybe it was you," you scoffed. "You spoke to him right before he decided to leave. That’s a pretty interesting coincidence."

"It wasn’t him. He was trying to help me," Delirium explaind.

Desire chuckled ruefully, standing. "No. No, Del, he wasn’t. He had no intention of ever finding our brother. Did you?"

Morpheus turned to his sister with visible reluctance and admitted the truth. "No."

Delirium, close to tears now, seemed completely crestfallen.

But Desire had more to add. "The only reason that he agreed to come with you… was just so he could look for Nada."

What…?

"Nada?"

They looped around Delirium, then glanced your way for their own amusement, while your face went pale and drawn.

"That’s who you’ve been looking for all this time?" Delirium questioned.

You turned to Morpheus, expecting him to refute it, to reply with a reasonable clarification, but he only opened his mouth and found no excuse to give.

No, it was impossible. You would not accept that as the true reason for his departure.

"Dream must think I’m very stupid," Delirium whined.

"Dream wasn’t thinking of you at all."

The way Desire composed themself, fingers interlaced, their black suit suggesting they were dressed for a funeral while still radiating that familiar haughtiness, irritated a nerve more acutely than when they provoked Morpheus at the family gathering.

At this point, Delirium stopped listening to reason. "You never liked me. I thought you liked me maybe near the end. I thought we would find him and make everything okay. I thought you cared about me, I thought…" she whimpered. "…you were my friend."

"My sister, we were never friends," Morpheus asserted, flicking a sidelong look at Desire, who watched it all like a spectator at a play. "We are family."

Delirium’s head bobbed repeatedly. "I understand now why Destruction left us. Told us not to follow him. So now I’m telling you! Stay away from me!"

She recoiled, and a glass wall around her began to splinter.

"Don’t follow me. Don’t summon me."

The cracks became larger, louder.

"Leave me alone. My realm is closed to both of you!"

The barrier shattered as she cried, heartbroken, then slipped through the newly opened passage and vanished from the Waking World, violet light flickering beyond it while dust and embers streamed through the ruined club. When the glassy membrane sealed itself and vanished from view, Morpheus looked stricken, fixed on some point ahead.

On the other hand, Desire’s expression was wholly unreadable. "You knew how fragile she was."

"Do not presume to lecture me," Morpheus rasped.

"The way that you would have lectured me if I murdered all of these people."

The only time you had ever heard Desire show even a trace of emotion—usually wrath—was when they confronted your husband. Their hostility was obvious, unending, and, in practical terms, extremely exhausting to witness.

"’We do not manipulate them, Desire. If anything they manipulate us’. Well, tell that to Bernie Capax. And Ishtar. And Wanda."

Their wrinkles suggested pain, even grief. Still, something about it felt like a carefully crafted show, executed with one aim: to seed guilt in your husband’s heart.

Your irises sparked again, but you could not be bothered to quell the fiery ring. "Since when do you actually care about human beings more than just playthings? Because you certainly aren’t impressing me with your acting."

"Acting?"

"It wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Shall I remind you, once again, how you pretended to be someone else just to approach me at that venue? Or how you tried to impersonate your brother at my expense? Say whatever you want, Desire. All you think about is your centuries-old vendetta against Dream. You don’t give a damn about humanity, Delirium, or anyone who isn’t Despair. Probably."

Their lips tightened at the corners, your jab clearly finding its mark. "Oh, you think you’re so special, don’t you? Just because you married my brother, and you’re carrying my niece, you believe you’ve earned a place in this family. Your little power is nothing. You are not one of us. And you mean very little to our Dream, if he’s out there chasing his ex while you wait in his castle like a good girl."

"Desire."

Morpheus’ voice erupted like thunder, but it was nothing beside the indignation rising inside you.

Your hands balled into fists, lightning skittering over your skin, from chest to face, to arms and fingertips. "Do you think I even want to be one of you? I never asked to be included. It was Destiny who requested my presence last time, for reasons I still don't know. Your family is not my family. Dream is."

They stiffled. "And yet, Dream so clearly does not feel the same for you."

Morpheus settled a hand at your hip. "Enough."

"Oh, it truly is, my dear brother. Because I am done with you."

They gave you their back, strolling away with their hands tucked into their pockets, swaying like the victor of a battle they claimed as their own.

And you could not stop the growl that rumbled up from your chest. "You are done? After all the shit you’ve pulled?"

"My love, it is not worth your ire—"

"You are nothing more than a sly snake. A manipulator!"

By then, Desire was already gone, and you were shouting at the empty space they’d just occupied, simmering with hate.

Suddenly, without you noticing, part of the ceiling gave way overhead, pipes and concrete dropping in a sudden rush, hurtling at you.

"Look out!"

Morpheus yanked you to the side as the slab smashed down and burst apart across the tiles, lengths of pipe crashing after it. Even with the Dreamstone already flickering, blue power pouring outward in pulsing streaks, Morpheus refused to leave you exposed and directly in harm’s way.

Two near misses undeniably counted as enough adrenaline for one day. Or a lifetime.

But you could not focus on whether you were safe; a single thought cut through as your hands slid along his sleeves.

"They were lying, weren’t they?"

"My love, we should—"

"This isn’t about Nada. It never was. It doesn’t make sense, does it?"

You searched his eyes, soft light blue clouded by the fire’s tones.

But when he did not deny it, his mouth pinched with guilt, your fingers fell away, and your chest squeezed and split, just like Delirium’s portal fracturing.

"So it’s true."

"This is not as you think it is.”

Farther down the street, the wail of alarms mounted into a deafening cacophony.

"We need to go."

"My love..."

"Come on. The last thing I want is to get hauled off for some serious crime I didn’t commit, in a city that isn’t even mine."

He complied with a nod, sand converging from around his shoes and winding around you both. The club dissolved into a falling curtain of grains, giving way to the Dreaming palace. You stayed where you were, arms wrapped around yourself as if bracing for impact, staring at the marble underfoot.

This time, you didn’t bolt. you didn’t scream until your lungs were empty. You stayed silent, regulating your breathing, and refused to let impulse take over.

"Do you know what Lord Morpheus speaks about most in your absence?"

"I’d say I don’t."

"You." A small smile touched her mouth. Not bitter, just spontaneous. "Only you. When you were not beside him yesterday, he grew concerned that you had not eaten enough. He hoped you were not pushing yourself too hard, and he worried your pregnancy symptoms might have been difficult for you."

"What exists between the two of you is not something I could ever take, nor would I wish to. Believe me, my lady, when I say I would never place myself between something so beautiful."

"Y/N," Morpheus resumed. "Please. Let me explain. I did not seek Nada for the reason you may believe."

Your answer came with firmness, with no vacillation audible. "I know."

"…You know?"

"I believe in you, Morpheus. You wouldn’t betray me like that."

He was stunned, wholly unprepared for such a calm, understanding response from you. "I—"

"But first, I need to understand exactly what happened in that club."

"I would spare you this burden, my love. You have witnessed death on a scale few endure."

You sighed, unable to let it go, even if it was something you should have had no part in. "You were supposed to accompany your sister on this search. Speak with the people on her list. Instead, I find you in a strip club in Philadelphia, facing some supernatural dancer who is holding everyone hostage under her spell. Then the whole place blows up like fireworks on New Year's Eve."

"The woman who danced before you was once known as Belili, an ancient Mesopotamian god. Of sex, and war."

"That, at least, explains the choice of establishment."

"She and my brother were once lovers. We believed she might know where he is."

"Let me guess. She had no idea."

"No."

You massaged your forehead. "So why did you say it was your brother’s doing? Just because actual destruction follows him around, no matter how distant he tries to be from his former duties?"

"I fear it is far worse than that."

"Worse how?"

"To ensure we would never look for him, he has surely prepared a failsafe. Something meant to rouse itself when the search began."

You looked at him, gaze empty, blinking a few times before laughter caught you in a fit that began small, then tipped into hysteria.

You felt unmoored, unable to wrap your head around how anyone could be capable of something so staggering.

"Hold on a second," you said, lifting your hands. "You’re telling me this was deliberate? That he set a deadly trap so that anyone he cared about would be killed the moment one of you went looking for him?"

"I cannot say with certainty, but… that is my conclusion."

You laughed again, disbelieving. "So your siblings have shamed you again and again for your mistakes, and then they turn around and do this?"

"He must have had reasons of his own."

"What could possibly justify a massacre? Those people are dead, Morpheus. And the woman your brother once loved? She burned alive. Just like that?"

Much as you tried to comprehend their dynamic, you could not truly grasp how they operated. None of them, except your husband.

"See, this is what sets you apart from your family. They’re all bound to their place in the universe. They do everything according to what they were created to do, no matter the consequences, simply because the law says so. But you? You’re the only one who tries to become something more than what you were created for."

"I surmise my brother left because he no longer wished to bear responsibility for the destruction of humankind. I did not heed him at the time."

"Oh, that worked out wonderfully," you pointed out, dripping with scorn. "Maybe they change to adapt, to bury what the universe demands they feel. You change because you choose to. Because you love."

He sulked. "Y/N, Desire was not wrong. When Capax died upon our arrival, I should have ended our search. Yet I consented to accompany my sister. Through my choice, he and Ishtar perished. And countless mortals with them."

You shook your head sharply. "There was no way you could have predicted your brother would set a trap like that."

"My love."

"What? Stop guilt-tripping yourself over everything that happens. You’re letting Desire win again."

"Desire speaks so because they cannot perceive the change in me." "Right—" "As Nada cannot."

"Nada," you said flatly, straightening your back. "Of course. Now I’d really like to understand why you used this journey with Delirium as an excuse to find your ex in the Waking World. I thought she was a closed chapter by now."

"She was not a closed chapter to me."

"And why is that?"

"Because she told me I am incapable of love."

The words came soft and measured, as if they could still cut.

"And it stuck with you, didn’t it? You actually believed what she said. Even after I told you not to. Even after I reassured you."

"It is something beyond that. I spoke of intentions. Of circumstance. Of reason. I sought to persuade her that my love for her was equal. None of it mattered."

"She endured ten thousand years in Hell. Of course it didn’t matter. So what’s the point?"

"If I had truly changed, I would not have repeated the same mistake. She had every right to leave me. What I did was unforgivable. That is what I owed her. Those words, and no more."

Your nails dug into your elbows. You kept your voice level, but something in you was splitting at the seams. "So you needed confirmation. You hoped she would finally recognize it and say, plainly, that you are not the same being you were when you condemned her. And if she still refused to see any change, you'd also believe it was all Desire at work, and that what we have now might not be as real as you thought it was. Am I right?"

"I… I feared your faith in me might be misplaced. For before I become a father once more… I must know whether I have, at last, learned the lesson I should have learned ten thousand years ago."

You grunted, flinging your hands up. "You could have talked to me. I was right here!"

"Yes, But after all the pain I have caused you, I could not—"

"Oh, for God's sake! Do you think I feel any better, knowing you meant to shoulder all of this alone?"

"Such was not my intent."

You rubbed between your eyes, tears pricking more and more as you forced yourself to stay upright. "If you want validation, if you need proof that none of this has anything to do with Desire, you chose the wrong person to seek it from. Nada knew who you were then, but she doesn’t know who you are now. I do."

For a moment, the palace seemed to respond to you, the candles kindling into something stronger, guttering, then roaring, their light growing more luminous and fierce.

"It is always like this. Someone says one thing, and you doubt everything. The Book of Paradoxes. Nada. Your siblings. How could you believe, even for a moment, that what we have is an illusion?"

"I did not doubt what exists between us, my love. But Desire has, on more than one occasion, seen fit to meddle in my affairs."

"So what? Do you think we met in that basement because Desire wanted me there? That my feelings for you are just a construction, and that one day I’ll realize I don’t love you anymore?"

"These days, I have done nothing but fail you. It is in my nature to disappoint those I care about, however much I strive to avoid it."

Frustrated, and still severely nauseated, you gave a tired, humorless chuckle. "You’re still sure of that, I see."

Was Nada’s assumption sufficient to have him backsliding into self-loathing and reproach?

You were so tired, dispirited by the same patterns repeating over and over.

"I can't do this anymore, Morpheus."

"Wait, no. I…."

"I’m sorry, but this needs to end."

His face blanched; wetness prickled at the corners, and deep shadows bruised the skin beneath them. "What did you say…?"

His chest heaved, lips parting, terror taking form on his face. Pained, he refused your gaze, his voice becoming smaller.

"I see."

Was what you said truly so preposterous? Was it really so hard for him to notice how exhausting it was to be brushed aside while he kept berating himself, walking straight into danger to correct his wrongs?

Yet, what he said next paralyzed you to the core.

"So this is it, then. You are leaving me at last."

Shock hit you all at once, your body locking up as your heart stuttered and the air seemed to stall for a beat.

"Leaving you? What are you talking about?"

"Is that not what you intended?"

Your mouth fell open. "God, no! That’s not what I meant at all!"

As his shoulders slackened, you recognized you had chosen the worst possible way to communicate, only deepening a wound that was already raw.

"But... you said you would end it..."

"You may disregard my counsel, but in time you will hurt her, as you hurt me. And when the pain is enough, she will leave you, just the same."

"Oh… Morpheus."

You looped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pressing closer to contradict his assumption. His hands shot to your back, clinging tightly, afraid to let you go.

"My king. I’m not leaving you. What needs to end is this cycle of fear and suffering. I’m tired of watching you unravel while I stand there, powerless to help."

"You are not powerless. You aid me in ways known only to you."

"Then why do I feel as if I cannot reach you? You keep putting yourself in questionable situations, and my worry for you is eating me alive."

You unwound from him slowly, keeping your hands on his shoulders, the minimum distance necessary to look into his watery stare.

"My love. You are just like a dream, never fixed, always evolving. That’s why one poorly chosen sentence can tilt everything out of balance."

You cupped his face, your thumbs stroking along his cheekbones. A recurring gesture of tenderness he welcomed, every time, without holding anything back.

"You wanted closure with Nada. For yourself. You wanted to confirm you can be a good father, because you still cannot forgive yourself for what happened to Orpheus. You thought that if you couldn’t set this right, if you failed to convince her you have changed, you were bound to repeat the same errors again. With me, and with our daughter."

You nudged your nose to his in a small, affectionate bump.

"But you don’t need her for that. You have me. I promised I would stand by your side for all eternity. I gave up my mortality just to be with you. I waited for you, even when it felt like I’d lost you for good. I became your wife with confidence and pride, and I have never regretted a single choice I made for the two of us."

"You are not dissatisfied with our marriage?"

Your chest tightened like a band drawn too hard.

"Dissatisfied? I have no reason to be unhappy with what we have. Look at everything you give me. Every day here with you is like magic, and none of these little obstacles along the way are going to make me veer off course."

Finally, he smiled. Subtly, in that typical way that you had grown to adore.

"All right. Let’s assume, just for a second, that Desire played a part in all of this. As far as I’m concerned, they are right about one thing: love and desire are two sides of the same coin. That means they can absolutely coexist, and it wouldn’t really alter anything."

You pressed a warm, gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"It wouldn’t make my feelings for you, or yours for me, any less important. When I look at you, I see my future. I see my life. I see the other half of my soul, the one I have been searching for since the day I was born, and the father I want for our child."

"Do you not fear that Nada spoke the truth about me?"

"No. If Nada refuses to acknowledge your change, then let her believe whatever she wants. You set her free. You gave her the chance to build a new life as whoever she wants to be, and to go wherever she wants to go. This is your closure, Morpheus. This is proof that you are no longer trapped in the same mindset you had so long ago."

His smile widened, far less restrained, liberating. "You do not regret marrying me."

It was not a question, only a statement of truth.

"Not even in the slightest. I would marry you again and again, every day I have, if it meant I could show you how deeply I love you. If it takes the next ten thousand years to prove it to you, then that is what I will do."

Even if you had to offer your heart to him on a silver platter time and time again, you would do it, and more, without reluctance or annoyance. If he needed steady reassurance, you would lay every proof of your devotion before him until doubt had nowhere left to latch on.

His grin stayed cemented, securely sewn to his mouth, final acceptance settling in. "I have been foolish. Have I not?"

You tittered, low and warm. "Only a little. But even so, I still want you, exactly as you are."

Your hands traveled from his cheeks to his forearms, then down to his hands. Your fingers laced with his, raising them to your mouth so you could press a kiss to his solid knuckles.

"I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m never going to leave you. I promise."

"And I would never stop choosing you. Not under any circumstance," he intoned. "You are my sustenance."

"Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me."

Relief seeped in as you loosened your hold, rolling your neck from one side to the other.

"But if you don’t mind, I’d like to pick this up tomorrow. I really need to take a bath right now. I smell like I crawled out of a chimney."

"You do not." He answered naturally, his tone devoid of humor.

"Seriously? Look at my hair. It’s basically the texture of charcoal now from all the ash and dirt I absorbed in there. I plan to spend the next hour submerged in hot water with perfumed oils."

"A sensible decision. Allow yourself a moment of peace."

Even with smoke and soot on you, and exhaustion weighing on both body and spirit, Morpheus looked at his queen as though nothing in creation could rival her beauty. He brushed a kiss to your forehead, then tucked a grimy strand of hair aside with delicate fingertips.

"Take whatever time you require to tend to yourself. And rest, my love. You and our child must regain your strength."

A small beam of warmth broke through, and you tipped your head, letting your cheek settle against his touch.

"How do you feel now, truly?"

"Pregnancy is weird. A moment ago, I felt awful, but now I'm craving fries and chocolate cake."

He breathed out, amused, the corners of his mouth twitching. "I shall see to it that Taramis is informed."

Your expression brightened. "Oh! Then tell her I recommend the dark chocolate banana cake. The Greek yogurt adds protein, and the dark chocolate brings antioxidants."

He was taking clear delight in every second of it: every jittery movement you made, every small smile, every bright spark in your eyes.

A small cough worked its way out of you. "Is that a bit much?"

"No. Your enthusiasm is a pleasure to witness. There is no excess in joy freely given. "

"Aw, that’s good to know, because I might’ve gotten a little too excited at the thought of that cake. Could I have some of it, then?

"By all means. You may, if you wish. Provided it does not worsen your symptoms."

Having seen his former goddess wife carry his child, you suspected that human biology and food cravings might work differently than the way a Muse typically nourished herself.

"Please, do not let me detain you, my sweet. If you have need of me, I will come at once."

You let your head tip in assent, gave his wrist a reassuring squeeze, and, with reluctance, made yourself withdraw.

But before you could step away, he halted you, "Y/N, wait. One more matter."

"Yes?"

"When you witnessed Ishtar’s dance… did any part of you answer to it?"

Your lips pursed as you weighed it. "For a moment, it felt like she might get to me, but… no. I don’t think so. Does it mean anything?"

"Perhaps… I was only considering the possibility. Our child must have protected you from her influence."

Being human, or even partly so, you should have been entranced like everyone else, given that not even Delirium was spared the goddess’ magic. With Morpheus as the only one able to remain in control, it was not unreasonable to assume the child acted as a barrier between you and Ishtar’s thrall.

"I am sorry. I will keep you no longer."

"It’s all right. I'm going, then."

You went on your way, offering him a soft "I love you" before heading up to your room, and he returned the sentiment with another smile.

He considered that a new route to the upper floor might soon be necessary. The baby's increasing weight was already slowing your movements, albeit primarily out of prudence. Before long, the stairs would ask more of you than your body should give in your condition.

He did not budge until you were well beyond him, his perception tracking you through the palace, your chamber doors sending their echo down from the upper floor.

And now, at last, what lingered from Nada’s words was only a memory he was ready to wipe from his heart.

Final notes: In case you're wondering what is going on with Oliver's behavior, it will be explained most likely in the next chapter. Something is definitely going on there... 👀

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 6 (coming soon) ->

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