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Hi! love your work. Can you please write about Orpheous' wedding day, but with reader accompanying Dream as his wife/partner? I love the little snippet we had of him as a father and I would love to read some more about it.
In the light of love
Morpheus x F!Reader
Warnings: none this is just fluff and cuteness, no use of y/n, not proofread
Word count: 2.3K
a/n: i think i ended up focusing more on the readers and Dreams relationship (the fatherly aspect is still present though). Hope you enjoy it even so!
“Don’t pout.”
“I am not.”
You gave Dream a look that said, Yes, you are. He was pouting, but not because he was angry or in one of his moods. He was pouting because… well… that was just his face.
You made your way over to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Dream would not let many get this close to him, be this affectionate toward him. But you were different. Not just because you were his wife and queen of the Dreaming, but because you made him feel understood. So he did not fear being vulnerable near you.
You pressed your nose into his neck as your hand moved to caress his locks. He closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.
“Come on, Morpheus. We’ll be late if we don’t get going.”
He stared at the paper in his hands. There was much work to be done, but he would not miss his son’s wedding day. Still, he lingered, standing before his desk.
“What’s bothering you, my King?”
Dream let out a soft smile at your question. You were always able to read him like an open book. It should frighten him, just how much you understood him—but it didn’t. If anything, it brought him a small comfort.
“It is because of Calliope?”
Dream tensed a bit at the mention of her name, and you felt it, your arms moving to wrap around his waist, pressing your chest gently against his back in a soothing manner.
“You have nothing to worry about, Morpheus. Calliope bears no ill will toward you. She hasn’t for a long time.”
“It’s not me I worry for.”
You let out a small scoff, unwinding your body from his. Stepping to the side, you walked to the other end of the desk. Dream watched as you moved, his gaze flitting from the papers on his desk to you. You poised yourself at the opposite end, crossing your arms.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Dream. I’m not some fragile creature.” You nudged a small ball that sat on the desk. “And Calliope doesn’t wish me anything but luck.”
“Luck?”
“Well, she of all people knows how difficult you can be.”
You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face at Morpheus’ disdainful look.
“Difficult, am I?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing in a way he rarely allowed.
“You are,” you said firmly, tilting your head. “But only to those who don’t know you. Me? I’ve seen the real you.”
Dream’s expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability passing over his usually stoic features. “And what do you see when you look at me now?”
You smiled, walking slowly around the desk so you were directly in front of him. “I see a father. A son. A brother. But most importantly…” You leaned in, brushing your lips against the corner of his mouth, a whisper of a kiss. “…I see my husband. My King.”
For a long moment, Dream said nothing, only letting the faintest hum of a sigh escape him. Then, finally, he reached out, fingers brushing the side of your face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.
“And I see my Queen,” he said softly, making you smile against his lips.
You gave him a soft kiss which he happily accepted. You pressed your forehead to his, smiling against his cool skin.
“Now come, your son is to be wed and we shall not miss it.” You laced your fingers against his. “You cannot say no. Your Queen commands you.”
“Is that so?”
You merely smiled at him. Dream straightened, his usual regal composure returning, though now tempered with a quiet warmth.
“Lead the way,” he murmured. And together, hand in hand, despairing in a mist of sand.
You and Dream had been the first to arrive, followed moments later by Calliope. You exchanged cheerful greetings; it was meant to be a happy day, and no matter their history, Calliope and Morpheus both loved their son dearly, so they would make the effort to remain civil—for Orpheus’ sake.
Once the young man saw you, his mouth opened into a bright smile. He ran over, giving his mother an embrace before turning to you. You returned his smile, opening your arms to him. He accepted the hug; you may not have been related by blood, but you always treated him as one of your own, and Orpheus had always seen you as family. There were no grievances between you, and you were glad for it.
Orpheus did not hug his father, and although you wished Morpheus would embrace his child, you knew it was not his custom, and you could not force him to do so.
“Have the rest of the family arrived, Orpheus?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. I’ve only seen Aunt Teleute.”
You relaxed at the news. Death had always been the easiest of the Endless siblings to get along with. You were glad she was here; if anything, her presence gave you a reason to excuse yourself. You placed a kiss on Morpheus’ cheek, bidding him a silent goodbye. You wanted to give the family a moment alone. You could sense Orpheus was nervous, and you hoped Dream would help calm him.
You wandered along the marvelous stone pillars until you found the bride-to-be, accompanied by none other than Death. You approached the two women, smiling as you made your way to them.
“Why, Eurydice, how beautiful you are. I am Morpheus’ wife—it’s a pleasure to meet you, dear. Orpheus speaks highly of you.”
“Thank you, my lady. The honor is mine.”
You gave the young girl a tender smile, tugging her into a short embrace before turning to Death. You wasted no time with greetings, giving Death a strong hug.
“It’s good to see you, Teleute.”
“Always a pleasure.”
You noticed Eurydice glancing around. You gave Death a knowing look.
“Nervous, dear?”
Eurydice flushed a bit at your question, embarrassed.
“I must admit I am a bit… wary,” she confessed. “It’s not that I don’t love Orpheus—I do, very much actually. It’s just that… well…” She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, my dear.”
You leaned in closer, speaking low so only Eurydice could hear your words.
“The day I married Morpheus, I almost fainted.”
Eurydice’s eyes widened.
“Really?”
“It’s true. I was there. We had to keep fanning her until she was standing at the altar.”
You and Death laughed at the memory. You couldn’t help but smile, remembering the day you’d finally married the love of your life. You let out a small sigh, moving to grab Eurydice’s hands.
“Love is an odd thing. It makes you feel desperate and afraid, but it also makes you feel wonder and hope. Orpheus is a good man. He’ll make a fine husband. And I know it’s nerve-wracking finding yourself inserted into his crazy family, but something I’ve learned over the years… they’re not as bad as they seem.”
As if summoned by your words, Orpheus appeared, running to Eurydice. They shared a soft kiss, foreheads resting together for a moment.
You felt someone standing beside you and glanced up at Morpheus. You smiled at him, allowing your hand to slip into his.
“How did it go?” you whispered.
Morpheus watched Orpheus and Eurydice for a while before turning to look at you.
“He really loves her.”
You smiled. “So does she.”
You leaned against Morpheus’ shoulder, savoring his proximity.
“Ah, young love. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Morpheus placed a kiss atop your hair, which surprised you.
“What was that for?”
Morpheus gave you a rare smile. “Just for being you. For being with me, through it all.”
The ceremony was beautiful. All of Dream's siblings came and all though he did not show it you knew he was glad for their presence. As the couple shared their vows Dream’s hand tightened around yours, almost protectively, and for a moment, you were aware of the contrast between him and the human world around you—the calm certainty of Dream and the trembling anticipation of Orpheus. And yet… they were alike in one way: both hearts beating a little faster than usual because of someone they loved.
Dream’s hand in yours was warm, strong, grounding. You could feel the tension in him, the faint pull of the responsibility he always carried with him. But in that moment he was present, fully here, for his child, and it made your chest ache with love for him.
When Orpheus slipped the ring onto Eurydice’s finger, you caught a glimmer of a smile on Dream’s face. It was fleeting, subtle, but it was there—just for you to see. You squeezed his hand, letting him know silently that you noticed.
The reception that followed was filled with laughter, music, and warmth. You noticed the Endless siblings mingling in their own peculiar ways—Death gently teasing a few mortal relatives, Delirium flitting through the crowd in her chaotic delight, Destiny observing with quiet approval—but always circling back to Dream, who sat at the edge of the ceremony. A quiet shadow hidden from sight. But you saw him.
You always did.
Later, as the newlyweds shared their first dance, you found a quiet moment with Dream near one of the pillars. The lights shimmered like starlight across the stone floor, casting a soft glow around the two of you. You settled beside him, watching Orpheus and Eurydice dance.
“He hates it.”
You turned to face Dream.
“What does he hate?”
“Dancing.”
“Like father, like son.”
Morpheus turned to look at you, his eyes catching the longing way you glanced at the dancing couples.
“And yet he still does it anyway.”
You turned to him.
“Of course he does, Morpheus. He loves her. He wants to make her happy.”
You said the words as if they were obvious, as if thinking anything else were impossible. It was then that Dream realized just how different you were from him. You had given up your mortality when you married him, and even though years had passed since then, you still held a knowledge of mortals that Dream often forgot. You knew how they felt because you had been one. And you had given all that up—for him.
He rose from his seat, standing before you. You gazed up at him questioningly. He placed his hand out to you.
“May I have this dance, my Queen?”
Your lips parted in soft surprise. He loathed dancing. You knew just how much he despised it. And so, even though you had always adored dancing, you never asked Morpheus to join you, opting instead to observe. But here he was, offering you the one thing he knew you wanted despite his hatred for it.
It was such a simple act, yet it held so much behind it. You took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Dream guided you to the floor, earning a few curious glances. But when the music started, and Dream’s hand moved to wrap around your body, the only person you could see was him.
The music swirled around you, soft and ethereal, as Dream’s hand rested gently on your waist. Your other hand found his, fingers intertwining naturally. You felt the faintest tension in him at first—the stiffness of someone unused to such vulnerability—but as he guided you across the floor, it softened.
“You’re… surprisingly graceful,” he murmured, his voice low, almost uncertain.
You smiled, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “So are you, when you want to be,” you teased lightly. “Though you might not admit it.”
Dream allowed a quiet hum of amusement to escape him. “I do not dance often,” he said, voice soft, “but I… wished to be with you. To give you this moment.”
The words made your chest tighten. His rare vulnerability, his willingness to step out of his comfort for you… it made your heart ache in the best possible way.
You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his chest.
“Thank you,” you whispered.
Dream’s hand moved to cradle the back of your head gently, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face.
The two of you moved together as if the world had narrowed to just this floor, just this moment. All the formalities, all the watchers, all the Endless duties—they vanished, leaving only the warmth of his hand in yours, the slow rhythm of the music, and the quiet certainty of being together.
“Father?”
Orpheus’ voice broke through the little bubble you and Dream had found yourselves in. You turned to look at him, still clinging to Eurydice, for a moment before glancing back at Dream.
Morpheus’ eyes moved slowly over his son’s features. He stepped away from you softly, giving you space. Eurydice released Orpheus as Dream approached him. The two of you watched as father and son met halfway, standing in silence for a moment.
And then, to your surprise, Morpheus reached out, pulling Orpheus into a loving embrace. Your hand moved to clutch at your heart, the sight before you stirring deep emotion.
Morpheus pulled back just enough to look down at his son with pride. He pressed a gentle kiss to Orpheus’ temple before speaking.
“I am very proud of you, son.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Morpheus opened his mouth, paused for a moment, and then seemed to make up his mind.
“I love you, my son.”
You could see the brief surprise on Orpheus’ face at the words, quickly replaced by pure joy. He clung to his father, giving in to a fierce hug.
“I love you too, Father.”
And when Dream’s eyes found yours in the crowd, you saw his lips move softly to form the words, “I love you.” You responded with a quiet, “Forevermore,” causing him to give you a small, rare smile.
And there, beneath the starlight, basking in the glow of the fires around you and the joy in the air, you witnessed something you had always known to be true: even the Endless, beings of great power and eternal life, could be brought to kneel before the force of love.
With more and more AI slop appearing, I thought: Why not start a reblog chain that celebrates all the incredible creators who keep this fandom alive?
Some people are new to fandom, some people don’t browse the tags and therefore hardly ever see anything that’s not been posted by mutuals, some people are simply looking for something new. Maybe we can turn this into a creator source (no AI-generated stuff please)?
So reblog this post with a shoutout for your favourites (as an important aside: Reblog creators you appreciate whenever you can because Likes don’t really help their creations to get seen):
Fic writers
Meta writers
Fanartists
Gifmakers & Editors
Cosplayers
Crafters
Podficcers
Bookbinders
or ANY other creative person who enriches this space for you
It can be just one or several, but let us know what they do. I’ll make a start (not all of these are Sandman blogs because it’s just idiots like me who hardly blog about anything else 🙈, but you’ll find their Sandman stuff via their blog search):
— — —
🌙 @embervoices gets a mention because you are one of the few people who also share my love for poems. Poetry might be a tiny fandom niche, but that’s exactly why I put it at the top of my list.
🌙 @tickldpnk8 because your meta brain works like mine, my partner in crime.
🌙 @gifs-by-renegadesstuff because your gifsets always make me not just watch a scene again, but truly see it.
🌙 @karmaisacat0121 because your art is absolutely stunning and more people should give it some love.
🌙 @amones because your art hits me where it hurts, but in a good way.
🌙 @vivisectrix speaking of art: You get a shoutout because I’m still not over your wonderful art for my fic 😩 (and this is when I love fandom most: gifting and community)
🌙 @dragonnan because I love myself some wild whiplash between beautiful and completely unhinged (and I mean this in the best possible way). Those panel redraws shall never be forgotten…
There are many, many others (I wanted to post only five, and as you can tell, I failed miserably), so hopefully, this is just a start.
Morpheus was in a mood, today, it seemed. The castle was dead silent upon your arrival and Lucien had greeted you instead of your dark-haired, silver-eyed Endless. The librarian was as kind and soothing as always and offered a thick-furred coat draped over her arm. You hadn't realized you were shivering until you accepted it.
“When he isolates himself like this,” she sighed, head shaking as she guided you down the spacious halls, “it tends to alter the Dreaming into…”
“A winter wonderland?” you hummed, nose nearly pressed to one of the mile-high windows. The frames of your glasses clicked against the translucent layer when you turned in an attempt to stare up at the snow-topped towers. “It's gorgeous out there!”
Lucien chuckled, pausing her steps once she realized you'd gotten sidetracked. “I was going to say an ice age, but your optimism is appreciated.”
“I'm just stating facts.” You turned away from the snowflakes coating the edges of the window to meet her gaze. “Why's he isolating himself?”
“Sometimes I feel it is a thing of the Endless, but my lord is particularly adept at falling into his work and further into himself.”
Your lips pursed at the thought of those molten eyes--the way his brow raised when he listened to you babble about the day’s events. He'd never seemed particularly distant. Maybe quiet at times but never unreachable.
In truth, you had known Morpheus barely a few months now. You hadn't expected to run into something so god-like from working at a pub under Hob, but you'd been seeing strange things your entire life. Hob liked to call it your “psychic sense,” but Morpheus had taken one look at you and waxed poetry about “seeing the veil as it was and not what it poses to be” or something similar. You'd zoned out a bit from how handsome he was but understood the gist of it.
Apparently one little joke about lucid dreaming was enough to draw an Endless to the lonely little nights in your head. Hob lost it when you mentioned it forever ago.
“Don't laugh! I feel like I pissed him off," you whined. "He shows up like every other week and judges me!”
“He is many things, including judgemental," Hob agreed over his coffee as you pulled down chairs and sliced fruit in preparation for the day ahead, “but he seems awfully interested in you. Best be careful. I can't go and lose my favorite worker, now.”
You weren't lost so much as drawn in by the beauty of the Dreaming, though perhaps that's what Hob had meant from the beginning.
Still, you desperately wanted to go out into that fluffy snow.
“So he's busy with dreams?” you asked Lucien, hands behind you as you marveled the detailed ceilings overhead. “Workaholic over the holidays?”
“My lord doesn't keep to annual holidays.”
“Oh, right, he's like...ancient." Lucien smiled and remained silent as any smart woman would. “Well, how long has he been isolating himself? Can he take a break?”
She waved hand deeper into the castle. “You may try, but don't be disheartened if he doesn't listen.”
The throne room doors didn't budge. You attempted to knock, swaying as you glanced around and pulled your gifted coat closer. You sniffed against the cold air and fixed your sliding glasses, huffing to yourself. Why you always dreamed with them on was anyone's guess.
“Morpheus?” you called out, voice echoing. “Or should I call you Boreas? The Dreaming’s been snowed in.”
Silence. You pressed your ear to the door as if it weren't made of thick, dream-induced material.
“You know, there's this thing called seasonal depression in my world—real tough stuff." You attempted to find a keyhole to stare through and found nothing. Even the the bottom of the door was tight and sealed. "You ever had hot cocoa? It's not a cure-all, but I like to think it's a good balm to the soul.”
You dragged your knuckles over the door, shivering at the chill emitting from it. Movement on your shoulder had you glancing down. The shadows of snowfall paraded over you gently from beyond the windows. Your feet itched.
“Or maybe some fun exercise?” you tried, lips close to the seam of the doors. “Ever made a snow angel?”
On the other side of those doors, a rare thing occurred: Dream of the Endless smiled.
His last meeting with Hob had been ordinary before the immortal man had raised his hand and waved you over. The Endless had seen his reflection before he had seen you—a wonder behind wire frames.
Morpheus had visited his old friend some days ago, asking after you, about your talent and how it brought you to his pub.
“She took one look at me,” he chuckled, leaning in with a smile full of youth and wit, “and immediately asked me how old I was.”
“Astute,” said the Endless.
“To the point,” Hob corrected. “And if you don't speak up, she'll see right through you, too.”
Morpheus' eyes thinned, shoulders taught as he raised his chin.
“And what is there to see?”
The old but never aging man gave him a look. All that he meant to say in this one expression, however, was not something the Endless wished to perceive.
“Christmas is her favorite time of the year. She moved here to experience more ‘winter wonderlands.’” Hob leaned back, shuffling a stack of papers onto the table that had been sitting next to him, ignored. “Now, old friend, we both have work to attend to.”
Morpheus felt laid bare. The Dreaming had gone white before he had taken the time to think the conversation over. Mervyn’s complaints about the various boxes of Christmas decor echoed in the halls. Lucien had come asking questions. Morpheus could not explain it and promptly shut himself away in his throne room, hesitant and brooding.
And now you had waltzed in, asking him to join the gift of snowy weather he had unconsciously prepared for you days ago, hoping you'd drop by and simultaneously dreading it.
He wished he could blame Desire for this.
“Well,” came your honeyed voice through the doors, “if you’re just that busy, apologies for bothering you! If you need me I'll be enjoying the snow day.”
And so you did. He found himself watching from a terrace. He's not sure how you managed to cajole so many of the tenants of the Dreaming into the castle gardens, but the trap was laid and set off as soon as your snow ball hit Cain.
“Hey!” cawed Matthew from a tree. “Watch it! That one was the size of my head!”
“If any of you break a window, I'm leaving you out here to freeze,” Mervyn yelled from the entrance. His sputter that came after as well as your laughter. You had quite the aim, it seemed.
Morpheus watched from afar as you brought life to the castle, dragging Lucien from her library more than her own lord. Matthew liked you and spent whatever time he could berating his sire to “ask her out already, come on, man!”
Lucien had warned him about falling too deeply. Too quickly. You were human. Special, yes, but mortal at your core. He had ruined everything with the last woman that had stolen his heart.
“Lucien you gonna stand there all day?”
Morpheus blinked, raising a brow as you stared back towards the castle, grin cheeky and puffing out clouds of breath. You had lost the coat he'd ordered his librarian to give you.
“Come on! You can join my team,” you called to her.
“We're on teams?” Abel shouted before Caine brought an entire snowman’s head down on him.
“You have your fun,” said Lucien somewhere out of Morpheus’s sight. “I must return to my duties soon.”
“Is it oh so dire?” you asked, hands on your hips as you panted.
“I do not think—”
“Well, if it's not, I don't see why you can't spend a few minutes letting off some steam!”
“I have a terrible aim, I’m afraid.”
“Not as bad as mine. Did you see how long it took me to hit everyone?” You scooped a handful of snow up from the ground, forming it. “Tell you what, if I hit you from here you’re obligated to hit me back.”
“Now, that's not—”
“1, 2, 3, go!” you sputtered, arm a flash of movement. The ball sailed far too high. Snow exploded over the lip of the railing, coating Morpheus.
Every single jaw dropped as they spotted him. Silence leveled the gardens. Every soul watching took a breath and looked from you to their ruler.
“My bad!” you shrieked as he wiped his face clean with a slow hand. “I didn’t know you were there! I’m sorry!”
“Boss,” came Matthew as he landed on the railing. “You good?”
“I am fine, Matthew,” sighed Morpheus. “It’s only snow.”
“Well, we best get going before Goldie starts missin’ us!” Cain chuckled nervously, dragging a suspiciously still Abel behind him. The others scattered much the same, leaving you rubbing your wrists and shuffling in place.
“Uh, am I in trouble?” you called up. You blinked when you found the ruler of the realm missing and sighed, head dipping in disappointment. “I swear it was an accident,” you whined to yourself, sneezing.
You nearly collapsed in fright as something fell over your shoulders. You relaxed when you found it was only your coat. Then fair-skinned hands attached sent your heart spiking a second time.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, face hot as you slid your arms through the sleeves.
“I take it you’re enjoying the weather?”
You hummed, nodding quickly, wishing his voice was as cold as his expression. The warmth of his words left your brain a mess.
“Have you?”
He tilted his head at you.
“Have you enjoyed the weather, I mean? You created it, so I assume you at least put up with it, uh.” You were rambling and worse, you realized you were rambling which led you into a spiral. “But I heard you’ve been super busy and all, so of course you wouldn’t have gotten much time! I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself and all…”
You had to take a breath and Morpheus was just listening, a gentle smile on his face that left your eyes skating the ground. Why were you acting like this?
“It has been some time, hasn’t it?” he asked.
“Like a week, maybe. I think I got a little too used to you popping into my dreams.”
“Is that so?”
God, you were being far too honest, but you dug your feet in and joked around the crippling embarrassment.
“Yeah, makes a girl lonely, but I get it. You’ve got a realm to run, people to look after.” You shrugged, raising a hand up as the snow began to trickle down in soft white fluffs. “I’ve been enjoying our chats, though. You’re very interesting, Dreamlord.”
A soft quiet rose between the two of you, his dark, looming presence blocking the chilly wind. You glanced up to find those silver eyes glinting like shooting stars. You made a wish and held it close to your heart as Morpheus leaned closer.
“May I confess something?”
Your eyes widened, a gasp stuck in your throat. “Are you angry about the snowball?”
“No." He smiled through the word and how unfair for the culmination of dreams and nightmare to have such a dazzling face to pair with it.
“Oh, okay,” you sighed, hand to your chest. “That’s good.”
“I’ve taken some time to myself as of late as you said,” he continued. You nodded as he paused, eyes earnest. Morpheus felt laid bare once more. “However, it was not because of my responsibilities to the Dreaming.”
Your lips parted, taking a breath. “Is it something I can help with?”
He hummed, fingers ghosting the sleeve of your coat. “Perhaps, depending on your answer.”
“Answer?” you mumbled, half listening now that he was so close to touching you. Was the coat weird? Was this just something he did when he spoke to people?
“If I might have the chance to court you.”
The old language went in one ear then out the other before backtracking. You stared at his hand, taking a choked gasp before raising your head to look him in the eye. He looked so effortlessly put together, long eyelashes catching snowflakes, lips rosy. And there you were, mouth agape and glasses fogging up.
“Uh, me?” you echoed, quickly cleaning your glasses to give yourself something to do and not simultaneously combust in the dream world.
“You,” he said.
“But I’m just…well,” you shrugged as you fixed your glasses back over your nose, “slightly less normal than the next mortal, I guess. And you’re…higher than a god.”
He tilted his head, brow raised. “Does it scare you?”
“The ghost that haunted my bathroom when I was eight scared me,” you admitted candidly. “You make me very very nervous. I feel like I’m more court jester than courting material.”
That pulled a real, two-second chuckle from him. You knew what winning the lottery felt like, suddenly.
“I don’t have much to offer besides what you’ve seen,” you breathed, “but I don’t want to say no.”
“Then don’t,” he murmured, cold hand finding yours and warming it with whatever magic he had coursing through his blood.
“What if you get bored?” you whispered, every hair on end as he pulled you closer. His own trailing coat of ink wrapped around you.
“The things your mind has created, the honesty you allow everyone,” he said, chest grazing yours, “it never ceases to surprise me. Boredom is the least of my worries. I fear you’ll find more problems with me.”
“I do worry about your isolation habits,” you admitted, smiling when he hummed and glanced away.
“I promise to not disappear for long periods, then.”
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The wind moved through the endless corridors of the Dreaming with a kind of sentience, carrying with it a subtle mix of scents. There was the faint tang of ozone, sharp and electric, like a storm lingering just beyond the edge of thought, and beneath that, the sweet, steady calm of jasmine. There was something else as well, something harder to name, something that spoke of sunlight refracting through glass, of shadows stretching long across quiet rooms where someone had just been dreaming. That scent was yours. It always was.
Dream noticed it before he saw you.
His senses, honed over uncountable millennia of rule, were attuned to disturbances so small that even other Endless would not have marked them. A shift in the air. A tremor in the fabric of the Dreaming. A warmth where there should have been only cool starlight. You moved through his realm with the same inevitability as the tides pulling at the moon, with a certainty that did not demand attention yet commanded it all the same.
He turned toward the source, the familiar weight of his cloak brushing the dream-silk floor in soft, soundless swishes. The fabric drank in the light, or perhaps it shaped it, dark as a starless sky yet threaded with faint, distant glimmers, like constellations half-remembered by sleeping minds. His eyes, black as obsidian and just as reflective, softened immediately when they found you.
You stood there, radiant and composed, your presence a quiet disruption in a realm built of shadow and thought. You were not fragile. You had never been. There was power in the way you held yourself, in the stillness of your shoulders, in the way your aura shimmered faintly around you, neither aggressive nor restrained. It marked you as divine without spectacle, a goddess who did not need to announce herself. A goddess among mortals, yes, but also something more. Something bound here, to him, by promises spoken before stars learned how to burn.
“You have lingered too long in the waking world, my love” Dream said at last. His voice was low, even, carefully controlled. Relief threaded through it, tightly wound, as though he had not permitted himself to feel it until this moment. Beneath that relief was something sharper, something almost protective. “I feared that you would be lost to them. That their endless needs would claim more of you than you could afford to give.”
You did not bristle at his words. You never did. Instead, you met his gaze steadily, your expression soft but unyielding.
“I was needed,” you replied. Your voice carried authority without cruelty, certainty without arrogance. The words settled into the Dreaming like sunlight spilling into a darkened hall. Your eyes glowed faintly, molten gold warmed by something gentler beneath it, like dawn filtered through thin cloud. “Humans are fragile, Dream. Their fears grow teeth when left unattended. Their nightmares do not remain contained the way yours do. They leak. They bleed into waking thought, into violence, into despair.”
You took a step closer, not touching him yet, but closing the distance all the same.
“I could not leave them unchecked,” you continued. “And you could not intervene directly. Not in their hearts. Not in the choices they make while awake. That has never been your role.”
Dream’s expression did not change, but his hands tightened slightly at his sides. He felt the truth of your words settle into him, heavy and unavoidable. He had shaped dreams for centuries beyond count. He had guided, punished, comforted, and withdrawn. But waking hearts were not his domain, and never had been. That had always been where you walked alone.
He studied you carefully, as though committing the moment to memory. The way your hair caught the strange, directionless light of the Dreaming. The fine lines of your face that spoke not of age but of endurance. Of centuries spent listening to prayers no one else heard. Of standing beside humanity even when they did not know you were there.
For all his mastery over this realm, for all the dreams and nightmares that bent beneath his will, Dream had never known devotion like yours. Not from mortals. Not from gods. Not from his own siblings. Until you.
“And yet,” he said quietly, stepping closer. His shadow stretched ahead of him, reaching for you like a living thing. “Even after all that, you returned.”
His hand lifted, hovering near yours. The motion was hesitant, restrained, as though even after eternity together, he still feared overstepping some fragile boundary.
“Even after seeing what you must see,” he went on, “after carrying what you must carry, you returned to me.”
You smiled then. It was not hurried. It was not uncertain. It was the smile of someone who had made their choice long ago and never regretted it. Tender, yes, but commanding all the same.
“Always,” you said. “Even the strongest gods must find rest somewhere.” Your gaze softened as it traced his face. “Even you need a companion. You bear the world of dreams. Do you truly believe that weight leaves you untouched?”
His eyes darkened, but not with anger. It was the deepening of a storm cloud, heavy and quiet, filled with unspent rain.
“Do you believe I have not felt it?” he asked softly. “I shape the Dreaming. I contain it. I hold the fears and hopes of all who sleep beneath the sky. I have borne it for ages beyond numbering.” He hesitated, then allowed his gaze to flick briefly to the glow of your aura. “And yet… with you here, the burden eases. Not because it is gone, but because it is shared.”
You closed the final distance between you. Your fingers brushed his, just barely, but the contact sent a subtle ripple through the air, through the walls, through the fabric of the Dreaming itself. It was not a violent surge. It was quieter than that. More intimate.
You rested your head against his chest, fitting there as though the space had always been made for you. Beneath your cheek, you felt the impossible heartbeat of the Dreaming, slow and endless, echoing through him. It was steady. Familiar. It recognized you.
“Then let me share it,” you murmured. “Your watchfulness. Your silence. Your loneliness.” Your hand curled lightly against his chest. “We are not separate. Not in dreams. Not in waking. Not in the moments between, when the world sleeps and no one believes they are being watched.”
The Dreaming responded to your closeness. Corridors shifted and softened. Distant stars dimmed and brightened as if breathing. The air grew warmer, fuller, heavy with memory. Time did not move here as mortals understood it, but something unfolded all the same, slow and inevitable.
“I feared,” Dream said at last, his voice so quiet it barely disturbed the air, “that even you might one day leave me.”
You felt the truth of that confession settle into your bones.
“You are bound to all that breathes and suffers,” he continued. “How could you choose to remain with me, when the world calls you away again and again?”
You lifted your head, meeting his gaze fully. Your eyes burned softly, gold threaded with fire, eternity held steady by resolve.
“I am bound,” you said. “Bound to their fragility. Bound to their hope. Bound to the quiet moments when they believe no one is listening.”
Your hand tightened around his.
“But I am bound to you as well. You are my rest. My storm. My sanctuary. Even gods must choose where they place their hearts. I chose you long before this realm learned my name.”
Dream’s breath hitched, just slightly. He reached for you then, finally, his hand closing over yours. It was warm and cold all at once, the paradox of him, the paradox of eternity given form. The moment your fingers fully intertwined, the Dreaming exhaled. Shadows curled away. Light softened. The realm itself seemed to acknowledge the bond you shared.
“There is no one else,” he said, his voice rough with emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel, let alone voice. “No one who has remained in the spaces between dreams. You are more than my wife. You are my tether. You remind me that I am not alone.”
You pressed your forehead to his, smiling gently.
“And you remind me,” you replied, “that I am allowed to rest. To stop listening for a moment. To be held without obligation.”
The Dreaming bent around you, reverent and still. Light and shadow and scent wove together, enclosing the two of you in a moment that belonged to no one else. Eternity waited. Duty paused.
“Stay,” Dream said quietly. It was not a command. It was not an expectation. It was a plea spoken by a being who had ruled forever and yet still feared loss. “Stay with me.”
“I will,” you whispered. “I always have. I always will. When the world calls me away, I return. When the last dream fades, I will still be here. I am yours, Dream, as you are mine.”
The Dreaming sighed, corridors stretching and curling, brightening in places that had known only shadow. Two cosmic beings stood together at the heart of it, choosing one another again, not despite their duties, but alongside them.
And for a moment that would echo through every dream yet to be dreamed, infinity remembered what love felt like.
