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daddyjackfrost · 2 years

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Chapter 1: A Fated Meet

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stay With Me ; Morpheus] ❞

morpheus x fem!reader

warnings: third person pov, 5k+ words, i have not read the comics

read chapter 2 here

stay with me ; masterlist

The air was warm and husk as the full moon illuminated the small village, livelier than it ever was during the day. Peasants swarmed around, singing and drinking. That was the power of the dark, it brought upon such comfort. Hidden, yet not concealed, had been humanity’s favourable way of living.

Death, the maternal eldest sister of her siblings, quite enjoyed small towns. The first act of life and the final act of death felt intimate among villages, and perhaps it was her yearning to understand humanity, but a mourning village was humanity’s greatest display of love.

Walking beside Death, was her younger brother: Dream. Both of the siblings, The Endless, were out in the Waking World for different reasons.

Death, while doing her job, wanted to walk amongst humans with her brother. She wanted him to connect to the living, awake humans that visited his realm. It had been an old conversation that had carried on for thousands of years.

Dream, in all his ancient and sullen glory, had left his realm to appease his sister.

Death smiled at Dream, motioning her head towards the lively tavern to their right. “Let’s go inside, Dream.” Death began walking towards the tavern, her dress following behind her.

Dream held back a sigh. When it came to Death, there was not a single place he would not follow. As much as he disliked leaving his realm, he had yet to decline an offer from Death. For her, Dream would do anything.

Dream’s original impression of the tavern did not do it justice. The inside of the wooden pub was filled with village folk, men and women alike. Loud, overlapping conversations and lit torches welcomed the siblings. In the midst of the chaos, Death and Dream walked slowly through the tavern.

“Must we spend time here, dear sister? I assumed we would visit those who called to you.”

Although the tavern was loud, overwhelmingly so, Dream’s voice wrapped around Death.

“Patience, Dream.” Grabbing two jugs of alcohol, Death handed one to Dream, who looked at her unimpressed. “Look around you. This… this is humanity. This is what they live for.”

Dream scanned the tavern, taking in the scene before him. His eyes trailed their clothes, their hair, and their mannerisms. Dream did not know how his sister could see beyond what mortals were, temporary. Humans were nothing special, not to Dream. They had simply been created to give his siblings and himself a purpose. A job.

“I do not know how one could want to live this life. They are miserable. Why else do they sleep as much as they do? Spend much of their life in my realm?”

Death rolled her eyes, and took a sip of her drink. As she did, Dream placed his drink on an empty table, abandoning it.

“Humans are so much more than you give them credit for, Dream.”

“Doubtful,” Dream said, slightly amused. Death’s relentless pursuit was admirable. “A human could not love this life. This is why they kill and return to you so quickly.”

Death raised an eyebrow, a challenging glint in her eyes. “Is that so?”

Dream nodded, once. He controlled the realm of dreams and nightmares. He was the King of The Dreaming, he knew what humans yearned for, dreamed for, and it was not this. Nightmares for humans consisted of happenings from the Waking World; debt, illness, loss, and fear.

Mortals feared their own creations, as well as his.

Death began walking. “I want to introduce you to someone, Dream. Someone I believe may change your stubborn mind.”

Curious, Dream followed his sister. The Endless were not supposed to mingle with mortals, not unless absolutely necessary. And his sister was not one to break the rules.

Death stopped in her tracks, staring at a table of women. Dream paused next to her, his eyes landing on a woman half standing in her seat, her voice passionately carrying through the tavern.

“I will never die, Karisa. I recommend you do not as well. Look around you,” the woman spread her arms, motioning to the tavern, “there is so much to live for. Why would death take me from a world I was born to love?”

Dream’s eyes darkened. There was something in the woman’s voice that called to him, cut through the noise of the tavern and reached his ears. Intrigued, Dream shifted closer to the woman.

At the slight movement next to her, Death’s lip twitched. She leaned into Dream, speaking quietly.

“This, Dream, is Y/n L/n. A mortal not afraid of death, but afraid of not loving enough.”

Dream stood straighter. “You once asked me if a human could love their life enough to live it forever, and I believe we may have just found our answer.”

Dream hummed in response. With the slight tilt of his head, he considered this human. At first glance, she appeared to look like any other woman that visited his realm. Dream’s eyes travelled the length of the woman. Her hair seemed to shine, her eyes twinkled, and something magical seemed to run in her blood.

It was with distraught as Dream of The Endless realized he found this human to be beautiful.

From the corner of her eyes, Death tried to decipher the look on her brother’s face. Yet, Dream remained stoic and unmoved.

“We all die, Y/n. There is no escaping it.” Karisa, the blonde woman sitting across Y/n, stated.

Y/n shook her head, tucking her escaped hair behind her ear. “No,” she disagreed. “If this life was a gift, Death shall not take it back. Surely it cannot be that hateful.”

Death grinned, and Dream’s soft pink lips twitched.

“Are you hateful, sister?”

Death let out a small laugh. “Not even close,” she whispered back.

“What do you propose, then? How will you live your life to escape death?” Karisa asked, amused.

Death, Dream, and the other women around the table leaned closer, intrigued by Y/n’s answer.

“Simple,” Y/n sat back on her stool. “I will simply live my life, promising to love openly. There is such a wide sea I have yet to explore, land I have yet to see. I know I shall live my life to the fullest. And my love for living will save me.”

Dream let out the softest of sighs. He had never heard a human speak in such a way. The very reason he existed was because when the Waking World left humans wanting and weary, they would enter his realm.

If humans began to love their waking life, would there be a need for The Dreaming?

Dream planned to ask Lucienne about Y/n. What she dreamed of. What scared her. Why did he not recognize her from his realm?

Karisa, seemingly familiar with Y/n’s passion, laughed. “Love is not that strong, my naive dove. It cannot save you.”

Y/n’s eyes seemed to glow brighter, determined. “On the contrary, my dear Karisa, I believe love to be very strong. And I have much to love, much to give my heart to.” With a smile that only a friend could decipher, Y/n said, “you know how much love I have to give.”

Karisa let out a small smile, shaking her head. “Yes, darling. You and your overly large heart.”

Y/n brought her jug to her lips, smiling at her friend.

Death shared a look with Dream. Many, many, eons ago, Death and Dream laid their opinions about humans on the table. Dream, confined to the human unconscious, believed that mortals could never love their lives, hence his very purpose.

Death, closer to humanity than any of her siblings, argued that a human’s capacity to live their life had little to do with eternity, and more with their ability to love.

With a nod, Death straightened and laid her hand upon Dream’s shoulder. “I grant Y/n L/n immortality. For as long as she loves her life and yearns to live, she shall live.” Turning to look at Dream, Death continued. “I, Death of The Endless, grant Dream of The Endless to take her life, if the chance arises.”

Dream tensed under Death’s touch, his lips parting for the slightest of moments at Death’s change of tone. Dream had taken lives before, but Death’s permission seemed intimate, like a ribbon of fate had been tied to his name.

Death released her grip on Dream’s shoulder and smiled at him.

“Learn from Y/n, Dream. Let her guide you to the meaning of humanity. And more importantly,” Death’s voice turned breathy, ancient, “she is yours.”

Dream’s lips twitched down. The air around him grew heavy and darkness crept into the tavern.

“Explain the meaning behind your last sentence, sister.”

Dream’s voice was huskier, taunting. It prickled the nape of Death’s neck. Although Death was older and wiser, she had seemingly forgotten that Death also ruled Nightmares, and his company was not all pleasant.

Stepping away from her brother, Death smiled. “I’m but a messenger of fate, Dream.”

Dream stared at the space Death occupied before she vanished. Flexing his fingers behind his back, Dream slipped into the shadows. He would wait to speak with Y/n, once they were alone.

Positioned at her highest, brightest point, the moon stood proud as the tavern emptied and the village-folk found their way back to straw mattresses and the cold floor.

Y/n, the last of her friends to remain, walked out of the tavern with the energy of a child. Hours within the crowded bar did little to hinder her appearance. Among the dirty, poorly mannered villagers, Y/n appeared to be a dream.

Dark calculating eyes watch the mortal from the shadows. Dream emerges into the moonlight with grace, his black robes dragging against the dirt road. Hand clasped behind his back, he stands tall as Y/n walks away from him.

“Are you the one who speaks of defying death?”

Dream’s voice is low and he speaks his words slowly, drawing her in. Y/n halts, her back instantly straightening. With caution, she turns and a small gasp escapes her.

Standing before her is a tall, lean man with snow-white skin, and long black hair. She recognizes the embroidery on his black robes as those of the wealthy. Shadows hide his features, but Y/n does not miss his sharp jaw or the downward curve of his lips.

Strange, she thinks, everything about him is dark, except his lips.

“Love, was it?” The stranger’s voice vibrates against Y/n’s spine. “Your love for life will be your saving grace?”

Y/n turned completely, coming face-to-face with a being that resembled a man, yet felt anything but.

“Are you mocking me, sir?” Y/n raised an eyebrow at the man. She had not seen him in the tavern, and the man before her was not dismissable.

“Anything but, human. I find your love for living intriguing.” Dream took one step closer, his voice ticking Y/n’s cheek. “You must tell me how far love gets you.”

Dream’s lips curve upwards briefly, and Y/n pinches her hand. “Let us meet every hundred years, Y/n L/n, and you shall tell me if you truly love this life.”

Before Dream can slip back into his realm, Y/n asks him: “How will you find me?”

Dream had forgotten how conscious humans can be. As Dream prepared to respond, he noticed a glint in Y/n’s eyes, one that seemed to already know his answer, but yearned for the words to be spoken aloud.

“I will find you, Y/n. Even if you may not want me to.”

With that, Dream slipped back into the shadows and into his realm, The Dreaming. Before the gateway closed, Dream caught Y/n’s brief smile and turned his head. He had experienced enough of humanity to last him a thousand years.

Waiting in Dream’s throne room, Lucienne, the chief librarian, stood patiently. She had received word from her Lord to find everything they had on a Y/n L/n, and to Lucienne’s frustration, there was very little.

“Lucienne.”

Lucienne bowed as Dream walked by her and sat on the steps of his throne. Raising her head, Lucienne faced her Lord, smiling. “How was your trip in the Waking World, my Lord?”

Dream paid little attention to the librarian.“Interesting,” he answered, shortly.

His eyes landed on Lucienne’s empty hands and Dream frowned. “I asked for records, Lucienne. Where are they?” Dream’s voice remained as soft and emotionless as it always did, but Lucienne did not miss the flex of his fingers.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I checked very thoroughly and there is no record of Y/n L/n in The Dreaming. The only information I could find was that she is an only child, and her parents died when she was a mere babe.”

Dream rose to his feet, his long black coat following him down the steps until he reached Lucienne.

“How is that possible, Lucienne? Every mortal dreams. We have records of every single human.”

The weight of Dream’s words pressed down on the librarian and she winced. “I know, my Lord. However, Y/n simply does not exist within The Dreaming.”

Dream stared at Lucienne’s earnest expression and let out a small hum. It seemed that Death’s chosen human would be more interesting than Dream thought.

Lucienne cleared her throat and Dream’s eyes shifted to her, attentive. “Perhaps, my Lord…” Lucienne chose her words carefully, “Y/n may not be completely human.”

Dream lightly exhaled through his nose, releasing the tension that had gathered between his shoulder blades. He let himself breathe in the scent of The Dreaming, knowing it cleared his mind/

“A God?” Morpheus questioned, mused.

Lucienne shook her head. “Not quite, sir. I checked the Book of Gods, and did not find her in it.”

Dream walked back to the steps, sitting down. His coat spread out around him dramatically and he rested an arm on his knee, rubbing the skin under his chin.

“If not a God…”

“I am not sure, my Lord. But as you said, mortals dream, yet Y/n does not. She is an enigma.”

“Yes, Lucienne.” Dream thought back to the woman with a profound interest in living. “She is.”

“What will you do, my Lord?” Lucienne tried to keep her curiosity to herself, but she wished to know what her Lord would do. Y/n L/n was unknown to The Dreaming, and therefore, a possible threat.

“Nothing,” Dream answered. “I am not to worry myself with her, Lucienne. I will meet her in a hundred years time, and have my questions answered then.”

Holding her tongue, Lucienne nodded and bowed.

“As you wish, sir.”

As Lucienne walked back to her library, Dream ran his thumb over his lips. There was something about Y/n that irked Morpheus. He was unsure whether it had to do with her overwhelming love for life, or because he did not know her.

“Jessamy,” Dream whispered.

As a master calls upon a servant, a black and white raven landed before Morpheus. The raven bowed at her master, waiting for instructions.

“The mortal, Y/n. I need you to keep an eye on her. You must tell me if she has any relationships with any Gods, or…” Dream paused, “my siblings.”

Jessamy, ever the faithful servant, bowed her head and flew off.

Morpheus stood and dusted off his coat. He would not think about Y/n anymore. He was an Endless, he had a job to do. Responsibilities to adhere to.

Transporting out of his palace and into Fiddler’s Green, Dream clasped his hands behind his back and began walking. He would travel through The Dreaming, visiting each resident and balancing dreams and nightmares, imagination and reality.

As a kingdom does for its King, grass parts for Morpheus and trees loom over him, protective of their King.

100 Years Later…

Y/n brushed her fingers through her hair, tucking the loose pieces behind her ear. She smoothed out her dress and sat down, pressing her back against the large tree. Although she brought a book to read, the tied pages lay untouched next to her.

A hundred years had passed since Y/n had met that strange man and made an unspoken deal with him. She thought about the man often. His eyes, voice, and most of all, the presence he carried.

Y/n breathed in the fresh air. Her eyes danced across the field, filled with children and their families. A wave of loss washed over Y/n. The man she had loved had died long ago, and her children had grown old.

“I see you are well, Y/n.”

A raspy, lowly pitched voice invades Y/n’s mind, vibrating against her skull. Blinking, she looked up at the figure standing to the left of her.

Y/n’s eyes took in the being clad in black robes. In the sun, Y/n got her first proper look at Dream. His dark raven hair was shorter than she remembered, his eyes held indifference, and his skin looked bone-white. His face was sculpted to perfection, straight nose, sharp jaw, and soft pink lips.

He was beautiful.

“I am, yes.” Y/n smiled at him. “You really did find me.”

“Had you any doubt?” Morpheus asked, curious.

“No,” Y/n answered. “I hope it was not easy, though.”

“Why? Is this a game?” Morpheus’s head tilted to the right slightly.

“Is it not?”

Straightening his form, Dream motioned toward the park. “Will you accompany me on a walk?”

Y/n did not know this man—being—but his voice, soft and raspy, was not asking a question. It was a hidden command, and Y/n was to obey.

Y/n answered by extending her hand to Morpheus, an invitation to appease her curiosity about him. After living longer than anyone she knew, Y/n cared less about etiquette and more about enjoying and loving her life.

Dream’s eyes narrowed at her outstretched hand but his expression remained stoic. With a gentleman’s grace, Morpheus stepped towards Y/n and slipped his curved hand under hers, his thumb resting on her fingers.

Y/n tightened her hold on Morpheus’s hand as he pulled her up. Their hands, locked and pressed together, resembled a sign Y/n had seen once in a book.

Yin and Yang.

Standing, Y/n and Morpheus stood close, their hands no longer connected. Y/n held her breath as she saw a glimpse of stars in his blue eyes, and Morpheus stood still as he recalled Death’s words: “she is yours.”

Morpheus stepped back, turned, and began walking. Y/n let out a breath before running after him. Standing close to him felt uncomfortable, like he knew the secrets kept hidden deep within.

Walking side by side yet with considerable farness, Y/n and Morpheus walked through the forest clearing. Y/n cleared her throat and Dream looked at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Will you ask me?”

Morpheus looked straight ahead. “How has life been for you, Y/n? Do you still love it?”

Y/n laughed, surprising Morpheus. “Life has been hard. My husband, family, and friends have died. Many from famine and the plague. Do you know how hard it is to explain why you are not aging? I think I may have caused mental anguish to some.”

Dream listened attentively. Her words held painful stories, and yet her tone was light, happy. Before making his presence known, Dream had watched Y/n for a moment. She looked content, uncomfortably so.

“Do you wish to die?”

With furrowed eyebrows and a smile, Y/n looked at Dream like he had asked an absurd question.

“Wish to die? Absolutely not, my goodness. The pain of loss dulls over the years, but I love my life. The feeling of falling in love is so enamouring, I wish to feel it again, and again.”

Dream stopped walking, turning towards the strange woman with the same passive expression.

“You love your life?”

“Yes.”

Morpheus nodded, once. “I see.” His tone remained soft, yet rumbling. “I shall meet you in one hundred years, Y/n.”

Before he could slip away from her, Y/n took a step toward him on instinct. Dark blue eyes glanced at her feet before flickering to her face.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Dream considered her words for a moment, before nodding. “If I may ask you one.”

Y/n shrugged, nodding. “What can I call you?”

Morpheus stared into Y/n’s eyes, looking for any ulterior motives. Names were powerful, and Morpheus had many.

Morpheus parted his lips, and changed his mind.

“You may call me Oneiros.”

Y/n tilted her head, her eyes wide with curiosity as she let his words sink in. “Oneiros”, she repeated slowly.

The sound of his name, old, unused, awakened something in Morpheus. He had chosen to give Y/n that name because it existed before her time.

“What does it mean?”

“You have asked your question.”

Y/n’s face dropped before she laughed. “Yes, I suppose I have. What is your question, Oneiros?”

“Do you dream, Y/n?”

For the first time since Morpheus learned about Y/n, she tensed and her lips twitched downward.

“Pardon me?”

Morpheus took a step closer to Y/n, tilting his head to match eye-levels.

“Do you dream, Y/n?” Morpheus’s voice was soft, but his question—and it was a question—felt taunting.

Y/n considered lying, but when Morpheus’s blue eyes caught hers, she knew that lying would be unorthodox. Such eyes, as ancient as they were, would see through her.

“No,” Y/n answered. Surprising herself, and The Dream Lord. “I do not dream when I sleep.”

Oneiros stepped closer to Y/n, until they breathed the same air.

“Why?”

For the first time since Y/n had met Morpheus, she heard the slightest hint of curiosity.

Stretching her lips into an uneasy smile, Y/n took a step back. Needing to breathe her own air.

“You have asked your question, Oneiros.”

Dream blinked, slowly. His lips twitched upwards.

“Yes. I suppose I have.”

Without a word, he slipped back into the shadows. Hidden from mortal view, Morpheus watched as Y/n stared at her hands before clenching them into fists.

When she turned and began walking, Morpheus slipped into The Dreaming.

200 Years Later…

“Are you on your way to visit the mortal, sir?”

Morpheus nodded at Lucienne. He stood on his palace balcony, taking in the sight of The Dreaming. His affection for his realm was beyond words, and his tenderness towards his creations often rendered him speechless.

“I have been checking the library for any new information on her, but nothing new has appeared.”

Morpheus turned his back to The Dreaming and stood upright as Lucienne spoke.

“Y/n told me she does not dream. She seemed… upset about the fact.”

Lucienne raised an eyebrow. “Did she?”

“Yes. That was all I asked.”

Hiding her frustration, Lucienne smiled. “Right. Well, perhaps you shall find out more today.”

Morpheus slipped into the Waking World. When his eyes opened, Morpheus stood in what he assumed was a library.

Scanning the old, abandoned library, Dream’s eyes landed on Y/n. She sat on her knees, facing an elderly man. The man’s hair was white and his eyes had grown old. Morpheus recognized the man.

Adam Khan.

Using the shadows to get close, Morpheus decided he would remain hidden until Y/n was alone.

“I do not understand,” Y/n said, quietly. “You have many children, why me?”

Adam Khan smiled, and the room brightened. He laid his brown wrinkled hand on top of Y/n’s.

“Because, my dear, you are my child as well. You love these books, this space, more than any of my other children. I will die, but you will not. Let my love for knowledge live through you.”

Dark eyes watched Y/n’s lips tremble. Her emotions were written over her face, empathy had never been painted clearer.

“Thank you, Khan. I will love and protect this library for as long as I live.”

Adam Khan laughed, standing. “I imagine that to be a long time.” He tipped his head and walked away, leaving Y/n alone.

“You can show yourself, Oneiros.”

Morpheus stepped out of the shadows, arms hanging beside him. “How did you know?”

Y/n pushed herself up, standing. She turned to look at him briefly before smoothing out her gown and walking down an aisle. Morpheus followed her, silently.

“The air chilled, and I felt your eyes on me.”

Morpheus hummed. His fingers skimmed the books on either side of him, thinking of Lucienne and her library.

Y/n tried to keep a stable pace as she walked. Dream’s presence behind her had her body on edge, like she needed to outrun a nightmare.

Reaching the end of the aisle, Y/n motioned at the seat facing hers. “Can I get you anything?” After a pause, she tilted her head to the side, eyes calculating. “Do you eat? Human food, I mean.”

Morpheus sat down, smoothing out his coat. “No,” he answered her first question. “And, yes.”

Y/n nodded, realizing that was the second thing she knew about him. “Are you human?” Intrigue coated her voice.

Morpheus took a moment to contemplate his answer. “Would you like to play a game?”

Y/n smiled, leaning forward. “I love games.”

“I will answer two questions, if you answer two of mine.” Morpheus decided to withhold any rules. Why set them if they are not needed.

Y/n kept her calculating eyes on Morpheus. She leaned away from him and crossed her legs.

“What could a being like you want to know about me?”

Morpheus lifted his chin to meet her gaze. “Quite a bit, actually.”

Y/n’s head dipped as she tried to hide her fleeting smile. “Fascinating.” She looked up, meeting Morpheus’s penetrating stare. “What are you?”

Dream’s expression remained impassive. “Have you any guesses?” His voice was honey, soft yet raspy, like a summer storm.

Y/n tilted her head and bit her bottom lip. She had her theories, but Dream’s stare made her feel exposed, hesitant. “You cannot be human. And defining you as a God… feels inadequate.”

Morpheus’s head tipped to the side, his blue eyes studying Y/n in a way a sculptor studies his muse. “I am not a God. I am more. Endless.” His tongue caressing the syllables of the last word as one would a sonnet, or the name of a lover.

“That is not an answer.”

For the very first time since meeting Oneiros, Y/n felt the slightest inkling of fear. Two hundred years ago, Y/n guessed she may have made a deal with the Devil, but she realized that the Devil was a subsidiary among beings like Oneiros, more than a God.

“That is my answer.”

Y/n smiled, uneasily. “Very well. My second question is,” Y/n spared a glance at the wide window, “why does your raven, Jessamy, follow me wherever I go?”

Y/n watched his expression very carefully, looking for any signs of surprise. Morpheus remained still, his eyebrows furrowed and his stare bold, but not withering. Y/n watched hesitancy dance on his lips and awaited his answer.

“To watch you.”

A disbelieving laugh escaped Y/n and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Dream’s eyes narrowed, slightly.

“I know that much, Oneiros. But why?”

Morpheus’s eyes twinkled. “You have asked your questions.”

Y/n looked at him, bewildered. “You barely answered them. You are not a conversationalist, are you?”

Ignoring her words, Morpheus leaned forward in his seat. “Why do you not dream?”

Gone was Y/n’s teasing smile. Her lips fell into a frown and she threaded her fingers together, leaning back into her seat, seeking comfort. “I do not know. My slumber has always been dreamless.”

“That is not possible. You are human. Human’s dream.” Morpheus’s voice was gentle, flowing with thinned curiosity. “Do you lie?”

“Is that your second question?”

Morpheus’s lips curve upwards. He had forgotten what a good conversation felt like. “No.” Dream wanted to ask more about who she is, what she is, but at the last second, he changed his mind. “How has your life been this last century?”

Y/n failed to hide her surprise. She was sure he was going to ask something else, but she accepted the change of conversation.

“With honesty?”

Morpheus nodded, once. “I invite honesty. You shall do well to remember it.”

“The last sixty years have been hard. I was called a witch and taken as a slave for a very ruthless man. I escaped, along with Adam Khan’s children. My time as a captor was filled with hardship. Hunger is a feeling I wish upon no man.”

Morpheus leaned back, his hands folded. “Do you wish for death?”

Y/n laughed, and Morpheus’s eyes remained on her.

“Not in the slightest. I had a few hard years, but that does not mean I do not love my life. I escaped, made friends, learned a great deal about humanity and the power of knowledge.” Y/n turned her head to look at the old, withering building. “I have been given this learning center. I have so much to live for.”

Morpheus looked away from Y/n. Her passion and empathy prickled his skin until he had to look away. A small, hidden part of Morpheus was glad she had not asked for Death. He found her company interesting.

A universe studying the atoms it is made of.

Morpheus stood, tipping his head. “Until next time, Y/n.”

“In a hundred years time, Dream.”

Morpheus’s head lifted and his burning gaze fell on Y/n’s smiling face. “Greek is a very beautiful language, agreed?”

Morpheus closed his eyes and slipped back into The Dreaming, a small smile on his face.

That night, in over two hundred years, Y/n dreamed for the first time.