— WHEN THE DARK DRESSES LIGHTLY

by viiatrixx

Summary:

In a perfect world, you would’ve been born different. You would’ve been able to live freely and as you wished, to go where you pleased and meet everyone and see everything.

Alas, you were not so lucky. Your family name bound you by blood to your trade— vampire hunting.

Chapter 1: THE TALE

In a perfect world, you would’ve been born different. You would’ve been able to live freely and as you wished, to go where you pleased and meet everyone and see everything.

Alas, you were not so lucky. Your family name bound you by blood to your trade— vampire hunting.

And for centuries, that was what you did.

So, you hunted.

Vampires, werewolves, banshees and zombies— you were the hunt, a predator hungry for the blood of the monsters you’d been born and bred to destroy in the everchase you lived in.

Until he happened.

The vampire Morpheus was one you’d heard of for centuries, mostly in passing by drunken farmers, tired soldiers and frightened housewives. He was unlike any other, able to tear the veil between reality and dreams to hunt for his prey.

He was vicious, but he wasn’t as chaotic or disorganized in his kills the way the other monsters you hunted were. He left no trail of blood, no viscera, no carnage.

No, the victim would fall into a sleep like death, like that of which you’d only heard of in fairy tales.

That was what you believed he was, in fact— a fairy tale. In all your many centuries of hunting, you’d never met him, you’d never seen him. So, you dismissed these claims.

Decades passed, and you heard no more of this vampire. You continued your trade, hunting monsters and taking bounties. You slept little, and traveled far and wide to purge the world of the dark creatures of the night.

Now, being a Van Helsing meant you were no stranger to being hunted or watched, but this was different.

When a werewolf was watching you, you knew to look for that telltale wet dog smell, for the yellow eyes watching you in the trees. When a banshee was watching you, you knew to wait for the hairs on the back of your neck to stand, to wait for the cry that would try to lure you in.

You didn’t know what this was.

It was cold, calculating— and worst of all, it was curious. It only grew stronger on the rare occasions you were able to succumb to sleep.

A shadow in the corner of your eye, a figure you’d miss if you fluttered your eyelashes for a mere moment.

And it seemed to you that those tales you’d dismissed as old wives tales were true.

Morpheus was watching you.

You didn’t know how long he’d been watching you for, or what his intentions were— but you knew he was always near.

You could feel him when you slept, like a tug on your hair whenever you began to dream. You knew it was him, trying to lure you to him in your sleep, his voice low and grave as he whispered to you through the fog, making you shiver every time you heard it.

“Come to me.”

Had it not been for the fact that you’d trained yourself to wake up on command, you were sure he’d ensnare you just as he did his other prey. Always just a breath away, and yet, you could never seem to catch him. He was elusive, this Morpheus.

And you? You were determined.

Thankfully, you found yourself employed by the Vatican once more to hunt down and kill the vampire Morpheus.

Had Lady Johanna Constantine been alive, you would’ve enlisted her help in this particular case, but instead you left the tall pines and foggy roads of Transylvania and traveled to the dreary city of London alone.

The moment you got there, you got to work. You hid in dark corners at pubs and brothels, listening in for the tales those weary souls told in the middle of day, far too frightened to speak them at night.

For the first few days, it was just chatter, gossip. A friar sleeping with a married woman, a pregnant woman said to be the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary, a couple of butchers arrested for feeding half a town human meat.

And one night, just as you were about to start asking around properly, you overheard a conversation between a weathered sailor and an old man with a cigar hanging between his lips.

“Did’ya hear? Abraham Miller’s son won’t wake! Oh, surely this is the work of that damned vampire!”

“Yous telling me! Hector’s wife’s been sleeping for weeks, and the doctors don’t know s’wrong. They won’t admit it, and Hector won’t listen to reason, but I know that it did it!”

“Lower your voice, lad! He might be among us!”

“Among us? It’s the middle of the day, Paddy! What vampire ‘ave yous heard of that walks in daylight?”

He had a point, and enough reason to almost make you laugh. But still, you rose to your feet and approached them, joining them where they sat and crossing your arms over the table after placing your cup of wine to the side.

“Good evening, lads,” you said, eyes flickering between the two before you continued. “You’ll forgive me for intruding, but I reckon you two were talking about a vampire around these parts?” You asked.

The two men fell silent for a moment, exchanging a look— wondering whether they should tell you or not, you figured.

“Would it happen to be the vampire Morpheus?”

That got their attention.

“Oi! Keep your voice down!” Said the sailor you assumed was Paddy, nearly choking on the tankard of ale he’d just been bringing to his mouth to drink from. The alcohol sloshed over the rim when he put it back down on the table and leaned forward towards you to speak.

“Don’t speak his name so loud, you! It’ll hear you!” He said, brown eyes nearly bulging as he stared your unphased form down, his head swiveling about to see if anyone, anything had noticed.

No one did.

“My apologies, sir,” you apologized with an easy smile, bringing your cup of wine to your lips and taking a slow sip before placing it back down, exhaling, and lacing your fingers together over the table. “Allow me to introduce myself—“

“We know who yous are,” the other man said, turning his nose up at you like a petulant child and spitting to the side. “Been ‘round long ‘nough to recognize your lot. Yous all wear the same blasted insignia on that coat, paradin’ yourselves ‘round like yous are the—“

“Oi! That’s enough outta you, Jimmy!” Paddy berated his friend with a slap upside the head before turning to you. “Look, we can’t ‘elp you, alright? You wanna find the vampire? Best of luck t’you, but there’s not a soul here who’d agree to help a Van Helsing. So if you want any ‘elp, you won’t find it here.”

You lifted your head to look around for a moment before exhaling— it was as he’d said, all eyes were on you, and narry a kind one.

So you downed what was left of your wine, placed some silver on the table, and rose to your feet. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen. Or not.”

With that, you turned and left, brushing shoulders and pushing yourself through the crowd as you left the busy pub in search of anybody who could help you.

That could wait. You needed to sleep.

But just as you were starting down the empty, lamp-lit streets of London, a voice stopped you dead in your tracks, just by the corner of the pub you’d just left.

“You’re searching for Morpheus?” A woman’s voice asked.

You turned to find an old woman sitting on a bench in a weathered coat and hat, with three dogs of different breeds sitting by her feet. Two werewolves and a hellhound, you surmised by the smell, but now wasn’t the time for that.

You weren’t hunting for werewolves or hellhounds, after all.

You appraised her for a moment before approaching slowly, your hands in the pockets of your coat, fingers wrapped around the hilt of the blade you kept concealed there— just a precaution.

The old lady must’ve known, because she offered you a smile as you spoke.

“You’ve heard of him?”

“Oh, I can do you one better, love,” the old lady said. “I can take you to him. Oh! But where are my manners?”

The kindly lady bowed her head slightly in greeting. “You can call me Hettie.” And that was all she said before she turned and started walking down the alley, the opposite way from where you were going. “Come, come! We don’t have all night, after all.”

You found yourself faced with a choice— to follow this lady who would most certainly lead you to trouble, or to go home and resume your search for tomorrow.

You were determined, yes, but were you desperate?

When your feet started walking of their own accord, following the strange woman, you knew you had your answer.

Chapter 2: MENUET DES MORTES VIVANT

Summary:

You were no stranger to meeting strange people, but Hettie was… very peculiar.

She spoke to you about Morpheus like it was some stray cat she couldn’t seem to get rid of, and hastily corrected you when you called the vampire it.

“No, no, love. The vampire Morpheus is a he, and he is far more than you think he is.”

At least, that was what she told you as she guided you into her messy flat and told you to sit down on a moth-eaten mattress in the middle of some room. Her living room, maybe? There was just no way of knowing.

You knew better than to trust blindly, but there was something about this old woman that you just… weren’t able to ignore. You could tell, just by the way this woman carried herself, by the way she spoke and held her head, that she’d been around far longer than you had.

Which, for someone who wasn’t Van Helsing or Constantine, was a feat of its own.

You were no stranger to meeting strange people, but Hettie was… very peculiar.

She spoke to you about Morpheus like it was some stray cat she just couldn’t seem to get rid of, and hastily corrected you when you called the vampire it.

“No, no, love. The vampire Morpheus is a he, and he is far more than you think he is.”

At least, that was what she told you as she guided you into her messy flat and told you to sit down on a moth-eaten mattress in the middle of some room. Her living room, maybe? There was just no way of knowing.

You knew better than to trust blindly, but there was something about this old woman that you just… weren’t able to ignore. You could tell, just by the way this woman carried herself, by the way she spoke and held her head, that she’d been around far longer than you had.

Which, for someone who wasn’t Van Helsing or Constantine, was a feat of its own.

“What… exactly am I meant to be doing?” You finally asked, shedding your coat and draping it over the back of her loveseat before taking a seat on the mattress she’d told you to sit on.

From where she stood in her kitchen, Hettie turned to look at you over her shoulder. “You said you wanted to find Lord Morpheus, didn’t you?”

You paused. “Lord Morpheus?” You asked, lifting a brow in slight confusion. “Is he not a count?”

Hettie only chuckled at your question. Lord it was, it seemed.

“Never mind that, how exactly are you going to help me find Morpheus?” You questioned once more, earning a click of the tongue as the older lady returned to you, holding what seemed to be a cup of normal, chamomile tea.

“This’ll take you straight to him,” she told you, motioning for you to drink. “Go on, then! Drink, drink! It’s twice as bitter when it’s cold!”

You didn’t need to think twice before downing the bitter tea, and mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for not retching the very moment the drink touched your tongue.

God, this woman was killing you, surely.

You fool.

Slowly, drowsiness began to blur at the edges of your vision. You tried to reach for your coat, for your pistol, for anything to defend yourself against any unseen threat, but your body became too heavy for you to hold up on your own.

And soon, you succumbed to sleep.

But not for long, for when you woke, you were no longer in that place.

You found yourself in the middle of a crowded ballroom of mirrors and lights, surrounded by nameless faces and clad in clothes that weren’t your own— at least as far as you could remember, but you were certain you didn’t own clothes this fancy.

There was a band on a small stage off to the side, playing a beautiful waltz that those on the dance floor danced to with practiced ease, like specters dancing to an old choreography from long ago. Not a single person was out of step, and now, neither were you.

You felt it before you saw it. The feeling of a much larger, warm hand in yours, and another at your hip, pulling you close and into that spinning waltz that had just a moment ago made you dizzy just from watching. You were too taken by surprise to really look up at that exact moment.

But when you did, you found a stranger looming over you, guiding you through the waltz gently, as if you were a newborn fawn on shaky legs. His expression was unreadable, but not unkind. His hair was dark and tied away from his face by a black silk bow, although he allowed a few strands to frame the left side of his face.

And his eyes— oh, you could’ve sworn you saw the stars in them for a moment. But when you blinked, they were gone, leaving dark eyes that bore into yours with the intent of figuring you out.

“Who are you?” The stranger asked, his voice oddly authoritative, yet also seductive. “And how did you get here?”

“Does it matter?” You were quick to deflect, a soft gasp slipping past your lips when he spun you out and reeled you back in before continuing to waltz across the ballroom floor with you. “I’m searching for someone.”

“Oh, are you?”

He seemed almost bemused now, which made you frown at him.

“Is that funny?” You asked, trying desperately to find the willpower to pull away from him. You couldn’t.

Not because you weren’t able to— you were physically in control of every step you took, every breath, every turn of your head. But there was something about this man that was so magnetic and powerful and beautiful, you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away.

“Do you know where you are, right this moment?” He asked you. When you shook your head, he continued. “You are in The Dreaming.”

The Dreaming.

Hettie had spoken to you about it briefly on the way to her home. The Dreaming was the realm over which Lord Morpheus presided, where those from the waking world, the real world, disappeared to when they slept, when they dreamed.

You shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Hettie had told you she’d take you to him, hadn’t she?

“I’m here to find Lord Morpheus,” you told the stranger, who continued to watch you with inquisitive eyes. “Will you point him out?”

He looked almost disappointed before he suddenly dipped you before one of the many mirrors in the hall, holding you there for a moment before bending down, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“You know me.”

His voice was lower now, a voice you recognized. And when you looked into the mirror, your suspicions were confirmed.

No reflection.

You whipped your head to stare up at him, eyes wide as he pulled you back up, a somewhat smug look on his sharp, handsome features. Oh, how could you ever be so blind?

“We have met before,” he told you. He was no longer waltzing, the world around you standing still as he spoke to you. “You are quite the character, Van Helsing, for no one has ever been able to enter my realm without my say so. And yet, you’ve managed it three times. That is no small feat.”

Was that a compliment? You weren’t really sure.

But the more you thought about his words, the more you started to remember things. He was the faceless man with dark hair and alabaster skin that watched you from afar. Before that, he was the shadow you’d see out of the corner of your eyes in your dreams, following you, always near.

And before that, he was no more than a young man standing before you, taking your hand gently and guiding you through the magical land you now came to learn had been The Dreaming.

You had met before, but it had been so long ago, and his name had been…

“Dream,” you finally whispered.

The corners of his lips turned upward ever so slightly. Not a smile, but almost a hint of one.

“Hello, (name).” He murmured, bowing before you and bringing your hand to his lips to press a featherlight kiss to your knuckles.

You would’ve been flustered, had you not been so terribly confused.

“But you’re not a vampire,” you said as you shook your head and pulled your hand from his grasp, desperately trying to piece things together. “You’re… you’re Endless.”

“Not in the traditional sense, no,” he began. “I require no blood for sustenance, but dreams. Dreams are always abundant, substantial. Mortals enter The Dreaming every night while they sleep because I allow them to. I find my sustenance that way.”

That… made sense, if you thought about it. After all, everybody dreams, no?

“But then… what about those who don’t wake from their slumber?” You asked him. “What becomes of them?”

It was then that the King of Dreams and Nightmares offered you his hand, watching you thoughtfully for a moment. “Walk with me,” he said. “To the fields of Fiddler’s Green. I will gladly explain what I can.”

With a deep breath, you placed your hand in his larger one, knowing that you had no choice in the matter, really. You needed an explanation, you needed to know why Lady Johanna Constantine had told you not to pursue him.

She, who was such a skilled hunter, who had taken you under her wing for decades before her sudden, unexplained departure to Greece. Lady Johanna, who with all her knowledge and wisdom, had chosen not to hunt the vampire Morpheus.

What was it about him? How were you to know he was who he truly said he was?

Dream of The Endless.

By the time you managed to pull yourself from your own thoughts, the castle was but a speck in the distance. You stood on an open field, the sky illuminated by the rippling curtains of blues and pinks that were the aurora borealis, by the stars and constellations that twinkled in the cosmos.

The breeze was gentle, brushing along the tall grass and the reeds of the gravelly lakeshore, their rustling accompanying the sound of the cicadas in the trees and the crickets and frogs nearby.

Dream— no, Morpheus sat you down gently on a stone bench by the edge of the lake, overlooking the rippling surface as fireflies danced before you.

“Earlier, you spoke as if I hold mortals in some sort of stasis,” he said while taking a seat at your side, the corner of his lips twitching upward for a moment before he shook his head. “But you must understand, some dreamers choose not to wake. Some choose to remain here, to wander The Dreaming rather than return to their lives.” Morpheus explained.

You stared at him for a few moments, battling your disbelief, and exhaling when you realized there was no use.

You couldn’t fault his reasoning. You knew that some people, such as the sick and elderly, would rather live out the rest of their lives here in The Dreaming.

“I see…” You answered finally, lowering your gaze to your hands where they sat folded over your lap. “And yet, I’ve been—“

“Sent by the Vatican to kill me,” Morpheus finished for you, nodding his head. “Yes, I am aware of your assignment.”

Realization set in further, and you frowned when you lifted your head to meet his gaze. “How long have you been watching me for?” You asked, placing your hands behind you on the stone bench to lean back and look at him.

Morpheus was silent for a moment, watching you with a thoughtful expression and tilting his head to the side slightly, almost resembling the way a curious raven would tip its head.

“Ever since you first stepped foot into The Dreaming,” he said. “As I’ve said before, nobody may enter The Dreaming without my consent. And yet, you wandered my realm for days without my knowing.”

You remembered that night like it was yesterday, when in reality, it was over two centuries ago. You’d been wandering The Dreaming alone for days (or at least, what you thought were days), lost and confused, until he found you.

He was younger then, starry eyed and rosy cheeked. Just as mysterious and detached, and yet so gentle in the way he’d taken your hand and guided you to his castle to help you find your way back home to the waking world.

“You have a habit of standing out, Van Helsing,” Morpheus said, his voice fond as he rose to his feet and offered you his hand once more. “From the moment I saw you, I knew you’d be quite the nuisance. I knew our paths would cross again, although this is a bit… different from how I’d hoped.”

That put a small smile on your lips, and you took his hand and allowed him to pull you to your feet. “What? Was me being sent to kill you not something you expected to happen?” You asked, earning a hearty chuckle from him.

“I’m afraid divination isn’t quite my strong suit,” he answered. “You sleep little, (name), but your dreams speak for themselves.”

As he spoke, he guided you to walk along the lakeshore, simply allowing you to enjoy the perfect night.

“My dreams?” You asked, looking up at him as you followed. “What do my dreams tell you, then, Dream of The Endless?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Should I decipher your dreams for you?”

“If you wish to.”

Your audacity made the raven-haired man shake his head before giving in. “Very well,” he began, stopping and turning to face you completely. “You travel much, and like I mentioned earlier, you sleep little. You’ve little time for real companionship, lest they are the means to an end.”

“You’re quite lonely, aren’t you?”

He didn’t need you to answer that— he already knew.

“Humans aren’t meant to be alone, (name).”

You tipped your chin up.

“I’m not an ordinary human.”

Morpheus’ expression softened. He smiled, “I know. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to seek companionship.”

“And how do you know I lack companionship?” You challenged, your arms crossed over your chest. Not defensively, but curious, captivated. “Have you been watching me outside of my dreams, Morpheus?”

That question gave him pause, and for a split second, he seemed almost flustered by it.

“Observing,” he corrected cooly. “I had to make sure that your intentions weren’t misguided. That you were not a threat to me, or my realm.”

“Am I not a threat to you?” You asked, a small smirk on your lips. “I’m a monster hunter.”

“And I’m no monster,” Morpheus said. “I’m Endless. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t believe you’d kill me.”

When he knelt before you, you instinctively took a step back, but he gently wrapped his fingers around your wrist to keep you in place. His expression was gentle, yearning, the stars in his eyes now more prominent.

You stared at him for a few seconds, a shiver coursing down your spine when you felt his thumb rub against the inside of your wrist.

“Why?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

“You know why.”

You did. It was the reason you’d reacted so strongly the first time you heard his name in passing, why you’d agreed to hunt him down when the Vatican asked.

Why he’d only come to you in your dreams.

You’d been searching for him, just as he’d been searching for you.

Realization knocked the wind out of you.

The Vatican… no wonder they’d been so insistent in sending you to hunt down an Endless. That had been his doing, his plan— and you’d fallen like a bug caught in a spider’s web.

Morpheus spoke before you could.

“Stay.”

It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t a command, either. The choice was yours to make.

And you considered it— who would miss you back in the waking world? Your dead family? The townsfolk that treated you like a plague wherever you went? Lady Johanna Constantine, who’d left and not once turned back?

Carefully, you tugged your wrist from his grasp to instead take his hands in yours, pulling him to his feet, as he had done to you on the night you’d first met. Once he was on his feet, your hands came up to his face, your thumbs delicately brushing along the sharp edges of his jaw.

And when you kissed him, he reciprocated the action, one hand gently cupping your face, the other at your hip.

Back in the waking world, Hettie sat back and watched you sleep, a pleased smile on her face as she sighed and rose to her feet. She collected her coat, hat, and her dogs, and switched off the lamp before leaving.

You would remain in The Dreaming.

And the world would continue moving, with townsfolk everywhere believing that the last of the great Van Helsings had succumbed to the eternal sleep induced by the vampire Morpheus, just as any other commoner had.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are also appreciated!

Chapter 3: MARELLE

Summary:

You’d chosen to stay, as Morpheus had asked you. You still weren’t entirely sure why you’d done it, but you decided to attribute it to… general curiosity. And it certainly couldn’t be helped that the King of Dreams and Nightmares was far too easy on the eyes.

Far from the point, but definitely a factor.

After your encounter on Fiddler’s Green, Morpheus had guided you to the castle once more, your hands intertwined as you returned to the ball.

All was the same as you’d left it, figures dancing gracefully across the dance floor, others mingling to the side, laughing and enjoying the pleasant evening that seemed to never end.

You’d chosen to stay, as Morpheus had asked you. You still weren’t entirely sure why you’d done it, but you decided to attribute it to… general curiosity. And it certainly couldn’t be helped that the King of Dreams and Nightmares was far too easy on the eyes.

Far from the point, but definitely a factor.

After your encounter on Fiddler’s Green, Morpheus had guided you to the castle once more, your hands intertwined as you returned to the ball.

All was the same as you’d left it, figures dancing gracefully across the dance floor, others mingling to the side, laughing and enjoying the pleasant evening that seemed to never end.

At least you hoped it wouldn’t— it didn’t seem it would, though, because Morpheus guided you right back to the dance floor, his hand at your hip once more before he fell right back into step with the rest of the dancers, leading you into a waltz you hadn’t heard before.

“Are you fond of dancing, my lord?” You asked, a teasing lilt to your tone as he spun you under his arm, an airy chuckle leaving his lips. For someone so… dark and broody, he certainly was light on his feet.

“Please, you may call me Morpheus, (name). You know now more than ever that there is no use in formalities. Not with you,” he told you, his thumb passively rubbing against your hip over the fabric of your clothes. He pulled you closer then. “Not with me.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart raced after that, and inwardly grimaced at your own softness. But you smiled at him, allowing him his fruitless attempt at flustering you to distract you from the question you’d posed.

“You’re avoiding the question,” you pointed out.

“I’m not avoiding the question,” he replied, that little smile you’d seen earlier tugging at his lips once more. “Very well. To answer your question… I suppose my answer varies.”

“Does it?” You pressed, laughing softly as he slid the hand on your hip to the small of your back to lower you gently into a dip. “On what?”

His lips lowered once more, his breath brushing against the skin of your jaw, trailing up to your ear.

“On the person with whom I’m dancing.”

He pulled you back up, leaving you momentarily stunned and breathless before you recovered and chuckled, trying to hide how affected you truly were behind a mask of practiced nonchalance.

“Are you flirting with me, Morpheus?” You asked him lowly, speaking his name as if you were brandishing a weapon.

It made him grunt, a rosy hue creeping up his neck until it spread to his cheeks.

“You should be so lucky,” he murmured playfully, spinning you out with a delicate hand before tugging you right back to his chest. “And you should know better than to tease, (name).”

You rolled your eyes.

“Should I? Why?” You tested— pushing, challenging.

“Will you rid me of my dreams and keep me here forever? Drain me of my blood?” Your own question made you pause, and you nearly stopped dancing when another question rose to the front of your mind. “Do you drink blood?”

He tipped his head to the side, silver eyes watching you with curiosity. “What makes you think I do?”

“…you’re a vampire.”

“Ah.” Morpheus clicked his tongue. “So I am.”

Your half-hearted glare made him chuckle, and his thumb returned to rubbing at your hip as he spoke. “On the odd occasion, I do, although it is not necessary for my survival. While dreams are my primary source of nourishment, I would enjoy blood as you would enjoy a glass of wine. An indulgence, so to speak.”

“So, you do bite,” you said with a single appraising nod of your head.

He gave your hip a squeeze.

“When I please.”

The song ended just as his hand came up to your chin, holding it gently between his thumb and forefinger, tipping your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and his breath caught.

He pulled away abruptly, clearing his throat and releasing your chin, although he brought your hand up to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles to compensate. “You’ll excuse me for a moment. I must address my other guests,” he said.

You could only nod when he completely pulled away, your body already missing the warmth you’d come to familiarize yourself with in a matter of hours.

Morpheus’ voice was clear and commanding, yet not unkind as he announced the end of the night.

The crowd began to disperse then, friends hugging and kissing each other goodnight. Some remained in The Dreaming, trapped in that famed eternal sleep, whilst others left their dreaming behind to return to the waking world.

You remained. When Morpheus returned to you, he extended his hand, and you took it once more to allow him to guide you further into the castle.

“I hope you don’t think it too presumptuous of me, but I took the liberty of making a room for you here, in the castle,” he said, falling into step with you as you headed up the grand staircase towards the left wing of the castle.

And soon, you stood before an arched door, decorated with painted stars and cosmos that seemed to be alive, twinkling and moving within the dark blue wood. The doorknob, golden and glimmering, seemed to hold a constellation trapped inside.

Which constellation it was, you weren’t sure.

As if reading your mind, he spoke up, his voice low and seductive, although you were sure it was intentional.

“Orion,” he said quietly, his hand on the small of your back. “The Hunter.”

He gave you a small nod and used his free hand to motion towards the room.

You placed your hand on the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open. Inside was a room unlike any other you’d ever seen, completely catered to you and your preferences. It was warm, it was cozy, it was comforting and welcoming.

And it was all so you.

As you stepped inside and gently brushed your fingers along the wood of your dresser, Morpheus stood at the doorway, watching you explore your room with keen eyes before interrupting your wandering.

“Is everything to your liking?” He asked, hands held together behind him. After all the time he’d spent tweaking and perfecting your bedroom, he could only hope it was all you’d ever want.

And much to his pleasure, it seemed like it was.

You turned to face him with a nod and a smile on your lips, fingers wrapping around one of the posts of your bed. “This is beyond anything I ever expected, Morpheus. I can’t thank you enough.”

Morpheus released a soft breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and bowed his head slightly. “You’ve no need to thank me,” he said softly. “It gladdens me to know you like it. And if you should ever require anything from me, please, never hesitate to let it be known.”

Your expression softened further, and you stepped away from the bed and back to where he stood at the threshold of your bedroom. Standing before him, you smiled once more. “You’ll give me anything I ask for?” You asked.

He nodded his head once more, not quite catching the certain lilt to your tone. He was so serious about this, it was almost funny. “As long as it is in my power to do so, yes,” he answered.

You took another step forward, lifting your head to meet those beautiful starry eyes of his.

A bold request formed in your mind, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Then, Dream of The Endless…” You began, his name rolling off your tongue slowly. His eyes were already darting down to your lips before you could even make your request. “I will ask of you… another kiss, if I may.”

This time, you didn’t have to wait. He bent down, wrapping an arm tight around your waist, and another around your shoulders, and claimed your lips in his in a kiss that was far more heated than the one you’d shared on the fields of Fiddler’s Green just hours ago.

You could do little but throw your arm over his shoulder in return, fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck and your other hand grabbing at the fabric of his shirt. You needed him closer, so you stood on the tips of your toes to deepen the kiss, parting your lips to allow your tongue to brush gently against his bottom lip.

The action seemed to startle him momentarily, because Morpheus pulled away to look at you with something shining in his eyes, something you hadn’t seen before.

Was it hunger? Curiosity?

You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes before, but you recognized how it made you feel— you knew he used to watch you the same way long before your confrontation.

It was longing, a deep yearning, and at the same time, it was desire.

He took a step into your bedroom to close the distance between you, his tongue now seeking to push your lips apart to taste you, fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes.

Behind him, the arched door slowly closed, and the two of you were plunged into darkness, privately tucked away in your little corner of The Dreaming.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are also appreciated!

Chapter 4: LIGHT IS BURNING, AS I AM YEARNING

Summary:

Dream of the Endless was nothing short of royalty.

He was poised, calm, and composed, and he held himself with an air of both elegance and authority.

Little changed when that arched door swung closed behind the two of you.

Dream of the Endless was nothing short of royalty.

He was poised, calm, and composed, and he held himself with an air of both elegance and authority.

Little changed when that arched door swung closed behind the two of you.

His hands moved to grasp your shoulders. One hand went to the nape of your neck, and he buried his fingers into your hair, gently tilting your head back to deepen the heated kiss further.

His free hand moved down your neck, thumbing over your pulse. His touch was almost reverent as it slid down to your collarbone, along the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, and finally rested on your hip.

You sighed in response, and all but whined when he drew back, staring down at you with silver eyes that were nearly swallowed by the pupils.

Morpheus didn’t give you much time to think before his mouth found the skin under your ear, and he began working a pattern of kisses and nibbles down the column of your neck.

Again, you sighed softly, leaning back as he began to rain kisses along the warm skin of your neck.

He was impatient, needy. A far cry from the commanding man you’d danced with just moments ago.

“My lord,” you whispered softly, trying to get his attention. Still, his lips continued their path down your neck, marking you as he went. “Dream…”

You took his face between your hands to gently pull him away so that he could meet your gaze. “Morpheus…”

Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. He was almost pouting, his eyes half-lidded as he placed his hands over yours, nuzzling into your touch like an overgrown cat.

Morpheus tipped his head, placing a kiss to the innermost part of your left wrist, then your right, before nudging his nose against yours and pulling your hands away from his face.

“Tell me to stop…” He murmured, his hand coming up to cup your chin, his thumb grazing against your lower lip. “Tell me you don’t want this…”

You held eye contact with him and exhaled softly when his finger brushed along your moist bottom lip. “I would be lying if I did,” you said quietly, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Take me to bed, Lord Morpheus.“

Morpheus’ lips twitched in something that could resemble a smile.

With a swift movement, he picked you up and lifted you high into his arms, as if you weighed nothing. His arms shifted, supporting your legs and back.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and began peppering your skin with kisses again as he carried you towards the four-poster bed he’d created just for you.

There was no more pretense, no more restraint. He needed you, and he wanted you to feel it, see it. Feel just how desperately he wanted you.

He felt like he was a starving man who was finally able to eat again, and he’d only just started.

You offered no resistance as the Lord of Dreams placed you down onto the soft bed to slot himself between your parted thighs, and you shifted to get comfortable.

Morpheus groaned when he felt you under him. His face was buried in the crook of your neck again, and he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent.

His lover’s scent.

His body shuddered with satisfaction. He felt your hands settle on his biceps, fingers digging in the muscle to anchor yourself.

Morpheus’ hands gripped the hem of your top, pulling it up and up until it sat over your chest. At the same time, his mouth slid down to your neck again, and this time, his fangs ached with the need to be sunk into your skin. His tongue grazed over your pulse, and he inhaled shakily through his mouth, as if he could taste your blood through your skin.

He was shaking above you, his trembling arms caging you in, keeping you in place as he fought against his baser instincts.

He hadn’t felt like this in centuries.

And you caught on, lifting yourself onto your forearms to look at him, a small frown on your face. “Morpheus? Are you alright?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when he caught your wrist as you lifted your hands to place it on his jaw, but his grip eased, and he allowed you to do so with a trembling exhale.

“Yes… yes, I am…” He answered, his voice unsteady and gruff. “I just… you’ll forgive me, I haven’t…”

With your thumb caressing his jaw, he seemed to return to himself, lifting his head to stare down at you. “It’s been some time since I’ve last fed on blood, and I believe my body is starting to crave it…” He said, shaking his head. “But I will not use you to satiate my need for—“

“Morpheus.” You interrupted, your voice soft as you smiled at him, leaning forward to connect your lips to his for a brief moment that nearly had him chasing your lips when you pulled away. “It’s alright, you can.”

He looked at you like you’d just hung the moon in the skies just for him, and closed his eyes to exhale, leaning into your touch.

“I would never forgive myself if I were to hurt you…”

You scoffed gently at that, drawing back to appraise him with a little grin on your lips. “Do you think I haven’t been bitten by a vampire before?” You teased, shaking your head.

He didn’t seem convinced, though. Morpheus opened his mouth once more to contend, but you brushed your fingers along his jaw, silencing him with another chaste kiss.

“I know what a vampire that’s been denying himself blood looks like, Morpheus,” you said. “I know you can’t go on like this much longer. You have to feed.”

“I’m made out of tougher stuff, darling.” You teased with a smile. “You won’t hurt me. I’m not made of glass,” you assured him once more.

He relented with a sigh, shaking his own head in return, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he chuckled silently. “No,” he agreed. “I suppose you’re not.”

Again, the Dreamweaver kissed you, gently coaxing you back down onto the soft mattress that seemed to swallow you. Your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck, and you tangled your fingers in the unruly strands and pulled him closer.

And this time, he gave in.

Morpheus inhaled deeply through his nose as you broke the kiss, and he sat up on his knees to tug off his coat, placing it aside as neatly as you could expect him to.

His shirt followed, and you watched with keen eyes as his fingers moved dexterously along the buttons, undoing them with haste.

Finally, his hands rested on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft skin. He shifted against you, and you could feel his length press against your thigh, even when confined in his trousers.

His mouth was slightly agape, his lips red and shiny. He was breathing hard and his expression resembled pain, like he was fighting desperately against some great force as he was trying to keep himself in check.

Morpheus took in the sight below him— you, his lover, all splayed out on the bed beneath him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.

His eyes raked over your body, feasting hungrily on the way he could see your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths, the way your legs spread as he settled between them.

He decided then that you were far too dressed for his liking.

He undressed you slowly and with care, careful to not rip or mess up your clothing too much, and leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

Carefully, Morpheus slid down your body, placing featherlight kisses on your heated skin as he went, until he finally found himself between your thighs. There, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the skin there.

Your hands found themselves in his hair, and you tugged gently at the raven strands.

“Don’t tease…” You murmured, every bit as impatient as he was.

His hands shifted, moving your other leg over his shoulder as well. He began working a trail of kisses starting from your knee, up your inner thigh.

“I make no promises,” he murmured against your skin, his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh.

Still, the smell of your arousal combined with the feel of the blood rushing through your veins, so warm and full of life, pulled a groan from low in his throat.

He drew back for a moment to look up at you, and found you watching him right back. That was when he opened his mouth slightly, allowing you to see the sharp fangs that now protruded from his mouth.

And with no further pretense, Morpheus sank his sharp fangs into the plush skin of your thigh.

You let out a gasp.

It wasn’t because of the pain from the bite. Instead, a jolt of pleasure went through your body upon feeling the sharp fangs piercing into your flesh. It was a deep sensation, but it felt good.

Your back arched off the bed slightly as the sudden pleasure shot right through your core.

“Oh…” You mewled, your fingers gripping his hair, fingernails scratching against his scalp.

Your sounds went straight down to Morpheus’ achingly hard length. The sound that followed, that moan that you released as he drank in your blood, was only fuel to the fire burning inside him.

He groaned, shifting his hips against the mattress, grinding his groin against the sheets. He needed the friction, the pressure to try and ease some of the tension coiled in every muscle of his body.

He didn’t allow himself the pleasure of properly feasting on your blood. That would come later. Morpheus took what he needed before detaching his mouth from your thigh.

Your blood was still running down his chin when he detached from your thigh, a dribble of red trickling down his jaw and down his pale neck.

Without hesitating, he started pressing hot open-mouthed kisses up your thigh, higher and higher. His fingers were digging in your hips possessively, sure to leave marks in their wake, his mouth leaving a trail of wet, red kisses.

His nose brushed up against your folds, inhaling your scent.

His hands, which were gripping your legs, slid up your thighs, hooking in the edges of your underwear before removing them with a tug, baring you completely. His mouth watered at the sight before him.

His eyes traveled up from your mound, to your stomach, all the way up to your chest, which was heaving with every breath. Morpheus’ fingers slid down your leg, down to where you were dripping with need for him. He cursed under his breath as his fingers slid through your wet folds and found your clit.

Your hips immediately jerked at the contact and he hissed out a harsh breath, his fingers finding your clit again and brushing his thumb against it.

"You’re everything," he murmured, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

Your eyes were half-lidded, chest heaving and lips parted softly so you could try and even out your breathing.

And his silver eyes were almost pleading as he leaned forward, placing a kiss to the top of your thigh, eyes never leaving yours.

“May I?”

You propped yourself up on your forearms to look down at him, taking in his expression.

He was needy, staring up at you as he waited for you to give him the go-ahead, to finally satiate the desire he’d felt for you since the moment you two first met.

The desire he’d kept hidden away for centuries.

He looked desperate, as if all semblance of control he had to his name had completely fallen away. His lips, red streaked with blood, were still hovering just above your flushed skin, so close to you where you wanted him to be. But he kept waiting. His eyes, so full of need and hunger, were staring up at you, pleading.

Morpheus begging.

Your mouth went dry at the sight.

You shifted your hips, bringing your aching core closer to his face, and he moaned in response before diving in.

His mouth found your clit and he began lapping at your folds hungrily, his hands holding onto you tightly. He felt your nails dig into his scalp again, heard his name leaving your lips in gasping breaths that were quickly turning into full on moans.

He’d waited too long. Far too long. He’d been starved and denied himself this pleasure. But now he couldn’t get enough of you.

And that first taste almost sent him over the edge and he growled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

His hands shifted, sliding up the back of your thighs until his arms wrapped around them, holding you in place so you couldn’t move away from him as he took what would never be enough.

His tongue slipped out, parting your folds, circling over your clit before sliding down and finally inside.

Your head fell back and your eyes closed as you moaned again— a loud, unabashed sound. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly with one hand and gripped his hair with the other, fingernails scraping against the dream lord’s scalp.

Morpheus growled again, the sound muffled against you as he started to move his tongue.

He pulled back, sucking your clit briefly between his lips before starting to thrust his tongue into you again, working you like he’d been dreaming of since you’d first met almost three centuries ago.

You could only moan again, your hips bucking against his face, though his grip on your thighs never loosened. The slow, dragging, languid strokes he gave left your thighs trembling where they sat over his shoulders.

You couldn’t be sure how long he’d been down there for— it could’ve been minutes, it might’ve been a good hour, before he finally drew back, breathing hard, his lips and chin shining with your slick. “I need you.” Morpheus said, his voice barely above a whisper, leaning down to press his face against you, inhaling deeply. His hands slid up to grip your hips. His thumbs dug into your hip bones, his mouth pressed into your clit again as he murmured against it.

“I need to feel you…”

His tongue delved between your folds again, swiping along your inner walls.

God, you were delicious. But by no fault of yours, it wasn’t enough.

“Please...” He pulled away just enough so that he could speak, breathing heavily through his open mouth as he moved up to lay a kiss on your hipbone, just below where his fingers were gripping tightly.

“Let me be inside you.”

The request made a soft moan leave your lips— how could you ever refuse him when he begged like that? When he stared up at you with those silver eyes, shining with barely restrained want?

You gave him a nod of your head, tipping your head back and further into the pillows as he kissed his way up your body once more, before sucking a dark mark onto your neck.

With a sigh, you brushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face, pushing them back before sliding that same hand down to thumb over his jaw.

“Kiss me first…” You murmured.

Morpheus shifted again, moving his hands up from your waist to slide them around to the small of your back, lifting you slightly to bring you both closer together.

His mouth slanted over yours hungrily, capturing your lips in a deep, scorching kiss that sent sparks dancing behind your fluttering eyelids.

His tongue slid across your lips, seeking entrance, and when your lips parted in response, he moaned into your mouth. His hands moved down your sides, fingers gripping and squeezing and mapping out every inch of skin that he could reach.

Your own hands found themselves buried in his hair, tugging at the silky black locks, and you moaned into his mouth, arching up into his body as the kiss deepened.

His hands moved down to grip your hips again, dragging you down the bed and away from the pillows to push you into the mattress.

You could feel the hardness of his length against your core through his trousers.

He thrust his hips slowly against you, seeking friction to ease the burning need inside him.

While the friction you received from the fabric of his trousers wasn’t bad, you were growing impatient with his teasing— intentional or not, you needed it to stop.

“Morpheus…” You breathed softly against his lips, drawing back from the kiss and staring up at him.

You couldn’t possibly wait any longer, the need to feel him inside was too overwhelming for you to even think to mind your manners.

“I need you to fuck me.”

Those words going past your pretty lips were like a bolt of lightning straight to the gut. Morpheus’ entire body went taut at your words, his eyes darkening as he stared down at you. It seemed that whatever semblance of control he had left had now completely crumbled away.

His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, his cock twitching between your bodies again. “Is that what you need from me?” He asked you.

God, you were going to kill him.

“Yes…” You hissed, arching your spine slightly and rolling your hips forward to grind into him. “Please…”

He wouldn’t make you ask again.

In a flash of movement, you were both now completely bare, your skin hot against the dream lord’s as his entire body covered yours, lithe fingers wrapping around the plush of your thighs to wrap them around his hips.

Morpheus lined himself up with your core, grunting as the head of his cock brushed along your wet folds, and lifted his head to look down to ask for confirmation.

He received it in the form of a quick nod.

And slowly, he began to push inside, placing his hands on either side of your head— both caging you in and supporting himself. His arms were already shaking as he pushed his throbbing length deeper inside you, those silver eyes not once leaving your face.

He was gauging your reaction, wanting to make sure he didn’t hurt you or push you too far.

But you stared up at him with half-lidded eyes, your lips parting in a soft moan and your hips canting upwards to urge him deeper into you.

“Oh, my dear…” He bowed his head to breathe into your ear, his voice a low rumble. “My love… you feel divine…” Morpheus murmured, his parted lips leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses over the marks he’d left earlier on your neck.

It took you a moment to adjust, but once you did, you tightened your legs around his hips, locking your ankles at his waist to keep him from pulling back too far.

He wasn’t the one in control here, after all.

“Slowly…” You instructed, and the King of Dreams and Nightmares yielded to your command, beginning a slow rhythm that left him almost whimpering above you.

He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his breath coming out in fast, hot bursts. His pace was slow and steady, but the way he moved had you sighing and moaning beneath him.

Fuck— you felt too good around him, too hot and too wet.

He lifted his head from your shoulder to lock eyes with you again, rosy lips hanging open as he moaned helplessly.

“(name)…” He moaned gruffly, his hands gripping your hips tightly. The feeling of your legs around his waist, your nails raking down his back, and your silken insides squeezing around his aching, straining cock was enough to drive him mad.

Your name continued to fall from his mouth in a low groan as he thrust into you, his self-control hanging by a string. But he controlled himself as best as he could, wanting so desperately to please you the way you wanted him to.

“That’s it…” You whispered, arching into him with a keening moan. “Oh, fuck— just like that…”

He was hitting the spot, going slow enough for you to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. That, combined with the way he was moaning so needily right by your ear, and the way his fingers were gripping the sheets almost hard enough to tear them to shreds— oh, it was heaven.

But you could tell he was struggling to keep the pace, his hips snapping forward every so often and earning you a silent whine of apology from the Endless above you.

Morpheus kept an achingly slow pace, every inch of his rigid length disappearing between your folds and then back out again, each movement accompanied by a low grunt from deep in his chest— and when you gently tugged at his hair to stop him, he all but froze in place.

You leaned forward to kiss the ticking muscle of his jaw.

“You feel so good…” You whispered, leaving a love bite at the curve of his jaw. “Let go, my sweet dream lord. I want to feel all of you…”

That was all he needed to hear, the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

His hips snapped forward, pulling out only to slam back into you in a faster, rougher pace, picking up in speed.

And your mouth fell open in a gasp, your fingernails digging into the muscles on either side of his spine, scratching up his back. You had to move your legs from his waist to push your feet flat against the mattress to keep you from riding up and hitting the headboard with every snap of his hips.

He moaned into her neck, his mouth still pressed into her skin as his hips snapped forward again. All rational thought was long gone, lost to the burning need to possess, to claim, to take. You were writhing so beautifully beneath him, your body squeezing him tightly, holding him inside you as he moved with increasing speed and intensity into your slick, soft flesh. Even through his haze of lust, he could hear a low whimpering sound. It’s then he realized that it was coming from him.

He shifted then, changing the angle so that he hit deeper, your bodies pressed so close together that there was almost no space between you two— no place where the other began and ended. “Fuck…” He murmured as his eyes rolled back, and he reached between your body to circle your clit with slender fingers.

“I can’t—” he grunted, his pace fast and rough, “—I can’t hold back, (name), I’m sorry… please…”

“Ah, no…” You gasped out, your nails raking across his shoulder blades and leaving red streaks in their wake. “Fuck, don’t hold back...”

He could feel your nails marking up his back, his hair being tugged at and pulled at, but it was only adding to the pleasure that coiled inside his belly, driving him towards his peak.

It wasn’t long before you were crying out his name and tossing your head back as he emptied himself inside you, leaving you panting and slick with sweat.

His forehead pressed into your shoulder, and you felt Morpheus slacken on top of you. With care, you slid your hands up his back, along the angry red streaks you’d left earlier, and smoothed your fingers over his hair, trying desperately to catch the breath he’d stolen from your lungs.

You distinctly remember a gentle kiss being pressed to your temple. You remember feeling him slip himself out of you with such gentle care, you remember the soft murmurs you received as he cleaned you up.

But you don’t remember falling asleep.

You don’t remember the momentary feeling of loss when he suddenly disappeared from your bed, from your room.

You don’t remember Dream of the Endless being taken from you.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are also appreciated!

Chapter 5: HUNTER

Summary:

When you woke up, you were alone.

You ached deliciously all over, and you stretched as you sat up, your joints popping with a satisfying sound before you rolled your shoulders back, your bleary eyes searching the room.

Morpheus was nowhere to be found.

When you woke up, you were alone.

You ached deliciously all over, and you stretched as you sat up, your joints popping with a satisfying sound before you rolled your shoulders back, your bleary eyes searching the room.

Morpheus was nowhere to be found.

You weren’t necessarily surprised— he was Endless, after all. Surely he had many things to tend to in his realm, and by the looks of it, it was well past what you assumed was morning in The Dreaming.

So, you decided there was no use in moping about and rose to your feet to find something suitable to wear in your closet. You couldn’t help but smile when you noticed that all your favorite pieces were in the closet— of course, Morpheus had the foresight to make sure you had your favorites with you.

Once you dressed and fixed your hair, making sure you looked somewhat presentable, you left your bedroom and made your way down the hallway, trying to remember the way to the main hall.

You were certain you remembered the way quite well… so, how the hell did you end up in the library?

“Excuse me.” A voice from behind you called softly.

You turned your head to find a bespectacled woman with peculiar pointed ears standing right before you, a quizzical expression on her face and two large tomes held in her arms. “May I help you?”

“Oh, um…” You began, your cheeks heating up as you bowed your head slightly in apology. “No, I… I confess, I’m not even sure where I am right now…” You admitted to the woman, smoothing down your clothes with a small, nervous laugh.

But the woman simply tipped her head at you for a few moments, regarding you in silence before speaking. “You’re Van Helsing, are you not?” She asked.

You grimaced— it seemed that not even The Dreaming could protect you from your family’s reputation.

“Please, call me (name),” you told her softly.

Seeming to sense your discomfort, she gave a little nod. “Of course. Please accept my apologies,” she said, bowing her head as well. “My name is Lucienne, and I am the head librarian of The Dreaming.”

“Lucienne…” You repeated softly, a little smile on your lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My apologies for asking, but… is Morpheus— er, Lord Morpheus, around?” You asked, fidgeting with the sleeve of your top.

That gave her pause, and Lucienne frowned slightly, her brows furrowing in confusion. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t…” She said, folding her arms over her chest. “I’d assumed he was with you.”

If possible, your face got redder. “He, uh… he was,” you said. “But when I woke up, he was gone.”

“Lord Morpheus?”

Suddenly, you were met with a talking raven, which had perched itself upon the librarian’s desk. You’d seen this raven flying around on the night of the ball, going from perch to perch, always watching.

“It… appears so, yes,” Lucienne said, turning to the raven with a concerned expression on her features. “Jessamy, will you ask Mervyn, Abel and Cain if they’ve seen Lord Morpheus at all today?”

The raven, who you knew now to be Jessamy, gave a little nod. “Of course I will, Lucienne,” she said before turning to look at you. “Lady (name), no? You were the person Lord Morpheus was dancing with last night?” She asked you, a teasing lilt to her tone. “You two looked cozy.”

Lucienne cleared her throat, and Jessamy squawked before taking flight and leaving the library.

You turned to Lucienne then, a little frown on your lips. You were concerned now.

“Do you think he’s missing?” You asked Lucienne, who sighed and looked at you, placing the tomes she’d been holding onto her desk.

“It’s not unusual of Lord Morpheus to disappear for some time,” Lucienne told you before taking a seat behind her desk. “But he scarcely ever does it without letting someone know. This is… unusual.”

The only thing you could do was agree.

—

Three days.

Three days passed in The Dreaming.

For three days, you, Lucienne, Jessamy, Cain and Abel, and Mervyn searched The Dreaming for any sign of the Prince of Stories— but he never turned up.
Lucienne had thought about reaching out to the other Endless, but scrapped the thought. She knew well how fickle Dream’s relationship with his siblings was.

For the third night in a row, you returned to your room, only to find it empty. The fire in the hearth had gone out, the constellations at your door no longer twinkling with life.
The bed was cold as you sat down, fingers brushing over the unmade bedsheets as you exhaled softly. In Morpheus’ absence, you’d been unable to find sleep. It eluded you, as did dreams.

You were restless, you were weary.

You missed him.

The thought alone made you scoff lightly, and you kicked off your shoes before you let yourself fall flat onto your back on the mattress, which creaked slightly. Staring up at the ceiling, you sighed and threw your arm over your eyes.

It was then you felt it.

Something sticking to your feet— something chalky, powdery.

You grimaced and sat up again, bringing your foot up to rest over your knee to brush whatever was on your arch away. Your hands came away smudged black.
You looked down at the floor and found ash on the carpet.

How strange…

Slowly, you sank to your knees on the carpet, fingers collecting some of the fine powder and smudging it between your fingers in thought.

There was something coarser than ash mixed in with what you’ve found, something you deduced was most likely sand.

Why would there be sand in ash?

It was then that it dawned on you, the worry settling deep in your very being and making you exhale shakily.

He’d been taken.

Dream of The Endless had been taken.

You rose to your feet, foregoing your footwear, and ran all the way from your bedroom to the library, skidding to a halt to avoid running right into Lucienne, who’d just been coming out from between the bookshelves, and who regarded you with worry.

“My lady?” She asked, taking in your… frazzled appearance. “Is something wrong?”

“He’s been taken…” You panted softly, lifting your head to meet Lucienne’s gaze. “I… I must return to the waking world. I have to find him.”

You didn’t really wait for Lucienne’s response before you turned to march right back to your bedroom.

“Wait— how will you find him?”

That made you stop dead in your tracks, wracking your head for an answer.

How would you find him?

Her face flashed through your mind, and you smiled before looking at Lucienne over your shoulder.

“There’s an old friend I’ll have to pay a visit to.”

You returned to your chambers and dressed in something appropriate before heading for the portal. On your way there, you felt a weight on your shoulder, and looked up to find Jessamy perched on your shoulder.

“Jessamy?” You questioned, stopping just before the gates of horn and ivory. “What are you doing?”

“I’m coming with you.” The raven said matter-of-factly. “You can’t hope to find him on your own. Besides, I have very good eyes.”

You smiled and relented without much effort. “Thank you, Jessamy.”

As the gates opened, Jessamy asked you.

“So… where to, first?”

“First, I’ll need to return home. I have a feeling this job will require a bit more gear,” you said, stepping through the gates and standing in front of the glimmering portal to the waking world.

“And then?” She asked, flapping her wings to steady herself.

You exhaled.

“Greece. There’s someone I must speak to.”

With those words, you slipped into the portal with Jessamy, colors swirling around you.

Until all you saw was black.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are also appreciated!

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are also appreciated!