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itskindofidontknow · 10 months ago

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What dreams know about love?

Chapter 6

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

"Lord husband" Love made herself present as soon as she entered his bedroom. If it wasn't for the peeling wallpaper, dust and decaying state of everything, the queen wouldn't know time had actually passed since their last private encounter. Things tend to stay the same in her husband’s palace, which was almost laughable since dreams are convoluted and always changeable. She entwined her fingers against her belly, her green eyes facing her husband, a very formal demure, but then, everything between them was formal.

Morpheus was discussing with his new raven, Matthew, as she recalled. Both speaking in internal voices. She didn’t hear what was the subject and they abruptly stopped when she arrived, her husband jumped at his feet, hands regally clasped together, looking like a young Austen Hero anxious in seeing his loving lady. Love never saw her husband so promptly to receive her. "Forgive me, I was not aware you were in a private audience. I shall leave you to it. I can return another time. Matthew." She apologizes, lowering her head to Dream and acknowledging the raven, as he awkwardly made a curtsy. It would actually be a relief if Morpheus dismissed her. She could return to the Garden and call it a night. Heavens knew she needed to sleep everything off.

As she turned her back to leave, her husband's calm but demanding tone made her stop. "Stay.” A calm order. A husband shouldn’t order his wife around. One of the oldest ingredients to make a disaster of marriage. Everytime she saw mortals, when the husband started to order the wife around, she knew it wouldn’t be a happy story. And rarely, Love was wrong

The brunette queen didn’t get offended by his commands, not anymore. In early years of union, she found deeply offensive the things he would say and do to her. She would silently weep, but now they did nothing. Before she could turn and nod in agreement, he hesitantly added in a softer foreign tone “Please.” Words that Love thought her husband would never say “Matthew is already leaving." Morpheus justified, his hand indicating the door to the raven, the pair quickly shared a knowing look.

If he ever made an effort to be in her company, Eoster couldn’t remember.

But then again, he was touch-starved. Men do impressive and uncharacteristic things for women’s good graces when they want something.

" Very well." With a tired sigh, turning her heels, she made her way to the bed as the white tulle of the camisole danced behind her. Sitting at her usual spot, the edge of the bed, stretching her camisole, crossing her heels with an upright posture, distracting herself, or better, avoiding looking at his direction, running fingers through the braid’s loose curls. The familiar soft mattress and dark satin covers were nostalgic to Love, better companions than her husband ever was.

“Have a good night, your majesty” The raven said it right before the door closed behind him, Matthew knew from his human years the sad truth behind that beautiful empty solemn face of the Queen. The dutiful wife, the classic stepford smiler. Forever upholding the shambles of marriage she couldn’t leave, being blamed by a misery she didn’t provoke, haunted by the shadows of mistresses she doesn’t know, obsessive trying to understand where it all went wrong.

The raven was thankful for not having to stay with them for any longer. Tension rose through the roof as soon as the royals got together. The boss never mentioned a wife, and yeah, Dream was not exactly Mr. Open Feelings, but a little warning that a boss lady was in the picture would've been nice. Back in the throne room, he saw in her face the accustomed embarrassment when the raven didn’t recognize her by name.

Lucienne didn’t help with any explanations, repeatedly saying that it was ‘complicated’ and that ‘They absolutely shouldn’t meddle between the King and the Queen’. That he got just from seeing their early interaction. And Marvyn said something in the lines ‘Look kid, all you need to know is to treat her well, and avoid the boss after they fight.’

Matthew didn’t want to assume Dream was to blame, but things were pretty obvious. First, the lady boss mentioned affairs, which are never good. Second, earlier, when they were retrieving the dreamsand, Morpheus remembered, with an unusual urgency, that he had to go back and see his wife, like he wasn’t used to going back to her. A new habit that he wasn’t yet on track. And the third, and final strike, that confirmed that his boss fucked it up: He was being uncharacteristic caring, like he wanted to make it up for a mistake, and the queen was not buying it. The woman barely showed any expression when he asked her to stay or said ‘please’ which, knowing Dream of the Endless, was shocking.

Matthew might be a bird now, but he knew that if the boss was expecting a little fun time with the boss lady, well, he was going to be surprised by the fun I-have-a-headache time. And by the look of his queen, he might get that for a long time. That wasn't the face of a woman ready to forgive.

As for him, the raven was relieved and grateful to the Queen or he would be in literal Hell right now, retrieving the King’s helmet. They would still go, but at least not now. Maybe Matthew would have some time to fly over to Lucienne, so that she could put some sense in the king’s head before just going to Hell. A better strategy maybe.

Love would’ve remained in complete silence, until hearing the sound of unfastening belt, her usual queue to lay down, and try to find something to do with her time, while Morpheus found his pleasure. That was how they usually did it. Silence, muffled growls, dull whimpers, cleaning cloths. “ My presence might be in one of your books. I retrieve my sand amidst a final encounter of two lovers.” If Love didn’t know better, she would’ve thought her husband was trying to awkwardly make small talk. He wandered through the room, before standing in front of her. One side of Love wishes for a fight. It burned her throat, wanting to question him when he missed one of his precious little toys, but instead, she answered distantly, her lips pushed in a forced discreet smile while looking up to him “How fortunate”

Before even leaving the Garden, she knew he had visited Johanna Constatine. Due to the woman’s line of work, it made sense that he retrieved his sand from her. Her knowledge of Constantine and Dream’s encounter was not because of curiosity of the queen. She long learned to avoid pain, meant to avoid sniffing around her husband’s private encounters. Her heart felt relieved that he didn’t immediately look for comfort in another woman’s bed. A feeling Love couldn’t escape, as much as she wisely knew it would only hurt her.

Dream went to Johanna because of his sand, and he stumbled into a misfortune story between two lovers. One that had her life tormented by the occult, and the other, tormented with addiction. Poor Johanna and Rachel, doomed from the start, at the end of their tale, however, an unusual substance was what brought them together for a final reunion, and was also responsible for the second one inevitable fate: Dream sand. And in those pages, there was her husband. The responsible for giving Rachel a peaceful death, dreaming of love. A painful story, with a bittersweet ending.

He could’ve let her die a painful death, especially after abusing his precious sand. Sand that was stolen, and traded. But he graced her with a peaceful ending. If she didn’t know that the books from her library were always a raw portrait of lovers' entwined lives, Love would’ve thought they mistaken Morpheus for another anthropomorphic personification. Normally, he would let the mortal agonize in the end, a fair punishment for her sins. But this time, he showed empathy. That puzzled her more than she was willing to admit. Even worse, it made her uncertain of his unchangeable nature. Pondering that maybe, there was a small, but real hope.

Love dismissed those thoughts lightly, turning her attention back to the raven haired king, dangerously close to her, knees touching each other, both staring at each other in a silence that spoke more than words. Morpheus hesitantly touched her face, lightly caressing her cheek, she watched him as a wild animal near his predator, not able to predict what’s next. “You look beautiful” He softly whispered, lips curved in a small smile. A foreign intimacy. She shriveled at his touch, turning her face away “You don't have to woo me, to lay with me” She couldn’t stand his gaze, not when he was looking at her with such kindness, it hurted more than he could ever understand. Years after years she yearned for that kindness, for the soft touches, and he denied her. Now she felt insulted by it.

It was a laughable attempt to fix something long broken. Morpheus might reshape dreams and nightmares, create and rewrite stories, but he couldn’t erase her pain, he couldn’t pretend he made it impossible for them to be happy. He decided on a loveless marriage. Love has done everything she could and couldn't to make him happy and gained nothing but scars she did nothing to earn. The King of Dreams always had to be the miserable tortured lonely figure under the pouring rain, tricked and trapped.

“Forgive me, my lady, for misleading you” He cleared his throat steeping back, giving space to his wife, she could sense his uneasiness, some unusual red in his face, but his stoic front remained “I have no intentions in bedding you I-” Impatiently, she got up from the bed, walking to the other side of the bedroom turning to him, taking a deep breath “Lord Husband, we have been married for centuries now, in this time you only summoned me to your chambers when you wanted to bed me.” ‘And when there were no mistresses available’. She wished to say, but decided to avoid what would lead to a heated argument “That is not-" He started to defend himself, but Love was tired, she put a hand in her head trying to calm herself to not scream, sternly looking at him.

Both could feel the tension rising again, prelude to another fight " Yes, it is, husband.” Love signed hands dropping in defeat, tired of debating what is not up for debate. “I am beyond flattered by your remarks, but I am exhausted, if it pleases you, bed me, if not, I won't further bother you, and would appreciate being excused. Elijah is expecting me, I told him it would be brief." Love enterwind her hands against her front, assuming a stiff posture.

“You won’t be spending the night.” He concluded. The first time Morpheus said this to her, he briefly informed her about how their life in private would be: Separate rooms, separate beds, separate lives. This time, a hint of disappointment in his voice, as he expected that she would want to stay. Love had no idea why he thought she would like to.

Even if it wasn’t a question, Love answered. “No, I won’t. My room is probably still, in dreadful conditions”. Shattered glasses, wine stained sheets, pillow feathers everywhere. Their worst and final quarrel, it was a dreadful day and devastation followed closed by their screams at the sound of thrown glasses. “You can sleep here.” He mumbled softly and Love was certain she had imagined it. Not knowing if he was suggesting or demanding it, she tested the waters “So kind of you, husband” The grip on her fingers got tighter, her knuckles almost white in tension “But I would rather not. I would like to do your bidding and return to my realm.” If it was a demand, he would have been livid by the rejection, but it wasn't a rejection if he was merely politely suggesting, as one suggests, a friend to spend the night during a storm.

He slowly nodded "Of course.” So he was indeed suggesting. She could hear the engines in her husband’s head, as she let out a breath of relief. He wasn’t used to his cold apathetic and formal wife, and she wasn’t used to his new caring and respectful persona. Old Morpheus would’ve already been finished with her, and if they had half of the conversation they had, he would’ve humiliated her to remember her place. And Old Eoster would’ve already showered him with wet long kisses and giggles just by the spark of his attention.

“If you may, I would like to show you something.” Love looked from his face to his hand, now pointing to the door he opened. She didn't remember if her husband ever gave her so much choice in their relationship. It was frankly, overwhelming.

She wondered what would happen if she just said 'no'.

" Outside the bedroom”. He saw the obvious suspicion in her eyes “Is that your bidding?” He made a way so Love could exit first, “Yes, it is”. The woman avoidantly walked past him, still waiting for the catch.

As soon as both were in the corridor, he offered her his arm, and she politely denied it, by looking away. Once again, he surprisingly didn’t get offended by her denial. Why he was in a good mood to accept such defiance was a mystery. His realm was destroyed, his toys missing, and his wife apathetic and dismissive. No reason for being this nice. “Follow me" he walked a few steps in front of her and Love followed the dark figure of her husband, keeping a safe distance. They didn't talk much during their short walk, and Love took the time to assess the damage in the palace. There was no real destruction, but a real abandonment.

She guessed that was what happened when the monarch didn't attend the realm, probably what happened to Lord Destruction's, her brother in law's realm. The idea of abandoning her realm, her creations, the sole base of her existence was a brutal one. Sometimes the job overwhelmed her, but never enough to consider leaving it all behind to its own luck. " How are the plans to rebuild the Dreaming?" She asked, wanting to shove away those thoughts of fleeing away.

Also she was curious to know if he actually had any plans to rebuild his realm, or if he expected her to hold the solstice festival in a palace of deplorable conditions, dust all over the hallways from columns that were flaking "Why are you asking?" Love frowned at his tone "Am I not allowed to ask about it?" He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut, cursing himself very aware of the thin line between passive aggressiveness and a straight heated argument. "That is not what I meant, lady wife"

Everything between them was a prelude to a fight. Morpheus and Eoster have never been on the same page, and they never stopped to try to get there. Both in such different headspaces that they were incapable of going through one conversation without misunderstanding each other. "You did not seem interested before in my quest to find my sand, I gather you weren't interested at all" He explained, if Dream looked back, he could see Love rolling her eyes "Well, I am interested in knowing the conditions I am to hold the Solstice Festival, husband.” The spite when calling him, sent Morpheus shivers. “If your memory fails you, It is one of the most important and prestigious festivals in the Garden, my apprentices debut on it and-” He turned to her, interrupting. "Worry not. I would not want to embarrass you " Love stretched her lips mumbling a ‘That would be a first’, lowering her head in a respect that didn't match her sharp answer " No? I am honored by your gracious newfound concern with my emotional distress". Love starred in defiance, walking closely past him, staying a few steps ahead.

Both returned to the silent walk, as they walked side by side. A few minutes of walk went by, until he opened two french doors with a single pull "We are here, my lady".

Love couldn’t hold her gasp.

Her Garden. Not her realm, but her garden in the Dreaming, ‘The Queen's Gardens’ as the dreamfolk would call. She forgot about it. The beautiful blooms in shades of red, pink, white, lilac, the sweet fragrance mixed with rain-washed earth, "It's the only part of the Dreaming that remained intact." He said it, stepping aside to let her enter. Of course it didn't fade. It wasn't Dream's powers that fueled it, but Love's. It has grown wild in her absence. Untamed nature, untrimmed, tempestuous, but full, strong, with deep roots.

She could see from the corner of her eyes, her husband admiring the red roses, reaching to touch one "Be careful, husband, spurned roses, grow sharp thorns" She said while admiring the long lilac cascades of Wisterias, that formed an arc at the entering, working their way into the crooks and crannies of the naked brick walls. Hyacinths, Carnations, Daisies, Roses, Casa Blanca Lilies in vivid colors, painting the gloomy field of the Dreaming, all fully grown and abundant. She slowly walked, tumbling in some weeds that had grown between paving stones.

It always gave her a warmth visiting her gardens after a long time. That nostalgic feeling, that makes the heart fuzzy but hurts the chest thinking of the time that went by. Her long skirt dragged through the damp floor, but Love didn't mind. " It was my first gift to you, a sanctuary were you could remember your home" Love allowed herself smile, inhaling the darling aromas, sitting in the stone bench made for two, that was almost covered in bold vines "And I love it, a white canvas I could not wait to show it to you when I finished it. Those-" She pointed at the other side of the garden, where Morpheus could see the nightly blooming flowers. “Moonflowers, Evening Primroses, Jasmines, Queen of The Night, all bloom at night. It was supposed to be a sigil of our love. The intersection between my springs and your nights.”

Love stared at the small water fountain, a few steps away from her, in the center of the garden, it still worked, as the sound of falling water filled their ears. Moss had grown around its base and aquatic weeds violently invaded the bowls although some water lilies still float. “I wanted it to be a small garden where lovers could dream and find each other here. I was so proud when I finished, I thought that…” A tight knot in the base of her throat, oh the naivety! She swallowed hard. “That if you could see how much I was devoted to it, you were going to see how I would be capable of caring for you, for your kingdom." Her mind lost in memories, remembering the thrill of her heart and the disappointment soon after realizing Dream would never come. "But you never came."

" But your creations did. Your nightmares. I have no idea how they found me, but they did. I pity their souls." She remembers Gault. The first time Love saw the nightmare she was almost tiptoeing, carefully walking, afraid of touching anything, afraid of destroying its peacefulness, its beauty, but eyes sparkling seeing the garden. "Tormented ones, forever hunted by their own craft." At first, Gault didn't stay much, jumping at her feet at the first sight of the Queen. But after some visits, and Love assuring the creation she couldn't change anything in her garden (not even if she wanted to), Gault started to walk with the Queen, learning about each flower, and before you know, Gault was helping water and trim the plants. In exchange, Love would get bits of her mind, she was interested in understanding how nightmares did their jobs, and if the burden was not heavy.

The Corinthian took a while, and Love often had to pretend not to see him sneaking into her garden. She didn't want to scare him away, but was anxious to get to know another of her husband's creations, especially the one she heard was one of his most 'perfect' ones. Although she could not fathom the idea of a perfect nightmare, being horrified by the thought of its meaning.

Even suspicious, Love welcomed the nightmare into her small greenery, after all, she was his Queen. "I think that here they had some peace, a small idyllic paradise, where they could just be a part of." Love liked to think she helped ease the pain in their hearts.

To be a dream was easy, everyone loved what you did, humans were eager to be around them, to meet them. To be a nightmare was a heavy burden. Eoster was no longer smiling when other memories, their terrible confessions, the pure agony and duality in their existence, came to her. How they could not wish for more, but needed to help mortals overthrown and face their fears. "I took advantage of those poor nightmares. '' Love confessed, a single tear rolling through her cheek, as her chest felt heavy " I lure them with kindness, something so foreign to them. Easing their heavy hearts with softhearted words, listening to their afflictions to masquerade the emptiness of my days, to fill my loneliness, knowing that my hands were tied.” Morpheus stood quiet, he knew she was talking more to herself than to him. He didn’t know. His obliviousness angers him. “I've never promised anything, of course, but maybe I should've. I should've done something." The king tried to cut her, knowing that trail of thoughts wouldn’t bring anything other than distress " My Lady, I…." But she continued, as more tears roll freely staining her face " If I did it, if I had the bravery to face you, if I wasn’t fearful you would toss me aside and isolate me more than you already did, maybe they would not have been gone, maybe they would not had left me here".

The Queen stayed in silence for a few minutes. Morpheus knew she was lonely, but never would have imagined how much it affected her. Loneliness was an old friend of the king, one that he grew used to. His Queen had loneliness imposed on her. No wonders she was moping in the corners in their first years of marriage. Morpheus didn’t share any royal duty with her, he didn’t allow her to go back to the Garden, and still got irritated when she looked for a little sympathy and was not content. The realization felt heavy in his chest: He made his wife a gilded cage, a bigger one than his glass prison but still, a cage. The nightmares, who would’ve thought, were a companionship for her, the only thing she had.

"I…"

In a sudden movement, the queen got up to her feet, cleaning with the back of her hand the stained tears.”Is that all? Did I attend to your bidding? May I return to my realm?" Morpheus felt an urgency to keep her, if she could just allowed him to do better, to find the right words…" Already? Don't you wanna…" She started to walk away, walking past him almost elbowing her husband. Love was almost at the door when she turned her heels, and forgot about poise and demure. "And you didn't give this for me to have a ‘part of home', husband, you gave it because you were annoyed by my constant ‘nagging' about the Garden.”

" That is not…" Again, she cut him "I heard you speaking to Lucienne, don’t deny it." Love heard both in the throne room, she remembers Lucienne asking the king if his wife liked the gift, and he dismissively replying that liking or not, at least she would stop nagging. That made Eoster furious. At the time, she kept her poise, after all she was eavesdropping even if it wasn’t on purpose, but now, it made her beyond furious. It made her enrage.

He spoke highly of himself as she should be grateful for a piece of 'her home' in his realm. Like he was this benevolent king. To Hell with that. "I didn't need a garden, I didn't need my home. I needed my husband. I needed us. I needed to make it here, our home, together. And you couldn't be bothered by it. You were too busy showering dear Calliope with your never ending passion!"

Love swore to herself she would never bring that woman’s name again, but that was exactly what he was doing and how he spent his time. Morpheus reacted quickly rushing toward her, like she cursed all of his siblings together. He got closed to Love, threatening look in his eyes, finger in her face" Don't you bring her into this." Love raised her eyes, facing him with the same intensity, not taking a single step back, slapping his finger down "Oh, but I will. You were so unbothered, that you put a child in her. Her, not me, not your own wife." The only one that could give him a legitimate heir. The flowers wither with her words, petals falling dry, the vibrant greens fading into paling browns.`”Not even to give me something to alleviate my pain, something to love. No. And you didn't even have the decency to hide him!"

How he ruined public events for her, where she needed to endure the looks of pity, the whispers that stopped as she got close, Love having to smile through it all, like she was an airhead that could not see what was under her nose. Speaking of love, devotion, like a fool. Having to walk around parties hanging in her husband’s arms, being forever polite, kind, elegant, excusing his moodiness, not showing a single regret or insatisfaction. It cut through her like a knife. "I was in pain! Tricked by…Calliope and I were togeth-" Morpheus caught himself justifying the unjustifiable. He promised to himself that he would condemn his wrong doings, he would agree with his wife, but out of habit, he dismissed her feelings, as his were the priority. He also did not like to be put against the wall like she was doing, calling his sins out in the open. Love was never one to do such things.

"What about my pain?! My suffering? Did my lord ever think about it? " She was openly crying, fighting the tears trying to speak, avoiding the whimper in the back of her throat "I did I-" He lied, stumbling to find the words. "No, you did not. Don't humiliate yourself by underestimating me with your pitiful lies. You gave me a garden.” She said spitefully, hands loudly falling between her side giving up. “Somewhere you could shove me away without judgmental looks from your subjects or your siblings." That was the truth, one that she hid for centuries, always repeating the narrative that he gave her the garden to be close to her home. "That's not- '' Again he tried to retrieve the narrative.

Maybe she would have listened if he wasn't trying to justify instead of owning his actions. How could she forgive him, if he was still trying to play the helpless tortured victim? Love was done, she turned her back to him, "Goodnight husband" Walking away at a fast pace. Morpheus watched her leave, as he felt something tickling his hair. Reaching for it, he saw a red petal with brown marks, the velvet touch was now dry and crumbling as he looked around, he realized the garden was now dead.

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