Did Aemond Unintentionally Left The Cell Door Open Or Was He Just Being A Loser And A Dumb?

Did Aemond unintentionally left the cell door open or was he just being a loser and a dumb? 

Also, been craving for some AemondxReader interaction..

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Aemond beating the fuck out of Aegon shouldn't have made me as horny as it did but.... here we are. World building for this fic is so much fun.... I'm considering doing an occasional Aemond POV chapter on the side, what do you guys think?

Chapter 36: Flea Bottom

It felt like time stood still.

Your eyes were locked on the open cell door.

Lungs seized and pulled in a greedy breath. Shakily pulling yourself up to stand, you stumbled back, the twinging in your side making you grow dizzier by the second.

Your eyes tunnelled, black seeping into the edges of your vision as your heart raced whilst you stood, leaning heavily against the damp wall behind you. 

Shutting your eyes, you breathed in deeply. In for three, out for three. Your vision began to settle.

Six steps was what it took for you to reach the open door of your cell.

Six steps more were what you took as you exited the iron bars. 

If it was a trick, then you would soon find out. Aegon was cruel, and Aemond calculating. Perhaps they were waiting for you outside to mock your efforts and tease you of your naivety. You can imagine Alicent, stone faced beside them as they gloated.

The original ring leader.

Yet despite the risk, you still took it.

Each step caused your side to ache and your head to spin, though you pushed yourself through it, forward down the dark corridor. Your ears listening for the sound of guards or the King and Prince above.

You heard nothing and pressed on, reaching the steps. 

You lifted a foot and placed it on the cold stone before pulling yourself up the first step and began to count as you ascended the stairs.

One.

Two.

Three.

Your feet were numb from the cold and you sniffled quietly as your heart raced in your chest, one hand clutched tightly against your side to sooth it. Your foot lifted before it paused midair. You raced back down the three steps, into your cell, hand digging roughly into the straw bed before your fingers found the cold steel. 

Snatching the broach, you raced back across the room, feet slapping gently against the tiles as you began to dart up the stairs, a headache steadily blooming as you clutched your side in pain. You wound up the steps rapidly as you desperately tried to steel your breaths.

In and out. In and out. 

As you wound up and out of the dungeon, more light came into the space from the torches on the wall. Your hand reached out to grab one out of instinct before you snatched your hand back.

You could not be seen. 

Soon you reached the top of the stairway, before you snuck out into the darkness of the open halls. You ran silently, sliding against the wall as you raced away from the dungeons below you. All was quiet in the space as you tried to catch your breath and gather your bearings. 

Where were they?

Were they hiding in wait for you?

It felt oddly nostalgic, hiding and running in the dark from your uncles, however this time far more sinister than the 'hide 'n' go seek' games you would all play as children.

Your eyes rapidly searched about, catching on the open expanse of a courtyard. You were near one of the servants' paths down to the exit of the Red Keep, along the side, out of sight, out of mind. Your feet dragged you to the path as you began to rapidly dart down the stairs towards Flea Bottom.

Before you, the sky was dark and small lights could be seen in the commoners city below the Keep. Small yellow orbs glowed in windows and paths, illuminating the smaller buildings and houses. You descended the stairs, hand still clutched at your side whilst the other gripped the stone below it. 

You needed an out, somewhere to hide, or flee, anywhere but in the Keep, though you knew as soon as your absence was noted, the entirety of the Kings Guard would descend upon Flea Bottom until they found you.

No matter the cost. 

Could someone die from their heart exploding in their chest? You were sure you had heard stories of it before. Men's hearts that fluttered in their chest so fast and so hard that suddenly it stopped. Your heart felt like it was trying to escape your rib cage.

As you wound down the stairs, the Red Keep loomed behind you, becoming further and further away, and down below, the sounds of Flea Bottom became louder. 

Jovial voices called out to friends or loved ones, jagged singing came from another and lusty moans from the darkened alley ways curled out into the open space. You raced towards it, finally away from the stairs and down the path towards the narrow streets, lined with a sea of people. 

Some eyes caught yours, looking at you curiously before others looked away, going back to their entertainment, whereas few watched you closely. You knew that if you were recognised, they may descend on you, taking you back to the King in the hopes of a reward.

You needed a disguise. 

You barged your way through the crowd as you ran, hair flying wildly behind you as you began to feel sick from lack of breath and the agony that still rolled through you in waves, made worse with every step.

Ahead of you, a line of robes were hanging on a line, drying after they had been washed. You slowed your step and jumped up, snatching a faded black cloak from the line. 

A person cried out in protest as the cloak came down into your hands, “Oi!” They yelled. 

You did not turn back as you ran faster, pushing your legs towards a dark alleyway to turn into as you ran through the streets without knowing where to go. You felt like a mouse in a trap, running blindly without any idea of escape. 

Your legs ached as you pushed forward, though your speed faltered as you breathed heavily, feeling faint. You slipped into a dark corner of an alley as you swept the cloak over your shoulders and head, covering your hair and casting a deep shadow across your face. 

It was unbearably hot as your heart raced, sweat dripping down your brow, as you tried to catch your breath. The pain in your side throbbing with every pump of blood your heart made. You bent forward to suck in a ragged breath, your throat so dry your tongue felt like sand.

Breathlessly you gagged once more, the nausea from running, from the pain and from the sheer horror of the experience, bubbling its way up your throat, though nothing came out. 

You're wasting time. Move.

You pushed yourself away from the wall and back out into the busy street. The streets stunk of waste and unclean bodies as you passed. The smell was pungent in your nose, almost enough to make your eyes water. 

You walked briskly in the sea of bodies. Men and women drank freely on the street as children wandered aimlessly around them. A woman sat on a wooden chair, eyes milky as she told people's futures. You had never been in Flea Bottom before, and suddenly you realised, Aegon did.

Often.

Aegon knows these streets, he knows these people. He frequents the Silk Lanes, and Flea Bottom and has sired dozens of bastards here. You knew it. They all knew it.

Even the Queen knew it.

He would know his way through here.

This made you panic more.

You looked around in desperation until you saw a small boy standing against a wall, watching the people around him. You stood still, blinking as you looked at the boy whose brown hair messily sat on his head. You blinked again. It was not Lucerys. You felt your body gravitate towards him, feet stumbling in the dark as he watched you come towards him.

As you stood in front of the boy, you looked at him up and down. His hair sat chaotically on his head, loose greasy curls that came down below his ears going in all different directions. He wore a cream coloured shirt that was dirty and crumbled against his body and brown breeches beneath them. His shoes were old and worn, covered in mud.

He would be no older than Lucerys was.

The boy looked at you in annoyance as you gawked.

“What?” He asked gruffly, looking you up and down.

You paused, then blurted out, “Where are the docks?”

You swayed on your feet, feeling fatigue begin to catch up on you, your adrenaline slowly running out.

The boy frowned at you, as if it was a stupid question.

Fuck.

But as you started to panic that you had given yourself away, the disgruntled youth sharply nodded his head upwards, pointing away from you down the path to your side. You nodded you head in thanks, and as you moved swiftly to follow the path, the young boy muttered under his breath.

“Fucking drunk.”

You breathed a breath of relief and moved down the crooked street. The ground below you was dirty, with the stale stench of piss and vomit bathing the air around you. The further you walked down the street, the further away you got from the crowd. Now only a few straggling people were sat in the shadows, talking to each other lowly, or in one case to themselves. 

The houses were squished together, and the further you walked the more poverty stricken it became. The bricks were made of reddish and pale stones, though the further down you went, the more the houses came to be made of wood. Crude huts that leant awkwardly, with washing drying on lines above you. 

How could the people live like this? In such poverty? How did no one see? How did no one do something?

You pushed on, weaving through the hanging clothes until the air got less dense, and the path widened. The sound of men talking ahead of you made you slink to the shadows again, hiding in the darkness as you snuck down the street.

Ahead of you were the docks, with a large trading ship moored against the wood, a path on its flank for those to walk along the ship, large planks letting those wander back and forth on the boat. They were loading the ship.

Your eyes flicked across the men on the dock. There were more than 20 crew, and two kings guards talking to a man you could only assume was captain. You pressed your back against a shack and breathed in. You needed to not be seen, for if you were caught, you would no doubt be recognised by the guards.

You pulled the hood of the cloak further over your face casting your eyes downwards as you swayed with your step. The young boy thought you were a drunk, now was time to play the part.

If any crew was to see you sneaking around in the shadows they would immediately become suspicious, but not of a drunken commoner stumbling about the dock. You would simply be overlooked. Your bare feet were caked in filth and legs were dirty from days without bathing, the cloak barely covered your shins as you shivered in the pale moonlight. 

You walked out of the shadows along the side of the dock, making sure you swayed and stumbled as you had watched Aegon do many times before.

Drunken fuck.

As you swayed towards the dock, you saw large crates and barrels, some empty and some full. Your hand reached out to touch one of the barrels when a booming voice split the air.

“Oi!” The man yelled and you yanked your hand back, “Get away from there.” He growled at you, before turning back to the guards who didn’t spare you a second glance. One of the guards muttered beneath his breath about drunken peasants. You looked at the barrels again before you ducked down behind them.

Breath in. Breath out. 

With your free fingertips you grazed your hands along the wood of a crate, the dark oak chipped and worn from use over the years. A net was half hazardously tossed over the top, its rough thread rubbing against your side as you moved along the creates, ears listening for crew coming back. 

Looking between a gap through the crate and a barrel you peered at the guards and the captain, their bodies facing away from you as they chatted. The captain seemed relaxed and familiar with the two guards. Perhaps they did this often, or grew up together. 

You snuck behind the barrels as you heard footsteps begin to descend from one of the planks coming towards you. You began to panic again. It would definitely cause suspicion if you were caught hiding amongst the barrels and crates. You had to think quick and fast.

Your hand nudged the barrel beside you. It was heavy, but shifted slightly under your hand. It was empty. The footsteps came closer now and you realised with great dread that it was too late. To stand and crawl into the crate now would be to be spotted, you imagined the guards descending on you and taking you straight back to Aegon where he could finish what he started.

You felt frozen in your spot as the footsteps got closer. Your breath caught in your throat as you steadied yourself to be caught. Perhaps you could make a run for it.

“John!” The captain's voice barked across the dock.

The footsteps stopped.

You held your breath as the footsteps faded away from you, as John went to the captain and guards began to whisper to them in hushed tones. Your ears picked up as you listened carefully.

“…escaped…be on the look out…if you see…” 

Your heart pounded in your ears.

They knew you had escaped.

You needed to act now.

Sneaking up, you pulled the lid from the barrel carefully watching the guards and two men in front of you, before dipping one leg, and then the other inside. The barrel top was held in your hands as the man named John began to turn around. You watched in horror.

Please Gods, favour me.

But one of the guards caught his attention again, stepping closer to talk to both the captain and crew member. With this pause in their attention, you shoved yourself the rest of the way into the dark barrel, lightly placing the lid above you. 

You held your breath inside, out of fear they would hear you and you tucked yourself into a ball. The barrel was tight as you sat inside, your knees roughly brushing against the wood. The squeeze made your side ache painfully as the skin was pulled taut in an odd direction. Your hand was clenched on your side still, inside your palm the three headed dragon broach. 

You felt the rough edges in your palm as you listened to the footsteps begin to approach you. Each step got louder, the vibration of its weight tickling the barrel underneath you. You sucked in a silent and short breath as the feet stood in front.

Hands pressed to the outside of the barrel pulling you sideways. You felt yourself tip towards the side and shot your hands out to catch yourself before your head could collide with the other side. The man above you grunted. 

“Gods.” He muttered as he hauled the barrel up in his arms.

Your head spinning in the dark as you could not tell which way was up. That same nausea built inside of you, making your stomach turn in knots and skin become sticky. 

With every step the man took, the barrel shook you. The steps were loud on the dock's wood until he walked atop the plant, the footfalls sounding more hollow than before. You held your breath as you were rattled around inside, desperately trying to stay upright so as to not knock against the sides.

Then suddenly you were heavily placed on solid ground once more. You listened as the man's footsteps faded away, walking up what you assumed were the same steps you came down. They echoed until there was nothing. 

You finally allowed yourself to breathe, listening for sounds of other men nearby. You sat in the barrel and waited, feeling the slight sway of the boat's hull on the water as it rocked you gently back and forth. The man came back several more times, sometimes alone, sometimes with others, as you listened to them place other crates and belongings into what you now knew was the hold of the ship.

You slumped against the edge of the barrel in exhaustion. Eyes beginning to close as you could barely hold them open any longer. You pulled the cloak around you tightly as your legs cramped from being curled up so long.

You would have to wait it out.

No matter how long it took. 

The barrel offered a small comfort of protection as it cocooned you in its rough arms. The broach was still firmly pressed against your side as you let the gentle sway of the ship lull you into a deep sleep, adrenaline finally running out.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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PLS IM BEGGING FOR THE LEON KENNEDY RATS TO COME OUT AND WRITE FICS LIKE PLS THERES NOT ENOUGH AND I KNOW THAT SO MANY OF YOU HAVE BRILLANT MINDS I SWEAR I WILL EAT UP EVERY FIC YOU PUT OUT PLSSSSSSS

Hope/Dawn is so cute.. omg..

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter Two

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: Confused Pining.

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.5k

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Your bare feet flew across the flaggen stone of your courtyard as you rushed around, trying to find the papers you needed. It had been hectic in The Gardens as of late, there had been a boom in the population in The Waking World and hopes were pouring into your realm at a pace you and your handmaids could barely keep up with. But you were not looking for parchment for The Gardens, but for The Dreaming. The lines between dreams and hopes often overlapped which led you to work with Dream off and on over the last hundred years or so. You had been keeping things strictly business with him, not wanting any sort of relationship with the older Endless to impede your purpose… but Dream had offered to show you his realm after you both finished your business for the day. If only you could find that blasted parchment!  

Of all the times to lose important parchment work it had to now. 

Cursing under your breath, you scrambled around the bench you normally sat at, your hands moving leaves, vines, and flowers. Sometimes, your plants liked to be naughty. You couldn’t blame them, they were still quite young, just like you. 

“Where did you go!? I’m going to be late!” You exclaimed, your flower-woven hair flying about. You caught a fold of parchment buried within the vines of the bougainvillea wrapping around the north archway of the courtyard. Eyes narrowing, you walked up to the unassuming vine and placed your hands on your hips. “And what are you doing with that, beautiful one?” The bougainvillea shivered and ruffled its leaves like a scolded child, then it started pouting. Your stern face softened. “Oh come now, I’ll be coming back… it’s not like I’ll be moving away from The Gardens.” 

Ever so slowly, the vines started moving and the piece of parchment you had spent the better part of half an hour looking for, appeared. The bougainvillea offered it to you in a wilted demeanor. You took the parchment and brushed your fingers along a few leaves and flowers. 

“Don’t cry, little one, I’ll be back soon enough.” A vine curled around your finger, giving it a gentle squeeze. You smiled softly and gave the plant one last caress before pulling away. You were already late as it were. Parchment in hand, you strode out of your private courtyard, calling for your familiar. Your dove swooped through the hallways to land on your shoulder as you entered your gallery. In front of you, sheltered by seven alcoves, were the sigils of the other Endless. You walked up to the dark miniature helm that represented Dream and carefully cradled it within your palms. 

“Dream,” Your voice softly spoke, echoing through the sigil to be heard by Dream. “I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, may I visit you and your realm?” You felt a ripple in response before Dream called back to you. 

I have already invited you to my realm, dear sister. You need not request permission so formally a second time, even if our rules demand so. 

Your lips twitched at his words, at him calling you his sister. That label had always felt strange and foreign to you. You had never felt that you were a sibling to the older Endless, you— you were something else. You had a purpose in your creation and it wasn’t to be their sibling. At least, that is what you understood about your existence. 

“Forgive me for being so rigid with decorum,” You sweetly replied. “It is my understanding that I must strictly adhere to the rules of my being, I shall arrive momentarily.” Placing Dream’s sigil back where it rested, you closed your eyes and held your hands in front of your chest, concentrating on transporting yourself to The Dreaming. It would be the first time you left The Garden since your first arrival. Flower petals and stardust swirled around you and your dove, and the serene calming aura of your realm disappeared to be replaced with one of wonder and fascination. 

You gasped at the cold stone beneath your feet and flickered your eyes open. Stretched out in front of you was a quaint village with stone cottages and smoking chimneys, the winding path you stood on continued through the village and past its boundaries to a bridge held up by hands. Beyond was a glimmering castle. This was The Dreaming. 

From behind you came the sound of shifting stone and twisting in place, you looked upwards to see a great dragon perched on Ivory gates that loomed upwards formidably. Stern eyes passed over your form shortly before the giant marble dragon swopped into the air and started flying towards the palace. Returning your attention to your surroundings, you followed the path and were instantly fascinated by the people and your surroundings. You saw clothing designs you had never seen, food you had never tasted, and creations you could never dream of. Finding yourself lingering on the fringes of the town, attention drawn to more unique statues and architecture, you just barely heard the call of a raven. Then one dove through the air and fluttered to its feet on a stack of crates nearby. You smiled. 

“Hello, Lucienne,” You softly greeted politely, your eyes flickering upwards to the palace that lay beyond the winding bridge. “I suppose I got distracted,” you moved your hands to grip your skirts sheepishly. “Please forgive me, this is my first time visiting and The Dreaming is so intriguing.” Lucienne hummed at you before tilting her head. 

“Lord Morpheus understands your curiosity and sent me to see that you are guided to wherever you so choose should you design,” Lucienne explained, shuffling her wings. Your eyebrow arched and you glanced at the palace. 

“Well, that won’t do,” You murmured, your mind remembering that you had come for a reason. You had business with Dream. “Apologies I have gotten entirely sidetracked by the realm, I have official business with Dream… do you mind escorting me to him?” Lucienne bobbed her head and took to the skies once more. Traveling across the winding bridge connecting the village to the palace, you took the opportunity to admire the beauty and structural architecture of Dream’s home. Upon entering the palace, you were led through some halls and ended up in the throne room. Dream sat upon the stairs to his throne, book hand and a studious look upon his face. You approached and paused a meter or two from the base of the stairs. Your dove cooed on your shoulder, and Dream raised his starlit eyes to yours. 

“Greetings, sister,” His deep and therapeutic voice echoed through the large room and slipped across your skin like silk. You bowed your head slightly in return. 

“My deepest apologies, Dream, for being late, it seemed that my realm was reluctant to see that I leave.” A dark elbow quirked and the corner of Dream’s mouth twitched. 

“Reluctant?” He repeated with a touch of amusement in his voice. Heat surged up your neck and into your cheeks, warming them, as you tried to beat back the embarrassment rapidly filling your body. Your dove cooed in agreement and you materialized the scrolls you needed. 

“The bougainvillea was reluctant to see me leave and thought to hide the parchments from me in a pout.” You explained with hot cheeks, your fingers rotating the parchment scroll in clear embarrassment. “I spent the better part of half an hour looking for the parchments only to discover that they had been hidden from me, intentionally.” How had a plant momentarily gotten the best of an Endless? Dream chuckled at your words, knowing how vibrant and full of life The Gardens were. It was no surprise that the realm itself did not wish for its Lady to leave. 

“It is of no concern that your realm kept you momentarily at bay, Dawn, you are all it knows,” Morpheus spoke to you gently, observing your small frame. You had always been a picture of gentle, carefree beauty. Flowing dresses, vines, and flowers woven into your hair tumbling down your back. You were the picture of nature, your timeless beauty shifting and changing with the eras. You had already shifted forms a few times, but your beauty had always remained constant. Yet at the same time, your carefree appearance was misleading. You were, perhaps, the most hardworking of the Endless. From the moment of your creation to this moment now, your sole focus and concern was on your duty and realm. Compared to Delirium, Despair, and Desire, you were far more mature. Unusually so. Mother Night and Father Time made you meticulous, hardworking, and serious. 

“Dream?” Your sweet and melodic voice drew Dream from his inner thoughts, and he shifted his eyes back to your inquisitive ones. “I can come back to do the co-filing if now is a bad time…” Dream shook his head and rose to his feet, stepping down the stairs to approach you. 

“I was merely in thought, come, the library is this way,” Dream said, looking down at you. Your eyes brightened at the mention of the library and Dream smiled at your childlike excitement, a great change from your usual serious facial expression. “I also believe I promised to show you my realm?” With a smile that could rival the brightness of a sun and unadulterated curiosity glowing in your eyes, Dream led you to his library. With your help, Dream was able to complete several dreams and get a head start on the construction of dozens more. It was a large ease in Dream’s workload and the older Endless was becoming more and more entranced with your presence. With the work completed, Dream moved onto activities that would surely bring further wonder to your eyes.

He started by showing you his palace which you had been enamored with its design and landscaping. Of course, you had fallen in love with the gardens that Mervyn maintained. If there was one thing Dream had learned about you, you absolutely adored plant life… your realm wasn't called The Gardens just because you liked plants. Then Dream showed you more of the village, letting you dart around and stare in amazement at the common places of the town. This was the most emotion he had ever seen from you, and Dream quickly found that he liked seeing you so happy. An unusual feeling for him. You were wandering towards the rocky path that lead to Fiddler’s Green when Dream stopped your midstep, arms wrapping around your fluttering body and ceasing your movement. You wobbled in surprise, your arms flailing slightly. Then your feet left the slightly cold ground and you found your body effortlessly lifted into the arms of Dream. 

“Dream?” You asked in confusion, your head tilting in confusion. His eyes met yours. 

“You might find that the pathway is… sharp, underfoot Dawn.” Dream pointed out, his silver-blue eyes glancing at your bare and unprotected feet. You still looked confused at why it was a problem but didn’t argue further. 

“If you are feeling so inclined,” You answered softly, your eyes dropping to his coat and catching sight of the stars hidden within. You reached out and traced your finger along the inner lining. He held a galaxy of stars within the inner lining of his coat? It was incredibly beautiful. Dream carried you along the rocky path until it ended and Fiddler’s Green began. As you returned to your feet and relished the feeling of soft grass beneath your toes, your head swiveled around in curiosity. Fiddler’s Green was a grand arcana that stretched over a large portion of The Dreaming. It was going to take you a long time before you fully explored the space to your heart's content. With your fingers lingering on Dream’s jacket, you looked up into his face. “Do you have a favorite place?”

Dream blinked, not expecting your question. He had to think about your question. 

“I’m afraid that I do not believe I have a favorite place with Fiddler’s Green. I spend so much time attending to my duties, I fear that I do not enjoy my realm as much as I should.” He answered you. Then he recalled a place within The Dreaming that dreamers who loved nature enjoyed walking through. Dream took one of your hands and began leading you in the direction of the field of flowers. You were happy to be led, giving you a chance to be absentminded about where your eyes wandered. The light breeze against your skin felt nice and the ground underfoot was almost softer than that of your garden. When Dream led you to a field that had an explosion of flowers of all types, you stopped short in vivid wonder. Dream watched as a multitude of emotions flickered across your face in rapid succession. It was like you were seeing the beauty of plants and flowers for the first time, and yet, did you not live in a garden of Eden?

The sight of you standing within Fiddler’s Green with such a look of wonder and enjoyment tugged at something within Dream. Perhaps his heart? No, he didn’t have a heart to be tugged… but he did know that he was drawn to your light and happiness. You looked back at Dream, your eyes sparkling but clouded with question. 

“Dream, may I ask you something?” You questioned him. Dream bowed his head to you, eager to answer any questions you had and learn everything there was to know about you. It wasn’t often that something held his fascination and attention, but you were all he could think of as of late. You picked a flower from the field and wound it through your fingers, a far-off look within your eyes. “Do you ever get lonely?” That question struck Morpheus like a blade through a heart. Painful and unexpected. He looked at your face, worry swelling within him. Were you feeling lonely so early on in your existence? Had he and his siblings failed you? You met his gaze. “Given your task of overseeing the dreams and nightmares, surely you are burdened with the emotions of the endless dreamers… I can’t even imagine what you might feel. Surely dreams are endless, how do you do it?” 

Dream stared at you in wonder. You clearly understood the gravity of your purpose and experienced it all the same… but were concerned for him, rather than yourself? Most of the Endless held egocentric, self-centered views, only thing thinking about their own domain and wishes. But not you. He was inexplicably drawn to that and felt an immense need to placate your worries. 

“That is true, I do feel immensely through the dreams and nightmares of mortals,” He admitted to you, staring into your eyes and loving the way your eyes constantly flickered with inextinguishable candlelight. Hope. “But it is their hope that is the base of their dreams and that sustains me, for what are dreams without hope?”

Your eyelids fluttered for a moment shortly before a smile blossomed on your lips of the likes Dream had never seen before. It was radiatingly gorgeous and lit up your face as he had never seen before, and it was directed at him. Dream was startled, taken aback by how beautiful your happiness was shown. But just as quickly as it had appeared, your smile was redirected as your eye caught something. You darted off with an excited giggle leaving behind a bewildered Dream in a state of confused pining. Why would Mother Night and Father Time make a sibling that he felt so drawn to, so connected with? Why did they make a sibling that Dream was falling for?

Date Published: 1/20/23

Last Edit: 1/20/23

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sorry for the late reblog. was busy in school stuff..

anyways..

Though it’s sad, I was kinda expecting this outcome in the dynamics between Mera and Dream. The only reason that the relationship would seem functional was for her to develop a combination of stockholm syndrome and an unhealthy trauma response.  

If only Dream learnt early on how to not be a creep, then Mera would probably be endeared to him.

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 13

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

PTSD and trauma angst, and selective amnesia (depicted creatively) resulting from trauma

reader still hearing voices

manipulation galore

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 13: Under the Starry Night Sky

You whip your head around in alarm at the voice, a young woman’s, that had just entered the room and echoed inside the dungeon.

Impossible. Could she have –?

She stands in the corner of the dungeon twirling her wild, multi-coloured, shoulder-length hair, wearing a brown coat too large for her petite frame over her underwear and what seems to be a torn fishnet body suit. She has the appearance of a teenager, but there’s something about her that feels like she’s older than she looks – dangerous, powerful…  

Endless.

“I don’t like being ogled at. That’s a funny word, but ‘gawk’ is even funnier, I think,” she says, her voice almost having the quality of a thousand colours in the spectrum. “I do that a lot, these days – think? Even right now, I’m thinking of thinking, while also thinking about what you’re thinking.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ogle, or gawk, or stare,” you amend, flashing her a small smile in greeting. “Lady Delirium.”

She ignores your greeting and favours continuing her line of questioning.

“I can also hear the Voice thinking, but it already went quiet.”

Your smile is wiped off your face at once at her words. Before you, Lady Delirium keeps muttering to herself, confirming what you had dreaded when she walked in.

“I hear voices all the time, you know. There’s that one from the butcher shop, then two coming from a saleslady at a posh department store – I never liked their clothes, they always look so, uh, posh-y, I don’t know the word really. Then there’s this one lady who can actually see me, except no one believes her. But the voice inside her talks to me too. Yours won’t talk now. Do you know ‘what’s here’?”

“I don’t know, actually,” you say slowly, trying to choose your words carefully. “You mean, you can actually hear it?”

Swaying on her feet, she starts creating bubbles out of thin air, popping them with glee. “Oh yeah. It’s not very friendly to me. Not yet anyway, they all become my friends in the end. What about you? Are you a friend?”

Caught by surprise at the question, you stammer, “I – but of course, i-if my Lady wishes me so,” you manage with a shy smile.

“Great!” Lady Delirium exclaims, taking both your hands in hers. Her wide, mismatched eyes look into yours with delight, and you return her toothy grin, even if you find her stare somewhat unnerving – it’s a stare that feels like it sees you bare, looking through and living in your innermost thoughts.

“I’ve heard friends help each other find what they lost. You see, we lost a brother,” she says as she quite literally drags you out of the dungeon by the sleeve. You both reach the foot of a staircase, presumably ascending to one of the main halls, where she stops suddenly, looking at you with doe eyes and a pout. “I tried convincing my siblings to help me look for him, but they all turned me away like I was a n-n-uuu-isaaance.”

Right before you, she pauses her speech as her hair transitions from her rainbow-coloured hair, shortening to almost a dull, badly cut bob. She pops a lone bubble dolefully, before asking, “Do you think I’m a nnuuu-iiissaaance, Mera?”

“Of course not, my Lady,” you reply with a soft smile, recalling a certain Endless who had turned away and rejected your pleas. “I know the feeling.”

“So, you’ll help me find my brother? The one we lost, I mean, not the mean one, or Destiny, ‘cause he’s not going anywhere, he never leaves his garden, you know…”

“I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Yay!!”

With a thrilled squeal, Lady Delirium lets go of you and climbs the stairs, with you following behind.

Shit. Suddenly, you remember: she can hear the Voice and she may very well tell her brother.

“Uh, Lady Delirium?” you call out to her as she wobbles in her steps off the far end of the hallway.

“Yeah?”

“Remember how you said we can be friends?” you start, shooting her a hopeful look. “Can you keep the Voice you heard a secret? Please?”

She turns her head at you, her mouth forming a comical ‘o’ at your request. Finally, she says, “Sure, I keep many secrets, I’m rather good at them! The people who see me tend to reveal stuff, and even if they don’t really like telling them, they tell me anyway. Even Dream has a secret, but I can’t tell you…” With a flair, she places her forefinger to her lips.

“Thank you, Lady Delirium,” you say with a relieved sigh.

Taking your hand once more, she walks on, turning right to another hallway you’re not familiar with. She continues telling you stories that don’t connect and don’t make sense, but you listen anyway, knowing she could teach you a thing or two.

“I know where we can start looking for my brother. He created the Abyss, and Dream offered it a place to stay somewhere here, in his realm, but I don’t really know where. But I’m close, I think? I just rowed to the wrong island, I think.”

“Hang on,” you wonder, your curiosity spiking. “Isn’t that just a myth? The Abyss?”

“I suppose it could be for someone who hasn’t really seen it,” she just replies casually.

After three of four left turns and five rights, you later find yourselves in the same hallway as before when you came out of the dungeon’s staircase.

“My Lady, I think we’re lost…” you comment, looking around for another way out besides what you’ve already passed.

Her only reply is cryptic.

“Being lost is only temporary, but if it isn’t, then maybe you’re meant to be there and you’re not really lost, I dunno,” she says with a nonchalant shrug. She then pushes the door to her left open and enters, with you trailing behind.

You’re greeted by the sight of the tall, all-black figure of Dream of the Endless, standing in the middle of the room.

“My sister, my Dream,” he acknowledges you both, tilting his head in his sister’s direction. “What brings you both here? Little sister, you know better than to enter my realm without consulting me in my Gallery.”

“But you weren’t answering, and Desire told me to ‘go away,’” she counters, her hair growing rapidly and turning ash-blonde with red and green highlights. At her brother’s hard, chastising stare, she continues, her voice quivering as if trying not to cry, “And Death is busy, as always, and Destiny just kept telling me nonsense, I couldn’t make out any of his words, and Despair told me to ‘give up’ but you know I can’t, I just miss our brother terribly and what if something bad happened, or something…so there.”

The Dream Lord sighs in mild irritation before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We have been through this, little sister. Our brother does not want to be found. Now, I have my realm to attend to. Perhaps it’s best you return to yours.”

“I knew you’d say that,” she says with a dejected sigh. “At least Mera was kind enough to offer help.” She sticks her tongue out at her brother, before waving at you farewell and disappearing into a blinding, white crack in the space.

***

You had expected (or hoped?) to see Lady Delirium again, but you don’t see a single hair of hers after her visit. More than a month has since passed – but then again, you had stopped counting since the second week. You’re still imprisoned – in the castle and in your own mind. If you aren’t catatonically staring out to open the sea or the grey walls, or in bed, sleeping, you take to locking yourself up in the bathroom after your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. The Voice isn’t much help either. It has so far only spoken one thing since it’s been heard by Lady Delirium: the word ‘dungeon.’ Exactly what the fuck that meant, you had entirely no clue. Perhaps it isn’t really the Voice you heard, but you going out of your mind. After all, why would Lady Delirium choose to come to you, if you had not started going over the edge?

Having so much time alone by yourself, you had every opportunity to replay the events that had led to your imprisonment, but since that day you saw a vision of the blurry man in Ethan the Knight’s place, your memory has been coming in fragments, if not an entirely blank sheet. No matter how hard you try or how loud you scream, nothing would come, except distorted shapes and muddled emotions.

It has been hours since your Dream Lord left this morning. As you sit on the cold bathroom floor hugging your knees to your chest, crying desperately for any recall that wouldn’t come, it dawns on you that you had hit rock bottom and are in bad need of help.

You had called to him many times before. Will he listen to your pleas this time?

***

Dream of Endless expects that when he comes home to you and to the tower he’s keeping you in, he’ll find you on the bathroom floor sulking.

He had known for quite some time that you had switched from watching the sea melancholically to hiding in the bathroom whenever he’s gone away. He has watched you gradually spiral into depression at being left in the castle for long periods of time without anything to do besides wandering the decrepit fortress, and there are some days he wonders to himself whether he had gone too far in punishing you, if your recent brush with his sister Delirium is anything to go by. On those days in question, he would find his resolve weakening when he hears you plead so woefully beside him as he holds you close in the night, but of course, he never lets it show. In response, would only shush your crying in the softest ways he can – you had to learn, you had to live through your penance before he could shower you with all the luxury the whole of Dreaming can offer. He could not let you, his most beloved, walk away without so much as a slap on your wrist for defying his orders and daring to love anyone else other than him, to whom all your love, affection, and loyalty should belong. It had hurt him the way you continued spurning him, true, but your suffering brought him no joy. Also, although he had thoroughly taken boundless pleasure in every single night he had laid with you, it certainly does not sit well with him to have to force you to fulfil your duties to him, your King, as the King himself does to his realm. No matter: he is sure you will one day see the error of your ways.

And he had another reason for keeping you in the tower and away from everyone else: he knew from the very beginning that isolating you – when you’re still mourning the loss of that detestable mortal that dared keep you from him by way of that deplorable magic – would drive you to inconsolable spirits, and who better to save you from despair than him? He is aware he had started to chip off your rebelliousness, and you had started seeking him yourself to plead your case – he will take you back to his palace eventually, and if he does it at just the right time, he might be able to push you further into accepting your place beside him as his princess-consort.

Morpheus arrives on the balcony of the tower, tired from a long day and very much ready to spend the entire night hogging your warmth. He lets out an imperceptible sigh of relief – since he has placed you here, he has looked forward to coming home to you every night. He could just see how happy you would both be in each other’s arms under the pale moonlight of the Dreaming once he has reinstated your place in his own palace at the heart of his kingdom.

The instant he steps inside the room, he hears soft sobs coming from the bathroom. He reaches you in no time, sitting beside you on the floor and scooping you in his arms. It warms his heart the way you wrap your arms around him at once; he knows you’re starved for company, so he relishes the willing contact. He buries his face in your hair, greedily taking in your scent.

“My Lord, please,” he hears you beg against his shirt, your voice cracking from crying all day. “Please, take me back to the palace, I beg you. I’m trying not to lose my mind, but it’s just so damn hard when all I get to see is this stupid, decaying castle all the time.”

“It pains me to see you this distraught, dream of mine,” he replies softly as he caresses your exposed cheek with his forefinger. Has he pushed you close to your limit?

“Then, free me, my Lord…please,” you choke out.

Vaguely, he recalls the same words from a woman he thought he once loved: one he had sent to Hell for scorning him as you have done.

This time, could he find it in his heart to forgive?

But, this woman was nothing like you, the dream he had so lovingly and meticulously crafted to perfection.

Morpheus carefully chooses his next words. “My Mera, I do not mean to cause you so much anguish.”

Your voice comes as a faint whisper, but the subtle rebuke in it makes him pause momentarily.

“And yet you insist on keeping me here as punishment for something I can’t even remember…

“I know I did something bad, I tried to escape, but my memory – they come in fragments. And I try, but every time I think I’m close, everything becomes blurry again,” you say weakly as he feels your trembling hand crumple his shirt to try to stave off the fresh bout of tears.

“I just want to go back, please…”

Dream, lost for words, places a lingering kiss on your hair as he weaves his sand to send you to unconsciousness. If you were on the brink of mental collapse, he needs you in deep sleep to confirm his suspicions.

He had vowed to himself never to stoop so low as to dive into your mind, let alone even touch your thoughts, but he had to see for himself what your state of mind has become. Once inside, he immediately notices a barrier: behind it are memories of Oliver Chapman and all the time you spent with him – all of it he finds revolting and insulting, it actually leaves a bitter, lingering taste on his tongue. He watches every single memory with shaking fists, allowing his bitter jealousy to course through his veins. This is the first time he’s looking into your so-called love through your eyes, and he wants nothing at that moment but to squeeze the life out of the man that had stolen you right under his nose. He turns away when he gets to a kiss you shared at a bar – he might not help himself from spilling the mortal’s blood if he so much as witnessed another one, and a kiss you had willingly shared with him, at that. Seeing you readily run to the arms of that man felt like he had been stabbed in the heart – what he had sought from you, you had freely given to another: that fact alone is enough to make his Endless blood boil. He then remembers he has a nightmare he’s about to finish – it could be time he assigned that nightmare to torment only the human specifically?

Shaking himself from his train of thought, he remembers what he came here for – torturing the man can wait. He taps the glass-like barrier you had encased those abhorrent memories in.

Admittedly, he had thought of doing this himself just so you could forget your love for the cursed Chapman, but it seems like you had beaten him to it. You had apparently done this yourself subconsciously, likely in order to shield yourself from further trauma. Your own subconscious has declared that memories of your love for that mortal were a danger to your wellbeing, to which he agrees enthusiastically. He sneers slightly in mild amusement: he had powers that now could rival the Morningstar himself, so he could simply shatter the barrier without breaking a sweat. But, why would he?

He had, at last, gotten rid of his rival to your heart, and he didn’t even have to lift a finger.

Satisfied with this development, he ceases his connection to your mind and carries you to the bed, noting how you had turned so frail in your time here. He lays down on your side so he could cuddle you close and listen to your beating heart, which he knows one day will beat only for him.

Perhaps it’s time he takes you back to his castle. And if he plays his cards right, he would have you so grateful that he had finally come to your aid and you’d ultimately surrender to him fully, as he had always envisioned you would.

***

Morpheus wakes you up the next morning to deliver the news. He never tears his eyes away from the way your eyes slowly light up as the realization of freedom hits you, to the way you give him the warmest, most genuine smile he has ever seen from you since his capture. He tries not to be blinded by it, even as the smile is fully directed at him and no one else, like it always should.

“Allow me three days to ensure that you want for nothing in your return.”

Inwardly, he praises himself at the idea of making you wait a little more – he would build up your hope and excitement for your return, making you even more pliable to his wishes. He sees your smile falter a little at the mention of waiting, but what are three more days, when your King is at long last granting what you had so endearingly begged for?

He finds it difficult to keep his composure when you wrap your arms around him in a delicate hug – he just melts in it as he tightens the hug. He couldn’t help burying his face in the groove of your neck, inadvertently planting an innocent kiss. He allows himself a tiny smirk – everything is going according to his plan.

***

The ray of hope that filtered through the room in the form of your freedom was thin, but it was enough to brighten your room a little when your Dream Lord leaves for his duties. This was the only good news you’d ever heard since your imprisonment; you had not been able to stop yourself from impulsively hugging him at the height of your emotions.

It’s when he’s left, however, that the Voice makes known its opinion:

Don’t trust him.

This makes you wonder: is this promise of his another one of his cruel mind games? You know well enough of your master to tell that he can change his mind on a whim, and you realize he might just take it all back the moment he feels the slightest resistance from you.

But in all honesty, what else could you do, knowing he’s your only way out of this place? You release a heavy puff as you sit on the edge of the bed so you could compose yourself. If you could last the next three days being the demure subject and obeying your King’s bidding, he’d have no reason to go back on his word.

Either way you go, you’re screwed.

Thankfully for you, the next two days coasted by with nothing but your frazzled nerves to deal with. Your Dream King had been merciful enough to sense that you weren’t in the mood to sleep with him in any way, so he let you be, only holding you close to his chest as he waited for you to fall asleep. You had drowsily asked him a random question about how you hadn’t seen Jessamy; he had responded after a long pause about his beloved raven’s death at the hands of his captors. He had spoken with so much vulnerability, you actually caressed his face with your fingers to try and comfort him before drifting off. It was probably the only time he’d ever be vulnerable with you.

You watch the afternoon sun in the Dreaming slowly sink into the horizon, painting the sky and sea with a thousand shades of purples and oranges, signalling the kingdom’s passage to a starry night its King is partial to.

That means the monarch in question is about to arrive to spend his night with you in your prison cell.

***

Dream of the Endless appears on the balcony a little after the sun has fully set and the stars have begun glittering in the night sky. He finds you there, staring at the sea, and he watches you turn gracefully to acknowledge him, your silhouette standing out against the midnight blue sky. He feels his heart warm at the way you hold his gaze for a few moments – but then you turn away, breaking the spell. You’re still uneasy around him, it seems.

But, to him, it’s a simple fix: once he takes you back to his castle, he’ll never let you leave his side. You’ll have all the time in the universe to start warming up to him.

He approaches your side languidly, never speaking a word as he takes in the scenery, allowing only the hushed sounds of waves crashing against the rocky cliff to break the silence. This will probably be the last time in a long while that he’ll have you fully to himself – he knows other creatures of the Dreaming would take up your time, because who wouldn’t love their new princess-consort? – and so he just wants to savour this moment, and this night, with you.

Quietly, he looks up at the star-filled sky, fondly recalling a promise he had made to you in your sleep.

“A little more than a hundred years ago, I vowed that you’d fall asleep in my arms under the Dreaming stars.”

Morpheus turns to face you fully, and you do the same, perhaps out of habit, he muses, but you continue averting your eyes, looking at anything but him. This wouldn’t do, of course, so lifts your chin with a finger and, closing the distance between you, he kisses your soft lips, revelling in your taste. He feels your lips move against his, albeit shyly, but it doesn’t matter – it’s enough to fuel the fire stirring within him like only you could, and nothing else, no one else, could quell it for him. He cups your cheek and angles his head to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to repeatedly slide over yours as you bashfully try to keep up.

But a passionate lip lock isn’t enough – it’s never enough for him – he wants you, he’s always wanted only you, and he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your figure as his sand transports you both to a portion of the island he had prepared for this night. He places both his hands on your waist to steady you before you break your footing as you both land on the seashore. Reluctant as he was to break your kiss, he pulls away so he could carry you, bridal style, to the bed that he had fashioned out of his sand just mere seconds ago. Unlike the bed in the tower, it had no upper panels, allowing for an unobstructed view of the Dreaming’s dark, starry canvas. He lays you down on the silky covers like you’re a porcelain doll he’s afraid to break, before shedding these troublesome clothes he had with a wordless command. He gets on the bed, his thighs on both sides of your hips straddling you. He leans closer to you, his lips stopping just a hairbreadth away from yours, and he speaks:

“You will find that I intend to be true to my word.”

He then sits up, intent on admiring the way look, splayed out underneath him so exquisitely; with your chest visibly heaving up and down in anticipation of his touches, and your hair fanning out to reveal that beauty of a face he crafted. He needs to see more of you, so much more, and yet he gives himself the joy of untying your belt, the only thing that holds your dress in place, with the gentleness akin to unwrapping a fragile gift. Slowly, he peels the dress off, baring that perfect body he so lovingly crafted – it’s all for him to see, to taste, to take, and he plans on reacquainting himself with every inch of you as if he had not already done so almost every night for the past month.

With his hands, he traces every part of you slowly, remembering how he poured his heart out when he crafted you. He begins with your lips, still red from the kiss you shared, to your neck, which he laments is still empty of his marks – he must do something about that, but not a moment too soon. His fingers find their way to your breasts, lazily brushing over your nipples as they perk under his touch. But then, when you start trembling underneath him, he glances at your face: he finds your eyes squeezed shut, with tears gathering at the corners – you were trying to conceal your sobs from him.

Why do you cry so, when all he means is to give you endless ecstasy? Could it be that you still longed for someone else, when he had made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him? Could you be thinking of that mortal? His jaw clenches with ire at the thought, but he reels that feeling in – he is aware of how you’re subconsciously repressing the memories you have of that man, so he needs to think rationally and focus on you.

Besides, there is no one else who can pleasure you the way he does.

“No more of your tears, my little dream. Do not fret: I will make you feel good.”

It matters not to him the way you shake your head in denial – he bends down to kiss your tears away, before moving to capture your lips. He needs you to feel just much you’re sending him on edge with longing, and so he marks you: your jaw, your neck, your collarbones – he covers them in no time with angry welts as he alternates between sucking and biting your flesh. He could feel the blood rushing to his groin, but he sets aside seeking his relief for later, knowing you need it more than him. When his mouth finds one of your breasts and his teeth graze your nipple, you arch your back to him and moan. He bites down even harder, emboldened by your response, and moves to the other breast and lavishes it with just as much attention. The hand that isn’t squeezing your breast traces downwards from your stomach down to the mound between your legs, and he hears you gasp audibly before panting. Gently, he massages your folds, taking delight in the way he makes you wet and start squirming in his grasp. He’s thirsty, and only your nectar could fill him – he places one final lick on your breasts before caressing his way down to your folds. He parts your thighs, admiring the way your opening glistens with wetness. He makes sure he never breaks eye contact with you as he lowers down and starts delving right in.

The moment he starts lapping your juices, you let out a breathy moan and lift your hips to meet his mouth. Grabbing one of your inner thighs to still you, he parts your folds using his tongue and starts flicking your nub with it. The way you cry out makes his cock twitch in anticipation – he’s painfully hard now, but he knows he needs to hold out for you. He intensifies your pleasure by inserting his middle finger into your tight opening. You jerk at the intrusion, but he holds you still while he sucks your clit, sliding his finger in and out and enjoying the way you shake beneath him. Once he adds a second finger inside, he feels you tug his hair harshly. He lets out a pleasured groan and picks up the pace he set with his fingers. He knows you’re close, so he lets his fingers brush over your spot as the continues to suck in your sweet nectar. In no time, your thighs start trembling as you cry your climax out, and like a starved man, he laps up everything you offer him. He then leans back just in time to see you come undone, gasping for air as you finish. He withdraws his fingers from you, coated in your arousal. He gently opens your mouth and issues a command to lick it clean. It stirs him up further, the way you look at him with innocence as you suck them with puckered lips. When he’s satisfied with your work, he takes your hand and places it on his throbbing erection.

“Can you not see the effect you have on me, my Mera? No one else can make me feel the way you do,” he purrs, guiding your fumbling hand up and down his shaft.

But, like always, he wants his undoing to be after you had found yours multiple times, and he prefers being inside you as he does, so he releases your hand and lowers himself closer to your body so he could breathe you in. He clasps his length and uses it to part your folds before positioning himself over your slick opening.

Dream releases a sigh of relief as he slides inside your velvety walls – inside you is where finds his home – and how he wishes he could stay within you forever. He enters you gradually, but it’s pure torture for him to wait as your strangled cries die down, when all he could think of is taking you wildly, so he breathes heavily as he rolls his hips ever-so-slightly to seek some form of comfort. You’re so tight around him, he couldn’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him as your walls clamp around his length. He begins with slow, deliberate thrusts, while he watches you fist the sheets beneath you. He takes your arms and wraps them around himself so you could hold on to him. As he sets a sensual pace, he drowns out your sobbing with his mouth and runs his tongue over your lips, tasting your salty tears. He knows your tears will eventually turn to cries of pleasure, so he needs to be patient. He continues this laborious pace of his to draw out your little whimpers while he licks and sucks on your jawline and massages your breasts. Eventually, he feels you instinctively meet his hips, so his thrusts become harder and faster, and you reward him by digging your nails into his back and moaning louder. He would never tire of hearing you make such sweet music as he hits your spot over and over.

He then hooks your leg around his waist to deepen his thrusts – he grunts with every roll of your hips together, and for a time, your bodies move in perfect sync. Within minutes, your screams of pleasure fill the shore, and he knows he’s about to bring you over the edge – so he grasps your hips and finally starts taking you in the rhythm and force he had craved since the beginning. He lets loose as his thrusts become more unforgiving, and with a harsh snap of his hips, you come undone beneath him, your body quivering all over as your walls clench desperately around his cock. Right before his eyes is a vision of you he burns into his memory: your hair damp with sweat, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes close, mouth parted in desire as you scream obscenities into the night – you had never looked more ravishing in his eyes.

But he isn’t done with you yet, not by a stretch. He allows you to catch your breath, but only for a while – he then flips your positions over swiftly so you’re lying on top of him, careful not to pull out of you. He growls a command over your ears:

“Ride your King, dream of mine, and make yourself come.”

And like the obedient little dream you are, you sit up and start moving shyly on top of him, withdrawing from his cock and sinking back down. He watches intensely as you rock your hips, your breasts bouncing with every movement. He reaches up to cup one with his hand as his other digs into your waist so he could control your pace as he thrusts upward. You continue grinding into him until you come apart for the second time, throwing your head back so he could get a clear view of your neck and collarbones littered with his love bites. The sight is almost enough to bring him to the edge, he has to hold himself back, clenching his jaw and growling as your core tightens around his length – you, above him, screaming hoarsely in your passion, bathed from head to toe in the light of a billion stars: his ethereal goddess, his only lover, collapsing on top of him in full bliss.

Morpheus is done waiting, he decides. He slides from underneath you and helps you get on all fours, with your elbows propped for support. From behind you, he gets into position, lifting your hips further in the air, and sinks his throbbing cock inside you. His breath hitches at the way you readily take him in while you make a strangled noise at his intrusion. He senses that you’re close to being overstimulated by the way you try to wriggle away, but he grips your hips with bruising force to keep you in place.

He does not start right away – he just rolls his hips softly, even though it brought him endless torment, restraining himself like so. After a short while, he hears you whine and start pushing into him, but with a sadistic smirk, he holds your hips still.

“Please, my Lord…” he hears you beg beneath him.

Leaning over your ear, Dream whispers, “‘Please’ what, my dream? Use your words.”

“Get it over with, please, I can’t take it anymore,” comes your pained reply.

He just lets out a dark chuckle which makes you shiver. Oh, how he enjoys teasing you like so. “Those aren’t the right words.”

He hears you let out an indignant whimper, before letting out in an embarrassed whisper, “Please, just fuck me, my Lord, please…”

He need not be told twice.

“As my little dream wishes.”

With the force and speed only an Endless could muster, Morpheus ruts into you with wanton abandon, chasing after his own release. The way your core clamps around his cock as he pounds into you relentlessly makes him groan loudly into the night, while your hoarse moans and cries fill his ears, making for one sinful harmony. Not one to neglect you, he starts rubbing your clit, earning hoarse screams from you. He sets a pace you could no longer keep up with, so he tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls you towards him. He has only one thought as he focuses on the way his cock fully sinks into your body again and again: he will never take another lover in his lifetime, he will never want anyone else – he only burns for you, and he will continue to burn only for you even as the last star in the universe gives its last dying flicker.

He is close, and he can feel it; he starts losing his rhythm, his hips slamming into yours with strength that makes you buckle – as you climax beneath him, your walls clamp down on his cock with so much pressure, he loses control: with a roar that shakes the entire island and the ocean surrounding it, Dream’s orgasm hits him in shockwaves – time slows around him as he says your name over and over like a prayer to the goddess underneath him. He releases his seed and fills you up with it, while you clench and milk him for all he’s worth – he pumps inside you until he’s got nothing more to give, eventually stilling his movements, before you both collapse on the bed, with him rolling to the side, careful not to crush you.

Wasting no time, he pulls you close so you could listen to his heartbeat – will you pull away, like you always do? It always hurt him a little bit when do after you had shared such an intimate act, so when you stay limp in his arms, he holds you even closer, as he kisses you so softly, so deeply, letting his lips convey what he couldn’t with words. He then pulls away, sensing you were in no state to respond and strokes your cheeks while he watches your eyes flutter in exhaustion. You both listen to the gentle crashing of the waves on the shore under the starry night, the only witnesses to how he made love to you all night with an all-consuming passion.

Finally, he confesses into the night:

“I hold your heart so dearly, my Mera – would it be so much to ask of you to hold mine, too?”

But the only response he receives is your deep steady breathing, signalling you’d already fallen asleep. Nevertheless, his heart sings at his fulfilled promise. He has many more of them to carry out just for you, and you have nothing but an eternity ahead to open up to him.

***

The first thing that registers when you come to is the hollow pain in your lower abdomen. That had been a normal occurrence for you this past month since you had begun sharing your master's bed, especially from last night’s activities. You sit up, suddenly feeling a different set of sheets underneath you from the one you had slept in last night. You rub the sleep away from your eyes before looking around wildly, half-expecting you’d still be looking at the grey, stone-brick walls and grimy windows.

What greets you makes you jump out of bed and ignore the throbbing ache between your legs.

The room you woke up to is large and blindingly white, owing to the marble floors and walls and sunlight streaming from the windows spanning from the floor to the ceiling and the doors that open to an expansive balcony. You had slept and woken up to this a few times before and remember it clear as day.

You’re in your Dream Lord’s chambers.

You must have lost your mind at last, and you’re just hallucinating all of this, you think. This can’t be real, right? Could he really have brought you back, knowing how much you resisted him last night?

You wrap the silk sheets around your naked body and slowly saunter to the open balcony in disbelief.

But the scenery that unfolds before you do not vanish, as visions often do. With tears cascading down your cheeks, you stare with wonder at the beauty of the heart of the Dreaming like it’s your first time, finally convincing yourself that this is real thisisreal –

“My dream,” comes a deep, velvety voice from behind you.

Your creator, closing in on you, cups your tear-stained cheeks and gently plants a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re home.”

This confirmation is all it takes for you to burst into tears of unadulterated joy.

Do not trust him, is all the Voice says in your head.

***

“…I leave you in the expert hands of your headwaiter, Taramis. Thank you all for coming, and I’ll see you all at the party.”

With a final curtsy, you leave the parlour, mouthing thanks to Taramis, who gives you a little bow in response before his army of servers swarms the guests to take in their choice of refreshments.

It has been exactly six months since your Dream Lord has taken you back to his castle. He had since tasked Lucienne to train you officially for your new royal position, which you had of course passed with flying colours. Your master, ever with his fondness of theatrics and grand gestures, insisted that he host a party to celebrate your official ascent as his princess-consort. He had made it clear that day that there’d be no room for arguments, especially from you. So, today, the entire Dreaming is in a festive mood, with the entire palace staff, and in extension, you, running around like a headless chicken to greet and accommodate guests he had invited from different realms across the entire universe.

The day had not even started, and you already couldn’t wait for it to end.

He wouldn’t like it, of course, when he finds out you’d been helping, but it isn’t like there’s much of a choice: you had woken early, and when you saw that some of the guests had started arriving early, you had pleaded with Morwyn to help you dress and not tell a word about it to the Dream Lord, and ran down so you could help in welcoming them – goodness knows Lucienne is already swamped with work as she always is. And it wouldn’t hurt at all to leave a good first impression, right?

Great. You’re now simping for royalty you don’t even know.

After ensuring that the first batch of guests has been well taken care of, you had to let your master know that some of his guests have arrived, as it’s only polite for the Dream King to greet them himself, as the grand host.

You had received word from a frantic Lucienne that the King had an audience he attended to in his office in the library. You had found it odd that he’d be receiving company in an office he barely used, but then again, his oddities are by now, completely normal to you.

You reach the office in question, slightly surprised to find the door slightly ajar. Inside, you could hear your master in a seemingly tense conversation with someone sounding so vaguely familiar.

“…I let you retrieve it because I knew you were mourning, brother. But to go as far as to keep it to yourself and hide it from me? You can’t just keep doing as you please with it,” says the familiar voice, firm and chastising.

“And yet, I believe we had an understanding that you are not to touch it, most especially not in my presence, dear sister,” comes your Dream Lord’s much harsher, biting tone.

A heavy silence passes between the two, and not wanting to eavesdrop any further, albeit unintentionally, you knock on the door to make your presence known.

“Enter,” comes the terse command of your Dream Lord.

“I’m sorry to interrupt –” you start to say as you push the door wider, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Lady Death, with her kind, wide smile, brushes past her brother to approach you and hugs you warmly in greeting. You couldn’t hug back in your surprise, but she seems to think none of it. She pulls away, still with that comforting gaze of hers as she gives you an affectionate stroke on your cheek.

“I am so glad to have finally met you, Mera. My little brother has told me all about you.”

******************************

Author notes on the Chapter:

To the anon who sent an ask about Dream's POV, thank you for reminding me that I have been neglecting our dear Morphy's POV for quite some time now, so this smut in his POV is for you!! I hope I conveyed his thought processes properly!!

On a side note, two Endless??! What could possibly be going on?

Plot also keeps growing, I thought I had only up to 17 chapters for this fic, but now onto 19!! Who woulda thought lmao

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 1/14/22

Edit date: 1/15/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

Genuinely sorry if I fail to add blog names that have requested to be part of this list, I forget (not as much as Mera, but hey)

No kidding but my first thought in this "wait....aren't they siblings?" Then I remember I ship targaryen couples😂..

.

The incestry feels of this fic no longer deters me ever since HOTD yassified incest..

𓅨 As Dawn Breaks: Chapter One

As Dawn Breaks: Mother Night and Father Time, after having sired seven Endless to personify life in the known universe, create Earth and human life begins. One last Endless is created: Dawn, the personification of illumination and hope, the beginning of a new day, and a chance for happiness and improvement. A love will span thousands of millennia, breaking with every sunrise and renewing hope come sunset. Yet, even the personification of hope can lose the very notion of her existence from the sting of a broken heart.

Warnings: None. 

To Note: Dream/Morpheus x Endless!FemaleReader(Dawn), This Involves Themes That Are Not For Everyone. 

Word Count: ~2.7k

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Mother Night and Father Time created the seven Endless to personify life within the known universe. Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium. They did their jobs admirably, and well, for eons. Destiny personified a life journey. Death, the end of life. Dream oversaw the dreams and nightmares. Destruction, so that creation may happen from ruin. Desire embodied the darkest secrets one held. Despair embodied a feeling that all lifeforms felt at some point in their life and the youngest of the Endless? Delirium, the epitome of chaos and previously known as Delight. All was well within the universe, millennia going by in harmony. Then a life-sustaining planet came to be and it quickly became abundantly clear that the new race of sentient life was lacking in one last personification. So Mother Night and Father came together to create one last Endless. You. 

You were created on a bed of lavender and stars, swathed in blankets of shimmering ebony. Against your naked breast lay a morning dove whose wings were of grey and pink. You had been woven from stars, oceans, and daffodils to culminate the very essence of what you were to represent: hope. You would rise and fall with the sun and moon, come and go like the great tides of oceans, and feel with the crescendo of the tallest waterfall. The capacity in which you were created to understand and feel human emotion was like none of the previous Endless before you. Eyes flickering open, you saw the inky black of the universe, touched with stars, planets, and dust. You had the knowledge of the universe, but the sight before you still took your breath away. 

Rising from your cradle, dove fluttering into space, you felt the blankets that had been covering you, travel and drape across your body until you were dressed in a simple onyx shift. Your eyes gazed out at the universe in wisdom and innocence, enraptured by the overwhelming beauty and life that stretched out before you. Your dove fluttered in front of you and holding your hands out, you let her land on your joined fingers. She was your companion your creators had gifted to you, she would represent you, be your sigil, be your closest friend. Cradling her light body in one hand, you stroked a finger over her head and down her soft grey back speckled with black. She cooed at you and leaned into your shift, her black eyes closing in contentment. Already you could feel the bond you shared with her. While you stroked your companion, you felt a shiver run across your shoulders. You looked up into the vastness of space, feeling Mother Time and Father Night. 

They did not need to speak physical words to convey their message to you. You had a job that they were entrusting you with, the entire reason for your creation after so many eons of on seven Endless. You were to personify the one natural force that life could not exist without. It was a daunting task but you, in your newborn state, were ready to take on such a task. As your creators drew back to return to their duties, you felt a ripple of energy and then the blossom of seven powers much like your own. Your predecessors had arrived. Holding your dove close to your body, you slowly turned around, your bare feet sliding across space rocks and rubble. The seven Endless, eons older than you, were lined up in order by creation. The oldest, Destiny, spoke to you first. 

“We welcome you, sister,” Destiny had a kind voice and was draped in cloth, his face covered. You knew he could not see but he still had sight and saw the possibilities of everything. “To the beginning of the endless and all that you may bring to creation.” He was wise and all-knowing, a heavy burden you could feel.

“Come now brother, you don’t need to be so formal and mystique,” Death interjected, kind brown eyes looking at you with softness. She held so much life behind her eyes, despite the very task she was made for. 

“Mystique? It’s rather amusing, actually,” Desire cooed, their golden eyes washing over your form and to the little dove you held against your bosom. “Our parents appear to have made such a fragile and innocent Endless, how are you to help creation?” You remained silent to their provoking words. “Will you not speak little dove? Surely we aren’t that terrifying.” Your head tilted to the side in curiosity as the older siblings proceeded to chide Desire for attempting to pick on you. Desire merely rolled their golden eyes. 

“Dawn has been made as Mother Night and Father Time bid, Desire,” Destiny called out, shifting his grasp on the book chained to his wrist. “We shall leave our new sibling to her new realm.” The siblings bid their farewells, giving you curious last looks for your lack of speech. As Desire prepared to return to their realm, a voice broke the silence in a sweet almost intangibly beautiful lit. 

“Tell me, Desire,” You spoke, your eyes focused on Desire as the rest of the siblings turned around in surprise. Gently, you moved your hands away from your body and held out the one holding your dove within. “What is life without hope?” Your dove soared from your hands into the blanket of deep space, speckled heather gray wings stretched out. As flower petals started to swirl around the skirt of your shift, you gave Desire the briefest of smiles, your eyes glowing with the embers of your true power. Then you disappeared in a swirl of flower petals and stardust, leaving behind the nest of lavender and stars you had been born in. 

To the surprise of their siblings, Desire let out a genuine laugh and smiled deviously. 

“Well, what do you know? She has a backbone after all. What fun she’ll be,” They mused with sly rhetoric. A red shimmer surrounded Desire. “I like her already, I wonder what other surprises Dawn holds behind those innocent eyes of hers.” Destiny, Death, and Dream were the last to leave and the three oldest siblings exchanged looks. 

“It is troubling that Desire has taken a liking to our newest sibling.” Death commented softly, looking to Destiny. Destiny did not immediately reply, his mind absorbed in the endless futures of the newest edition to the small family. 

“Hmm, sibling, I do not believe… not purpose, hope…” He trailed off, his mind fully entranced in the future and possibilities of Dawn of the Endless. Dream and Death watched as he walked away disappearing in a fade.

“Do you think that Desire shall tempt her?” Dream asked, addressing his remaining sibling. Death considered what she had witnessed and what she could feel from their new sibling. 

“I believe that it is far too early to assume anything about Dawn, for we do not know who she is as an Endless, what she is like, or what she is capable of. We all could feel the immense power Mother and Father placed within her… only time shall tell.” A troublesome thought, Dream considered as he returned himself to his realm, questing the intersection of dreams and hopes. He was sure that out of the siblings, you would have the most interaction with him. After all, what was life, what were dreams, without hope?

Your realm was called The Gardens, but unlike the eldest Endless, yours was not a labyrinth. No, your realm was the epitome of all beauty found within a garden. Lofting waterfalls, endless woodlands, lakes, rivers, and oceans, and homes made from the trunks of trees. At the very heart rested the citadel, your home. It was a sprawling stone fortress that looked overgrown with trees and vines… but make no mistake, the flora was the very lifeblood of your home and was the brick and mortar that held the space together. In total, your realm housed a culmination of mythical creatures from those that took shelter within the tallest of trees, to those that slept in the deepest depths of the ocean, only surfacing when the moon was at its peak. You rather liked having the creatures mortals only dreamed of, inhabiting your realm, it made it extra special. 

You had surrounded yourself with dryads to take care of the living gardens that popped up sporadically within the citadel, and they also helped you keep track of the growing count of hopes that appeared within your library. With each passing year, the numbers grew exponentially and you were well busy. The hopes that the precious humans had were Endless. You supposed that is what gave them their charm. 

“… remind you that the spring flooding in the Flowering Wetlands has, once again, displaced several Will-o'-the-wisp families, three Naiad families, and—“ Rita passed to look at the scroll in her hand, her green finger running down the list. “Ah, yes, the Jengu has decided to make home in the papyrus again, farming has been… difficult. Bezia, I think her name is?”

Pausing in your efforts to prune the over-growing vine of ivy vines within the heart of your citadel, you looked at the stressed Ruta, your head handmaiden. 

“Take a group of handmaidens to reconstruct the flooded homes, I’ll talk with Bezia. I’m sure there is something we can do about her residency” You told her, returning your pruning clippers to the basket of garden tools. The skirt of your dress swirled around your bare feet as you approached Ruta and looked at the scroll in her hands. The spring floods caused mayhem each and every year, but the residents of the Flowering Wetlands refused to live anywhere else. You had no issue with that and were glad to help rebuild what got ruined every year… but Bezia the Jengu, or swamp mermaid, repeatedly used the flooding to take residence in the papyrus fields. You couldn’t have that because it impeded parchment production for the library… but you couldn’t exactly remove Bezia from what made her happy. 

“I see that you have a plan, my lady?” Ruta questioned with a knowing smile. You smiled back and looked up at the sky that shone in the open courtyard

“I’ll be back soon, expect the realm to tremble with change anew,” You spoke over your shoulder, flower petals and stardust swirling around you. Your dove cooed overhead seconds before you and her disappeared. Your journey to the Flowering Wetlands only took seconds and soon you were standing knee-deep within muddy waters, floating plants and flowers surrounding you. Your dove cooed and fluttered down to your shoulder. Scanning the papyrus around you, you spotted a glimmer of a green tail before it disappeared beneath the water. “Bezia?” You called, slowly walking towards the Jengu. 

You spotted the mischievous Jengu watching you from the shallow waters, swimming between the papyrus plants and never staying in one spot. 

“Bezia, I wish to speak to you, will you not pause in your mischief merry-making?” You called out. There was another splash, and you saw her tail flick a couple of plants before she popped out of the water in front of you. The dark-skinned Jengu eyed you wearily, her tail swishing about in nervous energy. “You can’t keep taking residence among the papyrus fields, Bezia, we need them for the library.” Her facial features scrunched in distaste.

“The papyrus fields are the best home to have, my lady, the salt water chafes my skin and the freshwater doesn’t feel right on my fins,” Bezia replied, flashing you her pointed teeth. Your eyes flickered around you, observing the papyrus fields.

“Which is why I shall make an extension to the Flowering Wetlands to provide you with a home you may take residence in year-round.” You explained to her, a kind expression on your face. “I do not wish for the residents of my realm to feel not at home, that includes you Bezia.” 

The Jengu regarded you carefully, assessing to see if you spoke the truth. Then she nodded. With your eyes sparking to life, you looked to the heavens of your realm and raised your arms, shifting and molding the nearby landscape to stretch and bend, expand and reform. Muddy water sloshed against your dress, staining the white fabric as you worked. When you were done, there was a winding path through the papyrus fields that led to a new grove. In that grove were twisting vines and flowers that wove halls and rooms, a perfect home for any Jengu that further sought home. Bezia’s eyes glowed with happiness, and without a thank you or word, she swam her way to the newly made grove with the excitement of a child. 

You smiled, knowing that she would be much happier now that she had a place to call her own. Raising your eyes to the heavens of your realm, you spent a moment enjoying the nice breeze breaking through the heat of early summer. While you were closing your eyes and feeling the soft gales caressing your body, you felt a summons. 

Dawn, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil. I request permission to visit your realm to speak with you on a matter regarding recent dreams. 

You blinked and your lips parted as you exhaled. You could see in your mind's eye that he held an ivory dove in his hands, his starlit eyes staring down into the carved sigil. 

As long as my gates remain open, Dream, you are free to visit me however you shall design. My gates welcome you, you may meet me in my courtyard, I will be but a moment. 

You felt Dream acknowledge your words and enter your realm, his presence emerging within your palace walls. His presence always made you feel more connected to the Waking World. While you carried their hopes, Dream carried their dreams, and together you made dreams come true. Blinking out of your inner thoughts, you looked down at your soiled dress. It wasn’t completely ruined… so gripping the part of it that was mud-stained, you began ripping the hem. Your dress hem was torn to your knees by the time you decided you were satisfied with your work. Wiping your damp palms on the skirt of your dress, you focused on transporting yourself back to the citadel. Ruta will be happy to know that Bezia would no longer be a problem among the papyrus fields. 

Walking barefoot down a hallway you spotted Ruta speaking with Zinnia, the dryad who was in charge of keeping the rooms tidy and neat. In other words, making sure that the plants that intertwined with the castle didn’t get overzealous in their growth.

“My lady,” The dryads echoed as you approached them. Ruta peered at you with a knowing look. 

“I take it out papyrus problem is no more?” You smiled and bowed your head.

“A minor adjustment to the realm was all that was needed, Ruta. There was no malignancy behind Bezina’s actions.” Ruta bobbed her head and drew a line through a point in her checklist. 

“I thought so, I have a few more items to sort out within the Forest of Songs… but I can do that by myself. I believe Lord Dream is waiting for you within your courtyard?” 

“Yes, we have business,” You confirmed, your eyes lifting to the hall that led to the inner sanctum of the palace. “Please contact me if you run into any more problems, Ruta.”

“Of course my lady,” Ruta replied before she and Zinnia bid their farewells and departed. You resumed your course to your courtyard, walking beneath the curtained waterfall that flowed at all four entrances of the open space. At your footfalls, Dream, who had been standing and observing the pond in the very center of the courtyard, turned around. His eyes met yours, then widened when he took in your state. 

“Apologies for my state of dress, I was assisting with the spring floods within the Flowering Wetlands and it gets… muddy this year,” You said in a soft explanation. Dream’s lips twitched at your words. “You said you had a matter of recent dreams you wished to speak of? How may I help you?” 

Date Published: 1/16/23

Last Edit: 1/16/23

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