Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s warm in the Dreaming today.

Nuala sighs, running her fingers along the petals of a freshly bloomed lily. It turns towards her, as if reaching for her touch, almost begging her to devour it.

But Nuala is not hungry today. She is worried more than anything else.

Lord Morpheus had returned from his journey to the mortal realm days ago. Upon his return, he had immediately. shut himself away in his private quarters, refusing to meet with anyone other than Lucienne. The weather in the Dreaming has been cold and dreary ever since.

Today, however, the chill in the air has vanished, and Nuala can even see some remnants of sunlight peeking through the dark clouds in the sky. Nuala would like to think that it’s a good sign. But in truth, she’s not sure what all of it means.

Nuala sighs, and the lily in her palm seems to sigh with her, its once vibrant colors now dull, the leaves and petals starting to droop.

Perhaps Nuala should eat. She wouldn’t want to disappoint Taramis by wasting all her hard work, after all. When Nuala had first begun to settle into the Dreaming as its newest resident, Taramis had carved out a section of the castle gardens just for Nuala. In this space, Nuala wants for nothing. The garden has all manner of flowers within it: bright orange marigolds that blazed like fire, roses so white their petals reflected the moon, and poppies the color of the sea. There were even some flowers that Nuala had previously only known to grow in the land of Fae; those blooms in particular had made her heart ache as she relished in a rare taste of home.

Nuala had been hopelessly charmed by the garden. She spent hours in it each day, including today. Taramis, at first, had been the only resident to visit her here, but over time other residents of the Dreaming, such as the gardener Mervyn, and even Lucienne would sometimes come and marvel at the beautiful flowers with Nuala.

Nuala had—hoped, perhaps, that Lord Morpheus would also visit her in these beautiful gardens. She had even entertained a fleeting fancy that he may give her a tour of the Dreaming at some point. But shortly after she had arrived, things had soured between the Dream King and his once lover, who abruptly left the realm. Not long after that, Lord Morpheus had departed for the mortal realm at the behest of his sister.

Nuala knew there were many things she was not privy to with regards to Lord Morpheus’s affairs. She was not part of his court, despite living in his castle, nor was she someone to be considered as a close confidante. But even she had heard the stories about Lord Morpheus’s once mortal lover from the realm of Earth. Queen Nada, First of Her People, had been brought low by an illicit affair with Dream of the Endless. Their love had been considered so offensive that the Sun herself punished the queen’s people for it, leaving Queen Nada to bear the consequences of her actions alone.

Nuala did not know how exaggerated the tale truly was. Stories were fickle things, often giving way to hyperbole and fleeting fancies in lieu of the truth. Likely, Nuala would never know the original tale unless she wished to chance Lord Morpheus’s wrath by seeking it within the Library of Dreams.

But Lord Morpheus’s tangled love affairs was not what Nuala was concerned about. Ever since his return, there had been rumors flying amongst the dreams and nightmares. They spoke of a dead child, a forbidden pact, and the possibility of war coming to the Dreaming.

Nuala hopes that the rumors aren’t true, if only because Lord Morpheus had just resolved the matter with the key to Hell. Nuala had seen how heavily the decision weighed on the Dream King. She knew he would make the right one. And he had. But if he hadn’t, the beautiful realm that Nuala now resided in would likely be little more than ashes.

“Ouch!”

Nuala pulls her hand back from the lily she had been grasping. Looking down, she notices the petals have grown thorns, the once bright pinks now stained red with drops of Nuala’s blood.

“That can't be good,” Nuala says, before bringing her bleeding finger to her lips. So much for that meal.

Nuala leaves the garden deeply unsatisfied, and when she tries to sleep, she realizes she is hungry too.

Nuala is practically ravenous when she visits the garden later for her next meal. Though her appetite had always been small, and has grown even smaller due the strange passage of time in the Dreaming, today she thinks she could eat an entire hydrangea bush.

She does precisely that as soon as she arrives. Nuala stuffs corymb after corymb into her mouth, not caring for decorum or the fact that she may choke if she eats too fast. Titania would throw a fit if she saw Nuala acting this way, but Titania is not here, and so Nuala does not care.

When she is sated on hydrangeas, Nuala moves onto the violets next. Since she is no longer in a hurry to eat, Nuala takes her time examining each individual flower, allowing herself to be discerning with what she wishes to consume.

When she has gathered enough violets, Nuala then uses her thoughts to manifest a beautiful garden table beneath the shade of a wisteria tree. As she approaches her destination, a large maroon ceramic bowl appears in the middle of the table, the perfect size for depositing flower petals to be consumed. Nuala takes her time pulling the petals off each of the flowers in her hand, and soon the bowl is filled to the brim.

In the past, Titania would have required Nuala to eat each individual petal separately, but here in the Dreaming, Nuala can enjoy them by the handful.

Nuala is happily munching on said handful when she feels the air in the garden change. Chills erupt across her skin, as if the warm summer air had suddenly disappeared. Nuala’s back straightens immediately as pauses in her chewing, glancing around for what she now knows is a second presence in her quiet space.

“You need not stop on my account, Lady Nuala.”

Nuala glances in the direction of the voice—of his voice—and finds Lord Morpheus standing not two feet away from her, a bemused smile crossing his handsome features.

“Oh…” Nuala says, quietly, dumbstruck by his sudden appearance. “You’re here.”

Nuala realizes immediately just how how stupid she sounds and smacks her forehead.

“I mean, of course you’re here my lord!” she exclaims loudly, pushing herself out of her chair and immediately bowing. “My apologies for not greeting you properly earlier.”

“Be at ease, Lady Nuala,” Lord Morpheus tells her. Nuala can practically hear the smirk in the Endless’s voice and when she straightens herself to look up at him, she sees the proof of his amusement the quirk of his eyebrow. “I see Taramis has made full use of her gardening skills to attend to your needs.”

“Oh, yes!” Nuala agrees, her own mouth turning up in a smile. “I have everything I could ever want here.”

“Is that so? That is good to hear,” Lord Morpheus replies. His eyes then wander to the rest of the garden, the marigolds and roses, the ivy vines wrapped around oak trees, the impossible blooms that can exist nowhere else but in the minds of dreamers. Nuala sees the exact moment his expression changes, going from admiration of Taramis’s hard work, to anxious and pained. Nuala thinks she can guess what the other is thinking.

“My lord?” Nuala asks. “Would you like to sit down and have some tea with me?” Perhaps Nuala couldn’t completely ease the Dream King’s burdens, but the least she could do is offer him a reprieve, if only for a few moments.

But Lord Morpheus shakes his head at her offer.

“Regretfully, I cannot join you,” Lord Morpheus tells her, and he does sound like he truly does not want to go. Nuala’s heart skips. “I have other matters that require my immediately attention.”

He then turns to leave, and Nuala, panicked, shouts, “Wait!”

Lord Morpheus turns back to face her, his once indulgent expression now gone. Now he looks almost annoyed, as if Nuala truly is keeping him from something important. But Lord Morpheus has been holed up in his private quarters for days, so surely he can spare even a few moments longer? Nuala steels her nerves and then asks the question she’s been wanting the answer ever since he returned from the mortal world.

“Please tell me what’s bothering you,” Nuala says, then belatedly adds, “My lord.”

Lord Morpheus’s eyes narrow, and his expression turns hard. Nuala almost buckles beneath the Endless’s stare, but she’s never been known for knowing her place even back in Titania’s court, so she meets his gaze head on, waiting for his response.

“These are not matters that concern you, Lady Nuala,” Lord Morpheus says eventually, his voice cold.

“Aren’t they? Nuala replies. “You’ve been shut up in your rooms all day and we’re all worried. I also heard that—” Nuala cuts herself off before she finishes her sentence. She would do well to at least tread carefully on such a sensitive manner. After all she had no proof of anything that was happening other than what the other dreams and nightmares were speculating on.

“Heard what?” Lord Morpheus growls, and this time Nuala does buckle beneath the Dream King’s intense stare. His eyes are like starlight, and all the air in the garden seems to have vanished. Nuala collapses into the chair she had been previously sitting in, and though she is terrified, she refuses to turn her gaze away.

“P-p-please forgive my impudence,” Nuala says, before shutting her eyes, unable to take the intensity of gaze any longer. Well, she held out a lot longer than she thought she would. All those years of standing up to Titania were not wasted. “I know I should not be prying into your personal affairs but I—I want to help. If you think I’m too weak to do anything, then just tell me. But if we’re in—in danger of any kind, please let do what I can!”

The pressure in the air suddenly dissipates, and Nuala feels as though she can breathe again. When she opens her eyes, Lord Morpheus is standing directly in front of her, his eyes no longer stars, but still dark and intense.

“What,” he says in a low, even voice, “did you hear?”

Nuala swallows nervously. Lord Morpheus no longer sounded quite as angry but his tone made it clear that her fate depended on whether or not he liked her response.

“I had heard,” Nuala tells him. “That your son, the oracle Orpheus…that he—”

Nuala is shaking visibly now, but Lord Morpheus does not give her any reprieve. He continues to stare at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence. But Nuala sees the naked pain in his eyes. She knows that the rumors are true, at least in part. Lord Morpheus would not look so anguished otherwise.

“It’s true, then? He’s…” she pauses, trying desperately to think of words that may soften the blow of her inquiry. There are none. “Dead?”

Nuala expects him to yell. Scream even. Perhaps even raise his hand to her. She braces herself for the outburst, but it never comes. Instead, Lord Morpheus looks stricken, then defeated. His shoulders slump, as though they had only been previously held up by a set of invisible strings.

“He…yes he is. By my hand.” Lord Morpheus answers, and his voice cracks on the last syllable. His eyes have lost their previous intensity; now they look dull and resigned. “And at some point, the Fates will come for me in retribution.”

Cold dread rushes through Nuala’s veins. The Fates were not known for their leniency, especially in matters that concerned the Endless. Or in the spilling of family blood. And there was no defying them, either.

Nuala is scared. Terrified even. Her stomach is clenched in so many knots she fears that her gluttonous meal may come back up through her throat.

“There—” she gasps, gripping the edge of the table as she tries to get a hold of her nerves. “There must be something we can do!”

Lord Morpheus lets out a derisive huff of laughter and then shakes his head.

“Worry not, Lady Nuala,” the Dream King says, and Nuala does not like the condescending tone he takes with her. “I have made preparations and will be ready to receive them when they come. I will ensure that no harm comes to you nor anyone else in the Dreaming.”

“But what about you?” Nuala asks, reaching a hand out to him before she remembers herself. Nuala has tempted the Dream King’s ire enough already, and she knows that it is not her place to try and touch him so casually. He may have been friendly to her at the onset of her stay here, but at the end of the day he was still her lord and master.

My apologies,” she says, dropping her hand back to her side and doing her best to sound contrite. “I am just concerned for your well-being. I do not wish to see you hurt, Lord Morpheus.”

The Dream King does not answer Nuala. Only turns and walks away. This time, Nuala lets him.

Lord Morpheus does not visit her in the garden the next day. Or the day after that. Taramis stops by on the third day, and, then Lucienne and Matthew on the fourth. Mervyn comes by on the fifth and sixth days, under the pretense of pruning some of the hedges, even though they both know the plants are self-maintaining. Nuala does her best to entertain her new friends, but even a fool could see that they are all troubled by something.

It doesn’t take long for word to spread throughout the realm that the Fates are coming. Definitely for Lord Morpheus, and some denizens even think that they may try to take the Dreaming itself as punishment for Lord Morpheus’s crimes.

Nuala doesn’t know know exactly what happened, but she suspects that much like the tale of Queen Nada, she will never know the full story unless Lord Morpheus tells it to her himself. She doesn’t think that Lord Morpheus would kill his own son without reason. But reason matters not to the Fates. All that matters to them is spilled blood—and vengeance.

It’s almost two weeks before Nuala marches herself into the castle of the Dreaming. She’s made up her mind about what she wants to do.

When Nuala reaches the doors to the throne room, they swing open violently, with Lucienne storming out angrily from them. She does not see Nuala at first, and nearly runs right into the faerie. Lucienne looks shocked to see her, but she quickly hides it.

“Perhaps you’ll be able to talk some sense into him,” Lucienne tells her, looking back at the throne room one last time before leaving Nuala to face the Dream King alone. Nuala can feel the tension thick in the air as she enters, and when she spots Lord Morpheus, he is facing away from her, his shoulders tight and his back bent as he reviews what looks to be some sort of map on a large table.

It’s clear that whatever he and Lucienne had previously been discussing, the librarian had vehemently disapproved of whatever Lord Morpheus had decided to do. Considering how deeply concerned she was for his safety, Nuala shudders to think what the Dream King’s plans were.

Lord Morpheus had told Nuala that preparations were already in place, and that none of the residents would be harmed. But he had not specified whether he would be harmed. In fact, he had pointedly ignored her question when she had pried. Was he planning to sacrifice himself, in exchange for keeping the Dreaming safe? What if the Fates didn’t accept that bargain? Wouldn’t it be better for all of them to fight?

“Can I build you an army?” Nuala says, breaking the silence.

Lord Morpheus turns, clearly surprised by her presence. He must have been expecting Lucienne to have returned instead. That was no good. Lord Morpheus was supposed to be omniscient in his own home. Nuala’s surprise entrance means that he was truly distracted by the arrival of the Fates.

“There is no need for that, Lady Nuala,” Lord Morpheus says after a long moment of staring at her. Now that she can see him, Nuala notices that there are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his cheeks look sunken, as if the Endless has not rested in some time. “I already told you that I—”

“The Dreaming is my home too,” Nuala replies. “You are my home,” she adds, and Lord Morpheus’s mouth drops open at her brazenness. Titania had never liked how bold Nuala was. She no longer belonged to Titania. Never had, not really. But she could belong to Dream of the Endless, if he wanted her. She would follow them to the ends of the universe if he asked. She wants him to ask.

“I would do anything I could to protect my life here, if you would let me, my lord,” Nuala continues. “Just say the word, and I will seek allies to aid us against the Fates.”

Lord Morpheus continues to stare wordlessly at her, considering her words. But then he shakes his head. 

“The Fae will not come to our aid,” he tells her, waving a hand dismissively. “There are few who would dare to stand against the Fates simply to aid me in a personal matter, and I would not risk you incurring a debt you cannot repay.”

“The Fae are not the only beings with whom I have connections with,” Nuala replies.

Lord Morpheus furrows his brow, trying to parse to meaning of her words. But then his eyes widen, and Nuala smiles. She’s surprised him three times in one conversation. How many others could say they have done the same?

“Titania—”

“What Queen Titania never knew does not hurt her,” Nuala cuts in. “Cluracan may have been fine with cutting himself from the old lines of magic when we aligned with the Seelie Court, but I could never fully rid myself of them. If I ask them, if you let me ride to the lands of my ancestors, I know they will come to our aid.”

When she meets his eyes, there are stars blazing within them. No, they are more akin to a supernova in their intensity, and Nuala finds herself frozen where she stands.

“Do you know what you offer me, Lady Nuala?” he asks her, his voice suddenly echoing everywhere in the wide and empty room. Nuala realizes that this is Lord Morpheus’s true voice, and though Nuala’s entire body shakes at the sound, she is not afraid.

“I do,” she replies, and it is more than a promise, deeper than a vow. It is a covenant of old magic, one that ties not only her heart, but her entire existence to him and him alone. It would bar her from the Seelie Court forever, and she could never see Cluracan again. But in exchange, she would have power, enough power to possibly help Lord Morpheus keep back the Fates. And she could finally have access to her old magic once more. Her true magic. From before Titania and Oberon forced her to shed her identity, her past, her stories.

It is surprisingly easy, she realizes, offering herself up to Lord Morpheus like this. He had peeled away the glamours she'd worn so long that Nuala had forgotten they were there. If he accepts her proposal, if he lets her truly shed the last of her ties to the Seelie Court, then Nuala would truly be free. Free to be herself. To be his and his alone.

Nuala sees the moment when the Dream King finally understands and the intensity in his gaze seems to only grow strong. Lord Morpheus's physical form too seems to grow in size, his shadows deepening, and his human features melting away to something more monstrous. His hair grows longer, wilder, and there’s a strange sharpness to his smile as he approaches her, raising a hand to caress the side of her face. She leans into his touch and to her surprise, finds warmth where she expected coldness.

“You never cease to surprise me, Lady Nuala,” Lord Morpheus says, his voice no longer booming, but still low and a little feral sounding. “Queen Titania does not know the boon she gave me.”

Nuala shudders in pleasure, pleased to know that he considers her a boon.

“Then you will let me help?” she asks, though she already knows the answer. “Lord Morpheus?” she adds, remembering her manners.

“Dream,” he replies, and Nuala looks up at him in shock. “If you are to bind yourself to me using the old magicks, you will address me by my true name.”

“Yes, Lor—uhm—Dream,” Nuala answers, suddenly feeling quite shy. “Then you must call me Nuala, as well,” she adds, hoping that her voice isn’t as shaky as she feels.

“Hmm, Nuala it is then.” His lips quirk in a wry smile, and before Nuala can even react to that, he places a hand to the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep kiss. Nuala gasps into it, her nerves alight as she feels her magic wrap itself around his. His own magic, ancient and older than the stars, rises up to to meet her. Nuala wraps her arms around Lord Morpheus's neck, deepening the kiss, and he hums in pleasure when her tongue dances against his. 

“Our pact is sealed, Nuala,” Dream whispers against her mouth. “Any threat to the Dreaming must be destroyed. I trust you will gather only the strongest of allies to help us.”

Nuala nods resolutely, relishing in the way he says us. “You have my word, Dream.”