After she was sure Severus had left, Freya slipped out of bed, glanced down at her night gown and closed her eyes. A tingling sensation ran through her, and when she opened her eyes again, the nightgown had been replaced with dark jeans, a teal tank top and black combat boots. Her nightgown was folded neatly on her bed, waiting for her to return to it. "You can come in now," She called out.
Morpheus appeared in the doorway of her room, his arms stretched out towards her like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "My little girl, all grown up."
Freya rolled her eyes. "I haven't been little in a long time, Dad." She pointed out, pulling her violet hair over one shoulder.
"Perhaps," Morpheus replied, "but this is the first time I've truly seen you for the woman you are. It leaves me feeling quite proud and more than a little nostalgic. I despise feeling nostalgic." He frowned, "No matter. You've had your fun. I trust he knows now what's at stake."
"He believes I'm his wife. I gave him memories of our life together." Freya admitted.
Morpheus smirked, "And you don't believe he will feel betrayed when he finds out the memories are false?"
"He doesn't need to know that for the gauntlet." Freya objected.
"No, he doesn't, but that doesn't mean he won't know. Your abilities won't affect him if he wakes in his realm." Morpheus pointed out.
"We'll start over," Freya answered, "I won't be a dream anymore. We will both be real."
"If he survives the gauntlet at all," Morpheus pointed out.
Freya's heart skipped and anger flared up within her chest. "You won't hurt him. That wasn't our deal."
"We agreed he would run my gauntlet. I choose the trials. That was our deal." Morpheus countered, "Not everyone survives the gauntlet, Freya."
"Promise me you won't hurt him," Freya demanded, stepping up to him.
Morpheus laughed softly, "I promise...I will not...intentionally...sabotage him. On one condition." He answered, choosing his words carefully.
"What condition?" Freya asked.
Morpheus reached around her and snatched the nightgown off the bed. "You let me have this."
"Why? Need something prettier to sleep in?" Freya teased as Morpheus pockets it.
"You can always make you another one," Morpheus shrugged. "The truth is, Freya, your mortal must make his own choices. I will not hold myself responsible if he makes poor ones. If he is the man you think he is, he will pass, and if not, I have spared you the heartache." Morpheus smiled grimly, "You're welcome."