First review! Thank you, madiygeek for that beautiful compliment! I really appreciate it.

Question to readers: I see that in many stories people make Morpheus' dialogue bold. I imagine because in the original comics he's (usually) the one character with black text clouds and white text. I personally think that all the bold text stresses the eye, but, it's also a beautiful way to illustrate that Morpheus sounds different. So, what would you prefer? Do I leave his text plain? Or would you like to see me use bold text when he speaks? Please, do let me know what you prefer.

Few trigger warnings in this chapter

- brief mention of substance abuse

- subtle hint for averted suicide

"You summoned me?" Hope had intended to inflect her question with a hint of indignation. Endless being or not, guest in his realm or not, she was not his subject he could simply order about. Unfortunately, by the time her voice reached his ears, the indignation was lost and what was left was a simple obedient question.

"Yes."

She fought the urge to roll her eyes when she walked up to him, but, some respectful distance away, an awareness in her started to grow. Something was different.

Instinctively, she scanned her surroundings. The throne room itself was still in disarray. Remnants of Morpheus' captivity were still scattered around: glass and debris strewn across the floor, the lack of a roof, pillars were crumbling and the eyes of a giant stone head of a statue still gazing upward.

Yet, something was different!

Her gaze then landed on him—the figure standing by the throne—and he commanded her immediate and undivided attention.

Then she realised. He was different.

Morpheus stood tall and regal, his silhouette cast in shadows against the dim light filtering through the cracked stained glass windows. His dark hair was still wild, almost stating a disregard for the rules of physics, and his skin was still pale as though for him the sun was merely a concept from a story book. His eyes though, hauntingly solemn as ever, now gleamed with a piercing intensity, as if they held the weight of entire universes.

She allowed her gaze to trace the contours of his face, noting the subtle yet distinct changes that set him apart from before. His features were still sharp, chiselled with an otherworldly elegance. However, the otherworldly aspect of his appearance now seemed more prominent somehow; he exuded an air of unwavering authority.

It was his aura, though, the palpable sense of power that emanated from him, that stopped her dead in her tracks.

Her heart pounding in her chest, Hope tried to wipe her sudden clammy hands on her black pants in an inconspicuous way. She really didn't want to come any closer because her insides were already quivering from this distance. It was as if the very essence of the Dreaming had finally recognised its master and had taken residence within him, truly showing that Morpheus was in fact, the Dreaming.

The room was completely silent, as though even sound was cowed before him. There wasn't a whisper of wind, nor any creaking of old wood.

Morpheus regarded her with a lazy smile just barely touching his lips.

In that moment she knew three things. One, he had his tools of office back. Two, this show of power couldn't possible come from only his tools. Three, this was not the Morpheus she had encountered before.

She noticed the moment she tried to appear stronger than she felt, the infinitesimal jerk of her chin, that refused to angle upwards in defiance.

Shit!

"You retrieved your tools."

She might as well have been bleating, 'Meh, meh, meh', that's how pathetic her voice sounded.

"I have."

Had his voice always sounded so… definitive?

"So, your journey was a success then."

Oh, no… she sounded as if all of her wits had abandoned her. Perhaps they had.

"Yes."

And of course he couldn't let that stupid remark slide. Fine, she might as well just admit it then.

"Eh, sorry, for sounding so dimwitted. You are a bit–"

"Intimidating?"

"–intense."

"Do I make you nervous?"

The question made her laugh… nervously. "A little bit, yes."

When he ducked his head and she caught the fleeting glimpse of a smile, he resembled his former self a bit more. She blew out a shuddering breath, telling herself that she had nothing to fear of him. She'd done him no wrong. Quite the opposite in fact.

He extended his hand towards her. "Come, there is something I should like to show you."
The distance between them stretched like a mile, and she knew that, despite his awareness of her nerves, he would not meet her halfway. The king was summoning his subject.

How such a short journey could feel so long was beyond her, yet Hope forced herself to walk towards him on legs that felt like spaghetti. A few steps away, she had to pause to still the hammering of her heart.

This is Morpheus, she reminded herself. He's not a demon, not a devil, he's… Morpheus.

She couldn't bring herself to think he was just Morpheus. Perhaps that's why her legs refused to take that final step. He wasn't just anything.

Her heart leapt in her throat when he suddenly moved and brought himself right up in front of her. His hands landed on her shoulders and with a quick jerk he turned her around.

"With my presence withheld, this is what became of my realm. Dust, decay and rubble, stones crumbling, dreams fleeing, pillars breaking… And my realm dying. Now I am returned. I have taken back what was stolen from me and I will rebuild my Kingdom. Though it will take time to restore my realm to its former splendour, I wish you to witness the restoration of my throne room. Behold!"

Standing half behind her, all Morpheus did was stretch out his hand and everything obeyed.

The room, ravaged by the aftermath of his captivity, seemed to awaken from a long slumber. Crumbling pillars, fallen debris, and shattered glass became animated with purpose. Dust danced in the air and the ethereal glow of twilight bathed the space, as broken pieces hurried together to be rejoined. Threads of energy swirled and bloomed, reaching out to connect with the broken elements of the room. The pillars straightened, regaining their original form and strength. Cracks in the walls began to mend, the stone merging seamlessly as if time itself rewound. Stained glass windows, once fragmented and dull, now shimmered with vibrant colours, reflecting a kaleidoscope of dreams and nightmares. The air was positively charged with a renewed sense of purpose

An otherwordly sky gave way to a flawless soft blue horizon, speckled with white, fluffy clouds. And a yellow sun came streaming in through the windows.

This was the heart of the Dreaming, the seat of authority and command that spoke of forgotten legacies and of dreams yet to be dreamt.

The final echoes of the restoration faded and there it was, the throne room restored, reborn in all its former glory. And Hope felt as if she'd just watched a miracle happen. She simply stood there, rooted to the spot, her mind struggling to fully accept what her eyes were seeing. It was… too much!

With an unassuming ease and grace, Morpheus stepped in front of her and he gave her a benevolent smile. He then placed his hand over her heart. "Now. Heal, Hope. You have suffered enough."

She lurched forward, grimacing at the strange sensation that exploded through her heart. It was warmth, joy, and comfort, and the most intense feeling of just being washed through her. And she could feel the jagged edges of her wounds folding together, closing, healing.

When he retreated his hand, Hope stumbled and… It was so strange! She felt alive and strong, as though she could take on the world!

"Caw!"

Hope looked up at the familiar sound and she smiled seeing Matthew soar towards her. Even he looked more majestic as a beam of light gave him an ethereal glow. She extended an arm so he could perch on top of it.

He puffed out his feathers a bit and seemed very pleased with himself. "Hello Hope."

She smiled at him. "Hello Matthew."

With a slight inclination of his head, Morpheus informed them he was going to request the presence of his sister. Even though he had six siblings, Hope felt she could safely assume he was talking about Dee.

"So, you're back," she said, her eyes sliding to the bird on her arm.

"And you're still here," the raven retorted.

"Does this mean you've got the job?"

"Eh, well, the boss didn't really say so, but he did tell me to go back to the Dreaming. That's gotta count for something, right? And I did show him how loyal I can be. I mean, I went to Hell with him!"

"Wait, you did what?"

"Oh, yeah. Hell. As in Lucifer Morningstar and all the demons of the seven circles of Hell… hell."

"What was he like?"

"To be honest, he looked like a she but… who the hell knows these days?"

"Scared the shit out of you then?"

"Well, let's just say my fear went from 'Oh, crap!' to 'Oh, excrement!'"

She laughed at that. "You'll have to tell me all about it!"

At that moment both Morpheus and Dee came walking into the throne room together, Dee practically hanging from his arm.

"Oh, Dre-am!" Dee exclaimed, elongating the vowels. "It's magnificent! I have no words… It looks even more beautiful than I remember!" Morpheus leaned into her and softly said something, but Hope didn't catch it.

"Is that...?" Matthew asked, a tiny quiver running through his little frame. Hope ran a gentle finger across his feathers. "Yep, and she's really nice. Come on, I'll introduce you."

He replied with a soft little caw.

Dee's eyes lit up when they approached and, feeling a lot more brave now Dee was there, Hope decided to force Morpheus to end the uncertainty surrounding Matthew's employment.

"Dee!" she called out. "Let me introduce another new friend of mine to you. Dee, this is Matthew, Morpheus's new Raven. Matthew, this is… Death, but I call her Dee."

Dee smiled at her raven friend. "It's very nice to meet you, Matthew."

Before Matthew could answer, Morpheus cut in. "My new raven? Though he has assisted me well, I do not remember offering him permanent employment."

"Oh, come on!" Hope said, "He went to Hell with you!"

His eyes darkened a little, his brows came together in a frown and he pursed his lips slightly.

Hope's teeth gently grazed her lip as she struggled to maintain a composed expression, when the look on his face reminded her of someone who had just had their first taste of a fresh lemon. Dee gently gave him a nudge and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Very well. Matthew, I hereby officially declare you as my new Raven. But, that is not the reason I requested my sister's presence," he then said with an enigmatic smile and Dee seemed to nearly bounce on her toes in excitement. "Ah, Lucienne, there you are! You have brought the book?"

"I have, my lord."

Hope looked over toward her friend who stately approached them, the makings of a small gathering, and she couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Suddenly Morpheus redirected his attention to her and Hope fought the silly urge to shy away from him.

"Hope, you have liberated me from my captivity and in doing so, not only served my Kingdom, but the waking world as well." He spoke with an air of grandeur, his voice resonating through the throne room. "An act deserving of recognition and compensation."

Her insides instantly went cold.

Compensation? Com-pen-sa-tion?

He wanted to balance things out? So they were square? Even Steven?

He might as well have slapped her in the face. Hearing him say that was just as pleasant.

"I offer you a boon, Hope. Through your resourcefulness and ambition you are granted a privilege many mortals have unrelentingly sought, but few have ever gained. You may request a favour of me, anything at all that is within my power to give you."

Through resourcefulness and ambition?

The. Bloody. Gal!

Hope saw three faces smiling at her. Well, two faces. Whatever Morpheus was doing could hardly be called smiling. But, Lucienne and Dee, did they really not see this was no reward, but an underhanded insult? A boon? That's what he thought she'd been after when she risked her own life to save his sorry arse?

Pure indignation made her clench her hands, painfully digging her nails, that weren't even very long, into the soft flesh of her palms. She bit down on her back teeth against that little surge of righteous anger. When she spoke, she did so very carefully and very measured to keep her voice from trembling with the seething anger she felt. "With all due respect, Morpheus, but you don't owe me anything. Least of all a boon. What I did, I did for your sister."

His features darkened instantly. And the temperature in the throne room seemed to drop several degrees. "You mean to insinuate my sister is the one indebted to you?" His voice was terrible; it was cold and silent and it thundered through her body. "My boon is so far beneath you that you would rather beg a boon of her? If immortality is the reward you seek, please, do let me disappoint you. It is my realm you served so therefore it is I who offers you a reward!"

He made it sound as if she'd been whoring herself for it.

She jerked her chin up high and she was sure by now her nails were drawing blood.

"I need no boon at all, Dream of the Endless. Not from my friend and least of all from you! What I did, I did out of friendship. Because I owed her! And I'm terribly sorry if friendship is too difficult a concept for you to grasp!"

She was shaking with anger. The fact she was gravely insulting an Endless seemed but a distant notion. And when angry, even her own fear went into hiding.

"You reject my boon?" His voice quieted down, but was no less ominous.

"I do."

"Lucienne, please take note that Hope Ericks turned down a boon officially offered by me, Morpheus, King of Dreams, Dream of the Endless. As I have already restored your body, my debt then is settled."

"Yes, sir." Lucienne's voice sounded oddly timid and quiet. Not at all like her.

Dee shook her head in dismay, her eyes so sad. Gone was the earlier gaiety.

"My sister, may I ask you to escort Hope back to the waking world?"

"Dream…" she began softly.

"Immediately, if you please."

That's when Hope realised what she'd inadvertently done. She was being kicked from his realm, effective immediately. Well, she would have to find some other moment then with Lucienne, to continue their earlier conversation about the many inhabitants of the Dreaming, and its dreams and nightmares.

"Can I at least say goodbye to my friends?" she dared to ask.

Morpheus remained silent and didn't deign to answer that.

No, of course not.

Dee walked up to her and gently placed a hand on her arm. "Come on," she prodded gently. "Let's go."

That's when she realised something else. How would they continue their earlier conversation? All living things that dream visit the Dreaming when they sleep, but they do not consciously visit the heart of the Dreaming, the seat of its ruler and master. They do not visit here.

"Wait," Hope cried out, her eyes darting to Lucienne. "Tell me how to find you again! Tell me how to get back here! Lucienne!"

But her friend closed her eyes and ducked her head, saying nothing.

"You don't," Morpheus said. "You will visit the dreaming as every dreamer does. But this part of the Dreaming you will not visit again."

A cold fist enveloped her heart and squeezed tightly. It was a very uncomfortable sensation.

"You would be so petty? You would not only punish me, but your most trusted servant as well?"

She could see a tiny muscle jump in his jaw.

"Good bye, Hope."

"Why did you not accept his boon?" Dee burst out the moment they appeared in her apartment.

Hope stumbled forward and she collapsed onto the flattened cushions of her worn couch. It was still a comfortable place to settle your bum, but right now Hope curled in on herself as she dragged a fluffy teal blue cushion towards her, her fingers immediately reaching for the one remaining tassel.

"Didn't you hear what he said?" she asked, her lips feeling numb.

"He was being a self-righteous prick, so what?"

Hope lurched back upright, clutching the cushion to her chest. "He was changing the narrative! I know he's the bloody Prince of Stories, but he doesn't get to change my narrative! He doesn't get to change my reasons for my actions." He voice grew louder and more shrill with every word.

Dee crossed her arms and Hope could see the worry catching light in her eyes.

"You could have asked for the right to continue your friendship with Lucienne. And you turned that down because he was being a git? They were just words. Bad phrasing."

The room suddenly felt suffocating, as if the weight of her emotions had seeped into every nook and cranny. Fading sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a subdued glow over her humble possessions. The air reeked of missed opportunity, mingling with the hint of stale, or even mildewy, coffee lingering from when she last made it.

"What is this really about?"

A hot trickle touched the corner of her lips, flavouring them with salt and she shook her head.

"Please, don't ask me that, Dee. I can't…"

Dee instantly flopped down right next to her, reaching for Hope's hand and squeezing it gently.

"You know I won't be leaving now until you tell me."

"Can't you just leave me to lick my wounds in peace?" Hope snapped.

"Hm-mm," Dee said, as if she were actually contemplating it. "Sorry sweetie, but that's not an option."

"I can't… tell you."

"Yes, you can. You just don't want to. But, you have to."

"You don't know what you're asking!"

"All I'm asking for is your trust. Tell me what's troubling you."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Dee! You had to bring that one up? Trust!"

"You might as well tell me, because I'm really not leaving before you do."

There was only gentleness in her voice, but laced with a hint of steely determination, just enough for Hope to understand Dee was being dead-serious. She could feel the crack in her defences widen, and she shook her head, a useless attempt to navigate around the breach. Failing that, Hope gave Dee a glare, conveying, she hoped, she did not appreciate being cornered by her best friend.

Dee merely arched a brow and gave a light shrug of her shoulders.

"Fine…" she muttered, and her shoulders sagged with a sort of wretched resignation.

"You remember what my life was like?" she asked Dee, partially facing away from her.

"It was–"

"Hell," Hope interrupted her. "It was hell. I was too young to have a solid memory of my parents when they died. All I ever knew was… her. Looking back on it, I don't understand how anyone could have ever considered that bitch as a suitable guardian for a little girl. What little money she made by whoring out her body, she snorted up her nose, plunged into a vein or drained down her throat. Whatever was available."

Merely thinking back to that awful period in her life made her insides twist into cold knots.

"There was never enough money to spend on me. That honour befell to my neighbour, Leila Berrycroft. She was, for a short time–too short a time–the person who fed me, clothed me, cared for me. She offered me a home when I didn't really have one and she taught me how to…"

"She taught you the violin," Dee softly said.

Hope nodded, wiping a hot trickle from her cheek and she shuddered out a deep breath.

"When she died, I used music as a means to escape the screaming, the fighting, the mess, the stench, the…"

Dee's hand landed on her knee, giving it a comforting squeeze right when Hope began to slide a little too deep into those memories

"The more difficult the music piece, the better," she continued with a raw voice. "I became quite adept at disconnecting from my body. It proved, later on, to be a very useful skill."

"Caprice 24." Dee's voice was barely even a whisper now.

Hope breathed noisily and she wiped at her nose, very crudely with her sleeve. She didn't have a handkerchief at hand.

"Was there no one you could tell? No one who noticed?"

"You'd think so, huh? Turns out my aunt could very quickly get her act together when she needed to. Like when child support money was at risk. I felt like nothing. Completely invisible. And then one evening, when I was practising a particularly difficult piece, as strange woman suddenly materialised, right in the middle of my bedroom. She told my that one day my name would fit. And that I should not let my circumstances define me."

"Sounds like good advice," Dee said with a watery chuckle.

Hope snorted and she felt a load of mucus spurt from her nose.

Ew, gross!

She briefly excused herself (no way she was going to wipe that with her sleeve) and soon returned with a box of tissues, her nose already wiped relatively clean.

"Much to my surprise, that woman came back one year later" Hope continued her story, fingering a new tissue. "And the next. And the next. Those brief visits became a-a beacon of light in the complete darkness that was my life. My own personal gravity. For the first… no, for the second time in my life I felt seen. Those visits gave shape to my days and I started to think that… that…"

She fell silent. Unable to continue.

"That what?" Dee asked quietly. "You can tell me."

Hope shook her head. Her soul clenched too hard around the memory of that depth of despair that had once governed her life, it refused to release it. "I… can't…" she whispered.

"You started to think that…?" Dee gently coaxed.

Again, Hope shook her head.

"You don't have to be afraid."

The gentle understanding in her voice was very nearly her undoing.

"I'm here for you. I always will be."

That broke her.

Averting her face completely, covering her eyes for good measure, Hope finally said. "I started to think that maybe I did have a future after all. I don't think… I don't think I… Oh, God help me!"

Then the sobbing began. But she wasn't done yet. "I don't think I would even be here… If you hadn't… If you hadn't…"

And then she was beyond the ability to speak. Harsh, raw and convulsive sobs rent and wrenched her entire body, as earthquakes were want to do to the earth.

A pair of gentle, but strong arms pulled her into an embrace, and Hope buried her face in both hands as she cried.

"Why didn't you ever tell me it was that hard for you? Why didn't you confide in me?" Dee asked. Her voice too quivered with emotion.

"I was afraid you'd stop visiting me." Hope admitted in a small voice.

"Now you sound exactly like my idiot brother." Dee sighed.

Despite her tears, Hope chuckled at the comment.

"But, what does your past have to do with what my brother said?"

Hope cautiously disentangled herself from the embrace, feeling a little more certain she was no longer in danger of falling apart again. "When you first told me about him being trapped, that you were somehow unable to help him yourself, I thought you were subtly asking for my help, and I saw a way to…" She sighed deeply. "I guess I saw it as a way to, to thank you. For all you've been for me. For-for saving my life. And he was going to change all that. The meaning behind the reasons for what I did. He was making it seem as though I… as though… Fuck, I can't even say it! It's so vile!"

"You know I would never think that, right?" Dee asked, gently pulling her hair.

"I know." Hope nodded. "But now neither will he."

Dee gave a deep sigh. "Look, it might take some time. My brother can really hold on to grudges when he wants to, but, I'll talk to him. Get it drilled into his thick skull somehow that, whether he feels insulted or not, he does owe you at least a little bit of goodwill. He should not keep you from visiting Lucienne."

Hope glared at Dee. "If he so much as breathes the word–"

"It won't be a boon, I swear! Will you be alright now? I really hate to leave you like this, but, I have to–"

"Of course! Go! Do your job. I could use the peace and quiet anyway."

"That's my girl." Dee grinned. "And don't get too used to that peace and quiet. Before you know it, I'll be back."

Hope slouched back into the couch after Dee left.

Strange, after that awful torrent of emotions, she expected to feel empty, drained, but, somehow it felt as if a barbed hook that had been lodged into her heart for so many years, had suddenly been pulled out.