Chapter Text
Lord Morpheus' tantrums were… annoying, at best. Lucienne remembered the last Big One, his imprisonment notwithstanding. Morpheus had gotten into an argument, Jessamy recalled, with a friend. She said the root of it was that the person "dared" to imply that their centuries long meetups had led to a budding friendship between the two men. It did, (quite obviously) if the weather was anything to go by. Lucienne wasn’t blind. Every century there would be a shift in the Dreaming. Spring would come early even in places where it ought not to. It was beautiful, for the short period it lasted.
Come turn of the century Morpheus returned home with nary a look in her direction, then trudged his weary little way up to his chambers where he remained for roughly a week. By then Spring had faded into Winter and heavy snowfall buried and suffocated the remaining of poor Merv's crop; as it always did when he was in a foul mood. It was a blessing that it lasted only as long as it did.
Nada's was even longer. The first flower, a dove against the bleak sky.
Then, he'd been trapped – for another century no less, and the Dreaming continued on as it always had. Even as the walls crumbled around them, even as people left, even as her library disappeared. There Lucienne remained. Patient. Loyal. Waiting.
She thought (hoped, really) she'd seen the last of his tantrums after recent developments in his character, but alas the skies were yet again downcast and she could already hear the winds howling against the windows.
Still, she did not feel cold. It was kindness, she knew. Consideration.
A new addition most welcomed.
Lucienne raised her fist up into the air and knocked on his door. Once. Twice.
Nothing.
Then,
"Lucienne."
She still wasn't used to it, his voice. The imprisonment had changed him, as much as he denied it. Made him appreciate what he had more keenly than he did before. He was always on some level kind to her, yes, but the fondness in tone since she first found him in the sand had yet to leave. It was warm, and she would be a liar to say it did not inspire some affection within her.
"My lord," she answered, "May I come in?"
Silence.
"Lord Morpheus?"
"Lucienne," he sighed softly. It was funny, how voices carried in the Dreaming. She knew for a fact he was on his throne, far from the door moping yet again, but if she closed her eyes she could swear he stood beside her. "Leave me. I will not have your duties be interrupted for this.”
“I assure you sir, it would have been interrupted soon enough. Books do not take kindly to water, I fear.”
“Then, please. Would you allow me the solace of isolation for a little while longer?”
She pushed lightly at the door and felt it give way underneath her. Slowly, the path opened. Dream did not want to be alone as much as he claimed.
Frankly, he never did.
“I’ll have to apologize for imposing then, my lord.”
“Do not lie, Lucienne.” he sighed, amusement tinging his words. “You are not sorry.” She could see him on his throne, hunched over himself as if assuming a fetal position would somehow absolve him of his suffering.
“Then you will have to forgive me anyway. What happened?”
She walked towards his throne and stopped to stand where she always did.
He did not respond. Instead, he merely looked at her from underneath his disheveled hair.
She knew what this was about of course, but he needed the security. Bearing your heart to another was always more taxing than it ought to be. She supposed that’s what they all had in common.
So she waited once more, patiently, for his response– the steady patter of rain her only company.
“Has Thessaly sent word?”
“I’m afraid not. Neither has she stepped foot in the Dreaming.”
"I see."
Lucienne looked outside past the stained glass windows to the Dreaming's sky. The rain was getting stronger now, definitely. Lord Morpheus constantly insisted, to an annoying degree, on portraying himself as immovable. Yet the evidence was here, plain to see. He was just a boy whose heart had been broken once again, and she was left to help him pick up the pieces and mend them back together.
At least Matthew was here now, that placed some weight off her shoulders.
"My liege, with all due respect, I am worried for you. We all are."
He sat still in his chair, head still tucked into the crook of his arm. "You need not do such a thing, Lucienne. These… unfortunate feelings I am saddled with will pass soon enough."
"I of all people know that, my Lord, but would it be so shameful for you to accept my help? Emotions are turbulent things most definitely, and I find that company is often better for… dealing with them, than isolation."
Morpheus closed his eyes, hair falling in waves across his cheeks. Lucienne dared to step closer and found no resistance. One more step, then another, then another, until she stood at the foot of his throne looking down upon him.
"I know you do not see me as a friend, but I’ve known you for centuries and–”
“Lucienne.” he said, voice soft but beyond incredulous. He was looking at her now, hand outstretched almost as if to take hers. She waited for it to come, eyes boring into the cosmos within his.
It never did.
She looked away, adjusting the fit of her glasses.
“And” she repeated. “I cannot help but be worried for you. I’ve seen your heart broken before.”
Morpheus shifted in his seat. He dared not touch her, but she could feel the ghost of it against her skin. “I know I do not… show as much appreciation for your companionship as I ought to,”
She could practically hear the hitch in his voice. This was painful for him; almost as if it hurt to care.
Lucienne supposed it did, but that never stopped anyone, did it? Not even him, as much as he despised it.
“But you have stayed with me for eons and provided me counsel for things that are well outside your scope of duties, and for that I am grateful.”
Lucienne breathed in, feeling the affection seep into her bones. He was a rather funny man, wasn’t he? All the power in the world and he could not muster the courage to call someone his friend.
“If you truly are grateful,” she smiled “then perhaps you could do me the pleasure of joining me for some tea.”