Chapter Text
The Lord of Dreams strode across the deck of the ship, gazing at the benches filled with sailors weary from a day’s rowing. One by one, as they drifted off to sleep, he would guide them to his realm. To some he granted dreams of freedom of enslavement, to a life not condemned to backbreaking labor. Others he tormented with visions of sea monsters devouring the ship whole. He always liked those. It gave him something new to create for his realm.
Just then, he saw a flutter of white near the helm. The captain slept in a cabin below decks, and he was already fast asleep dreaming of a pleasant encounter with some mermaids. So who…? Ah, yes, the cabin boy. Climbing the stairs leading to the upper deck, Morpheus could see him now. A young boy, about fourteen years of age, asleep with his head resting on a thick coil of rope. Yet not quite asleep; his consciousness wrestled away from the Dreaming. That happened often with mortals. They were always too preoccupied with the waking world to properly enter the Dreaming. Morpheus moved towards the boy, intending to aid him towards sleep, when something caught his eye. A flutter of parchment in the wind, clutched in the boy’s hand. That must have been what caught his attention. The boy’s other hand held a piece of charcoal.
He bent down, and pried the piece of parchment from the boy’s hand. A few halfhearted lines of poetry were scrawled there, in a hand that barely knew its letters. A wry smile crossed Morpheus’ lips as he read the poor verses.
“Do not laugh at him, he means well.”
A feminine voice from behind caught him off guard, prompting him to turn around suddenly. A beautiful woman stood there, clothed in a long white gown. Her rich brown hair was in an elaborate updo, with a few curls having escaped their confinements to fall around her face. She was radiant, obviously a goddess of some sort. Morpheus found himself speechless at her approach.
She gently took the parchment from his hand and read it, smiling at the attempt at poetry.
“He wants to be a poet,” she told Morpheus. “There’s a girl in Crete he wants to impress.” She placed the parchment back in the boy’s hand and placed a kiss upon his brow. “Don’t worry. When he wakes the verses will be much better.”
She turned back towards the dark-haired man before her. “But who are you? I don’t recall seeing you on Mount Olympus before. Are you a new god?”
“I am not a god,” he said. “I am Dream of the Endless.”
“One of the Endless!” she exclaimed. Her smile lit up her face. “I have always wanted to meet one of the Endless. You must know so many things.”
He couldn’t help allowing a small smile to cross his face. “And I would be happy to share them with you. But who are you?”
“I am known as Calliope,” she said, suddenly seeming to grow shy. “I am a muse. I grant inspiration to artists seeking to use their gifts. It is a miniscule thing comparted to your powers, my lord, but—”
“Nonsense,” he said, stepping closer to her. “Everyone dreams, but you give them the power to act. You put form to their basic wishes. Besides, I rarely create anymore. My subjects deal with the individual cases, I merely act as a guide into the Dreaming."
“Your subjects?” she asked.
“Yes. In my realm of the Dreaming, Dreams and Nightmares manage the mortal consciousnesses that appear in sleep. And of course, there are other beings, like the castle staff—”
“You have a castle?” she exclaimed. At that, Morpheus smiled fully; he couldn’t help it, her enthusiasm was infectious.
“Of my own design. It has quite the impressive library.” He paused for just a moment before offering her his arm. “Would you like to see?”
She delicately wrapped her arm around his. “I would love to.”
And without so much as a breath of wind, they vanished into the night sky.