Chapter Text
“Well, what are we gonna do with you?” she said, looking off into the grey, jagged landscape of the Dreaming. Death did not know if the droplet running down her cheek was a raindrop or a tear. There was not much of a difference, really. She and her brother shared both the rain, and their heavy hearts.
“What else can we do?,” Dream answered. It was somber, final. “I will not have anyone else suffer. There is a price for what I have done, and I must pay it.”
“Then pay it!” burst out of her, urgent and sudden. This was very unlike her, she thought. She sounded like Despair, almost. “Live. Live with what you have done, and carry on.”
"My sister," Dream said gently, with the small smile he usually reserved for teasing her only softer, quieter, sadder. He was trying to comfort her when she should be the one comforting him. "The law cannot be broken. To appease the Kindly Ones, Dream of the Endless must die."
"I know. But— hear me out.” She stood up. She was working on the spot here, gathering all she knew about her responsibilities, considering the options. “—that's not all you are, is it, Morpheus?"
He turned towards her. “I’m tired, my sister. I’m very tired.”
“Then rest.” She kneeled down and put a hand on his shoulder. “You're allowed a little break, don’t you think? See the world you've spent an eternity taking care of, maybe?"
"You'd have me be... Human?"
She shrugged with a small smile. The rain was still pearling off her lashes, running down her cheeks. “If you’re sick of it after sixty years, I’ll come and get you.”
His brows furrowed together in contemplation. “I was never very good with them."
"I'll let you in on a secret." She leaned in conspiratorially. "They aren't really good at ...being good with one another either. You'll fit right in."
"Now," she stands up and holds out her hand. "I wish there was more time to think this through —even for me," she hisses to herself "but I fear we're running short. This only concerns you and me, so answer me this. Do you want to go?”
Morpheus looked up at her. His eyes had been endless pools of dark matter, relentlessly stretching despair pulling apart lonely, dying stars. When he stretched his hand towards hers, she could see galaxies in them. A distant chime of hope, a delicate breath of a dream. “No,”he said, "I do not."
She smiled and took his hand.