morpheus x reader oneshots & headcanons

a lesson of tongues

A small child with dark curls and shining skin walked through the halls of the library. She was wearing a dress that belonged to her mother, simply because she could, for mother was not present at the moment.

Her hair bounced on her shoulders and the way too big clothing, with way too long sleeves and way too long skirt, dragged across the floor as she carried a large book in her arms. Well, she could barely carry it.

She struggles to put the leather bound tome on the table, but after much fuss, she finally manages, finding a sudden strength in her grip. She sniffles as she grabs her dangling clothes and lifts them as she climbs up a chair. The chair she wanted to sit on was one that quite high off the ground, which was why she favored it. It made her feel like the princess she was. She struggles to get up, but after a while, finds again her strength and manages.

Once she sits down and turns to the book on the table, she catches sight of something important, someone important.

Uh-oh.

The King of the Dreaming stares at her with crossed arms. It was actually because of his power that the girl was able to place her book upon the table and to climb the chair without falling off. He would not say this though, so she would forever think it was by her own strength that she accomplished these things.

"Father," she mutters softly and slowly.

Dream nods, "daughter."

Suddenly, the feel of her mother's dress was burning her skin... or what it her father's gaze that was doing that?

"What are you wearing?" Dream asks.

The girl blinks, "hmm... a dress."

"Evidently," Dream uncrosses his arms, "who does it belong to?"

Dream knows angels cannot lie, or at least it goes against their nature to. But then again, she was only half angel. He tilts his head, awaiting a confession that still has not yet arrived. But then again, her Endless half would not make her deceptive either.
The girl decides to keep her silence.

A clever tactic, but not clever enough.

"I asked you a question," Dream presses, leaning on the table.

She decides to ignore him. She drags the book in front of her and opens it, "I don't wanna say."

Dream stills upon hearing the girl's words. Ridicule? In his own home?

He thinks if Desire were here, they'd laugh and love on the girl, encouraging her ways. He purses his lips tightly. Half Endless indeed.
The king decides to circle over to her, thinking his looming presence would coax out a what he wanted. It does not. She is rather undeterred.

Let's see how undeterred she'll be once he tells on her mother.
He finds himself examining the book she picked out. With but a glance, Dream immediately recognizes the script. It was a book about angles, written in the language of angels.

The girl goes through the book without sparing too much time. He gathers she is more interested in the pictures rather than the words.

She stops at a page that displays a picture of a glorious being, the Star of the Night, the child's mother. She smiles at it, rubbing the face of the illustration. Dream finds himself smiling as well.

In his fondness, the Endless begins to dictate the words on the paper. He speaks of the accounts the author made about the angel, his lover, and the girl turns to him upon hearing his words.

Dream continues to read the script, thinking his daughter was enjoying it. But then she waves her hands desperately and shakes her head.

"That's wrong!" she says.

Dream's words go dry.

The girl leans onto the table and points at the text, reiterating the words her father just spoke, though her finger was on the wrong side of the page. Upon speaking her people's language, she turns to Dream and says, "now you."

Dream is at a disbelief. Was this girl really correcting him?

The Prince of Stories narrates the words again, making more effort to sound more exact.

The angel girl is severely disappointed yet again.

"That's not how!" she says. She repeats the phrase he just said.

He cuts her off, "I assure you, child, I know how to speak the speech of your mother."

The girl disagrees and stands on the chair. Dream immediately reaches out for her, hands coming to her small back, securing her in place. He adjusts the drooping shoulder of her ill-fitting dress. Her soft hands come to his bony face. She repeats the words for him. Dream sighs.

The girl's father mimics her again, yet still she is not pleased.

"You're saying it wrong, father."

Dream makes a sound, "I was there when the language was mad-"

"Then why are you saying it wrong?"

Dream grunts and leans his forehead on his daughter, "you think yourself so wise little girl?"

The girl giggles at his attempts to intimidate her, registering his actions as affectionate gestures, which was why she threw her arms around him. Quite quickly she latches onto Dream and finds no more interest in the lesson she was giving him, "fly! Fly!"

Dare she demand things from the king after such insults?

"Fatherrrrrr!"
He sighs.

"At once, my love," he mutters and flies around the library.