He had tried and he had failed, but Dream had tried. He was standing by that. Anyone who wanted to fight could fight. He'd tried to reason--with those that had actually let him in (without laughter, bodily injury, threats to his person or his psyche... which narrowed the field of gods quite a bit).
No one wanted to come with him. Everyone had chosen a side, or somewhere else to wait it out.
Morpheus was going to India. To Nanshe.
He was swallowing a sea of pride to do this. It was not easily done. And it really didn't come without ramifications. A lot of Morpheus's family already did not like him. He knew because he would not fight at their sides, the rift was going to grow.
But really, how could someone who knew the minds of both sides choose one to defend and one to condemn? No.
Those he cared about, truly, he was sure would endure. Nyx even understood, as far as he knew. She knew him well enough to know Morpheus could not fight. But he'd be hanged if he'd stand by and watch the carnage. Possibly literally, if some dreams came true.
When Morpheus arrived outside Dehli, he wondered if he'd made a grave error. He turned around.
Twice.
And with a sinking feeling, and a feeling oddly like he was coming home, he knocked on the door in front of him, a door that Nanshe had shown him on a sheet of water.
A door he'd seen in so many dreams he could not longer catalogue them all properly.
Dream knocked.
When the door opened, he blinked twice and tried to bite back all the awkward thoughts that swam to the surface.