Morpheus almost shook. Partially it was with anger, frustration at the entire situation that had taken either of them to a place where they were trapped. They were gods. The audacity alone of their captors enraged him.
And partially, it was with pain.
Dream had taken a long time to fully admit to himself his feelings for Nanshe. They had been friends for how many milennia, how many centuries? It seemed to him that the Fates enjoyed ripping them apart and putting them back together, and Morpheus took that rather personally.
He finally pulled his face off of Nanshe's shoulder and looked at her, very much like a scared little boy. The mischief was not gone from his eyes, but something much more serious was standing in front of it, as though it could be protected from further harm. Dream put a hand on Nanshe's cheek and sighed, thumb moving over her skin twice before pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes again.