Morpheus, Oneiros, The King of Dreams, of the Endless
WHAT. The King of Dreams is trapped in a Hell Loop WHERE. Hell WHEN. This week WARNINGS. TW: Pet death, grief, child loss, suspect parenting, sadness. STATUS. Narrative Complete
There was no mistaking that. No doubt about the guilt he held for an eternity. No argument to be had on his side.
The King of Dreams sat silently in his prison, once again locked away with no way out and a splatter of blood on the glass that reappeared as soon as it vanished.
A bleak reminder of the worst days of his existence. Jessamy had been taken from him violently, for no crime other than being loyal to Morpheus. It was a day he would never forget, yet this place insisted on reminding him of it.
Over, and over. Until Morpheus locked himself from it. Until Morpheus let his eyes fall from the blood splatter and to the spot on the wall, far away.
Then it changed. Then the loop began again, but something new.
White robes, delicate and flowing despite a lack of breeze. A quiet voice, but one he had cherished for a long time.
”Oneiros.” Calliope called out his name - his Greek name. These days only she called him that, as so many of the ancient Greeks were gone.
Now it was an echo of a conversation they had a millennium before. “Save him.” She’d followed him to plead, though the begging fell on deaf ears. He would not hear her. “You have to save him.”
But he did not. In the end, he had not listened to her, nor had he listened to his own son’s request. He could not break the rules of fate, but he also did not even try to interfere. His son was as stubborn and proud as Morpheus himself, and had followed his wife to the Underworld to save her.
It eventually lead to his death, after his failure. Morpheus had not helped him, had not helped Eurydice, had only turned a blind eye and sat upon his throne of dreams.
His throne of lies.
Now he was faced with that guilt, that choice. The choice that lead to his son’s death, had pushed away his beloved Calliope. He was one of the most powerful beings in the universe, and could not even make the choice to save the people he held most dear.
This was a fitting punishment for one such as him. To watch, again, and again. To sit and stare for what felt like years.
To wait for the image to mold into a new one. Another. Nada.
No more Calliope and her white gown. No more Orpheus and his music. No more Jessamy.
Only fire. Only death. Only hell. Nada was there, banished for all eternity by Morpheus, when he was known as Kai'ckul.
There she remained, no matter how long, because of his pride and his lack of forgiveness. He did not have Calliope’s heart, or Hob’s easy grin, or Death’s gentle nature. He only had regret and guilt over the choices he made, millions of years behind him.
So he would sit, now, watching each and every one replay itself as punishment so rightly deserved.