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Sleep. Even gods, muses, and abstract entities require it from time to time. And when they do, there are those who govern the laws of the land. Nyx, who is Night Herself, as well as Hypnos, the God of Sleep, and his children, the Oneiroi, literally Dreams. All are older than the Titans, older than the Olympians, and though he might never admit it, there are some would say these old powers are greater than Zeus himself. Thalia's interest in the son of Ares, her investigation into his disappearance, and her revelation that it was something to do with those same Gods of the Night, anad one in particular, has gained attention. While she slumbers, her own dreams take shape, and in them she finds herself in the Hell's Kitchen apartment that her nephew, Alexander, and his girlfriend Skye share. It is empty, and it is midday; the sun streams through the window, bright and airy. No furniture, or any evidence that it is occupied but for the shield that Skye had crafted for Alexander, which is mounted on the wall. A large greek shield, and upon it a depiction of both Ares, and Phobos, adorned with in battle regalia, atop a chariot destined for glorious battle.
Moments after she flutters into this dream reality, another figure appears in the room. A tall man, dark of skin and well-built, wearing dark sunglasses and a black coat. From the coat spread black feathered wings, and the air around him is scented of poppy. And he is not happy. "Thalia. My neice, you trouble yourself with affairs best left alone. Dreams are the realm of the Oneiroi, and the Gods of the Night, and our designs are not to be meddled with by lesser gods, muses, or mortals. You will wake, and forget this business, or you will suffer a fate worse than that which Phobos has wrought for himself through his deeds. Stick to making your jokes, your silly musical performances, and your poems, Muse."
*
Yes, 'tis true. Even the Muses, who inspire greatness in the minds of others, must sleep on occasion. And such a comfortable sleep one must have, too, if one is to inspire others. As she curled up on a rather cozy queen sized bed, underneath a warm goose down blanket, Thalia's eyes gently flutter closed as she drifts off to slumber, hoping for pleasant dreams aplenty.
However, pleasant dreams are, it seems, meant to wait. Adorned, as per usual, in a dress and heels, her dream-heels clack against the floor as she steps toward the shield. She raises a hand and her fingers lightly brush up against it. She tilts hs head, "Ares…Phobos…"
There's a voice. Slowly she turns around. She closes her eyes and sighs as she sees who it is. "My dear, sweet Morpheus." She murmurs. "I'd hoped another of the Oneiroi would bring me sweet dreams of mirth and merriment." Her eyes open once more and she smiles sweetly. "Alexander…Phobos. Zeus has charged him with punishment. It isn't your place to bring forth further hardship upon him. I want to help him. If you punish me for that, than you really punish the world. Theese mortals, they need joy in their lives. I bring them this. My absence would be felt. Certainly Zeus himself, my own father, would come looking should I disappear! And you know what he did to the Titans who displeased him!"
*
"We survived the Titanomachy, and so too would we survive any wrath your Skyfather might have at our actions," Morpheus states. He bows his head slightly, allowing white eyes to peer out at Thalia from behind the black shades. "Zeus does not frighten us, Muse. But we have no desire to harm you, Thalia. Your work and ours go hand in hand, do they not? Dreams and inspiration?" Morpheus smiles, but darkly. There is a light chuckle from his lips, and he continues.
"And punishment? The boy steals into Olympus, empowered by demons from the East, and slays his own. He is struck down, and sent to Earth to live as a mortal, to return from whence he came. He keeps his power, he keeps even the weapon he held while he shed the immortal blood of our brothers and sisters. This is punishment? Phobos spends his days exerting his power foolishly over mortals, his nights enjoying the flesh of some mortal girl, and this is punishment? His own father was to guide him, to show him the ways of the Gods, and where is Ares now? We have taken justice for the godling into our own hands. He will suffer as we have suffered, and he will know the pain we felt when he turned on his own kin. He will know it over and over again, until we are satisfied." Morpheus turns, his black wings stretching out as he casts his eyes over the shield. "Father and son, so much alike, and yet at constant odds. Fear is the natural counterpart to War, and should accompany his father wherever he goes. But War leaves Fear behind, wherever he has gone. Fear is lost and alone, both in the mortal realm, and in the dream he now resides."
*
"I suppose you have a point about the Titanomachy." Thalia mutters quietly. She doesn't want to admit it, but he does make a valid point in that regard. "Certainly we have worked hand in hand in the past. You, placing seeds of idea within an artist's mind, and me, nurturing it with continued inspiration and, may I add, with good humour." She crosses her arms and taps a foot impatiently.
"Certainly there were mitigating circumstances! Yes, there was bloodshed. I'm certainly not saying we should forget the losses we have felt. However, it isn't your place to dole out punishment. Punishment which has already been decided upon by those who rule the Olympians, of which Phobos is a member. Whether you like it or not, he is, or was, serving out said punishment."
She sighs heavily. "Certainly we must all be aware that Ares is hardly a father to be relied upon. Parenting is hardly his strength!" Raising an eyebrow, the Muse actually laughs. "You speak of what War leaves behind. You speak of Fear, and how he finds joy in mortal flesh. But let us speak now of Dreams."
She paces around her dreamstate, eyeing the apartment. "You have power here. More power than I do. But what would happen if we tore you from Dreams, dear Morpheus, and brought you, even momentarily, into a state of wakefulness? Are you weak in the World of the Waking? Why is it we hardly ever see you there?"
*
"Why should I, or my brothers, show ourselves in what your kind so brazenly calls the 'Real World'? The dreamworld is our domain, and there we are happy. There we stay. You haven't the strength to bind me to the world of the waking. But you are free to try. I come and go in dreams as I please, be they mortal or divine. I play in the dreamworld of Zeus. Do not forget that, Muse." A boast of power, and Morpheus actually visibly increases in his size as he glowers down at Thalia.
"Ares is a headstrong fool, who had no business siring a godling, much less with a mortal woman. But he is responsible for his choice, is he not? Should he not have taken care to guide the boy to become a better man? Is this not the standard to which we hold all who choose to become parents? We do not lay this at the feet of Phobos. He is the flawed child of a flawed creation. But it was his hand by which our brothers and sisters fell, not Ares. That is the crime we judge Phobos for, the crime he must answer proper. If you wish to retrieve him, you may do so as you like. If you can find him. If you can convince him to leave with you. If you can leave the dream yourself. If you can survive."
Morpheus chuckles again, and starts to walk toward the door. "There is always a way back to a dream you have already dreamt, my dear niece. You need only possess the key, and to find the right door to unlock," he says with a bit of a lilt; a strange tone for an otherwise ominous man such as he. "And the mortal girl already possesses the key," he teases, moving a hand to lightly tap the end of Thalia's nose. "Though whether or not she knows it?" A shrug. "They are funny things, the dreams of mortals. And half-mortals, I suppose. For all the power we possess, it means nothing in a dream, and everything. And the terrors in those dreams come not from us, but from the dreamer. And Phobos' dreams are nightmares indeed. Nightmares from which he will never escape." There's a smile, again, teasing in nature. "I trust this meeting has been fruitful, niece? Tell the girl to put her key in the right door, and she'll find her beloved. Whether or not he remains something either of you truly wish to recover.. well, that's the game, isn't it? What is behind door number three!" And with that, Morpheus moves to leave the room through the main door, out into the hallway, and oblivion.
*
"The dreamworld is just another realm in which one may dwell." Thalia bows her head in agreement. "I could not so easily forget that you dwell in and manipulate all our dreamworlds. Though at the moment," she says as she stares up at the now much taller and bigger god, "I'd swear you were Icelus, not Morpheus. This seems more nightmare than dream!" She glowers back up at him standing as tall as she can.
"I agree, Ares should have taken more care to guide Phobos to be better. I do not deny that fact. But in his stead, I am now here. I may not be the boys father, nor his mother, but I am his aunt. I know the ways of the gods. I can teach him! Why not let me? Let me help him be better! I am a mother. Certainly you must know this? Am I not worthy to guide him through his punishment?"
As she listens carefully to Morpheus' words, she raises an eyebrow. "Oh, this has been most fruitful, dear uncle. I hope you dream well." She smiles sweetly. "I suppose I'll be seeing you again soon…or you shall be seeing me. Until then!"
*
"The Gods of Olympus had their chance. Ares failed. Zeus failed. As much as I like you, Thalia, we see little chance that you would succeed where they did not. No offense intended." Morpheus starts to fade as he passes through the door, until only the outline of his black wings remain in the light beyond. As he fades into oblivion, a soft whistle can be heard in the distance. The tune? "Dream of a Little Dream of Me".
Wake up, Thalia.
*
Jolting awake, sitting upright rather abruptly, Thalia blinks and rubs her eyes. "I really need to make some new friends." She says to herself, while rolling her eyes. "And great, now I'm gonna have 'Dream a Little Dream of Me' stuck in my head all week. Morpheus is such a jerk." She pouts.
*