Calliope - In The Arms Of Morpheus

Chapter 24

"Dreamlord?"
Sand chafed against Morpheus' skin. A hand touched his shoulder pushing gently, until his numb body tilted.
"Lord Morpheus?" A warm hand on his cheek. Something fluffy licking his boots.
Morpheus opened his eyes to look at Lucienne's, face, blocking the dusty golden sunlight. "Are you all right?"
He nodded, trying to swallow the sand in his throat, but ended up coughing. Her hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. "There, lean against me, so you can drink a bit." She shifted his weight against her shoulder, so Morpheus could use her as a backrest. "Here, drink this." She handed him a flask.
Skoni now danced around them, more beige than gray from all the sand.
Morpheus held the flask with trembling hands, slowly lifted it, and moaned when the cool water hit his lips.
"I am not quite accustomed to having a body."
He could feel Lucienne nod. "You are severely dehydrated and you need to feed yourself, Dreamlord."
She let him drink a few gulps, then asked him if he could sit on his own. Morpheus nodded and she stood, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wet it with water, so he could refresh his face.
Morpheus placed the bottle in the sand, and Skoni bumbled over, tipped it and drank the spilling liquid. Lucienne stretched out her hand and pulled him up.
Morpheus stood, swaying, the dream shore still spinning.
"Oh Lord... I have never seen you this weak before." Lucienne growled, "Lean on me. You need food and rest, and then Desire asked for an urgent meeting."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, while she steadied his midriff and started forcing his reluctant body towards the castle, Skoni at their heels. "What is this all about?"
"Desire just said that it is urgent and that you'd want not to miss this opportunity." Lucienne sighed. "I suggest meeting them on your turf, Dreamlord."
She was probably right. Morpheus was in no condition to materialize in their realm. He was not even in a condition to stand up for a longer period of time. It was paramount, not to show his weakness.

****

Calliope walked the colonnade towards Erato's audience room, carrying a pot with the finest honey from the banks of the Hippocrene. This was her engisys, the traditional pledging. She should have felt like a princess, with her sister having lent her a golden dress and jewelry. But Calliope's heart was heavy. A glass of wine, or two, had helped numb the sharp pain in her chest. The image of an Endless with an entire universe in his eyes was etched into her soul. She just hoped, that the pain would lessen in time, so she could do her duties full-heartedly.
At the torch-lit entrance to Erato' audience room Calliope stopped and straightened her spine. Oneiros had made her promise to give herself to a good man, and she was ready to do so.
The servant opened the door wide, and Calliope walked in, head held high like a queen.
Erato had the room decorated maginficently: three recliners were arranged in a triangle around low tables, decorated with colorful of cushions. Large flower arrangements on pedestals adorned the edges of the arrangement. A few barely clothed maids from the nearby village served food and wine to Erato and her guest, whom Calliope could not see properly, sitting with his back to her.
Erato looked up and smiled as she saw her approaching. "Greetings, Calliope. You clean up well, given a good thread."
"Greetings, Sister." Calliiope's voice sounded stronger than she felt. "Thank you for entertaining our guest."
Erato shot her a look, but did not comment.
Calliope inhaled and walked around the recliners, her gaze hefted to the high torches in the wall, chin held high, for the perfect first impression. Then she made sure to only lower her gaze, to find the spot to kneel and present her suitor with the jar of honey. "Take this gift as a sign of respect from my family to yours." She recited the traditional words and felt the jar being lifted from her hands.
"Thank you, darling Calliope." A soft tenor sounded above her.
Calliope rose and lifted her chin, to present herself as the goddess that she was.
Yes, he was not a sore on the eye. Well-proportioned, shapely legs, muscular chest, a fine chiton, blond hair, that was combed out of his perfectly shaped androgynous face. A small smile adorned his lips but did not reach his golden eyes.
"Erato, you kept your promise. The little muse is stunning!" He smiled.
He rose from his recliner and rushed to her, presenting her with an expensive necklace, and fastened it around her neck. "Take this present, as a sign of my gratitude," he said the traditional answer, before putting his hands on her shoulders to kiss her brow. He smelled far too sweet with a hint of wine.
"This is my sister Calliope, dear Epi. This is Epithymiae of Athens, dear sister."
Calliope swallowed, her empty stomach revolting at the smell, and forced a hopefully benign smile. "It is a delight to meet you."
Her knees felt weak and she let herself fall onto the third recliner.
"Epi collects antiques and scrolls and Calliope may not be the best weaver, but as you see, she is at the height of her fertility." Erato said, and rose from her recliner. "I'll let you two get acquainted then." Her smile looked frozen.
"Yes..." Calliope's voice sounded hoarse. What, by the gods, was she supposed to talk with him about?
Erato glided to Epithymiae's recliner, touched his shoulders and said to him, "when you're done, come to my chambers to complete the engisys with the traditional words."
Epithymae grinned. "Thank you, dear Erato, I'll come visit you for the hand fasting."
Erato rushed out of the room and hissed at a servant. "Close the fucking door!"
Silence spread. Epithymiae wore quite expensive clothes, confirming that he must be rich. A finely worked silver snake bracelet coiled around his ring finger, across the back of his hand and snaked up his forearm almost to the elbow. His beauty was exquisite, almost otherworldly. Any other girl would have been over the moon with him. Calliope tried to breathe through her dizziness.
He sat up and handed her his goblet of wine. "You look pale. Drink and have a few grapes, that will help with the nervousness."
Calliope nodded and drank. The grapes tasted sour, but filled her stomach.
"Your sister said that you are looking to marry." He asked in a friendly tone.
She nodded. "Yes..." she said between grapes, "no... I-... " Did not want to marry. "Sorry." She swallowed and looked at him. "I am looking for a man." At least, that was the truth.
"I see. What kind?" Epithymiae leaned back into his seat.
"To be with." Calliope blurted and blushed.
Her suitor smiled. "Well, that can be arranged. Anything else?"
This was her chance to fulfill the promise to Oneiros and make sure her suitor was going to love her properly. "I want to be satisfied."
The smile on Epithymiae's face became wolfish. "Well, that can be arranged too." He sat up and looked into her eyes. "If that is, what you desire."
Calliope nodded.
"I suggest Erato and I take care of all the wedding arrangements if that is all-right with you."
She nodded again. Let him have his wedding, for he would not have her love.
"Is there anything else that you may wish?" He asked.
"Yes." Calliope rose from her seat and inhaled. "I wish to be honest with you, Epithymiae."
"Oh, how refreshing!" Epithymiae smiled softly, and rose too, taking a step towards her. "What is it?"
"I..." There was no mild way to put it. "I do not seek love in this union."
His eyes gleamed, as his finger touched her face. "Me neither." His voice was soft, almost gentle. "Me neither..." And then he kissed her. Or rather, his lips touched to hers. They were soft and gentle, exploring and a little wanton. She let him. It would soon be his right.
"With me, I promise, you will get everything you desire, my dear." He whispered against her lips.
But Calliope knew the truth: she would not.

****

"What is it." Morpheus almost sounded as bitchy as his visiting sibling. Had to be the lingering exhaustion, even though he had just eaten something, as Lucienne had recommended, to feed his body.
"Awwww, seems the body has given you quite a temper, hasn't it?" Desire said sweetly, rearranging their chiton that it was more revealing, and now showing the nipples.
"Yes." Morpheus tried to deescalate. "My body has quite the effect. Hopefully this... situation ... will be solved eventually."
Once, Calliope had chosen a partner, there was no need for him to be corporeal, anymore. He ignored the pang the though sent through his body. Once Calliope was married, he would get his strength and focus back. Right now, he needed to pull through.
"Oh, but your little problem will be solved." Desire shifted their weight on the coturns and tried out the best angle for a pose. "Calliope's already preparing for the ceremony."
Morpheus' heart clenched but there was nothing to be done about it.
"It is probably for the best." He leaned into the cool surface of his marble throne, the only reason he was upright at the moment. There was no time to show weakness. "So, dear Brother-Sister, what is it that took you here so urgently?"
"Oh, just a quick invitation for a baccanal, before I leave to prepare everything."
Morpheus forced a straight face. "You know that I do not attend orgies."
"No?" Desire looked up to him, golden eyes under long lashes, a mean smile on thier lips. "I thought with the body and the urges and everything, you might be into a little fuckery to celebrate. I even invited Dion himself." Desire pulled out a nail file from under their clothes and started to do the left hand.
Morpheus was glad, that the massive armrests of his throne supported his leaden arms.
"It is not decided yet," Desire switched to the other hand, "but she'll get round to it. This wedding should be special and this way we can put her ability to inspire to good use."
Morpheus was too tired for Desire's games. "What are you talking about?"
"Calliope's wedding, of course." They said in a sugary tone. "Since she needs deflowering, we can all have a go, no?"
Morpheus was out of his seat, adrenaline pounding blood through his veins.
"Nobody is going to rape her!" He growled between his teeth, clenching his fists.
Desire laughed breezily. "Rape? Who's talking about rape. I'm talking baccanal. Lots of wine and opium. We'll marry your muse to the people, since she will refuse to pick a single groom. That way, your sweetie will serve them all. Imagine all the love poems and inventions stemming from just one night."
Morpheus' stomach turned and bile rose.
"Who-we?" Red hot anger coursed through his veins. Something wet dripped from his palms.
"Oh, look at you, dear brother," Desire chirped, "all decked out."
He looked down. His attire had changed into a battle coat, leather chest, wide flowing tails for freedom of movement, his massive black bow and quiver, heavy on his back.
Something dripped to the floor. Blood, running out of his fists.
He could not kill his sibling! He would not. That would end the world right now.
Desire shifted on the couch. "Or do you have another suggestion on how to break the little bitch in, on time for her inauguration?"
Morpheus mouth tasted furry and he had to swallow down bitter liquid in from throat. He needed not to show any weakness.
"I am quite busy at the moment, dear Sibling. " he told them, "why are you not reserving me a seat for the ceremony, and I will see, if I can make the time?" He breathed through his nose, to keep the blackness in the corner of his eyes at bay.
Desire stood, and chucked the file behind their shoulder. "Well, dear brother, that's settled then. I'll see you at the wedding." They beamed. "Gotta go, so much to prepare!" And they were gone.
Morpheus braced his hands on the throne to keep himself from falling. Then his body took over and he vomited his meal onto the cold tile floor.

(But what is Morpheus going to do about it? Endless are prohibited to kill their siblings. And what is Desire's motivation in  all this? Please vote for this chapter and read on tomorrow, when the next chapter is published.)