Chapter Text
(Y/N) first opened his eyes, he was greeted by the last rays of a sunset. It's golden hue blinding but welcome. He felt its warmth hug his body as he inhaled his first breaths and let out his first exhale. A sensation pleasant but unfamiliar to him.
A man before him stood, his darker colors a contrast to the sun's bright glow. His hair, an explosion of black spikes like a small night sky. The dark coat he wore stood out against the moonlight paleness of the man's skin. And his face, so gloomy, so dark and unreadable, not emotionless but enough to be confused as one.
Even without introduction, (Y/N) knew who he was facing—his creator, Lord Morpheus.
“(Y/N),” Morpheus said, his voice brooding and dark.
“What should be my purpose for you, my lord?” (Y/N) said.
(Y/N) watched as Morpheus fell silent as if poring over the simple question. He cannot read the emotions on his creator's face, he doubts anyone can. Yet those dark pupil held galaxies of emotions, inviting to those anyone who dared to look into it even if only briefly. Like (Y/N) himself.
“Lord?” (Y/N) gently calls out.
Lord Morpheus snaps out of his quietness, his stone face breaking quickly before regaining it back.
There it is again, (Y/N) observed. A peek through the facade. He was amazed. How can someone stand the weight of holding one's emotions?
“Yes. You shall be a friend. My friend,” Lord Morpheus said, a small stutter evident everytime he said the word "friend".
(Y/N) had an answer but he did not understand it. He was certain that his creation was simply to be an acquintance to his king. It is not that he hated the thought but he feels that he's part of something bigger like the other dreams he created before.
“I will always be, my lord. You do not have to ask of me that. I am indebted to you,” he answered. “What shall be my real purpose, my lord?”
“To be my friend. That is your purpose,” Morpheus said.
“My purpose is to be a friend?”
“Yes,” Morpheus answered, a sudden sharpness to his voice, “Do you question the purpose that is assigned to you?”
Taken aback, you immediately bowed and apologized.
“No, my lord. If that is what you ask of me, then I shall fulfill it until my end,” he said.
When (Y/N) stood straight once again, he gave his creator a smile. His first act of friendship, the first time he fulfilled his purpose
“Come. I shall take you to your home,” Morpheus turned around and started walking.
(Y/N) stumbled on his own. It was the first time he walked and his feet has not yet figured out to find its own rhythm yet.
“Where, my lord?”
“To the edge of the Fiddler's Green”
**
(Y/N) stood infront of the house built specifically for him. A small wooden cottage situated in the edge of the Fiddlers Green, overgrown by the vines that creeped up the outside walls of the house. All for them, said his creator. Lord Morpheus had left him alone now to tend to his other duties as he said. But, he also said that he will come back soon.
So, he entered and was greeted by wooden brown walls and assembled furniture. It was quaint, enough to provide for one person. Seats in the living room with a small table in the middle facing the fireplace that scaled to the ceiling. An empty wooden shelf that stood almost as tall as him. It's surprisingly intact and clean.
What is even more surprising for him was a small bed next the living a room. It was folded neatly. Dreams do not sleep in the dreaming. Not even his creator does. Why would Lord Morpheus put that in his house?
But, he ignored the question for now and decided to settle in. This was his first home after being brought to existence. Something about having his own place brought a lightness to his chest. A feeling he never had before in his few hours of existence. He did not want to waste time. He wanted to settle in as fast as he can. This is where he would live his entire life, serving his one and only purpose. To be a friend to Lord Morpheus.