Masquerade

2

  His touch sends a flare of energy through her unlike anything she has ever felt. He leads her onto the ballroom floor. The crowd forms a circle around the. He glances in the direction of the orchestra and moments later classical musical floods the room.

He laces one hand in hers and places the other on her waist. Crescent gasps as a pleasurable shiver racks her body. He feels it and smirks. Crescent rests her free hand on his shoulder.

Crescent's breath hitches in her throat as she remembers the dozens of guests staring at them, expectedly. What if she falls? Or steps on his foot? She'll never live down the humiliation.

As if sensing her distress he leans close and whispers: "Look at me." Crescent turns, her eyes locking with his.

She takes her first look at the man before her. His face is obstructed by a silver mask with a meander pattern along the top and bottom. It's simple, which is a direct contraction to all he is. The mask is not what captures her attention, but the eyes it surrounds. They are a startling blue and almost seem to glow under the lights. He has black hair trimmed to a respectable length and slicked back. She realizes just how polished and polite the man before her is.

Like all the guests he is dressed in a costume like suit. He's clothed in a 17th century style, sapphire coat with a matching vest beneath. Both have silver buttons and thread decorating them. Poking out from the jacket is the lace sleeves of the black dress shirt he is wearing. A matching jabot is wrapped around his neck. He's clothed in black pants and matching boots.

Crescent cannot fathom what interest he could possibly have in her. Even with the mask obstructing his face she can see he is handsome and he has a body that no manner of elaborate dress can conceal. She is as plain next to him as a horseshoe is next to a crown.

Yet, he has chosen to dance with her.

She realizes, as the dance commences, that she does not know the mystery man's name. "You never told me your name." Her attempted casualness of the sentence fails. She sees his lip quirk up.

"I have not." He spins her and then draws her back to him. "Apologies, my lady. It seems my manners have forsaken me." He spins them both around, her gown fans out around her. "I am Morpheus. King Morpheus." Crescent gasps, but it is swallowed by the sound of them whirling around the dance floor.

Her eyes travel upwards to the crown resting on his head. Of course, she noticed it, but it was drowned out by the sight of his wings and clothing. It's a spiked, symmetrical crown made of silver that is surrounded by a faint aura of moonlight, almost unnoticeable. Almost. Greek letters are wrapped around the base and patterns have carefully etched into the spikes.

As if the power of his presence wasn't suffocating enough before. She is dancing with a king.

A king of what?

"What are you the king of?" He responds with a sly smile.

"I will tell you later. For now I simply wish to bask in your presence."

He twirls her one final time before dipping her, his face mere inches from hers. She finds her breathing is slightly ragged from the effort of the dance. The crowd around them erupts into applause. This snaps them both from their trances and he pulls her to her feet.

The king steps back, her hand in his and bows. He presses his lips to her knuckles causing a wave of tingles to shoot up her arm. She feels the heat rise to her cheeks and looks down. He lets out a deep, symphonic chuckle and closes the space between them.

"Shall we, my lady, the night is still young?"

Unable to think of anything but the feel of his lips on her knuckles, she nods. He leads her out of the crowded ballroom and into the side hallway.

Morpheus turns down the familiar hallway. He casts a glance at the beauty beside him. How he wishes her to be the one he's been waiting for, but the night is too young. How he hopes she is not like the others.

She does not want for beauty. She has long hair the color of spun sunlight. It has been curled and arranged on top of her head. A stray curl lies alongside her cheek, brushing against her fair flesh with every movement. His hand itches to reach out and sweep it away. Her features-concealed by the mask-are delicate and rounded. There are no sharp lines or prominent curves. It's as soft as her touch. Her eyes are a sage green and behind them he can read both wisdom and pain.

Her face is obstructed by a green, metal, venetian mask with silver glitter plastered above the eyes and rhinestones dotted beneath it. Small, diamond shaped crystals are lined along the bottom and pearls around the eyes like tears.

She is dressed differently-it is what first drew his attention. Her clothing is lavish like all his guests, but it doesn't have the dramatic, over exaggerated flares the other women's do. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and a silver beaded bodice with a large, black bow pinned over her left breast. Wrapped around her neck is a multi-string necklace of silver beads. The skirt is composed of layers of green ruffles with patches of silver beads woven throughout and three black bows spread along the front.

Around her wrist is a silver, charm bracelet. It doesn't match with the rest of her attire. It must have sentimental value. He looks closer to find five, distinctive charms dangling from it: a shoe, a book, a rose, a pair of angel wings, and the word 'Dream'. The last one bring a smile to Morpheus's face.

Perhaps, she is the one.

"Where are you taking me?" Crescent asks. He notices a slight shake in her voice and brings her hand to his lips.

"Do not be afraid, my lady. I will not harm you. I seek only to astonish you." He says, with a smirk. His assurance relieves the tension from her body.

Crescent finds herself standing in front of arched, double doors decorated with whimsical, naked females dancing among the clouds. Morpheus waves his hand and the doors open. Crescent gasps at the not only his power, but the sight that lies before her.

This room is smaller than the ballroom, but far more grand. The room is circular with a wide, dome that tapers off towards the top. Four grecian pillars stand at crucial points throughout the room. The room itself is made of glass and the dome of stained glass. The floor is made of white crystal. Morpheus waves his hand, a ball of golden light blooms at the cross-section of the dome. The light bounces off the walls and floor, flooding the room with light and color.

"What is this place?" Crescent gasps. Morpheus smiles at the awe displayed across her face. He reaches over and tucks the stray curl behind her ear. A masterpiece such as her should not be obstructed. She blushes and lowers her head.

"A room of my own creation. One I have never showed to anyone before." He confesses. He leads her inside the room. Her heels click against the crystal.

"Why did you bring me here?" She questions. Then with a teasing smile meets his gaze. "Or will you not answer that question either?" Morpheus chuckles, the sound causes a wave of goosebumps to rise along her exposed flesh.

"I will answer any question you see fit to pose." His eyes sparkle mischievously. "Even ones I did not answer earlier."

Crescent decides not to squander the opportunity or give him time to change his mind. "What are you the King of?" The look on his face tells her he was expecting the question.

"The Oneiroi. I won't explain to you what they are. Yet." Her bottom lip spouts out to form a pout. Morpheus's eyes fall on it. He has to restrain himself from swooping down and capturing her lips with his own. Instead he settles for gazing into her green eyes.

"Fine." She succumbs. "What are you?" He smirks. Does she seek to trick him into explaining to her what he rules.

"I am one of the Oneiroi." She sighs.

"Why did you dance with me?"

"Because you captured my attention." Crescent tilts her head to the side.

"How?"

"You were yourself." He closes the space between them. "And now I am discovering you are also a dreamer." He says, referencing the charm on her bracelet. Crescent gives a small smile.

"I suppose I am." She admits. He kisses her knuckles once again.

"Enough about me, my lady, tell me about you."