"I heard you scream. Nightmares again?"

She dreamed of snow. Of cold, biting wind and stinging ice. She knew the frozen lake below her feet wasn't real, a mere image inside her mind. And she knew that she would wake up at any moment, leaving the arctic land in her dream behind.

But to Christine, it all felt so real. The needle like snow flakes really did sting against her cheeks, and her eyes watered. Panic began to spread up her body and into her throat. Her hands flew to her neck, trying to contain a desperate scream from escaping.

Christine felt a grave need to run.

She took a single step forward and froze just like the ice around her. A sharp crack sounded from below her foot. She forced her eyes to look at the web like cracks forming in the ice all around her. "It's just a dream." She gasped out.

The glacial water began to quickly seep up between the cracks. Christine closed her eyes and repeated "It's just a dream" until it almost became a prayer. She didn't dare open her eyes when she heard one more mighty crack, not even when she felt the ice give out from below her.

Deathly cold water embraced her. She fought and struggled, but every inch of her skin burned with cold. The water was dark, too dark for her to even see her own hand. She screamed and water filled her lungs.

"Wake up!"

A voice floated down to her from above the ice. Christine felt so weary, and she didn't have the strength to open her eyes. She didn't want to, anyway. The horrible pain of ice water had strangely gone away. She felt warm, but almost too warm.

"Christine. Christine, please!"

Too warm, she thought. She felt too warm, and something felt as if it was constricting her whole body. Panic set in once more and she tried to push off whatever was holding her down.

"Stop!" She shrieked out and her eyes flew open.

Her dressing room was dimmer than it was before she had fallen asleep, she noted. Something had changed while she slept however. She first noticed the dark, heavy cloak draped on her, the source of her warmth and also of her panic.

"I heard you scream." Said the owner of her cloak turned blanket.

Christine spotted him at the edge of the white sofa, his yellow eyes peering down at her in a peculiar way.

"Nightmares again?"

She nodded, ashamed for some reason. She hadn't meant to fall asleep in her dressing room, napping like a small child. She was just so tired, and the sofa in her dressing room had looked so inviting.

Erik sighed from his spot at the edge of the sofa. He crossed his arms about his chest and gave her a pointed look. He did not protest, however, when she climbed from her spot and towards him. His arms opened automatically and accepted her.

"Have we been listening to little Meg's scary stories again?"

Christine buried her head closer to his neck and tried to hide the bright red shade invading her cheeks. "Christine." He prompted.

"Yes." She mumbled, but just quiet enough for him to hear. Erik let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head. "Should I have a talk with our imaginative friend?" He scooped her up and off the sofa, making her feel even more like a child.

Christine didn't answer, but instead gave him a displeased look. Erik chuckled and carried her towards the grand mirror in the corner. "Oh, my dear." He pushed a curl out of her face.

"What am I going to do with you?"