It was the same dream.

"You're the payment, witchling." His voice echoed, oddly. She knew it was a dream, but it was memory, too… she took off into the sky, fleeing. For where? The Black Mountain…but the whip lashed out, tangled around her ankles, dragged her down. Knives cut at her body and wings and she could feel the blood flowing, feel the scream winding up from her throat, uselessly. They ripped her clothes away from her, the big Eyrien male dropping to his knees. "She'll last long enough."

Her breath came hard and fast. Soon, soon, Jaenelle would be here and it would be over. But Jaenelle did not come, did not come, did not – "NO MOTHER NIGHT PLEASE NO" –

She woke up with a scream as membranous wing brushed her shoulder and something shook her elbow gently. Automatically twisting away, the surge of bile and nausea in her stomach cut off as her throat closed.

"Marian. Marian!"

She registered that she was lying on a bed, not grass; that she could see stone walls; and the wail of a distressed and suddenly woken baby. She swallowed. "Sorry," Marian whispered hoarsely, her throat feeling oddly dry.

Lucivar's voice was heavy, weighted with sorrow and worry. "It's all right. Take some deep breaths. I'll take care of Daemonar." The sheets rustled as he rolled over and got up, his feet making a soft noise on the floor.

She turned over and watched him bend and pick up his son, his low voice vibrating in her bones and soothing her even as Daemonar's wails faded to choked sobs and then a peaceful, tired sigh. She closed her eyes as he came back and laid down beside her, the warm circle of his arms loose and unconfining, not crushing her wings as she'd seen many Eyrien males do. She knew why he held her so gently, carefully not bringing his body too close to hers; he knew what she had dreamed. But she wished he was closer so she could smell his soothing Lucivarness; feel his strength and know that he would use all of it to protect her. Listening to his breathing, when it was slow and even she snuggled into the curve of his body, resting her forehead on his broad, warm chest with a sigh.

"Do you want to talk?"

Marian jumped and started to move away, but decided against it. She sighed. "What is there to talk about?" She asked, wearily.

He shifted, and without looking she could picture his slightly exasperated expression. "This isn't new, is it."

She sighed again. It was easy to forget how closely he watched her, even when he wasn't actively fussing. Now he wouldn't let it go even if she promised she was all right. "No, not exactly…"

Marian could hear the frown in Lucivar's voice. "Why haven't you talked to Jaenelle?"

"It's not that bad" –

Lucivar's voice was soft, with an undertone of worry and anger only a few would notice. "It didn't sound that way to me." Marian blew air out of her nose, exasperated.

"It's not usually that bad…" she said slowly. Lucivar brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead gently.

"Marian…"

"Lucivar," she said as firmly as she could. "Don't worry about me. It was just a dream."

"Just a…" A very loud and pithy curse. "Bastards. Marian, if you keep dreaming about this-"

"I don't need anything, Lucivar. It's just dreams."

"You think I don't know what dreams can do?" Lucivar said harshly. Daemonar stirred and Lucivar dropped his voice. "Marian, I don't want you to suffer."

She felt a little spark flare at the reminder of what had been done to him and what he left unsaid – and always would – about his sleeping hours. "Lucivar," she said gently, "I'll be fine. I have you to protect me."

Marian could feel the tension clenching his stomach muscles. "I can't protect you from memories," he said, softly.

"You don't need to. As soon as I wake up, they're gone. You don't go away."

Lucivar was silent for a time. She could hear him frowning.

"Any word of Daemon yet?" She asked, timidly.

Lucivar went limp, expelling a heavy sigh. "No."

Marian turned over and embraced him, kissing his neck gently. "He'll come."

"I hope so." His voice was heavy. "Jaenelle needs him."

And you want to know that he's alive, Marian added, silently.

"Marian," he added after a pause. "Promise me when you dream…wake me."

"I will." She kissed him, feeling him breathe in her scent and relax. She wondered, cuddling close to her husband, for whose sake he asked. He wasn't the only one woken by another's dreams; though she would never tell him what she knew of his sleep. Lately, as well… it was hard, sometimes, listening to the bitterness in his voice when he dreamed of his brother, especially now with this interminable wait.

She hoped Daemon was found soon. For everyone's sake.