Amorra Week, Day 4: Family

No lie, I really wanted to do something about a happy Amorra family, but then this happened


Amon dreams in the night. She doesn't think he realizes that she knows. He doesn't trust her enough to let her out of his sight, and they share the same bed. She's gotten very good at perching right on the edge of the mattress to stay as far from him as possible, but it's not a situation that lends itself well to restful nights. She starts awake at the slightest movement, frozen but alert, searching for the danger she already knows is there. Her heart pounds in her chest, even though she knows that it's the same terrifying presence that's awoken her, the same as every other time.

Really, she's fairly sure she hasn't had an unbroken night of sleep since he caught her. At least once every night, sometimes more often, he wakes up to a dream. He sits up in bed, breathing hard, and that's more than enough to startle her out of sleep. Her back is to him, but her eyes are watching the far wall as she listens to his breathing slow and quiet until finally he lies back down against the pillow. It happens so often that it's only a part of the routine now.

On the bad nights, he sometimes speaks. She'll wake more slowly those times, unsure of what it was that roused her. She hears his voice mumbling from the other side of the bed, mostly indistinct. A few times she's been able to pick out the word 'father.' Once she heard 'brother.' When he's been talking, it's never long before he wakes up again, even more unsettled than usual. He gets out of bed to pace the room, and she's never able to relax enough to sleep until he's laid back down. He comes to her side of the room sometimes, and it's all she can do to keep her face peaceful and her eyes closed. She can feel the uncomfortable heat of his eyes on her though, and those times she lays awake long after he's gone back to sleep.

This night, she's woken to the words and knows what will follow. It's worse than normal, this time. He tosses and turns restlessly for at least ten minutes as she listens, and the last thing she hears before he bolts upright is, "Tarrlok!" She waits for the sound of his breathing, but there's nothing for several seconds, and then he begins breathing and lies down again. She can feel the sheets and mattress shift as he rolls away on the bed. She thinks at first she's imagining the soft catches in his breath. But she's heard her own crying enough times that she can't deceive herself.

She rolls slowly to face him, trying to make it sound like the natural movements of sleep. He immediately quiets, though. He's turned away from her, but in the dim light she can still just make out the shaking of his shoulders. It's a difficult moment. Once she would have mocked him for his obvious pain. Once she would have gloried in his misery. But now she stares at him for a long minute and then slowly reaches out one gentle hand to rest against his back.