The whole thing started innocently enough.

Saf tried his best to sort out how he felt about the past six months as the party trudged along dark tunnels that smelled of damp. He had left Bren and Tilda and Teddy behind in Bitterblue City, along with the Lady Queen, and a very good portion of his heart to be divided amongst them in proportions he was not quite willing to examine. Who he missed, properly missed, was Sparks, not the Queen. And it seemed only reasonable to send her something pleasant.

The first dream came two weeks after they left, a picture, as close as he could make to real for her (since they had not had time to work out in detail how precisely his ideas translated through his Grace), of Skye and Fire talking. Saf was surprised at himself for not being overawed at the Prince, but somehow between attending a council meeting with Po and sleeping with the Lady Queen, he'd lost some of the awe.

He tried to send more, of the landscape and the monsters and the city, but without easy communication he couldn't be sure if any of them actually reached her. The contents of her dreams were not something Bitterblue would have entrusted to a message had she been able to get one through, so Saf simply tried and hoped it worked.

He didn't mean to give her dreams of himself, but he worried that he did so, because he dreamt of her.

The castle was like and unlike hers, in the way that he was starting to suspect all castles were alike in a fundamental, stone and wood and midly damp chill sort of way. The King offered all of them rooms and treatment like ambassadors, and Saf was grateful to accept after the long trek there. He still intended to see this navy and its sailors, but he also was loathe to let Skye too far out of his sight. Surely he had a duty to stay with the Prince unless expressly released.

So he stayed in the castle, even though it brought him dreams of Bitterblue and her own castle. He could see the bridges from his rooms, and they made him think of the only time he had properly touched her.

The people here were beautiful, and kind, and he found that he was learning their language easier than many in the group, but it was Skye he continually sought out. Familiar Lienid features and grey eyes like hers made him blush and stammer and end up in bed, wishing he could have either of them (or both). He was no longer overawed, but he still had eyes. And a perfectly functional cock that he could still see her touching, curious and smiling and happy. He couldn't help but dream of that, again and again, the Lady Queen on her knees for him.

What he dreamed of her, he dreaded and hoped she shared.