After the Dream

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, world or concepts used here; all characters, world and concepts belong to Anne Bishop.

Author's Note: There's already a bunch of these out there, I know, but this thought just wouldn't leave me alone, so I wrote it. Because I don't think Jaenelle would let Daemon give up that easily, after she was gone. Written mostly while listening to Say My Name, by Within Temptation and Run, by Snow Patrol (if that matters…).

I hope you enjoy it. Reviews make my day! :D

"I can't do it," Daemon whispered to Jaenelle's statue, representing the Blood female, in the private garden. "It hurts too much…"

Most of the last couple of weeks, he'd spent either curled up on her bed or in this garden, staring at her statue, but not even that could soothe his pain. He felt hollow, desperate and lost. The loneliness was crippling.

Looking at that beloved face, carved in stone, he wanted to feel angry again, but couldn't. He had no energy left, nothing. When he wasn't feeling numb, he felt only longing and grief. The promise he had made to her was the only thing making him leave her bed in the morning, the only thing keeping him from sliding back into the Twisted Kingdom.

She had made him promise he'd try to be happy again and live his life. But he didn't know how to keep that promise, wasn't sure he could do it. Her psychic scent was starting to fade and her absence was a knife in his chest, making each breath painful.

He had thought he was prepared. He had swallowed the tears and told her he'd be alright, so she wouldn't worry. But when he lost her, when the loneliness became real and definitive, he felt so crushed by despair he wanted to end it all. His world had fallen apart, his dream had been taken from him. Why carry on? And how?

He braced a hand against the fountain's stone wall. Darkness called to him, madness called to him, all promising relief and absence of pain. It would be so easy to just slip away…

He felt someone at his side and a small, warm hand on his lower back, gently pulling his shirt, demanding his attention. Looking away from the statue, Daemon found his daughter looking at him with big, sad sapphire eyes. The familiarity in that look was comforting and painful. It soothed and intensified the longing simultaneously. He forced himself to turn away from the statue and knelt before her. His young Queen quickly threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

For a long time he had felt anger, so much anger he didn't know how he hadn't given in to it, exhausting both body and Jewels. He had been angry with Jaenelle, because she was gone, because of what she made him promise. He had been angry with the world and the Darkness, because he was left behind. He still felt that way.

Everyone tried to help and distract him, but they couldn't understand. So, he would come here and hide behind Black shields. But his daughter wanted his attention now. And she was the only one he let in, always.

Daemon had two children with Jaenelle, Kieran and Katelyn. They matured more like the long lived races, so his little Katelyn hadn't even reached adolescence yet. He looked at her face, her beautiful yet childish features, her long black hair and those big sapphire eyes. Innocent but insightful eyes, so similar to Jaenelle's in so many ways, yet without the ancient, haunted look.

Katelyn was, much more than Kieran, a living reminder of Jaenelle, both physically and in temper. It was as unbearable for him to look at his daughter as it was looking away, sometimes. So he'd sent his children away with Lucivar. He wasn't sure he would have the strength to carry on, and he didn't want them to see him crumble.

"Weren't you at Uncle Lucivar's eyrie with your brother? How did you get back here?" Daemon asked. He had asked his brother to take them for a few days, hadn't he? Was he so disturbed he couldn't keep track of where his children were anymore?

"Kieran is. I needed to be here," Katelyn replied calmly.

Daemon had to focus on his breathing. Easing back just enough to look at her, he brushed her hair off her face and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"Why do you say that, sweetheart?" He asked, fearing the answer. Fearing she'd seen what he was trying to hide from them.

"Mama always said to trust my instincts. I didn't want to leave you," she whispered softly, tangling her fingers in his hair, something she did since she was a baby. "It's going to be all right, Papa. You're not alone."

Daemon's heart clogged his throat. He held her tightly in his arms, drawing strength and comfort from that embrace and feeling like the worst of creatures. He was supposed to take care of his daughter, not the other way around. He was supposed to clean her tears and assure her everything would be alright.

But he couldn't assure her of anything. With all the power of the Black, there was nothing he could do. Katelyn shouldn't have to shed a single tear. She was just a child. What had his children done to deserve such a loss? What had he done? It wasn't fair! Daemon buried his face in Katelyn's black hair and breathed in her psychic scent, soft, dark and familiar. As he held his daughter, close to Jaenelle's statue, Daemon let the tears flow, unable to stop the wave of sorrow that overwhelmed him.

"I miss her too…" Katelyn said hesitantly, after a while.

Daemon heard the hurt she couldn't keep away from her voice, saw the tear-bright eyes and the tears tracking a path down her cheeks. His rage returned, so cold and intense he nearly lost control. It took a tremendous effort to step away from the killing edge, since that rage was directed at himself who, helpless and desperate, couldn't do anything to end his daughter's unhappiness. Worse than that, he was also hurting her.

That awareness shook him to his core. Something inside him shifted, made him see past the haze of grief that had been clouding his senses. Katelyn's tears broke what was left of his torn heart. He picked her up and took her to the wooden seat, settling her onto his lap. Cupping her small face with his hands, he kissed her forehead and gently wiped out her tears with his thumbs.

"Don't cry, sweetheart," Daemon said softly. She sniffed and buried her face in his chest. "Shh…" Daemon cradled and comforted her, searching for strength he wasn't sure he had.

"Do you know how brave you are?" He whispered. "Your mom would be so proud of you…"

Katelyn raised her eyes to his. "You really think so?"

"I'm positive. Just as proud as I am."

The smile she offered him between sniffles was so similar to Jaenelle's, Daemon felt a faint sparkle of hope break through the darkness in his heart. It became slightly easier to breathe and he tried to smile back.

Katelyn studied him and her smile faded as she said, "I don't like to see you sad. You used to laugh all the time. You used to teach me and Kieran about Craft and all kinds of stuff, and tell us stories…" She hesitated and lowered her voice. "Will you ever play with us again, Papa?"

All blood fled Daemon's face. He felt like he had been wounded and left to bleed to death. He realized exactly what he was doing to his children. So deeply absorbed by his own misery, he had forgotten they needed him, now more than ever. They had just lost their mother, how could he take their father away from them too?

Hating himself and barely daring to look at her, Daemon braced himself for rejection as he said, "Katelyn… forgive me, sweetheart." The words clogged his throat. I'm your father and I failed!

But he didn't see rejection, disappointment or even judgment in Katelyn's eyes. Only longing and love. He clung to that pure and unconditional love to keep the darkness in him at bay. The pain would always be there because Jaenelle would never return. But she hadn't left him alone. There was still a reason to live - two very strong reasons to fight. Holding Katelyn close to him, he kissed the top of her head before raising his eyes to Jaenelle's statue. Thank you!

"I love you, Papa. I want to see you laugh again," Katelyn said against his chest. "Mama liked to see you laugh."

It took Daemon a minute to find his voice. "I love you too, sweetheart. I'll never leave you or Kieran alone. I promise." He swallowed hard. Everything has a price. "And I promise I will laugh again."

It was the hardest promise he had ever made. But he would keep it. For his children. For himself. And for Jaenelle.

Everything has a price.

2,500 years later

"No…"

"She's a qualified Healer now, Daemon. She wears the Grey and she's very talented. She'll come to the Hall and…"

"I said no," Daemon cut him off. "Enough."

"But why?" Lucivar asked, exasperated.

I'm tired, Prick," Daemon replied, and then closed his eyes. "I'm so tired…"

Lucivar studied his brother, certain he wasn't talking about Healers anymore. Daemon Sadi, Black Jeweled Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. The Sadist. They had fought countless battles, with and against each other, had served Witch together, as they had dreamt all their lives. And now, Daemon was slowly giving in and there was nothing he could do to help him.

Daemon lay on the huge bed he had shared with Jaenelle so long ago. His face was still beautiful, despite the signs of aging and the melancholy casting shadows in those gold eyes. But he was pale and too thin, and the dark smudges under his eyes showed how little rest he was having lately. His previously deep, cultured voice was now rough and weary.

Lucivar looked down at the simple gold band on Daemon's left hand. He had never stopped using his wedding ring. Lucivar would never fully comprehend what Daemon had gone through over the last 2,500 years. But he witnessed his brother's struggle. Daemon masked his emotions well enough not to hurt them, but Lucivar realized the unhappiness in his eyes whenever he saw him with Marian. Whenever he was faced with what he'd lost.

And now, he was losing his brother. Daemon had been feeling ill for the last few weeks and was getting worse. They had called in pretty much every single Healer in the Realm, but none of them could find out what was wrong with him. His heart was getting weaker, they said, but they didn't know why, and nothing they did seemed to help. Lucivar suspected Daemon wasn't putting much effort into the treatments. Or maybe it wasn't a physical illness at all. In the last few weeks, Daemon spent more and more time alone, lost in his memories, and rarely left that room anymore.

Thinking Daemon had fallen asleep, Lucivar started turning away from the bed, but Daemon opened his eyes then. Lucivar saw a man leaving a battlefield, wounded and exhausted, but knowing he'd won the fight. He saw more emotions than he could identify. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to his brother.

"We want to help you, Daemon."

"I can't fight anymore, Prick. I fought all my life. I fought to be able to be with her, body and soul." He smiled and his eyes lit up for a moment, before he looked away. "And then I fought to be able to live without her. I saw our children grow, our grandchildren… I laughed with them, comforted them, taught them the code of honor we learned from our Father. I had the pleasure of being with them, the honor and the pride of serving them and loving them…"

"Just as they're proud to have you as their father, their grandfather… and brother," Lucivar replied, his chest tight.

Daemon looked back at him and smiled. Then, the smile faded. "Each breath, each waking moment, knowing she wouldn't come back, was a struggle. But I struggled, I tried to take pleasure of life. Because that was her wish – and my promise. I did my best to keep that promise."

After Jaenelle was gone, Daemon had tried to put back together what was left of his life. He filled the empty hours with work and relied on his children for support. He had dedicated himself to his family, trying to find some comfort, some kind of happiness. He had fought, truly. Had fought to fill the emptiness in his heart, to enjoy each moment with the ones he loved. And sometimes, when the loneliness became too much to bear, simply to get out of bed in the morning.

"I know you did, old son," Lucivar said, laying a hand on Daemon's shoulder. He didn't like where this was going at all.

Daemon nodded, took in a deep breath and seemed to relax a little. Lucivar had to remind himself that wasn't the place for strong emotions. But he couldn't just sit there and watch Daemon crumble. He had to insist.

"You could at least see that Healer and…"

"Ah, Lucivar…" Daemon shook his head. "Darkness is calling me." His eyes filled with tears as he whispered, "She's calling me… Can you understand?"

Before Lucivar could answer, the door opened and Saetan entered, bringing Daemon's youngest granddaughter with him. Saetan had aged too, in the last few centuries. His hair was grayer and he looked… drained.

When he approached the bed, the girl let go of his hand and climbed onto it. Lucivar tensed. "Daemon needs to rest." His voice sounded more worried than he'd wanted to.

"It's alright, Prick." Daemon smiled at his granddaughter, who was now snuggling up against his side. "I think it's story time."

She smiled back, but Saetan was still studying Daemon. "You asked me to come."

Daemon looked into his father's eyes. "I need your help, Father."

Saetan stood still for a long time, his face eerily inexpressive. Father and son eyed each other. Lucivar's heart leaped to his throat when he realized the private conversation going on between them. Finally, Saetan nodded and the weight of his 54,000 years seemed to bend his shoulders, a weight too heavy to carry. Lucivar felt a shiver run down his spine. His breathing came out in a hiss as he felt the wave of Black power around the room, around Daemon's bed.

"Come with me, Lucivar," Saetan finally said.

Lucivar clenched his fists and bared his teeth, ready to fight. "But…"

"Come," Saetan repeated firmly, before turning around to leave.

Lucivar had no option but to follow him. Leaving Daemon with his granddaughter, he left the bedroom and closed the door behind him, leaning against it. Daemon…

Daemon still had a few centuries ahead of him, there had to be a way to help him get better. He couldn't lose his brother, not yet. "What did you do to him? You know he's not well. His heart…"

"…was ripped out of him 2,500 years ago," Saetan finished, in a strained voice.

Lucivar swore softly and started pacing. Apprehension was building up under the tension and the worry. Saetan rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

Lucivar stopped and felt tears prickling his eyes. "So, you're not going to do anything?"

"I'll respect his decision and do what he asked me to."

Lucivar narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the closed door and understood exactly what that Black power meant, as well as the summon of the whole family to the Hall. He shook his head and swore again, viciously.

Saetan rested the other hand on his other shoulder. "We offered all the help we could, but he doesn't want it. He's tired, Lucivar. Can you blame him for wanting some peace now?"

Lucivar looked into Saetan's eyes and his apprehension slowly gave way to resignation. He saw a father, weary and tormented by the decision he'd made. He saw a man who understood better than him what Daemon was going through, because he'd gone through the same before.

Swallowing hard, Lucivar gave in. "Daemon called the family to say goodbye," he said simply, his voice level and hollow. "You're helping him drain his Jewels."

Saetan nodded slowly, as if that simple movement was painful. Lucivar felt an empty space in his chest. The space Daemon had occupied all his life. He missed his brother already.

Daemon was curled up on the bed, a bittersweet feeling in his heart. He knew what he wanted, what he needed, but saying goodbye to his family hadn't been easy. It had left him physically and emotionally exhausted. Saetan's spell was still draining his Jewels.

He took one last look outside, through the balcony's glass doors. The Sun was setting and the sky was painted in shades of red and purple. Jaenelle loved watching the sunset from her garden.

Looking around the room that had been hers, he let the memories flow in. Then, closing his eyes, he slowly drifted away to the welcoming peace in the depths of the Black. He imagined, once more, he was in the misty place, losing himself in her arms.

Daemon… Was that a soft breeze or the memory of her voice caressing his bare skin? He shut his eyes harder, trying to bring her closer to him.

*Daemon…* A soft sigh, a lovely caress.

Holding his breath, barely daring to believe, Daemon slowly opened his eyes and looked down, into the depths of the abyss. The reason he'd been spending so much time here in the last few weeks was this feeling, this… as if it was really her calling him, and not only his imagination… Could it be?

*Daemon…* A whisper, filled with longing and love, reaching out from deep within the Darkness.

*Jaenelle?* Daemon called out. It's time, he felt.

With a smile on his lips and eyes bright with tears, he slid past his inner web, towards the voice of his dreams, towards the Darkness awaiting him.