She wakes up in a panic as she hasn't done in years.
It hammers over her heart, bruising. The slick taste of wood and terror fills her mouth and she swallows it down, choking. Blood, so much blood. Soaking into his hair like a wick, impossible to tell where it ends and his shirt begins.
Out of reach, his crossbow too is shattered. The white slivers stick up through the drifts like his ribs and she would scream if she could remember how. Contorted, torn apart, flung away to sprawl gracelessly on the snow.
His eyes are open, blind to the sky.
Her legs flash, covering distance. There are giggles, shocked half-words that she chooses not to hear as she crosses the Great Hall. A courtier bows in the corner of her eye, perhaps mockingly in a swirl of muted color. It is not important. When did the keep get so Maker be damned big? It seems to take forever.
She takes the stairs two at a time. She doesn't knock, doesn't even think to wonder if it will be locked.
She's never been here before. There is a smeared impression of a bed, haphazard pillows and brocade. A jumbled bookcase, the desk she knows would have to be here but none of those things have details.
There's confusion on his face as he turns away from the window. Two strides and she drops to her knees, presses her face to his chest, tangling her fingers into his tunic. Red, he always wears red and fear leaps again.
"Seeker?"
He doesn't know what to do with his hands even she tightens hers, breathing him in.
"You were dead. I dreamed you were dead."
But he's not, alive and solid and just there, his warmth beating against her skin, the scent of him filling her nostrils, chasing away the taste of anything else. The chuckle she's grown to expect (love need) drifts down to settle on her hair.
"Helluva way to start the morning, I agree." His hands cup her face then and there is a kiss on her forehead. Her fingers curve around his wrists. Then his mouth is on hers and it's sweet, sweet as honey, the taste of him, the solid bulk of his body it's own reassurance. It radiates, turns fear into something else, a different kind of hammer. He laughs again, soft against her face and she's drowning in the kiss.
"Sorry, Seeker. But you have to wake up now."
And she does.