More Daddy Gawain AU! Thanks Elf, for looking this over first.

Ganscotter awoke suddenly, staring at his ceiling through the darkness. It was an aware wakefulness not at all like that of one roused in the middle of the night, and he frowned at the uneasiness stirring within him. Something wasn't right—he couldn't explain it, but he could feel it. It took him about thirty seconds to recognize that particular feeling, and he rose from his bed and started for the room down the hall where his granddaughters slept.

He had walked only a few feet when one of them screamed.

He broke into a run, bursting into their bedroom just as the second began to scream as well. With a wave of his hand, Ganscotter lit every candle in the room and dashed to the two small beds. One was writhing beneath her blanket, tears leaking out of tightly clenched eyes, the other tangled up in her sheets, tiny fists flailing. Another quick, almost careless spell checked the room for any kind of intrusion, but found none.

"Girls, girls!" Ganscotter said, putting one hand on each of their shoulders and shaking gently. He wasn't looking at them exactly, however, but eyeing the space around the window where something his hasty spell didn't catch could escape. "Wake up, children!"

The one to his left—he had trouble telling them apart in broad daylight without being so frantic; even trying now seemed impossible—woke first, startling awake with a swallowed cry. The one to his right sat bolt upright as her sister's eyes opened and began to sob. Ganscotter's heart twisted. He gathered them both up in his arms and embraced them tightly, plopping down on the cold flagstone floor in such a way that he knew would bruise. Still struggling out of sleep, the girls clung to him and cried, shudders wracking their tiny bodies. "Shhhh…" he whispered, kissing the top of each ginger-blond head. "Shhh, you're all right now…it was just a nightmare, shhhh…."

Footsteps sounded across the floor behind him as the nurses entered. Ganscotter held up his hand to stop them. He sat and cradled them until his arms fell asleep and their sobs turned to sniffles. Then he sighed and, both three-year-olds still hanging off of him, anchored himself upright and onto the bed on the right. As the sisters settled comfortably in his lap, he gestured to the nurses. "Thank you for your quick response," he said honestly, and with a grateful smile. The two matronly faeries had been run ragged while Lorie and Gawain holidayed in Scotland with Gaheris and Lynet, and he was impressed the poor women weren't still asleep. "I think some warm milk and honey might be in store for these two little urchins, if there's any to be had." The women smiled, bowed, and left.

Ganscotter stretched his legs out and pushed his shoulders back against the wall. If he were being perfectly honest, he knew he was getting a bit old for this sort of awkward positioning. Not that it could really be helped. He rested his head against the wall as well, cupping one small, square chin and lifting it to meet the first little pair of faery eyes. "Now, do either of you want to talk about what was so horrible?"

The first—Brigette, he was almost sure—gave him a watery little smile. "There was a monster. It was awful."

"It tried to eat us," Lottie joined in, nuzzling his shoulder. "It had too many legs."

Ganscotter relaxed. "No scary shadows, then?" Both girls shook their heads and he breathed a sigh of relief. Just a normal nightmare. He wasn't surprised in the least that both twins should have the same nightmare—twins had a curious sort of magic to them anyway, even without being part faery.

"It chased us, and it—it tried to eat us!" Lottie said again, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "And it was fat and hairy and had lots of legs—"

"And big teeth!" Brigette cut in. "And it almost caught us—"

"It did catch us."

"It was gonna eat us, Grandy—"

A servant came in bearing two small cups of steaming milk. With cinnamon sprinkled in to boot, Ganscotter saw as the servant brought the cups forward. He wriggled and turned the girls so they could lean against his chest while they sipped their sweet milk and nodded to the servant in thanks. The man pressed the cups into the girls' hands and went to stand by the door. All leftover tears and sniffles slowly dried up as Ganscotter rubbed their backs. When they finished their milk, he waved the servant to take them away and asked, "And just where was your father while the monster was chasing you? Surely you wouldn't have been scared if he were there."

They blinked at each other and blushed. Brigette buried her face in Ganscotter's shoulder. "He wasn't there," she said, his nightshirt muffling her words.

He smiled and clicked his tongue. "And your mother? Or me, for that matter." They shook their heads together, Lottie looking grave. "Then you know it mustn't have been real. You know we'd fight any number of monsters to keep you safe, no matter how many legs they had."

Brigette smiled against his shoulder, but Lottie's grave look turned pensive. "Uncle Terence was there, though."

Of course he was. Ganscotter sighed fondly. He still wasn't sure whether Terence did that on purpose or accident, or even if he knew what he was doing at all. "What was Uncle Terence doing?"

"Pulling us out of the monster's mouth," Brigette said, turning her head to the side. "But that's when we woke up."

"There, you see? You have all of us to protect you outside your dreams, and Uncle Terence to protect you in them. You're perfectly safe."

The girls sniffed in unison and said together, "No monsters here?"

"No monsters in Avalon, ever. Neither I nor your uncle would allow it." He smiled as he felt the rest of their tension relax and they curled tighter into him. "Do you want to try going back to sleep now?"

Little heads froze and shook emphatically. "The monster might come back," Lottie whispered, burrowing deeper into his side.

He chuckled. "But Avalon is safe from monsters. Have you seen the nice man who guards our steady gates?" They nodded. "And would you like to hear his story?" More nodding. Ganscotter cradled them closer, awkwardly shifted the pillow behind his already stiff shoulder blades, and began to spin stories of Cuchulainn. He talked and talked until the girls' eyes drooped closed again and he felt their breathing even out against his own ribcage. He finished his story aloud anyway, because he felt there was something wrong with an unfinished story reading, and just lay in the darkness, feeling his granddaughters' hearts beating with his own. A bedraggled nurse came in and offered to put them to bed for him, but he ordered her back to her own bed, poor exhausted woman. He could do it himself, and he would…eventually. He just wanted a little more time like this first.

He could remember holding Lorie like this, after her nightmares. Usually his first wife was with him when he did, smoothing Lorie's hair and singing while he rubbed her back. It felt like centuries ago in some ways—in others, it felt like yesterday. The smile slipped off his face. When he married Terence's mother, he'd dreamed of feeling like this again, empowered by the love and trust of a child in a way that no amount of ruling could imitate. He missed that, with Terence, and one of his greatest regrets was not being able to be a father to Terence before he was a monarch.

Brigette sighed in her sleep and cuddle closer. Ganscotter ran his fingers through her hair and closed his eyes, the sleepy, satisfied feeling returning. His smile returned as Lottie wrapped her hand around his free thumb. He mourned his lost time with Terence every day, but these two troublemakers were making up for it quite nicely. I should really get them into bed, he thought as his own eyes drifted shut.

The next time he opened them it was to see Lorie, Lynet, and Eileen standing over him, cooing softly, while Brigette drooled into his nightshirt and Lottie held his thumb in a sleeping death grip. He couldn't feel his arms, his chest was sore, there was a crick in his neck, and his back already ached. He sighed and smiled wider attempting to stretch without waking the sleeping toddlers.

He really was getting too old for this sort of thing.

Then again, that was kind of the job description of grandfather.