Alanna of Treebond and Olau, and now Pirate's Swoop, sat up straight in
bed, a cold sweat breaking out all over her body. Wiping her brow, she
waited for her breathing to return to normal and her pulse to slow; her
heart was beating like that of a scared rabbit. In the Chamber of the
Ordeal when she'd earned her shield over three years ago was one of the
most frightening experiences Alanna had dealt with- it still haunted her
dreams. Roger of Conte haunted her dreams.
Nightmares, from which she would wake up screaming, wouldn't leave her be; she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in over a week. The effects were beginning to show. Dark circles appeared under her violet eyes, her normally tan skin looked somewhat sallow, she was even too tired to have much of a temper.
George was worried about her, she knew, she'd caught him once or twice watching her closely, then looking away quickly when she noticed. Seven times in the past three days he'd asked if she was feeling okay.
Alanna glanced down at her husband, slumbering peacefully. It would be hours before the sun rose. Moving softly, so as not to disturb the man beside her, she stood, placing bare feet on the stone floor. Yelping softly at the cold, she shivered, padding across the room slowly to a small washstand in the corner. She splashed her face, blinking several times. Glancing up, she caught a look of her reflection in the mirror, surprised by what she saw.
Alanna barely recognized the figure that stared back at her; she looked as if she'd lost several pounds. Her normally vibrant eyes seemed dull, only a flicker of the fire that once burned brightly in her violet eyes remained.
"Goddess bless..." She murmured, reaching to touch her reflection with her fingertips, disbelieving. "Is that really me?"
She stared at the mirror, as if truly expecting it to answer. It didn't.
"Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity." A voice murmured sleepily from the bed, causing Alanna to jump. "Come to bed, lass." Propping himself up on his elbow, a rather grumpy George Cooper watched her from across the dark room, rubbing his eyes.
A weary smile crossed Alanna's lips.
"I thought you were asleep."
"Aye, I was, until you got up and took away the warmth." A bit of a pout played on his lips and he held his arms out to her. "Come back to bed, my love. I can't hold you when you're all the way over there."
With a small sigh the redhead climbed back into bed, her husband's arms enveloping her immediately.
"Mm... you can't go running away and leaving me cold." George murmured softly, his voice warm against her ear. It was obvious he was still half asleep. "Now why don't you tell me what it is that's been botherin' you, lass? You haven't had a good sleep in a week, and it's beginning to worry me. You haven't even exploded in the past four days. Are ye feeling a mite ill?"
"No..." she replied truthfully. She wasn't ill, or, not really; a bit tired with a loss of appetite, but not ill. "I'm... fine." Less truthful, but not exactly a flat out lie.
George raised an eyebrow in disbelief, kissing the top of her head.
"you don't seem fine..." the two had married for over two years, and Alanna never *had* been a good liar.
She sighed, a bit reluctant to tell him. She felt more than a bit silly that these nightmares were beginning to control her life, as a knight and champion of Tortall, she ought not be plagued by such trivial fears.
"Lass..." George murmured softly into her hair. "What's been bothering you? Are... are you... unhappy with us?" He voiced the question that had obviously been worrying him for sometime, obviously afraid the answer might be yes.
"Oh, no, it's not that!" Alanna said hurriedly, snuggling closer to George under the coverlet to reassure him. "I promise. It's nothing like that at all. It's just... well, it's silly, really. Not important."
The man beside her let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he was holding, and Alanna felt like a monster for worrying him.
"Tell me what's troubling you, my love." He kissed her cheek, playing idly with her hair.
"Promise you won't laugh." She commanded, rolling over to face him.
"On my newly received honor." A glint of teasing played in his eyes, and Alanna giggled, giving him a light punch in the arm.
"Alright, alright!" he yelped, hugging her around the waist, pinning her arms at the same time. She wouldn't be hitting him again if he could help it.
She laughed, laying her head on his chest.
"Well..."
"Yes?" He urged when she stopped, poking her in the ribs.
"It's nothing." She finished lamely.
"Oh, come on now..."
Grumbling, Alanna mumbled something about busybodies.
"Busybody or no, I can tell when something's bothering ye, lass. Now either you'll tell me or I'll hang you out the window by your heels..." George tweaked her nose.
With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair.
"I've been having these strange dreams..." she whispered finally, waiting for her husband to laugh. When he didn't, she continued.
"About Duke Roger..."
George kissed her forehead, brushing a strand of copper hair away from her face as he waited for her to continue. "I... I mean, I know he's dead. Twice. But... something keeps worrying me. Last time I was having these dreams..." she trailed off, allowing the idea to settle. Last time she'd had dreams like this something horrible had happened, Roger of Conte was raised from the dead by her twin.
Squeezing her gently, George cleared his throat.
"Well, there's naught we can do tonight. We'll talk about it in the morning, I promise. Now get some sleep, and wake me up if your nightmares bother you again... I'll protect you." He gave her a small smile, watching her as she consented, laying her head on his chest and closing her eyes. Sleep wasn't long in coming, and soon after she, George fell into his own slumber.
Nightmares, from which she would wake up screaming, wouldn't leave her be; she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in over a week. The effects were beginning to show. Dark circles appeared under her violet eyes, her normally tan skin looked somewhat sallow, she was even too tired to have much of a temper.
George was worried about her, she knew, she'd caught him once or twice watching her closely, then looking away quickly when she noticed. Seven times in the past three days he'd asked if she was feeling okay.
Alanna glanced down at her husband, slumbering peacefully. It would be hours before the sun rose. Moving softly, so as not to disturb the man beside her, she stood, placing bare feet on the stone floor. Yelping softly at the cold, she shivered, padding across the room slowly to a small washstand in the corner. She splashed her face, blinking several times. Glancing up, she caught a look of her reflection in the mirror, surprised by what she saw.
Alanna barely recognized the figure that stared back at her; she looked as if she'd lost several pounds. Her normally vibrant eyes seemed dull, only a flicker of the fire that once burned brightly in her violet eyes remained.
"Goddess bless..." She murmured, reaching to touch her reflection with her fingertips, disbelieving. "Is that really me?"
She stared at the mirror, as if truly expecting it to answer. It didn't.
"Talking to yourself is a sign of insanity." A voice murmured sleepily from the bed, causing Alanna to jump. "Come to bed, lass." Propping himself up on his elbow, a rather grumpy George Cooper watched her from across the dark room, rubbing his eyes.
A weary smile crossed Alanna's lips.
"I thought you were asleep."
"Aye, I was, until you got up and took away the warmth." A bit of a pout played on his lips and he held his arms out to her. "Come back to bed, my love. I can't hold you when you're all the way over there."
With a small sigh the redhead climbed back into bed, her husband's arms enveloping her immediately.
"Mm... you can't go running away and leaving me cold." George murmured softly, his voice warm against her ear. It was obvious he was still half asleep. "Now why don't you tell me what it is that's been botherin' you, lass? You haven't had a good sleep in a week, and it's beginning to worry me. You haven't even exploded in the past four days. Are ye feeling a mite ill?"
"No..." she replied truthfully. She wasn't ill, or, not really; a bit tired with a loss of appetite, but not ill. "I'm... fine." Less truthful, but not exactly a flat out lie.
George raised an eyebrow in disbelief, kissing the top of her head.
"you don't seem fine..." the two had married for over two years, and Alanna never *had* been a good liar.
She sighed, a bit reluctant to tell him. She felt more than a bit silly that these nightmares were beginning to control her life, as a knight and champion of Tortall, she ought not be plagued by such trivial fears.
"Lass..." George murmured softly into her hair. "What's been bothering you? Are... are you... unhappy with us?" He voiced the question that had obviously been worrying him for sometime, obviously afraid the answer might be yes.
"Oh, no, it's not that!" Alanna said hurriedly, snuggling closer to George under the coverlet to reassure him. "I promise. It's nothing like that at all. It's just... well, it's silly, really. Not important."
The man beside her let out a breath of relief that he hadn't realized he was holding, and Alanna felt like a monster for worrying him.
"Tell me what's troubling you, my love." He kissed her cheek, playing idly with her hair.
"Promise you won't laugh." She commanded, rolling over to face him.
"On my newly received honor." A glint of teasing played in his eyes, and Alanna giggled, giving him a light punch in the arm.
"Alright, alright!" he yelped, hugging her around the waist, pinning her arms at the same time. She wouldn't be hitting him again if he could help it.
She laughed, laying her head on his chest.
"Well..."
"Yes?" He urged when she stopped, poking her in the ribs.
"It's nothing." She finished lamely.
"Oh, come on now..."
Grumbling, Alanna mumbled something about busybodies.
"Busybody or no, I can tell when something's bothering ye, lass. Now either you'll tell me or I'll hang you out the window by your heels..." George tweaked her nose.
With a sigh, she ran a hand through her hair.
"I've been having these strange dreams..." she whispered finally, waiting for her husband to laugh. When he didn't, she continued.
"About Duke Roger..."
George kissed her forehead, brushing a strand of copper hair away from her face as he waited for her to continue. "I... I mean, I know he's dead. Twice. But... something keeps worrying me. Last time I was having these dreams..." she trailed off, allowing the idea to settle. Last time she'd had dreams like this something horrible had happened, Roger of Conte was raised from the dead by her twin.
Squeezing her gently, George cleared his throat.
"Well, there's naught we can do tonight. We'll talk about it in the morning, I promise. Now get some sleep, and wake me up if your nightmares bother you again... I'll protect you." He gave her a small smile, watching her as she consented, laying her head on his chest and closing her eyes. Sleep wasn't long in coming, and soon after she, George fell into his own slumber.