Notes: This was a challenge response for the 'a fic a day in June' challenge on the live journal community ficondemand. It's a very cool community where you can request any kind of fic you desire and often have someone respond. Anyway, this challenge response was to an 'any fandom' request that dealt with nightmares. I decided to write a piece based on the nightmares the Dragon Officers would have possibly have had as children. All four characters are between 6-7 years old.
All children have nightmares, even those who grow up to be Dragon Officers.
Alfeegi.
Every night he dreams of numbers. His mother never understands why they terrify him so, quietly telling him each time he wakes them all with his screams that numbers have never hurt anyone, and surely he prefers them to the nasty monsters that used to haunt his dreams? He tries to tell her of how all consuming they are, how they threaten to smother him under their weight. She listens and nods sympathetically like any good mother would, but it's all so fake and artificial, just like everything else about her is. She never manages to drive the numbers away, nor the fear, and so they come each night, leaving him cowering in the depths of his mind or tangled in the sheets of his bed. He knows that he is too old for this – he is almost six, after all - but that knowledge means nothing in the dark.
He would almost be able to deal with his horrible nightmares if numbers didn't also haunt his days. Hours spent in front of books, hours spent with tutors. He has a natural gift, his mother tells him. Not like his father who works the fields, but like she once had before she gave it all away for a pretty face and one stupid, stupid night of passion. Alfeegi doesn't really understand what she means, he knows only that her smile looks at its most false when she talks about his father, and that she doesn't smile at all whenever he doesn't get one of the questions right. He only ever fails when he doesn't try hard enough, she says disapprovingly. And it isn't fair for him to be so selfish, not when all of their futures rest completely on his shoulders.
Sometimes, when still half asleep and gripped with fear, Alfeegi thinks that the numbers in his nightmares sound almost like his mother.
Kai-stern.
There are demons around every corner, and they all want to rip him to shreds. Knowing that they could pounce on him at any moment is the only thing that keeps him moving, even though his bare feet have almost been ripped raw by the gravelled path. Branches tear at his clothes and catch his hair, but he is too busy jus trying to force out his harsh breaths and keep from tripping to notice. Everything hurts but it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, he just has to keep running, he just has to get away …
And then he is tumbling uncontrollably. He screams desperately as they fall on him, and he claws at their dark figures and pleads for them to leave him alone, to just leave him alone. He can't breathe as one covers his mouth, and even though he thrashes against them they are just too strong.
"Please, Kai. Please be quiet." The voice somehow manages to penetrate through his sobs, and Kai-stern manages to force wild eyes open. He's still being held down and his mouth is still covered, but it is his older cousin Lan who is holding him in place and smothering his screams. "Please, Kai." It comes out almost as a sob, and Kai-stern wonders why they're on the floor and not in the tiny bed they share. "You can't let them hear you, you can't make any noise." They both freeze as heavy footsteps fall outside the window on the far side of the room, dark laughter filling the air. The youkai pass without incident, surely heading back to their camp that lies just to the east.
Kai-stern squeezes his eyes shut, and wishes for the demons from his nightmare.
Ruwalk.
When Ruwalk sleeps, sometimes the monster that lives in his closet likes to slip secretly out of it and jump into his dreams. It's a horrible monster, the worst monster of all, with five big heads and at least a hundred, spider-like legs that want to grab Ruwalk and whisk him away. He tries to be brave, as his parents have always taught him that if you try your hardest even when you're deathly afraid, then you can never lose. He thinks they might be right, but he also thinks that it's an easy opinion to have when you don't face a giant closet monster once or twice a night, and in your PJ's of all things. Some nights he manages to strike the monster through with his sword, on other nights Lykouleon suddenly appears and helps save the day, although he always denies involvement when Ruwalk quizzes him about it the next morning over breakfast.
Sometimes, however, it's his father who beats back the monster, rescuing Ruwalk from his dreams and holding him close, gently reminding him that the monster can't hurt him now, as his father wouldn't allow it to. And sometimes, his father will let Ruwalk steal into bed between him and his mother, just in case the monster returns.
Tetheus.
He loves this room, especially at this time of the day. Sunlight filters through the large windows, the warm streaks highlighting everything they touch. Sometimes, Tetheus likes to stand deliberately in the path of one of the sunbeams and simply let its warmth soak into him. The moment that food is placed on the table, however, he abandons the light instantly, dashing to his chair and clambering up onto it, wide eyes taking in the pancakes dripping with syrup or the freshly buttered toast topped with homemade jam. He eats it all as fast as possible – it's what six year old boys do, after all – even as his mother laughs gently at him and his father gives him a quick pat on the back.
And in his dreams he loves his bright, loving room, but that room is not the one he wakes to. There is no sunlight here, never any light at all, just darkness and dampness and a deep chill that sunk deep into his bones long ago. There is rarely ever even rest, for his training goes on for days and days at a time, with no pause even when his hands blister over and he can no longer hold his sword properly.
There are no pancakes, no jam. No parents.
There never has been.
He curls in on himself, hiding away in the furthest corner of his dark room that is more like a cell, and buries his head in knees, fighting back tears. Demons don't cry, demon's don't cry.
But it's hard not to, after such a horrible nightmare.