When the terrors haunted their fledgling in the dark hours of the night, it was a scream that woke them, and from their beds they would come. They congregated with their little fledgling in tow with her master, into the sitting room, laying among the soft blankets and rugs, against the man fluffy pillows strewn about in that part of the room, and between them all they would set her until the fear passed and her breathing calmed.
The Commander would hold her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around from behind her, long fingers curling her glowing little palms closed.
To his left the Healer would rub soothingly at her temple, whispering softly under his breath in the ancient tongue of the four eldest beings, she wasn't ever sure what he was saying but based on the looks of the others it was probably something nice.
To his right was the Messenger, pulling her little feet into his lap, thumbs rubbing over her little soles. Sometimes tugging at her toes until she kicked lightly and graced them all with a small shaky smile.
And in front of him was the Morningstar, humming under his breath, eyes locked with hers in silent comfort. They kept eye contact until her eyes returned to normal, from which she would crawl sleepily back into her master's lap, and he would lay them both down among the soft rugs and pillows, pulling a blanket up over her as she curled into him to return to sleep. Around them the others would follow suit, keeping near enough that if she were to wake again, they would all be there, she could see them there, hear their breathing.
And then they'd all go back to sleep.