A shuffle in the darkness, a quiet groan as he wakes from an uneasy slumber. She is at his side in an instant, all gentle hands and quiet words and a soft lap in which he can rest his tormented head.
As she sits and strokes his sweat-drenched hair, lulling him back into a sleep that will be deeper and calmer than the one before, she listens to the words of adoration that slip so easily from his mouth- my kind, beautiful lady; my one true love- and she smiles to herself in the darkness as he descends into sleep.
She drives out the darkness for one hour- one painful, brilliant hour- and now there are no fond murmurings. Now there are only the words he has screamed countless nights before- sorceress, enchantress, murderess, witch- and his mad railing.
And she stands at his side and watches him struggle, a faint smile never far from her perfect lips.
And when his strength is spent, and he hangs slack against the ropes that bind him, she leans in to stroke his sweat-drenched hair, whispering, Go to sleep, my one true love.
And she smiles to herself as he descends into despair.