Thunder roared and lightning split the sky in two. Silvermoon was drenched in a heavy downpour. Traylon sat in his favorite chair, reading the latest addition to his growing library on arcane magic. Trisen had gone to bed hours ago, exhaustion finally catching up to her. Traylon hadn't been able to speak to her about adopting. He decided to wait until she was good and rested before he brought the topic up again.

Traylon put a hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn, however it was too overpowering. He sighed and closed the book after marking the page he was on. He placed the book on a side table and stood up, heading for the bedroom. Trisen was out cold, snuggled under the blankets. Traylon stood over her, watching her sleep. Her golden blonde hair fell loose over her shoulder. He liked her better as a blonde than a brunette. So much had changed in the last ten years, some good, others bad. Traylon could still remember the day Trisen had confessed to him that she could never bear children. She had been heartbroken. She knew how much he had wanted a family, but she could never give him one. Traylon had told her that there were other ways of growing their family, and thus the adoption conversation was brought up.

Trisen stirred, but fell back to sleep shortly afterwards. Traylon smiled and began getting ready for bed. He took off his day robes and pulled on his night robes. Trisen often teased him about it. She would say that he was the only male she knew that wore a dress to bed.

Traylon pulled back his side of the sheets and climbed into bed. Trisen never stirred. The mage settled down and closed his eyes. He was just drifting off when he heard a fate whimper next to him. Traylon opened his eyes and looked over his shoulder. Trisen's face was twisted in discomfort. Another whimper emitted from her. Traylon sat up and shook his wife.

"Tris," he whispered. "Tris, wake up."

She was back in Icecrown. Standing before the throne of the Lich King. Her sword was clenched tightly in her right hand, frosty energy swirling around her left. Two prisoners knelt before her. A mage and a warlock, both males, both Blood Elves. The mage had raven black hair, the other red. They were beaten and bloody, shivering violently in the freezing cold. She felt like she knew these elves, but her memory failed her.

"Tris, please," the warlock gasped, his voice hoarse. "Don't do this."

"Break free, Trisen," the mage pleaded. "You serve the Horde, now."

Her eyes flashed. "I serve the Lich King," she snarled.

Traylon jumped out of bed and hurried to Trisen's side. Standing over her, he began shaking her. "Trisen, wake up," he called.

She placed her left hand against the blade of her sword. The icy energy infused with the steel. She raised the sword above her head.

"Trisen, please," the warlock begged.

"Trisen, wake up!" Traylon yelled as his wife thrashed in the bed.

"Do it," the Lich King commanded. "Prove your loyalty to me."

The sword came down.

Trisen's eyes shot open. She saw someone standing over her. Face hidden in shadows, eyes glowing blue. Trisen reached under her pillow and pulled out the dagger she had underneath it. A scream of pain tore through the room. Trisen blinked, coming back to reality. She looked up to see Traylon standing over her, not Arthas. Her eyes moved downward to the dagger that she had embedded in her husband's stomach.

"Oh, gods," Trisen whimpered. Traylon stumbled back, hands going to his stomach. "Tray!" Trisen cried, shooting up out of bed. "Traylon!"

The mage collapsed against the bed, his blood staining the sheets red. He fell to the floor. Trisen ran to the dresser and pulled out a first aid kit. She opened it and grabbed a roll of heavy bandages. Hurrying back to Traylon, she dropped to her knees and began wrapping the wound, keeping the knife in place so it wouldn't move and cause more damage. When the wound was bandaged, Trisen helped Traylon to stand, making a beeline for the front door.

They walked out into the pouring rain, hurrying as fast as they could down the street to Yazzoo's house. Soaking wet and cold, Trisen banged her fist against the front door. Traylon was losing the fight, fading fast. Trisen banged on the door again. Footsteps sounded on the other side before the door opened. Yazzoo looked at his sister-in-law before his eyes fell on his brother.

"Get him inside," Yazzoo ordered desperately.

Trisen rushed inside and headed for the spare bedroom. With Yazzoo's help, she lowered an unconscious Traylon on to the bed. Trisen stepped back to let Yazzoo do his work. How could she have done this? How could she have harmed her own husband? Yazzoo carefully removed the dagger at the same time he cast a healing spell over his brother to keep him from bleeding to death.

"What happened?" the priest asked as he worked.

"I did this," Trisen whispered in anguish. "I woke up from a nightmare, but all I could see was the Lich King. It wasn't until I heard him scream that I realized I had stabbed Tray."

Yazzoo deepened the healing spell when he felt his brother slip. "Come on, Tray," he breathed. "Your fight's not over."

Trisen buried her face in her hands. "How could I have done such a thing?" she asked wretchedly.

"You weren't in your right mind, Tris," Yazzoo told her. "Anyone is liable to do something drastic when they're sleep deprived and half asleep. This wasn't your fault."

Trisen lowered her hands and walked over to the bed, kneeling down and running a hand through Traylon's hair.

"I'm so sorry, Tray," she whispered. "Please don't leave. I'll never live with myself if I knew I had killed you."

Yazzoo's hands glowed a deep gold. "He's not going to die. Not if I have anything to say about it," he said. "Besides, Tray's too stubborn to die."

Trisen put her forehead against Traylon's and closed her eyes. "Come back to me, love," she prayed.

The wound slowly healed over, fixing itself and not even leaving a scar. Yazzoo sat back on his knees and sighed, energy drained. They sat in silence, waiting and watching. Then, slowly, Traylon began to wince and moan. Trisen felt her hopes rising. Hazy green eyes gradually blinked open. Trisen and Yazzoo breathed a sigh of relief.

"Tray, I am so, so sorry," Trisen apologized, tears streaming down her face.

Traylon smiled and reached up, putting a lock of his wife's hair behind her ear. "It's not your fault," he whispered, his voice weak. "You were acting in self-defence. I scared you. It's as simple as that."

"But, if I wasn't having that nightmare, this wouldn't have happened," Trisen said.

"We can't control what we dream," Traylon replied. "Stop blaming yourself. Yaz fixed me up. The danger has passed."

Trisen leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "You're my world. I watched you die once, I don't think I could do that again."

"The danger is over," Traylon said. "We have to move on. I think we should consider adopting."

"You want to bring a child into our home? With me the way I am?" Trisen asked incredulously.

"A child might be just what you need to calm your mind," Yazzoo spoke up. "Help focus your thoughts on something else."

"We could travel to Orgrimmar and visit the orphanage there," Traylon added. "I'm sure there's a little boy or girl who would love to have you for a mother."

Trisen nodded reluctantly. "Alright," she agreed. "We can go as soon as you're on your feet again."

"Which should be tomorrow," Yazzoo said. "Never underestimate the power of a healer."

Traylon smiled. "Thanks, Yaz. We'd be lost without you."

Yazzoo smiled back, his ego inflating just a bit. "Yeah," he said. "You would."

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