Chapter Six
A/N: Thank you to Veridissima, Genius-626, Cynder2013 and Katie for reviewing the last chapter.
It was the same dream she had dreamt every night since the blood emblem was found at the Gard. Every night, she had lain awake for hours, hoping that the less she slept, the sooner her ordeal would be over. Of course, that was never the case, and every night, she woke up screaming.
All around her, fires erupted from the ash-covered ground, thick tendrils of smoke choking the grey air. The light they gave off was bright, blindingly so, and the woman found herself staggering, collapsing to the ground for want of air. That was when she appeared.
The hooded woman was tall and slender, and seemed to glide along the ground as though she were floating. Her face was hidden, but the surrounding fires were reflected in her eyes, and in the bitter tears that shone there.
"You always claimed him as your son, even though you despised him since the moment he entered this world." The woman's voice was a bitter hiss, dripping with loathing and spite. It sent a shiver down the redhead's spine, even despite the flames licking closer and closer to her with each passing second. "If you were truly his mother, you would have protected him. You would not have stood by and watched as he was murdered. You did not even bat an eyelid when he died."
The smoke was choking her by now, but she fought through the pain, coughing and spluttering to give her answer. "My real son, my baby boy, never took a breath. Valentine took him from me while he was still in my womb. My son was born dead, or as good as."
"And yet he was stood before you, for all that time." the figure continued. "He stood there, crying out for your help, but you chose not to hear him."
"I tried to help him!" she cried out, a haze of desperation clouding her mind. "If I could have saved him, I would have done."
"Oh, but you could have saved him." The hooded woman cocked her head to one side, a venomous smile on her lips. "Of course you could have. After all, it was your fault he died."
The heat now was unbearable and as the redhead looked to her side to plead for help, she found that she was alone. Desperately, she looked from left to right, but she was surrounded on all sides by the flames. And as the fires finally began to burn her, she fell to the ground, screaming in agony, still hearing those awful words.
Your fault. Your fault. Your fault.
As Jocelyn jerked upright, screaming and crying, the first thing she noticed was the pair of strong arms restraining her, keeping her from running away. She began to hit out at the man restraining her, landing ferocious blows until she recognised the soothing tones of his voice.
"It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright." Luke sighed, clutching his wife tighter as he felt her finally relax against him. This was a familiar routine for him; ever since the end of the Dark War, Jocelyn had been plagued by terrible nightmares. And no wonder, with the horrors she had gone through. She had suffered more in twenty years than most people would do in a hundred. To him, it was a daily wonder that she managed to smile.
Eventually, Jocelyn collapsed against her husband's chest, clutching to the fabric of his shirt as if her life depended on it. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of old books and cotton shirts that was so inherently Luke that she was sure she was safe at home again.
A long while had passed before her breathing became slow and even once more, though Jocelyn made no attempt to return to sleep. To his credit, Luke remained awake, wanting to make sure she was alright. Jocelyn felt a little guilty, knowing how hard her husband was working and how much he needed his sleep, but each time she addressed the issue, her objections were met with the same answer; You're more important.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Luke asked her, breaking a dozen minutes of silence. His wife did not reply, only shaking her head slightly against his chest. He did not ask again, not wanting to force the issue when it was clearly upsetting her so much.
It was painful for Luke, being forced to watch his wife so haunted by her dreams, her own mind set against her. Tentatively, he sat upright and pulled Jocelyn so that she was sat beside him, brushing away a stray tendril of hair lying across her neck. In the past, she had always found such gestures endearing, but when his fingertips brushed her skin, Jocelyn flinched, moving swiftly away from him as if his touch had burnt her.
"Jocelyn, I'm worried about you." Luke confessed, shaking his head sadly. "These nightmares, whatever they are, they're terrifying you. You don't have to tell me what they're about, not if you don't want to. I just want to know how I can help you."
For a moment, Jocelyn considered telling him. Luke had been her closest friend since childhood and on their wedding day, they had promised each other to share everything- but this was different. Jonathan had been her only son, his death had torn her apart inside, and ever since, she had felt the guilt crushing down on her like a lead weight.
"It's nothing, Luke." she sighed, lying down once again. "I've just been remembering a few things about the Dark War, and it was scaring me. There's nothing to worry about, I'm sure it will go away soon."
She could not face lying to her husband, so instead she bent the truth. Luckily, even Luke's werewolf senses were not so finely tuned to that, as Jocelyn had always been a straight-talking woman, and so he accepted her word.
Eventually, once Luke had fallen asleep, she disentangled herself from his arms, determination shining bright in her eyes. She had had enough. It was time to find out the cause of these awful dreams, once and for all.
A/N: Please review!
