Screaming. Wailing. Gunshots. The sounds paralysed Cian, rendering him frozen in place, forced to observe the carnage that unfolded before his very eyes. The young country pleaded for his body to move, begging his limbs to do as he commanded, all the while panic tainted each shaky, short breath he took and his broken heart pounded so furiously he was sure it would give out at any moment. All of a sudden, the ginger was sent flying into a nearby brick wall. Laying barely conscious on the ground, Cian could make out a car ablaze, evidently the result of a car bomb. His body hurt. No, everything hurt. The country was fairly certain he'd broken some ribs and perhaps fractured his leg, the flesh on his chest and abdomen singed. Cian desperately tried to remain awake, but soon succumb to the rising darkness that clouded his vision, wondering if this would spell the end of his momentary existence.
Jolting upright in a cold sweat, Cian struggled to calm his nerves while he slowly comprehended his surroundings; he'd had yet another night terror. Consulting the mobile phone on his bedside table for the time, he let out a low groan when he read that it was midnight. Still feeling discombobulated, Northern Ireland forcibly dragged himself from the depths of his duvet and stumbled into the bathroom, splashing his face repeatedly with ice-cold water to transport himself back from the past and into the present day. Hovering over the sink motionlessly with droplets dripping from his face, Cian moved to retrieve a dry towel for himself and descend down the stairs to the kitchen. After that ordeal, though tiredness still lingered, he felt much too disturbed to pointlessly toss and turn in bed trying to summon sleep. Flicking a switch to bring the kettle to life, Cian decidedly made himself a cup of tea and took it into the living room with the intention of streaming some comfort shows onto the television to keep his mind somewhat preoccupied, anticipating he would be awake for the restof the night. Only, to his surprise, he entered the room to find Wales sat on the couch watching the television, the light of the screen being the only thing that provided light in the darkened room.
Startled, Medwyn tilted his head at Cian's appearance, a gasp escaping from his mouth.
"Hey, I thought you went to bed with Alistair and Arthur. Can't sleep?" The Welshman enquired, patting a space next to him, gesturing for Cian to sit beside him to which the latter obliged.
"Something like that. What about you?" Cian took a hearty gulp of his tea, holding his head low to avoid eye contact with the elder, hoping this would signal to him that he didn't wish to talk about why exactly it was he was out of bed at this hour. Medwyn, clocking the ginger's dishevelled state and mannerisms, guessed Cian had another one of his night terrors, which made his face soften with concern for his younger brother.
"I'm not tired yet. I've just been catching up on Doctor Who." Medwyn smiled warmly at Cian, leaning back into the plush material cushions lined along the couch. Northern Ireland followed suit, placing his cup of tea to one side and edging ever so slightly closer to Wales. He was glad Wales was up, just his presence alone eased his anxieties and he felt compelled to draw closer to the man, longing for some semblance of comfort. As though he'd read his mind, Medwyn wrapped an arm around his little brother and pulled him in so that Cian's head lay above Medwyn's heart, adjusting the blanket that rested on his knees to cover them both. Cian's face warmed to Medwyn's touch; listening to his big brother's thumping heart, rhythmic breathing and the low rumbles from his belly over the sound of the television playing in the background. This simple gesture brought tears to Northern Ireland's eyes, which he fought away fiercely, but despite this silent battle Medwyn could sense the sadness that clung onto Cian. Cradling his trembling brother, Wales gently stroked Northern Ireland's hair and began to sing an infamous Welsh lullaby, which the Northern Irishman recognised instantly as Suo Gân. The country recalled fond memories of Wales singing this particular song in his youth and others like it when he lay in hospital. Medwyn's beautiful singing voice never ceased to steal his breath away.
"Huna blentyn ar fy mynwes,
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;
Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat,
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;
Ni chaiff dim amharu'th gyntun,
Ni wna undyn â thi gam;
Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,
Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam."
Cian craned his head up from where his head rested against Medwyn's chest, to which Medwyn glimpsed down. Cian's tears could no longer be contained. The Welshman caressed Cian's cheek with a thumb, wiping away his tears, slowly rocking back and forth with the Northern Irishman in his arms. The lullaby brought back a strong sense of nostalgia from Cian's youth, providing him with a slither of peace that momentarily resulted in a small smile forming on his lips.
"Huna'n dawel, heno, huna,
Huna'n fwyn, y tlws ei lun;
Pam yr wyt yn awr yn gwenu,
Gwenu'n dirion yn dy hun?
Ai angylion fry sy'n gwenu,
Arnat ti yn gwenu'n llon,
Tithau'n gwenu'n ôl dan huno,
Huno'n dawel ar fy mron?"
As Medwyn continued to sing, Cian felt his eyes start to droop. He wrapped both arms around Medwyn's waist and buried his head deeper into the man's chest, the blond's rich voice reverberating throughout his body as he sung. Soon, unable to keep his eyes open, Cian reluctantly closed them, focusing on the sound of Medwyn's voice and the steady beating of his heart.
"Paid ag ofni, dim ond deilen
Gura, gura ar y ddôr;
Paid ag ofni, ton fach unig
Sua, sua ar lan y môr;
Huna blentyn, nid oes yma
Ddim i roddi iti fraw;
Gwena'n dawel yn fy mynwes.
Ar yr engyl gwynion draw."
Medwyn peered down at Cian once he'd drawn the tune to a close, seeing he'd given into sleep at long last. Feeling a sense of accomplishment, Medwyn planted a small kiss atop Cian's forehead and carefully altered his body to reach for the remote control to switch off the television. After a while, Wales drifted off to sleep, still holding Northern Ireland in his arms in an almost protective manner. The pair remained fast asleep on the couch until morning, when the two were discovered by a perplexed Arthur. The sight of two of his brother's sleeping side by side warmed the Englishman's heart; he figured Cian likely would've been downstairs due to one of his night terrors, so he was glad someone was around to comfort him in his hour of need. Quietly closing the living room door behind him, England shuffled into the kicthen to make a start on breakfast, leaving Wales and Northern Ireland sound asleep in each other's arms.