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He was having a nightmare again.
She watched as the sweat trickled down his forehead, disappearing into his matted hair and temple, lips parted. His brows were creased, furrowed as his body jerked, the bed crinkling under his weight as she moved to roll onto her side.
It had been becoming more frequent, the nightmares. She had an inkling as to why, but didn't want to dwell too much on it when it first trickled into the recesses of her mind. Though, seeing how it is, she quickly came to terms with the fact she'd have to talk to him about it soon. Soon, being now, a decision made by her sleep deprived and ultimately impulsive brain at an ungodly hour.
Delicately, she sat on her knees. Patiently, her hands reached and cradled his nape and head. Lovingly, she maneuvers her spouse's head onto her lap.
His tense expression seems to relax a tiny bit, the creases of his forehead smoothing out like ripples vanishing in now-still water. Her heart warms while watching him snuggle close to her stomach, nose burrowing in the soft material of her nightgown. Watching how he seeks her touch even in the deepest of dreams.
The nightmare that had sunken its claws into him lets up, and it unfurls in the slumping of his shoulders and stabilizing of his breathing. And his once clenched shut eyes open with a few dazy blinks, pupils blown and lashes fluttering.
Martha smiles at him, runs her palm along his cheekbone. "Hello, pretty."
It takes a moment for him to realize his position; a twitch of his finger, a quick glance through his peripheral is all he needed before a lazy grin lifted his stitch edged lips.
"Should be sayin' that to you." Naib's cautious when he twists to lay on his side—similar to her movement a mere few moments ago—and when he lets himself hum into the soft scent of her and her alone. Voice a low growl, thick with remnants of his slumber.
She hums, he glances at her. "Did I wake you?"
A little guilty, she smiles sheepishly down at him. She wonders if her eyebags are more prominent now that he's looking up at her.
"Mhm."
He sighs. His eyes shut, the furrow in his brow returning. She doesn't like that. "Sorry, moonshine. Been trying to not disturb you."
Maybe it'd be better for her to not bring up how she's already had several days worth of sleep stolen away due to his tossing and turning. If she brings it up, he might end up sulking in the corner of the bedroom and refuse to return to bed.
"No, no. It's out of your control, don't apologize," she coos, letting her thumb gently rub an upward line from his outer eye's edge into his hairline. A low rumble leaves him, he's pleased at the touch.
The two of them bask in the gentle atmosphere for a moment, but only for a moment.
"What was it about?"
Martha had anticipated how he would stiffen, as well as the sharp inhale and how his eyes widened a tad. Which is why her hand slides over to his bicep, keeping him in place and one of her hands tangles itself in his hair. The sensation gentle and light, but the intention palpable.
He chuckles when he feels her hands deliberately hold him in place. Ah, he knows, she thinks.
"Minx."
"I got it from you, after all."
"Now are you concerned or are you trying to insult me?"
"What was the nightmare about?"
He frowns. She knows what he's thinking, and how it has to do with how well she can read him. It's funny to her, enough to put a faint smile on her face, because so many years ago when they were in a manor room and not the bedroom they're in now, she was terrified of how well he could read her.
"It's..." he trails off, and she stays silent, in hopes of him continuing. He doesn't, and it confirms her assumptions.
"I'm here. In one piece, in perfect health." Martha observes how he shifts onto his back, staring straight up at her. His eyebags reflect her own, but personally, she believes they're cuter on him. "Your worries are arbitrary when faced with the reality in front of you."
Naib shakes his head, coughs to clear the grogginess in his throat. "I know. But it doesn't change the fact it could have gone wrong."
Gone wrong. Martha tilts her head, staring down at him with a clinical look in her eye. He averts his gaze, sighing exasperatedly.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Her voice has an amused lilt as her lips unknowingly curl upwards.
"Like I'm a cadaver," he groans.
"English," she remarks, impressed. "You're truly taking on the personality of an old English man. How impressive, Mr. Subedar."
"Yeah, well, I had to learn if I wanted to survive here with you," the former mercenary grumbles, sitting up. His back faced her, shoulders still lined with tension and back straight like a cat ready to pounce.
She isn't sure of how to handle this. It had almost been a decade of being with him, yet she was still about as emotionally equipped as a sheep and her lambs that she rejects.
So, instead of using her totally present verbose reassurance ability, she decides to offer him something else. "Do you want to go see her?"
Naib perks at that, and oh how her heart warmed.
It didn't take long for them to cross the space and out the door, headed to the other room that's only two rooms away from theirs. He led the way obviously, one of his hands clasping hers. Despite his visible excitement, it was clear he was still moving at a pace suitable for her.
She swore she fell for him ten times harder within the past few seconds. Was that possible? She hopes so, because there must be no other word in the lexicon capable of articulating her sentiments.
While he opened the door with a silent creak, Martha was ironically the first to enter. The space smooth to the eyes and soft on the atmosphere, but what was much softer was the bundle swaddled up in the white cradle.
Soft, pudgy cheeks with blinking, large eyes. Even in the balmy lighting of moonlight, the little baby's brown hair peeked from beneath the itty bitty knitted cap.
With full arms and a full heart, she crooned at her daughter—their daughter—stepping side to side like a melody driven sway as her eyes crinkle at the edges when her gaze befalls the curious-eyed infant, whose head lay against her shoulder.
"Look who's awake and not crying? No wonder mama only woke up now," Martha crooned, lovesick and voice mushy as she rubs her nose against her darling's. She noisily smacked her lips, chubby gloved hands wriggling as her mother hums a soft tune.
"Mhm? You been waiting for us? Aw, my poor baby." The baby manages a gummy smile at the inflection of her mother's voice.
Naib was standing by the doorway, closing the door before hesitantly approaching the two of them. His hair messy, appearance tousled but eyes brimming with a clarity that could put the freshest of waters to shame.
Weak to his own daughter, how sappy, she wanted to say, but opted not to. Instead, she turned, back facing him. Not as denial, but more of an invitation—one he gladly took, arms winding around her waist, a hand resting on her abdomen and the other on the back of the bumbling baby.
By the way he sighed a soft kiss into the crook of her neck, he seems to remember this position being an exact replica of the first time Martha held their baby standing up. He was melting into her, lips warm and chapped but adept at kissing her smooth skin.
Naib's fear was what had been keeping him up at night. It was a fear that had originally been Martha's, one he would console her through during the journey of her pregnancy. Childbirth was scary, after all. It'd be concerning if she wasn't worried about the potential risks. But she knew that the day she gave birth to their beloved baby girl was when something changed. There was a shift, in their relationship at least.
Maybe it was her screams and cries during the delivery. Maybe it was how there was a chance for something to go wrong. Maybe it was the thought everything could go wrong.
Naib stares at his kid, the infant gazing back at him with equal interest before pressing a small kiss into the fat of her cheek. "Papa loves you so much, I love both of you so much."
His voice was croaky, but not from sleep. She melts back into him.
"Hear that baby?" Martha dreamily smiles at the infant, watching as her eyes widen and crinkle at how Naib showered her in affection. Oh, how much she loved the two of them.
"Your papa's a sappy bastard."
"And your mama's a total nuisance," he retorted, tilting his head down to playfully sink his teeth into the juncture of her neck. She jolted with a soft squeal, shooting him a dark look at he simply laughed at. He lets her twirl in his hold, them facing each other and sharing a chaste kiss, his fingertips dancing up her spine and stroking her back because that's where her wings would have been had she been an angel.
As they sway to the gentle tune of what she hummed, his arms wound around the two of them and her heart full of only them, she thinks it's okay if he continues to have nightmares.
Because if it means strengthening their already reinforced relationship, she'd go to the ends of the Earth for a moment longer within this peace they fought so long for.