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They both got nightmares, still. Lorem’s had started shortly after… well. After she thought she had lost Lyr, back in St. Terraint. She didn’t remember most of them, but she always knew what she had dreamt, when she woke up sweating and with a feeling of sinking and crushing in her chest.
She knew it was the same for Lyr, that her night terrors had diversified in bone-chilling ways after everything that happened— everything she went through. Even if she did not talk much about them, she could tell.
She could tell when she woke up, sweating and crying and with that terrible awful certainty that she did not remember exactly why. When she had to remind herself to breathe in and out, to ground herself in the softness of the fleece blanket. When she had to take a beat to convince herself to look to her side, at the other side of the bed. When she did, the sight washed away her terror like a tidal wave, replaced it with a fond concern.
She could hear Lyr’s quickened breathing next to her, feel her shifting in her sleep. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see her brow furrowed over closed eyes. She reached out a hand and cupped Lyr's cheek softly, softly, softly; smoothed the wrinkle between her eyebrows with her thumb. It softened immediately under her touch, and she couldn't help pressing a kiss to Lyr's forehead. Knowing she likely would have ended up waking her up anyway, she whispered reassurance on her skin:
“Hey, you're okay, starfish.”
After a few soft strokes of Lorem’s thumb, Lyr's eyes opened ever so slightly. Lorem caught herself flinching for an instant before she saw them— one like the sea on a stormy day, one like a field in the rain. Her jaw unclenched into an easy smile.
Lyr’s eyes were full of the hazy fear and confusion of waking up from a nightmare for a moment. She blinked once, twice, and seemed to finally take in the scene before her. The whole time Lorem continued to cup her cheek, to softly caress her skin with her thumb. When her eyes came into focus, her expression melted into relief, a smile making its way onto her lips.
“Lorem.” She said simply, then closed her eyes again and leaned into Lorem’s touch, sighing deeply.
“Hi,” said Lorem, still smiling. “You okay?”
Lyr nodded against her hand before looking up at her.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for pulling me out.”
“Anytime.” Lorem couldn’t resist throwing her whole weight on Lyr, pulling them into an awkward hug and running her fingers through the growing stubs of hair on the left side of her head. “Anytime, as long as you need me to.”
When they found each other yet again, It was not long before Lorem and Lyr decided it would be in both their best interest to never sleep in separate beds again, if they could help it. There was truly nothing that could beat the reassuring breath of the person you love right there, next to you. A steady reminder that she’s here, and she’s not going anywhere. She’s alive and we’re here and we made it. By the gods, we made it.
And they had made it, as wild as it still seemed. They were together, and they were safe, and they were alive. Lyr hugged Lorem back just as tight.
“I know, love, I know. And you too.” She pulled away ever so slightly, enough to look into her eyes. Enough to see the iridescent glow of her eyes and her cheeks brighten, make sure she never had to feel the weight of the world on her shoulders alone again. “You know that, right? We’re in this together now. For the long haul.”
Lorem leaned in again, this time to plant a kiss to her cheek. Like the sealing once again of a promise they had made not too long ago.
“For the long haul.”
They lay like this, in each other’s arms, until a gentle sleep washed over both of them again; the safety of the embrace keeping any further nightmares away.