Chapter Text
Sleep is a precious thing. There is little that is worth interrupting a good night’s rest over. When a loud terrified scream is the cause, there isn’t any choice in the matter. It was his boy, his Daeron’s voice. He scrambles out of bed and is rushing out of the room as quickly as he can manage. Dyanna is muttering prayers to herself as she does the same next to him. He keeps going until he’s at the door to his son’s room. There’s a guard still watching the door, but the other is missing and the doors are wide open. He barges in and he finds the second guard carrying Daeron who is sobbing so hard his poor face is splotchy and red.
“Your Highness-” The guard starts.
“Give him to me.” Maekar cuts him off.
The guard does as he’s told and Maekar presses Daeron tight against him.
Dyanna ignores them both in favor of her son. “What is it? What is wrong, my sweet boy?”
“Did you see anything?” He demands.
“Nothing, your highness.” The guard explains. “We were performing our watch at the door as we are meant to when he screamed. We entered and found nothing amiss. There was no apparent cause for the young prince's deep distress.”
“Let me try, Maekar.” Dyanna says.
He obliges. She takes Daeron and wipes his face. “What frightened you, my love? The dark? A dream?”
Daeron lets out a distraught noise and clenches his fists in his mother's dress.
“He shall stay in our room tonight.” He tells the guard.
He hovers behind Dyanna and rests a hand in the small of her back as they make their way to their room. When they are inside they try to comfort Daeron, but nothing seems to work. Both the boy’s parents take turns walking with him and bouncing him. They press kisses to his sandy brown hair and cheeks. They hum and pat his back. They try to feed him and give him water. The poor thing continues crying. He quiets eventually, but he doesn’t calm down so much as he exhausts himself into going back to sleep.
Dyanna sets him down carefully in the center of their bed. They settle in on either side of him. It’s silent for some time.
“I worry for him.” She murmurs. “What are we meant to do?”
I do not know, he thinks.
He says “Daeron is still young. Gods willing these night terrors of his will cease with time.”