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Entry tags:
TDIR: Scraps
Fandom: The Dark Is Rising
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Owen woke him, when he had a nightmare. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand.
Bran woke when Owen shook him. He found himself tangled in the covers, too hot and aching as if he'd been thrashed about, and Owen's expression was worried. "Are you alright, bach?" he asked, as he had when Bran was a little thing, scared of things that had been half as real as what he'd dreamed. Though -- what he had dreamed was already fading. He sat up, trying to peel the covers away from his sticky, sweaty skin. He didn't look up at his da.
"It was just a nightmare," he said. He thought about going to the window for air, but his legs felt rubbery, shaky, as if they wouldn't hold him up. Owen touched his bare arm gently, concern still on his face.
"Do you want anything? Want to sit up for a while? Have some tea?"
"I..." Bran looked up and saw Owen's worry, and a kind of tenderness there, too, and he smiled. "Thanks, Da. That would be... Yes."
Owen nodded and stood up, going to make tea without saying anything more. Bran sat there a moment longer, trying to hold onto the nightmare, just one image... Will Stanton's face, determined, strangely alien... Jane Drew, her mouth open in a scream... little Barney, braver than he'd pegged him for... and other things, mere scraps of scraps, and an oddly familiar feeling, like an icy hand around his heart...
By the time he had finished his tea, though, it had all floated out of reach. It had all gone, and he laughed when his da made some joke, and thought no more of it.
Pairing: None
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Owen woke him, when he had a nightmare. For
fic_on_demand.Bran woke when Owen shook him. He found himself tangled in the covers, too hot and aching as if he'd been thrashed about, and Owen's expression was worried. "Are you alright, bach?" he asked, as he had when Bran was a little thing, scared of things that had been half as real as what he'd dreamed. Though -- what he had dreamed was already fading. He sat up, trying to peel the covers away from his sticky, sweaty skin. He didn't look up at his da.
"It was just a nightmare," he said. He thought about going to the window for air, but his legs felt rubbery, shaky, as if they wouldn't hold him up. Owen touched his bare arm gently, concern still on his face.
"Do you want anything? Want to sit up for a while? Have some tea?"
"I..." Bran looked up and saw Owen's worry, and a kind of tenderness there, too, and he smiled. "Thanks, Da. That would be... Yes."
Owen nodded and stood up, going to make tea without saying anything more. Bran sat there a moment longer, trying to hold onto the nightmare, just one image... Will Stanton's face, determined, strangely alien... Jane Drew, her mouth open in a scream... little Barney, braver than he'd pegged him for... and other things, mere scraps of scraps, and an oddly familiar feeling, like an icy hand around his heart...
By the time he had finished his tea, though, it had all floated out of reach. It had all gone, and he laughed when his da made some joke, and thought no more of it.