Amongst the torturous visions where all he can see is loneliness, lots of fire and ashes threatening to consume him— he's blessed with the most beautiful maiden he's ever seen.

Which is strange, as everything about him is. Once a boy with night terrors and now a man drowning his prophecies with sweet dornish wine. Are you even real or his mind has gotten mad enough to make you from scratch?

He's heard the maesters whisper none could create faces on their dreams. Yet he's sure he hasn't seen you before. From the slope of your nose to the gentle curve of your lips as you smile warmly at him— he hasn't see you before.

A fleeting touch that seeped through his bones, breath caught in his throat the second his fingertips got to experience, feel, remember the delicate flesh you've been kind to let him trace with calloused fingertips.

Then you're gone from his grasp with a blink of an eye. Heat pooled low in his belly, familiar and relentless, his breeches tight enough to steal the air from his lungs. A dream, once more.

He'd nurse as much alcohol as possible to knock him out for hours he'll be glad to spend with you— or to face those dreams of nothingness. He hopes for the first.

Tonight, before his limbs go numb, a crooked sly curls on his lips sensing you'll be on his dreams yet again. Hips jerking to seek comfort in bed while the rush of the autumn winds a cocoon for his slumber.

In his dreams, you wait for him bathed in soft shades of pale pink, adoration spilling from you so freely it makes his chest ache. A few long strides and he's on his knees before you, where the nursing tone of your voice crushes through his wary soul.

He reaches for you, desperate to feel anything— strong arms wrapping around your waist, nuzzling into your stomach as an excuse to press his face against the soft silk of your gown. "I wish not leave you as the sun rises."

Quiet yet powerful words, your fingers running through his messy silver strands in a vague attempt to soothe him. "I wish to stay with you. Here. Forever." Bloodshot eyes find yours, begging for a chance to experience this calmness on the daily.

"No duty, no pain, no visions. Just you and me." His voice cracks. Vulnerability seeping through desperate pleas. Nose grazing the skin below your ribs, forehead resting there. One hand sneaking down your hips, fingers gripping tightly at the soft flesh there. Grounding himself there. Begging to mark you, so you won't forget him. "I don't wish to wake up. Can't bear not being with you through the sunrise."