Lyanna didn't move despite the harshness in Azrael's voice. Instead, she moved closer, sitting on the chair opposite him.
"How often do you have these nightmares?"
"That's none of your concern."
"You're my husband. Your pain is my concern, whether you like it or not."
Her words seemed to break something in him. His rigid posture slumped, and his shoulders fell as he leaned back in his chair. He suddenly looked exhausted, not just physically, but worn down by carrying centuries of burden alone.
"Most nights." He admitted. "For centuries. It started shortly after my turning. I've learned to get by on little sleep, to push through them, to suppress them when I need to. But these memories just won't leave me no matter how much time passes or how powerful I become." He said all this without looking at her.
"What are the nightmares about?" She asked again.
The silence stretched so long she thought he wouldn't answer. He just sat there, thinking whether to share or not.
