41. Sweet Dreams

The last words I'd heard from his mouth had been sweet. His prison of dreams was sweeter still.

In it, there was no Morrigan. No curse. No bets to tear us apart or kingdoms hanging in the balance. In my dreams, there was only us.

Damian and Nell.

Visions of happiness and passion, twisted in bedsheets. Dreams of matching rings, and the cheer of friends bumping forks on crystal rims. A mirage of a family that existed only in this perfect, impossible place.

A loving hand on my round belly, and echoes of baby giggles that would never be.

Until the dreams faded, and the nightmares became real.