In Which Zareth Drifts Away

October 1, 1179

The sea tossed the ship as a careless, irate child flung about his toys, and the thunder roared with the wrath of a hundred armies. Zareth bunched up a handful of blanket and pulled as he folded into himself. As the head of the expedition he may have been obliged to forsake the relative safety of his cabin and join the night crew on deck, but the thought of lightning splitting the sky like a pane of glass was more than he could face. If that meant he shirked his duties, so be it. If that made him a coward, so be it.

The ship lurched once again and the wash of rain erupted in a violent rumble. A more discrete creaking sound scratched at his ears, though he didn't care to ponder it. The tread of one of the crewmen on deck, no doubt; everyone who wasn't on duty would be doing the same as he if they had any sense.

"Zareth?"

Mona, of course, lacked the sense the Lord gave a doornail. Still clutching the blankets, Zareth rolled over and cracked open an eyelid. The girl was pale enough to light the room like a candle. "What?"

"I... I'm not even sure." A crack! rang from above. Whatever fleeting flash leaked into the room shot her trembling lip to sharp relief. "The storm... they're snoring away like it's nothing... I know I shouldn't be bothering you, but..."

The next bout of thunder rolled in with a low groan. It was far from the calm he craved, but it was enough for Mona's anxious face to subdue to contained panic. "I really hate the thunder."

And he felt the same about the lightning. It didn't change anything. Not much he could've been expected to do about it. "I see."

Mona fought to keep her balance on the rolling floor, her shaking movements marked with an alert indignance. She wasn't reassured. It had never been his strong suit. "You think I'm a coward."

"No." He kicked off the covers and eased himself upright, his stance unsteady and dynamic as he constantly readjusted. It was unheard of for a man of Carvallon to hate ships, and he had a heart-gnawing feeling that he may have been the first. "Here I thought you were fearless to the point of idiocy."

Another crack!. She stumbled forward, landing in his arms despite his never intending to catch her. For such a silly, self-absorbed creature she was startlingly solid. "It won't hit us, will it? The lightning?"

"No." The scene had played in his head a thousand times since the storm's beginning and he felt like a liar for denying it, but she was upset enough as it was and he had his own fear to deal with. The addition of hers would have been more than he could take. "No, it won't. Trust me."

"Then why are you shaking?" Her arms fell from his shoulders to his back and she clung to him more tightly. If he couldn't feel himself moving against her then she must have been shaking in time.

"It's... chilly in here."

"You're lying."

Zareth said nothing.

"Is it all right if I stay here?" Mona took a few gasping breaths as he backed away. She'd never looked like less of a princess, standing there with the haunted look about her, ready to fall to pieces when next the sky broke. She'd never looked more human. "Just until it's over?"

He nodded.

The minutes dragged to the point of an hour and the storm quieted just enough for her to drift away, off to the realm of dreams, leaving her body as a warm souvenir on the other side of Zareth's bed. He ventured a few glances at her sleeping form. She looked to be untroubled. He doubted he himself would find sleep so easy.

It was the last thought he had before his lashes grew too heavy to hold.

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