Post by Haraken on Dec 15, 2011 10:28:48 GMT -5
A/N: Note. FLUFF. ALERT. Sappy, cheesy, honest-to-god fluff alert. If you can't stand cliche, do not read this story. You've been warned.
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They say that the mysterious stone monument on the graveyard contains a figure who is not dead – who has simply been sleeping for a hundred years. They say that if you manage to get inside the monument, you can see him there, in a room carved with thorns, sleeping serenely and peacefully, still as the dead that surround him.
No one has ever been able to tell me what he looks like; they say that no one in recent memory has been able to find the door that leads within, that the stories survive from an earlier time. Some of them say the stories are merely myth; some say that they are the terrible truth, and that they should never be forgotten.
They say he was once a powerful demon, if such things ever once existed, and that if he wakes, a terrible, furious curse will be brought upon the land.
So it was, shaking and afraid, that I brushed the dust away from the carving which I knew concealed the secret door; the riddle solved, I pressed the catch and found the stone before me swinging open to reveal the rooms within.
Slowly, slowly, I made my way – alone, because no one would dare come with me.
See, I had been here before, a long time ago – I remembered the way. I even remembered the face of the dreamer, though forever ago, I had convinced myself that he was a dream.
His face hadn’t seemed angry then; looking down at him, surrounded by reliefs of thorns and snarls of cobweb and dust, it didn’t seem angry now.
His blonde hair was darker than mine, and his eyes were closed; he didn’t seem to move, but as I approached I realized – he truly was breathing. His skin was pale, and I reached out and touched it, wiping long bangs away from his closed eyes.
He was… sad. That was it. His face looked oh so very sad, as if he’d known that whatever it was that put him here in his dreamless sleep was coming. I could hardly believe that he would destroy anything.
Something on the pedestal he lay upon caught my eye; I knelt and, again, wiped the dust away.
“Here he sleeps for all of time
Until repentant of his crime
Look upon his face and weep
Until that day, an Angel keep
Until the day when silent treads
In dreams, bound with fateful threads
The one whose destiny he shares
The one whose heart will never care
What once was lost to he and I
Stirs again his heart and eyes
If you would wake him, listen well
Only kiss of love will break this spell.”
My heart beat fast within my chest, because I had known my whole life what I was meant to do.
Love? Yes, love. My whole life, this moment had haunted my dreams.
Destiny. It was… destiny.
I stood, took his lukewarm hand. It was strong, even in sleep, but vulnerable as well. I closed my eyes, leaned over, and placed my lips to his; I felt his breath stir within me, and I sat back, waited for that moment that somehow, I had known would happen all my life.
The same eyes that had met mine in dreams, time and time again, throughout my life, opened; eyes of liquid gold, both kind and cruel, loving and hating.
“Naminé?” he whispered, but he shook his head. “…no. No, I’ve… I’ve been asleep too long… I can’t remember…”
I smiled slightly. It was… it was just as I had seen.
His eyes met mine.
“I dreamed about you,” he whispered.
“So did I,” I said.
It mattered not if he knew what had woken him, if he remembered anything at all. I had broken the curse, as I had been meant to do… destiny would do the rest.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“…they called me Angel, once,” he replied. “Who are you?”
“They call me... Seraph.”
---
They say that the mysterious stone monument on the graveyard contains a figure who is not dead – who has simply been sleeping for a hundred years. They say that if you manage to get inside the monument, you can see him there, in a room carved with thorns, sleeping serenely and peacefully, still as the dead that surround him.
No one has ever been able to tell me what he looks like; they say that no one in recent memory has been able to find the door that leads within, that the stories survive from an earlier time. Some of them say the stories are merely myth; some say that they are the terrible truth, and that they should never be forgotten.
They say he was once a powerful demon, if such things ever once existed, and that if he wakes, a terrible, furious curse will be brought upon the land.
So it was, shaking and afraid, that I brushed the dust away from the carving which I knew concealed the secret door; the riddle solved, I pressed the catch and found the stone before me swinging open to reveal the rooms within.
Slowly, slowly, I made my way – alone, because no one would dare come with me.
See, I had been here before, a long time ago – I remembered the way. I even remembered the face of the dreamer, though forever ago, I had convinced myself that he was a dream.
His face hadn’t seemed angry then; looking down at him, surrounded by reliefs of thorns and snarls of cobweb and dust, it didn’t seem angry now.
His blonde hair was darker than mine, and his eyes were closed; he didn’t seem to move, but as I approached I realized – he truly was breathing. His skin was pale, and I reached out and touched it, wiping long bangs away from his closed eyes.
He was… sad. That was it. His face looked oh so very sad, as if he’d known that whatever it was that put him here in his dreamless sleep was coming. I could hardly believe that he would destroy anything.
Something on the pedestal he lay upon caught my eye; I knelt and, again, wiped the dust away.
“Here he sleeps for all of time
Until repentant of his crime
Look upon his face and weep
Until that day, an Angel keep
Until the day when silent treads
In dreams, bound with fateful threads
The one whose destiny he shares
The one whose heart will never care
What once was lost to he and I
Stirs again his heart and eyes
If you would wake him, listen well
Only kiss of love will break this spell.”
My heart beat fast within my chest, because I had known my whole life what I was meant to do.
Love? Yes, love. My whole life, this moment had haunted my dreams.
Destiny. It was… destiny.
I stood, took his lukewarm hand. It was strong, even in sleep, but vulnerable as well. I closed my eyes, leaned over, and placed my lips to his; I felt his breath stir within me, and I sat back, waited for that moment that somehow, I had known would happen all my life.
The same eyes that had met mine in dreams, time and time again, throughout my life, opened; eyes of liquid gold, both kind and cruel, loving and hating.
“Naminé?” he whispered, but he shook his head. “…no. No, I’ve… I’ve been asleep too long… I can’t remember…”
I smiled slightly. It was… it was just as I had seen.
His eyes met mine.
“I dreamed about you,” he whispered.
“So did I,” I said.
It mattered not if he knew what had woken him, if he remembered anything at all. I had broken the curse, as I had been meant to do… destiny would do the rest.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“…they called me Angel, once,” he replied. “Who are you?”
“They call me... Seraph.”
