Dreams

By: Sokai

Disclaimer: I, Sokai, do not claim ownership to the Italian animated television series, Winx Club -- I leave that honor up to Iginio Straffi as well as the producers of Rainbow S.p.A. Nor do I own the song, "Dreams," by Enya. However, I can and DO claim to own this story, in addition to its inspired ideas FROM said series.

Note: This fic's based upon the "Una Sleale Avversaria" episode, and even though I was extremely pleased that Bloom had been unable to break the spell upon Sky (because she is my least favorite Winx chickie, and I despise Sky and their coupling tremendously -- So HERE come all of the flames right off the bat just because I'd admitted to this LoL That's all right, though, I don't hate YOU guys, I just find them too artificially sweet for my taste, is all. Plus, for all her faults, I rather fancy Diaspro, as I feel sorry for her and the fact that since birth she'd been preparing herself to marry Sky, and then out of NO where he's all "Um...yeah...Let's just be friends" the moment Bloom strolled into the picture. So that's gotta leave ANYone bitter and a bit "messed up," so yeah) I thought that I would write a Sky fic. So be prepared for a LOT of thinking, and repetitive thinking, and thinking some more -- not to mention honest contradictions here and there, as Sky (who's still spelled in this fic) gradually searches his mind for answers to questions he didn't expect himself to wonder about.

And so, all feelings aside (that is, mine for Bloom and Sky), here is the story and my very first Winx Club fic. (And please, do honestly try not to flame me for my dislike for them LoL)


This story was created/written in May 2007.
"I love you, Sky . . . my beloved prince, who is mine and only mine . . ."

"And I love you, Diaspro . . . my princess and eternal love . . ." Prince Sky of Eraklyon automatically responded to his princess and new bride of three months, Princess Diaspro, without thinking as the two lay within their spacious and lavish bedroom to retire for the night.

This was how the young Redfountain student would always feel compelled to speak to the blonde beauty lying soundly beside him, no matter the discussion. Good or bad, right or wrong, Sky was always at the ready to shower his wife with appropriate compliment after appropriate compliment.

Anything to keep her happy.

This was Sky's primary objective, cause, and purpose in life, ever since . . . ever since the night of Eraklyon's one thousandth year anniversary royal party, now that he'd actually thought about it, when he had proclaimed his undying love for Diaspro about three weeks or so before their swift wedding . . .

It isn't as though I do not love her, because I do -- tremendously, thought Sky idly to himself, as he slowly and carefully turned his sunlit head to gaze properly at the already slumbering, platinum blonde haired princess at his side. And of course I had always intended upon declaring my love and commitment to her to the entire kingdom that evening . . .

You're everything my dreams have seen.

But, what are dreams?

As sure as Sky felt for his devotion to the wonderful bride who had been his intended for years upon years, in a bit of conflicting contrast (and, for whatever the reason), he could not help but to feel continuously haunted of images (waking mind or not) of that red haired witch . . .

I'm walking where my dreams have been.

But, what are dreams?

Diaspro had said that that woman was a vile, evil temptress in alliance with the notorious Valtor, and was not only out to hurt the two of them during the night of the party, but the planet of Eraklyon, itself . . .

And what Diaspro had informed me of in regards to that witch had to have been the truth, for how else would she have known my name when she'd attempted to deceive me with her trickery? Trying desperately to get me to believe that she was not at all what my lovely new wife had claimed -- How impudent! thought Prince Sky with a rather loud scoff as he continued to lie in bed, not at all worried that his action would arouse the unconscious newlywed (as he was keenly aware, after several months of marriage, that she was a deep sleeper and nothing could or would rattle her from out of her slumber).

Looking away from Princess Diaspro with a small and loving smile upon his face, without realizing did Sky's simper quickly begin to fade away as he rolled onto his side, facing away from her while proceeding to dive further into his slightly troubling thoughts.

Why was he so increasingly bothered, to the point of near obsession, by the witch with the fiery tresses? What was it about her that so profoundly captivated his intrigue, and slowly but surely crippled his inability to concentrate upon much else (negating Diaspro, of course)?

She was a witch. And not only that, but a servant to Valtor of all beings, and his continuing and evil conquest.

Nonetheless . . . there had been something so strikingly familiar about her admittedly mesmerizing turquoise colored eyes. They did not seem to hold any sort of malice within them (which was an extremely common trait that Sky would personally and frequently witness within the Trix Sisters, whenever facing one or all three at the same time within a battle).

Within the crimson haired maiden's eyes had the crowned prince of Eraklyon been able to detect a bit of . . . sadness shining forth . . .

Even remorse, actually, throughout the duration of her attempt to apparently "reach out" to me, he reflected silently, his insides churning with steady oppositions of trust and emotions.

Can I believe these spells I feel?

I'm wary now.

Can I believe, or is this real?

I'm wary now.

Frowning with intense disapproval, Prince Sky silently cursed and scolded himself for dwelling upon the issue when it was not even worth entertaining to begin with. Regardless of how he curiously felt, or even what his friends continued to try to convince him of (as curious as that was), he would never believe that that ignoble woman was guiltless.

So long as there continued to be breath within his body, he would not rest until he'd succeeded in permanently safeguarding his kingdom and princess from the impending threats of Valtor and his flagitious sorceresses.

For now, though, none of that matters. All that does matter -- and most of all -- is the love that I feel for you, Diaspro, happily thought Sky, at the same time that he rolled back onto his other side to resume watching his goddess of a wife sleep. Not to mention, of course, the deep and undeniable love that you feel for me in return . . .

Suddenly, Sky felt his heart begin to throb with a distinct bit of pain as he reflected upon that final thought. It was the first time since his wedding (since the royal party, he'd yet again realized, oddly) that he'd ever truly and honestly bothered to wonder whether or not the love he harbored for Diaspro was honestly reciprocated.

But, of course it was. After all, everyday and every night it was all the fair haired princess would ever say to Sky:

"I love you, my Sky."

"I love you so much, my prince."

"You are mine, and I am the only one who loves you, Sky."

And, as always, Sky would promptly respond with a dashing smile, an appreciative nod and return the sentiment with either a word or loving embrace. His feelings for Diaspro were abundantly evident within his marriage vows. As he'd recited to her, his life had been nothing -- not worth recalling -- before he'd realized his love for Diaspro.

Sky had meant every word and emotion, for that was how he'd truly felt: Reborn, for the exclusive intent to care for and love the wonderful and beautiful creature lying peacefully beside him.

Just like some new-born creature, I.

What are dreams?

But . . . Is this how love truly feels? And is it what Diaspro indeed feels for me in return? I mean, I know that she says she loves me . . . but the way that she says it, even if softly, is always a bit demanding and possessive Sky sighed as he became lost within yet another slightly negative thought, his flawless and lightly tanned visage lightly marred by the growing furrow within his brow. And what about me? I do love her . . . but whenever I say it or think of my love for her, it's more like an impulse to do so, as though obligated . . . Is this how love is supposed to feel?

A child in need of love and care.

Tell me what, tell me what, are dreams?

Letting out a frustrated groan while promptly sitting up at this, Sky cupped his head within his strong, increasingly clammy hands as an unfortunate and pulsating headache had then begun to come about.

This was absurd! How and why would he suddenly be harboring anything but positive thoughts and emotions towards his perfect wife and future queen, and the love the two shared?

Both Sky and Diaspro had been groomed to love and be with one another since the early days of their youth! So of course she felt an honest and sacred love towards him, as he did for her! How dare he ever think otherwise?

Can I believe these spells I feel?

I'm wary now.

Can I believe, or is this real?

I'm wary now.

"Of course I love Diaspro and only her. I was made to love her. I would do anything for her . . . to protect her and to keep her safe and sacrifice all for her . . . And I know that she would do exactly the same . . ." murmured the young monarch of Eraklyon with as much conviction as he could presently muster, before his heart instantly began to palpitate uncomfortably at the thought, and his mind traveled back to Valtor's redheaded minion . . .

"What's happened to you, Sky? Even if you are spelled, our love is strong enough to break through . . ."

That was the last thing she had said to Sky before she'd managed to escape from his grasp (for a little while, anyhow, before he had caught up to her with his royal guards). He didn't believe her words then and still didn't now.

At long last did it finally seem and feel as though Sky's incessant ruminations that evening had come full circle, to his original negative opinion of the witch and of her foul intentions (which, in turn, would mean that he could also at last banish the entire subject away from his perturbed psyche).

Still . . . Why would that heinous enchantress bother to embark upon such a route as a way to lower his guard?

This was what captivated the blonde hero most.

For, the Trix Sisters had never once bothered to lull him into any sense of false security by claiming to share a strong, passionate love with him. They were consistently all about hostility, hatred and domination.

So, why would the crimson haired witch attempt something so foolish? Why was she so different in her tactics?

Just like some new-born creature, I.

What are dreams?

Suddenly, Sky had a startling thought.

"What if . . . What if that is exactly the point? That that witch is different from the Trix because she goes below the belt, so to speak? To target the hearts and emotions of her victims by saying the things they wish to hear," he spoke softly to himself, gently rubbing at his temples in desperate attempt to lull his headache away. "But . . . if that is the case, then that would mean that I would . . . wish to hear that I . . . do share a love with . . ."

A child in need of love and care.

Tell me what, tell me what, are dreams?

Eyes beginning to rapidly water, a single tear trickled down from Sky's crystalline blue eyes as he slowly raised his head to gaze straight ahead, at the same time that he'd weakly rested a shaky hand upon his naked, muscular chest.

A strong, distinct realization filtered into his heart as profound, cherished memories (in addition to emotions) that were mysteriously lost to him were now returned, causing him to feel no longer conflicted and the weight of burdening weariness and apprehension to evaporate.

He was whole again.

However, at the same time that Prince Sky had regained his former clarity and self control, he had also acquired an extremely sickening wave of stern reality as it mercilessly crashed down upon him.

He was now a married man, and to the wrong woman.

Gasping softly, the sole heir to the kingdom of Eraklyon pulled his knees up to his chest, at the same instant that he emitted a broken sob, closed his tear riddled eyes and regrettably verbalized his heart's newfound lament.

"Bloom . . . I beg of you . . . please forgive me . . ."

-- The End


(A.N. I like to be "depressing" like that. Leaving my one shots with semi-resolved endings or not at all. Will I do a follow up? Maybe. Maybe not. I had honestly planned to do one from Bloom's perspective of the whole fiasco, and as another song-fic. But for whatever reason it was giving me "difficulties." But I don't know. Just for "fun" I might re-tackle it and post it up one day soon.)