Author's Note: this is a one-shot, based on "Nevermore" by Kelly Creagh. This is an amazing story and this is my take on how Varen might imagine his wedding with Isobel. This is dedicated to the faithful fans of my "Nevermore" page on Facebook and Edgar Allan Poe.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Nevermore" or the references to Edgar Allan Poe's A Dream Within A Dream.
"All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." – Edgar Allan Poe, A Dream Within A Dream
He sat on the rock, letting the storm rage on around him, staring emptily at the sea around him. He imagined her there with him, standing in front of him, replacing the monster of a woman – the ghost, Ligeia – that kept him there against his will. If he could only handle the tangible, grasp it in his hand for a second, the world would be his. But he could only dream of her – the tangible. She was tangible in the easiest of ways; it was so simple to reach out and stroke her hair, a sheet of golden waves cascading down her back like a stream of gold. His gold. His most prized possession. No, he would never objectify such splendour.
For she was much more than just splendour; she was his and he would ensure that she was his forever, no matter what he must go through. Their ends would meet and in between, a most spectacular ordeal would take place, small and friendly. Through a purple haze, he saw. Oh, did he imagine it, smothered in an amethyst haze there was a spot of white – she looked so perfect in white, so pure. She was pure - pure in thought, pure in mind and pure in being. Walking closer now, she came into view, gold hair tied a series of perfect curls and eyes lit up so bright, it was like they were the orbs lighting the room. He focused on her steps, relishing in the sight of her coming closer to him until she reached him. His hand flew to hers, long pale fingers closing around her soft, lightly pigmented skin. He brought her hand to his lips.
"Isobel," he breathed, looking at her through impossibly long, black lashes. She smiled the most beautiful of smiles – at him, a freak. How is it that such a goddess could love such an oddity such as him? Often times, he found himself wondering, fearing that she might one day wake up and snap out of this dream … within a dream. "You look … ravishing."
She blushed, a gorgeous colour that flooded her cheeks and lit up her eyes once again. "As do you, Varen," she replied. Just then, the man with the glass eye appeared from seemingly nowhere in front of them, a strange grin in place. He held a thick book in his hands and he appeared to be speaking, though for a moment Varen could not hear anything but a horrible swishing sound. A chill ran up his spine, freezing his blood in its tracks.
They live in the floor.
"You know she'll leave you, Freak," something whispered in his ear. He cleared his throat quietly and shrugged it off. He concentrated on the glass-eyed man, reading his lips until the dizzy, deaf feeling wore off.
"-Do you, Varen Nethers, take this woman to be your-"
They knock on your door.
"No! Ha, ha, ha! Say no, Freak, or you'll be done for," a voice screeched in his ear and a long, sharp pain stabbed at his arm. Wincing, Varen focused again, pushing himself into his safe dream again.
"-lawful wedded wife?" The glass eye settled on him again, unblinking and still, penetrating his very thoughts. His heart beat picked up speed and broke through to his ears along with another screech.
Where there's one, there's more.
"No!" Bracing himself for another stab, Varen turned to Isobel. She was fading away, the sight of her wavering like a picture on a dying TV screen. Static. Around him, his safe dream faded away and he found himself on the rock again, the wind whipping through his hair like a sheet of ice cutting through his skin. Focus, Varen, on Isobel. She needs you, he thought and the static picture returned to him again. His Isobel was in full view now, smiling up at him through blonde curls hidden behind her white veil.
"I do," said Varen quickly, grasping her other hand in his free one. She beamed at him, unwavering slightly once more. The static filled his ears along with hisses of "Freak!" and more stabs at his arms, his ribs and thighs – and he crumpled on the rock, back again at his Lady's feet, his nose pressed to the ground.
"What have you done?" she screamed at him.
"It's not real," he pleaded in a whisper. The ice-like wind sliced him in half again.
"But you wish it were, Varen. You so desperately cling to that girl. She is not a life line. She will forget you and you will forget her," said Lily, Ligeia, Lila – who was she exactly? What was she? Surely the centre of his nightmares.
"No," he said, louder now and with more defiance and he found himself in the church again, standing in front of his blushing bride. Oh, her beauty stunned him again.
"I do," she was saying and he was suddenly kissing her, her warm lips melting away the ice that encases him so.
"Varen," she whispered against his lips. He hummed and she spoke, "I love you."
"As do I, Isobel, for eternity." But she was fading! Slipping away into the static again!
It was no surprise when he woke up lying flat on the rock, drenched in cold water and staring up at a stormy sky, the same gray as her eyes. His voice cracked when he spoke and something burning ran down his cheek.
"Isobel. Help me."
Author's Note: I'm not going to turn this into a story because the series is not complete. I just thought this was one of the things Varen might imagine while waiting for Isobel to save him. I can write more one-shots for you, or maybe one in Isobel's point of view, but you have to review! Thank you for reading! :)