lullaby, sweet dorothy
by poe nataku
part one: for annie
Thank Heaven! The crisis,
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last-
And the fever called
Is conquered at last.
It's quiet, and dark. So cold and alone- why can't I see you?
Winter had come and gone, leaving the majestic earth to revel in the warmth of the sun and all her wondrous light. The harsh and frigid snow melted away beneath the kiss of June, and all the wild flowers came to life once more. Petals, soft as silk and precious as jewels danced along with each breath of wind. Twirling round and around in the crystalline skies.
She sat in the wide sill of a sun bathed window, each beam doing little to warm her cold skin- skin cold as Winter's murderous song, and not so unforgiving. Her haunted eyes seemed softer in her reflection on the thick panes of glass. The mirroring of her image made her look fragile, as easily breakable as the window. It made her feel small- and helpless.
The girl in the reflection was not alone, though she felt terribly so. Behind her lie a pale angel, on a white alter. A sun-starved princess on a sterile hospital's bed. Her long pain induced slumber had yet to steal the soft beauties from her face. Her lips held a pale rosy hue, though her cheeks had lost their warm color. Sad eyes hid behind thin ashen lids, denying the world the captivating love of her gaze. Her hair, for sheer convenience, had been bound in two long braids which lie around her as shackles and testament to her timelessness. She appeared so young this way- so sweet and dependent. Dependent on the soulless pallid machines around her which fed her breath and kept careful watch of her hearts hushed beating.
Sadly, I know
I am shorn of my strength,
And no muscle I move
As I lie at full length-
But no matter! - I feel
I am better at length.
But even the mechanical pulse of these monstrous machines could not stain the lovely tender melody of its rhythm.
Miss Catalonia?
Transfixed by the ethereal world of this reflection, Dorothy had not heard the quiet sounds made by the opening of the door. As her name was called over the shadowy veil of her tormented thoughts she did little more than sigh, and turn ever so slightly from the window.
A man in a long white coat, with wire rimmed glasses stood with his hand still holding the door's knob. His fawn-brown hair fell slightly into his eyes as he bowed his head. Pushing his glasses back up his nose with his index finger he said softly, You look tired, you should go home and get some rest.
she said, tasting the word like forbidden fruits. She shook her head, thinking bitterly, I don't have a home.
The man smiled a sad, piteous sort of smile. Then come and have coffee with me, he said after a short time spent in silent disease. you should have something to eat as well.
Dorothy nodded, though doubted in earnest she could actually eat. She felt as though her insides had been waging battle upon each other- both sides taking heavy casualties. She rose to her feet, and stepped towards the door, absently running her fingers along the arm of the pristine bed's motionless occupant as she passed. She followed him down the long blemish free hallway, all the time staring at her feet.
It was not until she found herself seated at one of many small tables in the hospital's dreary cafeteria that she looked up from the floor. The room smelled of coffee and disinfectants. She tried to force a thin smile as she was handed a steaming drink, but she was not met with much success. She accepted the warm styrofoam cup, staring into its the dark fragrant contents.
The man sat across from her and sipped his own beverage. He opened his mouth, as though to speak but was silenced by her sudden upturned gaze. Before you begin, she said, holding his eyes in her own- a cold hard gloss to the blue of her irises. A face she wore only for business. A face forgotten not long ago. I am not a doctor. Whatever you are about to say, say it so that I might understand.
His mouth snapped shut, face hardening in concentration as he struggled to mentally rephrase what information he needed to communicate. Finally, he smiled, and began to speak. Miss Catalonia, he said, smile instantly fading to the calm face of a professional. you've been spending very much time here, and, He paused then, as though waiting for her to make some comment- perhaps give some small sign that she was, in fact listening.
She only stared into her coffee, and so, he continued.
We have done everything that we can for Miss. Peacecraft. All of her wounds- internal bleeding, the lacerations on her lips, bruises on her neck, and the broken ribs and fingers have healed. Physically, she is in perfect health. If the damage were only physical, she would have woken up by now. He stopped again, thinking she might have something to say.
She met him with only silence, and down cast eyes.
And I rest so composedly-
Now, in my bed-
That any beholder,
Might fancy me dead-
Might start at beholding me,
Thinking me dead.
There is a chance that she might never wake up. Saying this, he sighed, and she looked up at him- a sad frightened light caught in her eyes. I don't know what else I can tell you, Miss. Catalonia.
~xXx~
As her slow steps sounded on the spotless white floor- a somber steady pace down the hall- she let his words run circles around themselves in her mind. He said she might never wake up. She may never open her eyes again. She blamed herself. She had promised to set her free, and now she lied, comatose on a stiff colorless bed surrounded by machines. This was not freedom. It was as much a prison as Erlösung's so called protection, if not more.
Her hand tightened on the door's knob and she closed her eyes, suddenly ashamed, and unwilling to face her slumbering princess. She feared she could not handle the devastation of wishing those eyes to open, and look into her, when she knew they would not.
Too much time had passed this way. Upir, still and silent with lidded ruby eyes, and Dorothy, drowning in guilt and shame- The constant vigil of a tainted angel. She could almost hear the whispering of the shadows, saying with their dismal wrath, You don't belong here. You couldn't save her. Even if she wakes, you don't deserve her. Too much time had passed, with Dorothy watching over the unmoving princess, wishing only that she would wake, and she could say goodbye.
Dorothy was a killer. An angel dressed in blood. She knew in her heart of hearts that she could never hold someone pure and beautiful as Upir with these stained hands. Upir deserved so much more- she deserved the universe itself, as Erlösung had tried to give her. Dorothy stayed by her side, needing to believe that one day, those nebulous red eyes- those eyes which pierced her very soul- would open, and she could say goodbye to the only thing she might have loved. The only girl who might have been able to love her back. She needed to bid farewell to the sad-eyed princess, knowing that she would be happy- and free.
Dorothy never imagined that the only thing which could make those sad eyes smile was love. A promise of forever from a seraph bleeding the past.
The moaning and groaning,
The sighing and sobbing,
Are quieted now,
With that horrible throbbing
At heart: -ah, that horrible,
Horrible throbbing!
She opened the door, and stepped inside. Storms of unspoken apologies, and small somber promises welled within her as she again beheld her sleeping beauty. Every time she opened this door her imagination played a very different scene.
Instead of lying with a deathly silence, Upir sat in the window's ledge which Dorothy usually occupied. Her hair was loose, sprawling along her back in gentle curls- flowers resting in her tresses. She was staring out the window, watching the clouds dance with grace and ease through the warm summer's sky. When Dorothy entered the room Upir would turn from the window, as though she had been waiting for her all along. She would throw her arms around her, and smile with tenderness and love, bestowing petal soft kisses which meant more than all the world.
All too soon, the dream would vanish and the iron whisper of her heart's monitor would fill the air once more. Upir remained hushed and defenseless on the narrow bed. And every time, it broke Dorothy's heart. She hated herself for it- for never realizing how much she had cared before it was too late- for playing Erlösung's cruel game when it hurt Upir so. She wished only to turn back the hands of the clock, back to the night she spent in Upir's chamber. The night she had quieted her fears and watched her sleep with that small serene smile. Had she another chance, she never would have left her. She wondered absently if this was the thing called love. A thing she had feared and hidden from for so long. Now that she was no longer so afraid, it had been stolen from her. But no matter, it was never truly hers to begin with.
~xXx~
When the sun set into the ashen folds of this once bright kingdom, an old nurse came to shoo Dorothy from Upir's small placid room as she did every night. In all the time Dorothy had yet to learn her name. She supposed it did not matter really, every morning she came and sat by Upir's side, and every night the nurse chased her away. It was a redundancy which in the past months had never changed- and probably never would.
Dorothy had changed. Where the thirst for battle and decay once burned in her eyes there was an emptiness- a hollow. In watching only over Upir, she had neglected her own health, often skipping meals, having scarcely the will to eat at all. She appeared frail now, without her sadistic grin and hungry glare. Each night, upon returning from the hospital, she would retreat to her fencing foils or other forms fatiguing exercise where she would successfully exhaust herself. It was the only way she could sleep these days. She often pushed herself too far, nearly ending up in the hospital for far different reasons than waiting for Upir to wake.
She lived alone, except of course for several loyal servants her grandfather had left behind. The house was vast and full of old memories- memories she would have wished away if she had the strength. It was not a home- merely a place she lived. The only thing her grandfather had left her, besides pain and loneliness. She had retuned to this place only to be close to her fallen princess, only for her.
The servants had worried at first. Their lady spent her days torturing her heart at the bedside of a comatose girl- and her nights torturing her body nearly to the point of death. They might have worried more if their lady had been anyone other than Dorothy Catalonia. Sadly, they knew what she was- what the Duke had made her. Worry passed, as they decided instead to simply stay out of her way.
The sickness- the nausea-
The pitiless pain-
Have ceased with the fever
That maddened my brain-
With the fever called
That burned in my brain.
She collapsed onto her bed, breathing hard and aching. She spent several moments staring at the celling, slowing her breaths in a sort of quiet meditation. Closing her eyes softly, her mind drifted uneasily, like a small ship in squalling seas. She thought about her childhood- about her harsh grandfather and all the scars. She thought back to the war- and this new and fragile peace. Humanity finally got what it wanted, trying to keep it- that was their battle now. She thought about the Gundam pilots, Relena Peacecraft, and Bast. She though of all the strength she had wasted fighting the wrong battle.
Soon, her heart brought her mind to where it dwelled most, on Upir.
It hurt her to think of all the wondrous things Upir could not see. Farcically sad, that peace may come and go without the Dove ever knowing. If Upir woke at all- and it was to a world of death and battle, blood and innocence lost, Dorothy would never forgive herself.
Willing her body to stand, her eyes saving one last look of regret to the world beyond her windows, Dorothy surrendered herself to the soothing calm of a long, hot shower. The pounding of the water against her bare skin was a feeling in which she always reveled. The torrid strands of cleansing rain poured down upon her were all that could dull the pain of thought. She could never forget- but the steady beat of the shower seemed to lessen the hurt and intensity of these past months.
She could have stayed there forever- beneath the falling water, simply washing away all that is wrong and cold. Water had always seemed to lull her into a sense of calm, well-being. After a time, feeling all tmuch too little, she stepped from the peaceful steam of the shower and wrapped herself into a long thick bathrobe. With her hair still wet, she crawled into the monstrous, apologetic bed.
Her heart dragged her poor slumbering mind, weak and unwilling, back into the war torn fields of what could never be.
She dreamt of a starry night, a wondrous navy sky alive with the ethereal twinkling of stars and her beloved harvest moon. Thin pale clouds adorned the night, loving the darkness like a mother. And in this mythical star embraced dreamscape was a small cottage, a cozy fire warmed place. Not just a house- but a home.
Sinuous vines of ivy and morning glories danced up the walls of this lovely home, a home so bright and inviting. There was an air of happiness and love all around. It seemed almost holy. Sacred.
Dorothy imagined herself lying on a soft old couch. In one hand, she held a tattered book, while the other trailed soft fingertips through the long red tresses of a girl who sat before a blazing midnight fire, her back leaning delicately against the timeworn sofa. She sighed contentedly, cherishing the sensations of this smooth hair beneath her fingers. The pages of her binding were readily neglected as a pair of gentle ruby-colored eyes turned towards her, the melancholy dance of the flames caught delicately as though tangible in those eyes. And then she smiled- and all the world seemed to melt away beneath the radiance of those sweet, sweet lips.
Don't give up on me.
~xXx~
Dorothy woke with a cry snarled in her throat. Her body wanted to launch straight from the bed, or at least twitch- but she remained without movement, surprising the tormented sound struggling to escape her lips. She did not know exactly how long she lie there, perfectly still with only the sounds of her own ragged breathing daring to cross the air. She rose slowly to her feet, leaving her dreams behind her in the tangled silk of her ruby-colored sheets. The color reminded her of Upir's eyes. Before she left the house she had them changed to a less painful hue.
And oh! of all tortures
That torture the worst
Has abated- the terrible
Torture of thirst
For the naphthaline river
Of passion accurst:-
I have drank of a water
That quenches all thirst:-
Dorothy drove the weary distance between her grandfather's estate and the Sacred Sword Hospital in an unearthly blur. The speed- the wind wiping at her hair numbed away the hurt of her dream. Her slumbering mind was a cruel girl, taunting her with all the things she could never have. The roar of the engine, the steel emotionless machine beneath her feet almost made her feel alive again. Almost.
Good morning Miss. Catalonia. A moon-faced nurse greeted her as she entered the hospital. She was less enthusiastic than usua, having learned long ago that Dorothy Catalonia did not have good mornings.
Dorothy walked by without a sideways glance.
Poor girl, the usually cheery nurse sighed beneath her breath as she watched Dorothy disappear around a corner. she seems so lost. With a quick shake of her head, and smile fixed on her pink lips, she retuned to her duties.
Before she reached Upir's solemn unchanging room, Dorothy was stopped by a hand lightly falling on her shoulder. She turned slowly to face the fawn-haired doctor. His glasses were hanging from the pocket of his long white coat. His eyes looked stale and tired. Catching the dangerous gleam in Dorothy's icy stare he was quick to remove his hand, but shortly, began to speak.
There's someone I would like you to meet, he said in a very matter-of-fact way. Without awaiting a response he began guiding Dorothy away from Upir's room. She protested slightly at first, but only at first. She felt, regretfully, too weak for a fight. Here we are, he said at last, stopping before a door she had never seen before. Written plainly across a small gray plaque was the name Valentine Nyman. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a silver haired man with thick defining wrinkles and rare green eyes.
Doctor Hazel, he said in a rich deep voice, offering the weary eyed man a friendly nod. He turned his bright eyes on Dorothy. he rubbed his chin, the stubble of his unshaven skin rasping against his paw-like hand. and this must be the young woman you spoke of. He offered his hand which she denied without thought.
Hazel spoke softly, conquering a weak yawn. Miss. Catalonia, I'd like you to talk to Doctor Nyman. Catching her slight dissatisfied frown he added quickly, Just talk to him, that's all I ask. Give it a chance. He might be able to help.
Dorothy did not understand why he thought she needed help, or how this man thought he could offer such a thing, but with her will feeble from sickness and hopelessness, she said nothing and allowed herself to be herded into the small poorly lit office of Valentine Nyman.
Thanks, Val. Hazel rubbed his eyes and shut the door behind him.
Doctor Nyman retuned to his desk, smoothing the wrinkles from his thick burgundy sweater before easing into a noisy leather chair. Dorothy stood mere inches from the door- her posture stiff and alert.
Of a water that flows,
With a lullaby sound,
From a spring but a very few
Feet underground-
From a cavern not very far
Down under ground.
Her trained eyes scanned the room quickly, over looking nothing. Not very large, and sparsely furnished, Nyman's office had a cozy sort of air. The lamps were dim, and the furniture made of rich dark woods, an emerald and plum-colored rug lie comfortably on the otherwise plain floor.
Please, have a seat Miss. Catalonia.
She did as she was told, but her body refused to relax, even seated in an old worn chair on the opposite side of Nyman's heavy desk. Her eyes remained harsh, though the rest of her face seemed impassive. Soon her eyes wore apathetic shadows as well.
Doctor Hazel tells me you've been spending much time watching over a friend here? He spoke quizzically, shuffling through several papers.
She looked at him with indifference.
Would you like to tell me about her? He looked at her kindly, his voice soft and welcoming. When he noticed the glimmer of confusion playing faintly across her face he spoke again, saying simply, How did she come to be with us here?
I couldn't protect her, Dorothy said without hesitation.
He smiled sadly. You blame yourself for her condition? It was more of a statement really. They both already knew the answer. He read her suddenly downcast eyes as a definite yes. You know, Miss. Catalonia, you can not take the entire world upon your shoulders.
She looked angry at this. How could he presume to know anything about her or what had happened? She balled her hands into tight fists in her lap but held her silence. She would not appease him with a response.
He only smiled at her, making a quick mental note, and allowing the silence to hang between them until she felt ready to talk to him. They all come around, he assured himself- it just took time, and patience; though he would need a lot more than patience to deal with Dorothy Catalonia.
~xXx~
Dorothy had managed to maintain her apathy until Nyman was called away on another task and she was free to return to Upir without further interruption.
And ah! let it never
Be foolishly said
That my room it is gloomy
And narrow my bed;
For a man never slept
In a different bed-
And, to sleep, you must slumber
In just such a bed.
I know you're there. Even if I can't see you- I can feel you near me, like sunlight on my skin.
It hurt to see her princess this way when she could have saved her. The absence of her dark eyes was the worst of it. The loss of her thin smiles and quiet words. She never knew her ashen heart could ache so much for someone she hardly knew. Perhaps that is why the pain was so absolute- she may never have the chance.
And so the night drew on, as so many nights before- with Upir's dreamless sleep and Dorothy's agonizing guilt. She could not bring herself to sleep that night.
~xXx~
Much time passed in the next morning before Dorothy found herself standing before a door marked, Valentine Nyman. She had told herself she was going to get a cup of coffee, but her feet had other plans. Now she stood at his door, silently debating whether or not to knock. She never had to make a decision. The door swung open, revealing a somewhat smug looking Nyman, though he masked it well.
How can I help you, Miss. Catalonia?
~xXx~
The paramedics didn't think she would make it to the hospital. They thought she would die before she even left the palace.
But you didn't give up on her. Nyman's voice was quiet with thought and amazement. He sat eerily still and attentive as Dorothy had unburdened her tale of times and tragedies past; though she had carefully left out the part about Erlösung being an enchanted shape shifting demon from a wishing well. Still- Nyman's head was spinning, and refusing to slow.
Dorothy shook her head. I made her a promise. I need to see her free before I can say good bye. Her wiser instincts were senselessly chiding her for sharing all of this with a complete stranger, but the frightened little girl, hiding deep inside of her wanted nothing more than to pour out her sorrows and cry like she had never been allowed to.
Nyman snapped slightly back into reality at this. You're going to leave her when she awakens? he nearly shouted. You think she's better off without you?
Isn't she? Her words were bitter. It was not really a question, not one she wanted an answer for.
So, you're just going to hover at her bedside until she wakes and tells you she'll be happier without you so you can live the rest of your life with only your shame. He raised an eyebrow at her silent confirmation, giving her an uneasy you-can't-be-serious half smile, knowing sadly that she was.
My tantalized spirit
Here blandly reposes,
Forgetting, or never
Regretting, its roses-
Its old agitations
Of myrtles and roses:
Dorothy turned her eyes away from the demanding stare of his old weather-beaten face. She felt suddenly embarrassed for telling him what she had. She had always been a private person, and she knew nothing about him. There was something in his eyes, those precious green eyes full of comfort and a coaxing sort of warmth that made her feel as though she could trust him- even though she did not want to.
She could never forgive me, she said suddenly, as though it explained everything.
Have you tried asking her?
Nyman could not help but laugh at the expression on Dorothy's face. Often times when someone wakes from a coma such as Miss. Peacecraft's, they say that they could hear what was happening around them. The doctor's diagnoses, the voices of their loved ones. I think you will sleep better if you ask her forgiveness and tell her how you feel. He smiled, distinctly satisfied with himself. And it doesn't take a doctor to see that you haven't been sleeping well Miss. Catalonia.
~xXx~
It was with a heavy heart and troubled mind that Dorothy returned to Upir's side. The bitter and yet logical part of her railed brutally at the merest thought of truth in what Nyman had said. And yet- that frightened little girl hiding beneath the harsh and cold flesh whispered, in a small shaking voice, What can you lose?
For the first time since the death of her grandfather, that bantam shivering voice was heard.
I never even knew I cared. Then it was too late.
She drew in a long quivering breath, holding it as though rare and precious before releasing it into the quiet of Upir's hallow chamber. The air smelled of wild flowers, and pure, innocent rosebuds- so unlike the harsh chemical scent of days past. It felt somehow wrong to disturb the silence of this room. Like some sepulcher, some holy and beautiful place, where even the Angels fear the gentle word that might shatter this serene and fragile peace. Dorothy felt she had not the conviction or courage to go on.
For now, while so quietly
Lying, it fancies
A holier odor
About it, of pansies-
A rosemary odor,
Commingled with pansies-
With rue and the beautiful
Puritan pansies.
She closed her eyes, breathing quiet, slow breaths, and searching her heart for the strength and words to speak. Tell her you're sorry, begged the small uncertain voice of the child she used to be. She wanted to say it. Such simple words- but she was so afraid of what it might mean. It had been so long since she been aloud to feel anything but hunger. It had been so long since her heart had cried and wilted. If she admitted this- this guilt and shame and sorrow, what if that was all she was? She was so afraid that these unforgiving gray emotions which filled her weak and tattered heart were all she had now. How could there be room for love and happiness and such tender, fragile things?
Hesitantly, she crossed the pallid floor and sat uneasily on the edge of Upir's bed. It was strange, to be this close and yet so very far away. She thought if she only called loud enough she would hear and awaken- but all the sounds of the world could not stir this frozen beauty from her melancholy slumber. With cowardly shaking fingers, Dorothy covered Upir's alabaster hand with her own. She was not nearly as warm as she had once been, curled against Dorothy's body in a vast plum-colored bed. Her tainted sleep seemed nearly tangible through the cold of her skin, like snow or Winter's lullaby rains.
Her words broke from her like frantic birds, pursued by some intimidatingly large beast. Her hand tightened around Upir's, still shaking steadily with the beat of her heart. She found it suddenly hard to breath- to think- to do anything at all. There was nothing but the silence all around her, and the placid lull of Upir's shallow breaths.
Dorothy closed her eyes. Fighting off the hurt and the loneliness- feeling only the soft skin of Upir's hand cradled in her own, she began softly; I don't even know where to begin. There are so many things I've wanted to say to you. She kept her eyes closed fiercely, and brought her other hand to twine with Upir's as well. Holding her pale, bloodless hand tightly, as though heaven itself. She let the words dance from her lips. Words she had left silent far too long, words which fell from her now like tears.
When I was a little girl, all I ever wanted was to fall in love, and live happily ever after. Her voice was weak and stained with uncried tears. That's all- and look what I've become? How could you ever love me?
And so it lies happily,
Bathing in many
A dream of the truth
And the beauty of Annie-
Drown in a bath
Of the tresses of Annie.
You're so sad, please don't hurt for me. I never wanted you to be sad. Not like this- never for me.
With her eyes closed, and her heart commanding her hushed words to fly like embers caught in the wind, Dorothy did not notice as Upir's hand twitched slightly against her own.
The night you asked me to stay with you, I knew then- but I couldn't admit it, even to myself. I never imagined you might want me. And so I stayed with Bast. Dorothy shuddered slightly as the name escaped her lips. I never loved her. I thought once that I might, but I couldn't. Not when I saw you, so scared and fragile. When you looked at me with such sad eyes. I knew then that I wanted to protect you. You, and no one else. Is that love?
It was always you. You were the only one. But I was so afraid. I couldn't tell you.
I used to think love must be like pain. You know when you're in pain, it's an unmistakable feeling. I imagined love was the same- you just knew when you were in love. There were no doubts, no fears, no regrets. When I was young, I knew what I wanted, and I knew that is was the most precious thing in all the universe. Her eyes burned with tears she forced away.
But I'm not so sure anymore- Her voice shook, ever so softly, and as she continued, her battle against the tears was nearly lost. I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself feel at all. I was so afraid of hurting you. She laughed bitterly, fate was farcically sad. Look where that got us. I was scared, yet too proud to admit it, and you paid the dearest price- because you wouldn't let her hurt me.
Dorothy raised Upir's hand to her lips and kissed her thin fingers tenderly.
Gods, if I could only hold you.
She tenderly kissed me,
She fondly caressed,
And then I fell gently
To sleep on her breast-
Deeply to sleep
From the heaven of her breast.
After the War, after everything that had happened- I thought I couldn't love at all. A sad smile crept onto her lips, lighting her eyes with hurt. But then there was you. Your sad eyes, and quiet smile. The grace in your movements, the softness of your skin. I should have known from the begging- I love you.
~ flashback ~
Dorothy Catalonia stood motionless before a long gothic window, simply staring into the night. Relena Peacecraft was dead. The Dove of Peace had been shot from the sky. Dorothy's last mission had come to an end. Now she was useless and cold as an old doll on a child's birthday, when newer and grander things steal the innocent heart, and the tattered forgotten toys are left to rot among the thorns. Her Grandfather had died before she could complete her mission. She could not tell if this faint feeling of something like relief was due to his absence, or the fact that she had not had to strike down the Dove herself. Probably both.
She was free to return to the only thing the cruel old man had left her- one of many large and lonely houses. The choice was her own. Perhaps free had not been the right word. Even in death the Duke still ruled her. Everything he had done, all the pain and sorrow he had given would stay with her forever. Death could not free her from his clammy hands.
A soft knock on the thin wood of the door drew her from her thoughts and once more into reality. The knock was followed slowly by a small voice which begged with panic; Miss. Dorothy, come quickly.
She had not the time to ask why as she heard hurried footsteps retreating. After running a thin finger along an exotic eyebrow, Dorothy left her chamber and followed after the quick sound of the withdrawing steps. She soon found herself in a majestic and dimly lit corridor, one which lead only to the throne room. Painted angels seemed to watch her with water-color eyes from the old religious paintings lining each wall. They seemed to pity her with their delicate smiles.
A sudden noise in the throne room called her senses to its doors. Never knowing this moment would change her life and heart forever, she stepped across the threshold.
This melancholy chamber was no brighter than the corridor she had come from. All she could see was the soft evening glow of the windows and a small gathering of people in the center of the room. They were speaking in hushed and worried tones, exchanging uneasy glances.
Miss. Dorothy, one of them called hastily, catching sight of her. What do you make of this, Miss. Dorothy? he thrust a small paper towards her which she extracted with some difficulty from his clenched fist.
It read simply; Your Angel has fallen, and mine has risen from the Ashes.
She read it over several times, thinking perhaps something new might appear if she only looked harder. But that was all- one softly scrawled line, and nothing more. The words fell unnoticed to the ground as the doors flew open, as though torn by some unholy wind. And there, stood two shadows, a dark cloaked figure, and an Angel.
Dorothy stood in what she thought must be disbelief as this graceful apparition took a gentle step towards her. Their eyes met, ice and fire, cloud and ruby, and they held each other's gaze for what seemed a silent eternity. Each lost in the mystery of the other. An Angel and a Monster.
Then the cloaked figure began to speak. Her voice was harsh and tender all at once, a sweet and iron like Dorothy had never heard before.
I have brought you my Angel.
~xXx~
The first time I saw you, I knew I could never have you- I knew you would never want me. Dorothy kept Upir's hand close to her lips as she spoke, covering the skin with her warm breath. When Bast brought you into my life- into the throne room, and you looked at me, so lost- so sad- I knew then. I wanted to save you from all the ugliness and pain around us.
When the light was extinguished,
She covered me warm,
And she prayed to the angels
To keep me from harm-
To the queen of the angels
To shield me from harm.
You were my salvation. Your strength, and courage- all I wanted was your embrace, soft and comforting. Warm and safe.
Dorothy pressed another tender kiss against Upir's cold skin. Had she believed in a God, she would have fallen to her knees and begged him to bring her back, to wake her from this dying slumber. She would have cursed him, and hated him when he did not. She had no one to blame but herself. If God did exist- she would never forgive him. The bitterness of the one who is left behind.
With painful soft memories- old untended wounds- Dorothy lied down beside Upir, reveling in the sensations of this closeness, though she knew it was not real. She wanted nothing more than for Upir to turn her head, and look at her- into her, like she had before. With knowing, sorrow stained eyes. She kept Upir's hand in her own, drawing it close to her heart.
I'm sorry- I'm so sorry, she whispered into the night, over and over again. Words were not enough- she could never hope to express this deep and agonizing heartache. There was shame, and regret, and above all else, there was love. True and unconditional. A love which never had a chance. I'm sorry.
She had never felt anything like this before. In all of her life, through all of her torment, there had never been anything like this. There was a rawness in pain of physical sorts. A stabbing, an ache, a graceless ripping of serenity. In pains of failure there was a dull, stroking kind of hurt. And this- this was unlike any torture, or wound. There was an emptiness, like being lost, and a fear, as though having watched helplessly as that which you held dearest was destroyed. All this, commingled with the anguish of torn flesh. It was the woe of shattered love, and lost hope.
Dorothy closed her eyes. Retreating into memories of ruby eyes and the warmth of soft uncertain touches. It was all she could do to fight back the tears though she wanted nothing more than to cry her heart dry- Gods, she wanted to cry.
And I lie so composedly,
Now, in my bed,
(Knowing her love),
That you fancy me dead-
And I rest so contentedly,
Now, in my bed
(With her love at my breast),
That you fancy me dead-
That you shudder to look at me,
Thinking me dead:-
I want to be with you- but I'm so scared. What if it's not forever? What if you can't love me like I love you? You have to promise me. Promise it's forever.
Before she fell into a light and hopeless sleep, Dorothy stole a regretful glance at her princess, so still and quiet- as though chained to this one living moment. Never changing, never knowing the world still turned without her. Never feeling the warmth of these lost touches and tender kisses. It seemed a sad and unjust fate that such a pure and beautiful creature would sleep eternally without knowing the love at her side. Without ever feeling the warmth of this sacred, and wondrous heart.
~xXx~
She dreamt of the moon bathed, star shaded home she had seen in so many dreams before. Of morning glories, midnight fires, and the scent of roses. She saw herself lying in a bed of dew kissed grass, with all the heavens sparkling above her. She tore her eyes from the ethereal glow of the night as a thin hand slipped into her own. Turning her head, she saw Upir lying beside her. She did not turn her eyes skywards to admire the waltz of the stars, but lied on her side, facing Dorothy, admiring her instead. A gentle smile graced her lips, lighting her eyes with all the beauty of this night. Her fingers trailed along Dorothy's, as though trying to memorize the feel of there twined hands.
I miss you. Her smile faltered slightly as her words escaped, full of sorrow and a quiet, unmasked hurt.
I miss you too. Dorothy gave Upir's hand a gentle squeeze, trying to communicate her sincerity with this touch. When Upir forced another small smile, so sad and lost, Dorothy pulled her into a warm embrace, burying her face in Upir's soft tresses. The feel of Upir's quiet breaths against her skin was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Something she would treasure, and hold within her heart forever. I'm sorry- I couldn't protect you.
Upir pulled back slightly, ableing herself to look into Dorothy's eyes. Her cloudy blue eyes, so different, and beautiful- not so cold and unforgiving as she had remembered. she whispered, don't be sorry. You set me free.
This isn't freedom. Dorothy turned her eyes away, unable to face her Angel's sad smiles. I've made you a prisoner in your own body.
That's not true. It was Upir who turned away now. Disentangling herself from Dorothy's arms, she lured herself into a sitting position. Pulling her knees towards her chin, and warping her frail arms around them, she stared off into the night, her voice soft, and stained with old tears. Tears she never had the chance to cry. I didn't want to wake up. I was so scared, her voice trailed off into the darkness, a fragile silence twirling between them for too many harsh moments. I've done it to myself.
Upir was startled from her haunted memories as Dorothy's hand shadowed down her cheek. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply the feel of this touch, wishing time to linger, and capture this moment for her.
Did you mean it? Upir's tone was shy and uncertain, she could not face Dorothy as she spoke. When you said you loved me- Her voice had become so soft Dorothy almost did not hear her quiet frail words.
With her hand still ghosting across Upir's cheek, she silently begged her to look at her, to see her with those sad ruby eyes. And as their eyes met, she smiled a smile only Upir ever saw, saying quietly, With all of my heart. With her lips mere inches from Upir's she whispered with warm breaths against her skin, Ai shiteru. Zutto.
A silent tear slipped from Upir's eyes. A tear Dorothy caught gently in her lips. It was an innocent, chaste kiss. An all too short touch, a tenderness and comfort.
I promise. Dorothy soft lips trespassed sweetly over Upir's.
~xXx~
Dorothy woke, but did not open her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to return to the arms of sleep and of her Angel. She sent up a prayer, that she might dream eternally with her slumbering princess. She did not want to wake, if it meant she had to be alone, in a cold hospital room where she was helpless, and could only watch as sleep stole the smiles from her fallen one. It was only when the subtle sounds of slow, uncertain movements broke the silence that Dorothy opened her eyes.
Sad ruby-colored eyes stared into her, mere inches away. Dorothy's very breath ceased, catching in her throat with a tiny gasp.
But my heart it is brighter
Than all of the many
Stars of the sky,
For it sparkles with Annie-
Her voice was soft, with a hushed sort of scratching, having been unused for so long. Her thin smile was shy and nervous, like a weary ghost of what it had once been.
It took Dorothy several moments, but she quickly decided that this was not a dream, but that her Angel had truly awakened. She searched for her voice, but found it had abandoned her when she most needed words. Words like I love you. All she managed was a weak and disappointing, You're awake.
Upir offered a small nod. I'm not afraid anymore. She bit her bottom lip lightly when Dorothy would not meet her eyes.
Because you promised. She coughed quietly, still unsure of her own voice.
Dorothy could not trust her senses. Her eyes, her ears were only playing cruel tricks on her- they had to be. And yet, it was so real. The sound of her voice, the warmth of her body. Unable to calm her squalling mind, Dorothy muttered, for lack of better words, I should get the Doctor.
Upir's hand captured Dorothy's as she tried to move from the bed, fear lighting clearly in her eyes. she begged quietly, turning her face away, meek and ashamed.
I don't understand, Dorothy whispered, wanting only for Upir to look at her again- to see those eyes.
She released Dorothy's hand, and curled into a small timid ball beneath the sheets. I can't be what they want anymore. She coughed again, a small pained sound. I never wanted to be their sovereign. She closed her eyes tightly, hiding from Dorothy's confused stare. They need- they deserve someone pure, someone like Relena, and I can't be her.
You don't have to be, Dorothy was surprised to hear her own voice. She had not meant to say anything, but the words fell from her like so many shattered dreams. When Upir still would not look at her, she continued to speak softly, as though soothing a frightened animal, careful not to scare her back into her shell, her slumbering armour. You are so much more than anyone could ever hope for. You're gentle, and kind, compassionate and, She ran her fingertips through Upir's hair.
Slowly, hesitantly, Upir raised her eyes- meeting Dorothy's warm gaze. A secret smile no one ever knew. No one but Upir.
You're the only one who has ever looked at me, and seen something more than blood stains and sin. The only one who has ever even cared enough to look behind my mask, and see me. Dorothy drew her hand away from Upir's soft tresses. You're the only one who sees me. Who truly sees me.
A lonely tear danced down Upir's pale cheek. I want you to see me.
Dorothy could not help but jump slightly as Upir threw herself into her arms, burying her face against the crook of her neck. With her arms warped tightly around her, breathing in the scents so uniquely hers, she whispered against her fiery skin, I can't stay here.
Dorothy's mind filled with doubts and arguments. Upir could not leave- her country needed her, she was the Dove of Peace. She could not simply run away. But those eyes, those nebulous, beautiful eyes, full of hurt and sorrow- she could not refuse them.
It glows with the light
Of the love of my Annie-
With the thought of the light
Of the eyes of my Annie.
Where do you want to go?