Word count: 430

Nightmare

She was standing at the altar.

All dressed in white. There was a sort of power in all these floating white layers, which rustled and sighed every time she took a breath. Kira was the one that led her up, and he now stood nearby, just out of her vision, though somehow, she could feel his warm smile still.

She herself couldn't stop smiling. This was it. This was the day, and, oh, Cagalli couldn't want it fast enough. Her hands shook, clasped just below her breasts. The lioness they called her, the one who always burned, but today would be the day that they saw her cry. It must've had something to do with the white and the blue and the lilac, all so bright under the sun's tepid, pale yellow glow. Some of the flowers were still wet, and gleamed golden, watery orbs. She giggled, embarrassed, and wished the hide her burning face.

She waited at the alter, smiling, smiling, an endless anticipation in her cheeks. Her hair, silky, and ribbon-like, leaned in its bun and trailed, strands of sunshine brushing her skin. She was so excited. Hot blood bubbled deep within her heart, and she glanced at Kira, who laughed, making her heartbeat clatter all the faster. She wanted to say his name, over and over and over again, and cried I love you to the sky, bursting to say it out loud. I love you.

And then it suddenly occurred to her that she was alone.

She wasn't supposed to be the one waiting...

"Athrun's not coming."

The bouquet, youthful and soft in her hands, withered to grey and fell into little piles around her feet. Some landed on the crumpled edges of her long dress. Cagalli looked down, mystified, one hand holding up limp petticoats, and realized that the dark spots were from the rain that had just started falling. She felt an odd desire to cry. She looked up, now, where deep rumblings progressing to explosions of thunder greeted her. All the flowers that had been wound like grape vines above her were unexpectedly gone, and she had only wet, old, wooden beams above her head. Cagalli suddenly reached up at her hair, frantic, but the rich red roses entwined there were gone, and her fingers touched only dampness.

She was alone.

Her dress was damp now, and curled flatly around her legs.

"He's not coming."

Athrun?

"He never was."

"He's not even here."

Cagalli woke up with a gasp, and clutched her wet sheets, shaking.

Her face crumpled as she shut her eyes.