Chartora would not let the fae drink in excess since they met. Even if it wasn't her directly, it was her memory that stood as a voice of reason in his mind. Yet, almost every night, Cecil fell into the same dream. It was a chaotic dream that was always shifting, molding, folding in on itself. The Fae could not accurately describe what he saw, for his dreams felt almost worse than reality did.

No structure was solid, each scene melted into another. His father tortured him, yet it was not his father as he was torturing himself. Cecil and his father both, for it was one body that shifted between the two faces, held Cecil's head in a vat of water, yanking him up for that precious gulp of air, only to be shoved back into the suffocating liquid. Yet, turn around, and Cecil was standing tall above his father, watching as the fairy king was abused himself. These were small, and insignificant to the grand scheme of the dream.

Here, Cecil sat with a bottle in his hand, staring out at nothing. Obviously he was in a tavern setting. When anyone would approach him, Cecil would throw his bottle at them, the glass smashing at their feet. He would be screaming unintelligible obscurities at them, and seemed to demand a fresh bottle for more alcohol. Blink an eye, and the Fae was kneeling on the ground, holding the body of his redheaded goddess. He wept and wept, the tears never ceases.

Another blink, and Cecil was walking through a throng of people. Each face bore an uncanny resemblance to Nelanna, each head sporting a beautiful, curly set of fiery locks. None would look at him, and Cecil looked tormented by the constant reminder. Why would none pay him any mind? He blinked again. Chairs and tables littered the area, with more Nelannas sitting, laughing, drinking. The ground was a hazy mix of grass and wooden flooring. No walls were present, yet they were in a forest. Somewhere, the fairies of his Homeland judged him from above.

Cecil was on his knees, holding his head as he nearly was doubled over. Rocking ever so gently, back and forth, the fairy was quite aware of the dark haired woman standing above him. Midnight black hair cascaded down her back, down to her waist, blood red eyes gazed kindly down upon him, black angelic wings draped across her back, small nubs of demonic horns hid beneath her bangs. Chartora was silent, yet she was his guardian against himself. She was the one to finally reach beyond his drunken haze and found some broken semblance of his self.

Long, slender fingers caressed across her pale and wet skin. She traced the line of her collarbone from right to left before working down between her breast, then hovering in small circlets over the location where her heart beat. The mirror before her reflected her every move, her red hair stuck to the sides of her face, her dainty neck, her shoulders and down her back with nothing but a white towel covering her naked figure. Her skin was flawless. She had no beauty marks aside from myriads of freckles, no scars to prove her life had struggles. And that was just the issue. She had no struggles at all.

Her eyes examined herself through the mirror a moment longer before looking away in disgust. Her life was too simple, she never had to fight because she lived a sheltered life. It was pathetic, and she was sickened by her weakness. She didn’t remember what happened yet, only that she had been kidnapped, and some part of her was worried that someone was suffering because of it. If she was stronger then she never would have been taken away, her memories never would have been lost, and no one would be in pain.

With a heavy sigh she pulled her nightgown from the wardrobe and slipped it on. She didn’t even bother drying her hair before wrapping it into a braid and making her way to sit on the side of her bed. The journal that laid on her bedside table was picked up and opened, pages flipping and turning over as she looked through for any clues about her past. But all she could find were nothing but lists of herbs and medical treatments. Blinking wearily, she closed the book with a shake of her head and laid it back down on the table. Finally, she laid down, pulling the blankets over herself comfortably. Yet her eyes remained open, gazing around her room until they laid on an amulet left hanging on a small jewelry rack with the rest of her necklaces.

A flash of an image came to her.

It was a normal day of herb picking until she came across a snowy-haired elf, left beaten and bleeding in the forest. Without a second thought she lifted him and gave him aid, keeping him here in her cottage. She learned he had been cursed to never speak, and she learned about his past through well drawn pictures. A fairy child that lost their wings by their father’s cruelty. A fae that grieves their mother’s passing. But there was something else she learned that seemed more important. His name. But what was it? She closed her eyes tightly and thought hard, searching for a name to go with the face.

There was an image of the same man, taking her to a gazebo where he set up a surprise picnic. Subconsciously her heart swelled with warmth, and she couldn’t help but smile at the image. Kohaku was there, and the two had a fight, almost making her giggle a little at the memory. And then she was suddenly kissing him under a more private gazebo, before she found herself journeying with him and Kohaku. They stopped to rest for the night, but she didn’t wake in her bed. Instead she was in a cage, surrounded by a court of faes as the king stood before her with mocking words. She was bait for the snowy-haired man, the man she loved…

Cecil…

She opened her eyes, and found herself in a forest. But this didn’t seem like another vision, another memory fragment. This seemed…too real. There was a breeze that she could feel, scents of the forest she could smell. But there was a bar table, as well as dining tables with lots of women wearing her face sitting at them, drinking, laughing. Her head tilted curiously.

She took a step forward and walked amongst them, her heels muffled through the glass as she now wore her usual hunting attire. Her pace was slow, calculated, so that she could closely examine each and every Nelanna as she walked by. And then she noticed something up ahead. A woman with black hair and wings, small horns extending from her brow beneath her bangs. And beneath her was the snowy-haired man. Her heart caught in her throat as it simultaneously squeezed within her chest as if it was being strangled as she noticed that he was weeping.

She reached out to him, longing to reassure him any way she could. Why was he weeping? Why was he suffering? Was it because she had vanished? As her memories began quickly returning she realized he must be upset because she was kidnapped. She knew he must be angry with himself, but it was her fault, not his. “Cecil,” she spoke his name as softly as silk, her voice worried as her eyes dripped with pain. “Cecil, it’s alright. I’m here.” Her hand met his shoulder and she crouched by his side, resting her other hand on his back to slowly rub it comfortingly. She figured the other woman was there to help ease his pain, that her job was already being done. But this was the man she loved. She would never not go to him and at least try to take away his pain.

Muffled steps broke the monotonous cacophony, as if those soft steps were crystal clear through the laughter. Or had they stopped? It was hard for him to tell, as he quickly gave up following the thought. Nothing mattered except this pain he must overcome. Chartora seemed to know exactly when he wasn’t being completely honest with himself, and Cecil suspected that Gahara was spying on him for her.

Nelanna’s voice, that angelic voice, caressed his ears, twisting the dagger in his heart. Why must he torture himself so? She crouched beside him, her sweet reassurances reinforced by the rubbing of his back. Cecil refused to open his eyes, but his body moved instantaneously, with a ferocity that scared even himself. His arm went around her back, while the opposite cupped around the back of her neck as he pressed his forehead into her cheek. From here, her scent engulfed him.

”I can’t let you go…” Cecil’s voice was broken as he whispered to her. ”I tried to drown it all out… forget… But…” For a long time, the elvish fae was silent as he allowed himself to dwell in the dream of her embrace. When he woke, he would be alone and cold. But this was the first time a Nelanna came to talk to him. This was not the normality of his dreams. Anger flashed through him, mad at himself for the further torment. In a flash, he was outside of her arms, a solid three feet away as he glared down at her.

”Stop it! No more!” A blink of the eye and he was gone from before her. Before him was sprawling grass as far as the eye could see with two tombstones. Neither had names, but instead, drawn faces. One of his mother, and one of Nelanna. Once more, he was on his knees, as he stared at Nelanna’s drawn face. ”I couldn’t protect you… And now, you’re gone… And I do nothing but sit and sulk, drink and dream. I can’t let you go, Nelanna… But why do you torture me?” The poor fae had absolutely no idea that the woman who approached him was as real as he was, that his goddess was alive, and all that he knew was another lie spun by his father.

He embraced her further, though with a roughness that only made her realize how much more comforting he needed. He was desperate for the pain to end. She could understand, and so she smiled softly with hurt in here eyes as is pain quickly became her own. Gently, lovingly, she held him close, allowing him a moment of serenity while she stroked his head in another attempt to bring him comfort. The poor maiden was confused by what was going on, why this dream had so many of her, and why Cecil felt the need to let her go. Yes, she had already figured out this was a dream. It was all far too weird and spontaneous to be real.

She shook her head lightly at his words, “It’s alright, Cecil. There’s no need to let me go, I’m right here.” She tried once again to reassure him, hoping he would soon realize that this was all just a nightmare, and that she was okay. But then he did the unexpected. She was pushed away, causing her to fall onto her back on the ground with a surprised yelp. Blinking with confusion, Nelanna looked up at Cecil, and her body froze. Why was his glare so sharp? So hard? And his tone…why was he angry?

Suddenly her surroundings began to morph into something new, eyes watching curiously. And when she looked back at Cecil, she found that he was no longer where he last stood. Her confusion grew the longer she stayed in this dream of his, but she needed to stay focused on Cecil. Obviously he was certain this dream was real and he needed to wake up. And so she stood, glancing around until she spotted his fallen form several feet away, crouched before what looked like grave stones. She set a gaze of determination and made her way forward, stopping at his side once reached. But she didn’t speak yet. Instead, she looked at the graves.

She recognized the face of the first one; it was his mother, the picture drawn as clearly and recognizable as the one Cecil once drew. And then she looked at the other stone, taking a moment to inspect it. And then her eyes widened. It was her? Cecil thought she was dead? Looking back down at Cecil, Nelanna realized that his grief went much further than she initially thought. But his grief was wasted. She was alive, and she was right there with him. He just couldn’t see that yet.
“Cecil,” she spoke his name, crouching at his side again and placing her hand lightly on his shoulder with a gentle shake, hoping he’d look at her for the first time. She was finally beginning to understand what was going on now. He grieved her, believing that she was killed after her kidnapping. Perhaps his father spilled lies about her death to drive Cecil over the edge, while he had his servants take her away so she could not be found. And it was breaking Cecil, causing nightmares like this one. He was falling apart, and it broke her heart seeing him this way. Her brows furrowed with anger and disgust towards herself. If she had been stronger, Cecil would not be suffering so.

But this was not the time to be concerned about such things. She needed to wake Cecil and see him in person, give him proof that she still lives. Nelanna can only hope she wasn’t too late to pick up the pieces and fix her mistake. And so she tightened her grip on his shoulder while trying to harden her expression a little more. “Cecil,” she said again, only this time more firmly. “I am right here. Please, look at me.” With her other hand, she gently placed it on his cheek and attempted to turn his gaze towards her so she could look into those beautiful eyes of his, and then she offered him a loving smile. “I still live, Cecil. And I’m waiting for you to come for me. You need to wake up and go to Virens Forest where I await. Whatever your father did, whatever her said, it wasn’t true. Please…listen to me.”

His mind was persistent, it seemed to relish the thought of pain and weakness and self misery. Nelanna had followed him, and spoke his name. Her comforting was as ceaseless as when she lived. But this time, she seemed more firm. His beloved begged him to gaze upon her. It was with great reluctance that he allowed her to turn his face towards her, his haunted emerald gaze threatened to spill tears once more. Cecil's eye sockets were red and puffy, from the tears he seemed to be able to shed only while dreaming.

The fae pressed his cheek into her hand, wanting so much for this to be a real person. At the moment, he didn't even care if this was someone using her face as an illusion. Slowly, his hand reached up and touched her cheek as he listened to those words she spoke. A sad smile spread on his tear stained face. "You're sweet to say, but that's just what my mind wants to hear. You're dead, my love, murdered before my eyes. And I am lost without you." His lips trembled as he fought back a fresh wave of tears, utterly failing.

"It hurts to breathe, but I promise… no one shall be close enough for him to steal my heart again. I can't…" He couldn't go through it again. First his mother, and now the woman he truly had fallen in love with. Oberon was cruel, and his goal for Cecil's complete misery was finally a success. Cecil leaned in and kissed her lips before releasing her, and forcing himself to look away from her perfection. "Go away, Nelanna. Remembering your beauty… Is too much to bear…" He whispered as he hugged himself. This pain was just far too harsh to endure.

He finally looked at her, but smiled sadly. She gazed in his eyes, pleading for her words to reach him. But they hadn’t. He still thought that she was only a part of his dream, a false Nelanna that his mind desired and created to give him what he wanted. She frowned. How could she make him see the truth? How could she prove that she still lives if he refused to open his eyes?

Desperately she thought, searching her mind to conjure an idea. There was no proof she could present that could make him see the truth. No way she could prove she’s the real Nelanna, and that whatever he had seen was only an illusion, or a trick. Silently she cursed Oberon for doing this to Cecil. How could one person be so full of malice? How could a parent wish for such misery to befall their child?

He spoke again, voice weak, lips trembling. And it made her heart break, leaving a horrible pain in her chest that made every beat painful. She was about to speak again, but he pulled her close and kissed her. She let him, closing her eyes for the brief moment the kiss lasted. And then he turned her away again, telling her to let him be, that her being there brought him far too much pain. Her hands slipped off of him as they withdrew back to her sides. Her eyes showed the pain she felt as she looked over him, confused, and at a loss.

What could she do to help her dearly beloved? How could she ease his suffering? How could she end it entirely? When he had kissed her, she had hoped, for the briefest of moments, that it might help calm him a little. But it hadn’t…her gaze fell to the ground between her and Cecil, her mind set to work.

A kiss…something about a kiss seemed…important, somehow. They had never kissed outside of their dreams before, no matter how much she wanted them to kiss for real. She wanted to know how his lips really felt, how they really tasted. But their dreams seemed to be the only place where they could share such a thing. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed at the word.

Dreams…their last kiss was also in a dream. At least, that’s what she thought it was. Until Kohaku had discovered the amulet Cecil had given her. He explained to her that the amulet was one that allowed one to enter someone else’s dream as long as the other had another amulet just like it. She had learned that it wasn’t just any normal dream, and that Cecil really had come to her.

Her eyes lit up and she looked at Cecil once more, placing her hand back on his shoulder. “Cecil,” she began, an expression of determination set on her face. She refused to give up on him. “Whatever you saw was truly a trick of some kind, one devised by Oberon to make you suffer like this. He hid me somewhere, took me away from you and cast some kind of spell on me.” Her eyes averted for a moment as her tone got a little quieter, “My memories were lost. For a while I didn’t even know who I am, and I still don’t entirely know what happened.” Her eyes set firmly on him again, “But Kohaku found me, and gradually my memories began coming back. I was at home in Virens when I saw an amulet. The one you gave me, and it reminded me of you when I fell asleep.”

She stopped, gazing at him hopefully. Would her words reach him this time? Would he even remember what the amulet could do?

Nelanna did not go anywhere, that much he knew. If he wasn't in such agony over his loss, Cecil might find the irony of his recreation of her memory. She always set out to fix a problem to the best of her ability, and would see his pain as something to tend and remedy. Once more, his creation of the faded beauty vied for his attention. Again, she tried to tell him that everything was an illusion, that she truly was real, alive and well. It was all Oberon's doing, naturally.

But what gave him something to ponder was her explanation. Memories were lost, forgotten, leaving her to stumble in a familiar yet unknown world. Questions began bashing his skull as he imagined her situation. Who am I? Do I know this person? Have I been here? Does no one recognize me? Is there anything that will help me figure out this out? Kohaku had began helping her the moment he found her. Cecil's head lifted as he turned to gaze at her, studying her face with a pained frown.

How much did his mind truly want to lure him into falsehoods? Nelanna saw an amulet, and awoke memories of him? The amulet…. He had not taken his off since that one night he had first gone to her. Cecil could see the hope in her eyes, the determination in her face as she willed him to heed her words. "Nelanna?" He slowly reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, feeling her warmth. A thumb caressed her cheekbone as he contemplated the significance of her words, and weighed the consequences of allowing hope back into his heart.

"What if this truly is a dream? To hope and yearn, only to find the lie I fed myself? I can't lose you again, Nelanna… I love you, my fiery goddess, and I need you, but I cannot afford to hope." Standing up, he pulled Nelanna into a hug, burying his face in her hair. "Come to you, find an empty house. Wait for you, fear you'll never show. Give me an assurance, that you'll be there if I come." His voice was soft and hesitant, but he couldn't keep himself from hoping, and yearning for her. And this time… Oberon won't be able to touch her.

She watched him, breath being held unknowingly as the silent heartbeats extended, eyes looking into his tenderly and patiently. Cecil was very stubborn, seemingly unwilling to believe in any possibility that she’s alive. Just how convincing was Oberon’s imitation of her supposed death for it to break her darling so? It infuriated her to the core, made her blood boil until her entire body heated. Never in her life had she hated someone so severely. But deep down, she knew that her anger wasn’t truly placed on Oberon. That was only a distraction. No, she was furious with herself. She was the one that allowed this to happen. She was the one that broke Cecil. Kohaku always told her to be wary of her dear prince, that he’d only bring her harm in the end should she continue seeing him. But he was wrong. Her weakness made her dangerous to Cecil.

Cecil made a face that struck Nelanna like a thorn in her heart, and his following words only deepened that thorn. She mirrored his frown with one of her own. Momentarily her eyes closed as he caressed her cheek, and she took in a breath to remind herself of his nice scent. Truly, none of her memories of him thus far are false. He still smelled the same, felt the same, acted the same, and looked the same as she remembered. “Oh, Cecil,” she muttered half to herself, half to him before her eyes opened.

His words only continued to strike her painfully the more he spoke, and her inner anger grew along the way. He loves her, and she loves him, but she didn’t want them to confess their love here. She wanted to hear it with his real voice once they break the horrid curse he’s under. She wanted to say it with her own real lips, pull him close in her real arms, smell his real scent. She wanted it to be real. “Cecil,” she said more sternly, breaking their embrace just enough to look him in the eye. Her face was one with resolve, her eyes firm and unwavering. “If you desire assurance, then I shall provide it. From here on, at the stroke of midnight, I shall display a beacon of flame into the sky so that it can be viewed from a distance. Come to Virens, and if you see this beacon, then I am awaiting your arrival.”

Her face softened and she lightly placed her hand on the back of his head, pulled his head closer, then pressed her brow against his tenderly. “I know that it would a difficult sight to believe, so you can take as much time as you need. I will always be waiting for you.”