2 He Wanted to Wake Up; "I Wish You Were Real..."

He wanted to wake up; He knew all to well that it was a dream.

Even so, his mind would not yield, the thing that never would, much like his Father and Older Brother never did. Much like she, the phantom who haunted him still, never did. Instead she asked for equality, treating him as an equal, not as if he was a God on a pedestal like everyone else. He had initially found that annoying, and wanted her to yield to him, but as time progressed, he knew what he desired.

He wanted her to stay, but he wanted to wake up.

He ran his hand through his unruly mess of black and gold hair, his golden black eyes flashing. He didn't want to stay here, but the minute he saw her he immediately reconsidered. He sighed, she had so much power over him. Even as a phantom, a figment of his memory, my world did he long for her, his Snow.

He sighed again as he heard the phantoms voice. Somehow, he managed to perfectly recreate the tonnage and song of her voice. It made it that much harder to leave her, especially with how when he turned to face her, his mind had once again perfectly recreated how she looked, felt, acted, smelled... It hurt seeing how perfect she was, how terribly her image and self was engrained in his mind.

He wanted to wake up, he'd rather guilt over and mourn her passing awake rather than seeing her in his dreams.

"Lucifer! Darling, it's been forever, how are you?!" She smiled, her pale face of pure perfection, a perfect oval with large, elegant red eyes, crimson, full lips, porcelain and snow white skin and hair, glowing with the simple joy and happiness of seeing him. He could breath around her again, and yet he still suffocated as the weight of his guilt ran through as a shockwave. Even after her death, he still could not help but be in awe of her beauty.

She threw her cold self into his arms, her white dress billowing out from behind, her white wide rimmed had flying off her head as her once orderly white hair in the style of a crown became wild and free. She giggled, her laugh automatically making him, the lord Satan himself, smile widely and brightly at her and the wonder she still brought him.

He wanted to wake up and take her with him. He wanted this precious, fictitious moment to be real as it once was. He wanted her to be real and alive, not the watered down, false reality that dared to take after her.

He wanted his Nivalis, not Eika.

"Darling? What's wrong, why are you crying? What happened, are you overworking yourself again? Darling, you really got to take a break, this can't be good for you. I insist on it... Darling?" She trailed off has he placed his palm against her cheek. He gently ran his finger across her cheek bones, eliciting soft blush from the pure blood vampire.

He placed his forehead against hers, allowing some tears to slip from his eyes as he closed them, savoring the feel of her. How he longed to feel of her, for this to be reality. To do so, he'd have to reach his Father's domain, a place only his older brother had. Perhaps he would've if he'd...

He banished the thought immediately, for the simple reason that he would not have met this girl who was comparable to angel despite her... darker reputation and origin.

He held her close, wrapping his muscular arms around her as he stroked her soft, disorderly white hair with a gentle, practiced touch, as he'd done time and time again in the past reality which he still longed somewhat for. His voice was soft and rough as he whispered to his dead lover, "I wish you were real... I wish for and yearn for that so greatly... Why'd you have to prioritize her over you... why...?"

There was a silence, and he knew that his dream was beginning to collapse. He expected the phantom to be confused, but instead she hugged him tightly back and whispered, "Because she was yours. I could never let our only child die, not with you..."

His eyes widened and he pulled back, staring into her tear filled red eyes as she broke apart in a storm yet again.

"Goodbye, Lucifer..."

"WAIT-!"

Golden black eyes flashed awake with tears slipping from them as her reached out for a person who was no longer there. He stared at it for a bit, before allowing it to collapse, covering his eyes and part of his face as the light of the artificial sun stabbed at them.

He was silent, and everything save for the wind in the curtains and soft twitter and bustle of servants could be heard throughout the castle as they attended to the chores- preparing food, cleaning the corridors, dusting the furniture, stoking the fire... there were over a thousand demons working in the palace, all at least level 200 or so.

"... I wish I was asleep again... I want to dream... But even then, I doubt you're there, right, Nivalis? You always were so unpredictable..."

Little did Satan know, someone else too wished to remain within sleeps embrace. However, she lived and dreamed not in a bed of fine satin and feathers and warmth, but rather a skimpy metal rack with a paper thin mattress with a blanket and pillow to match in it's composition and effort.

Someone with heterochromatic eyes of red and black, with black hair, pale skin, and a desire to be loved. Young and naïve, she was unaware, that for her at least, such a feat would have to be a miracle.

A cruel, unfathomable, exhausting miracle, never to be... or would it?

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