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May the Dream Never End

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I'm still going to finish this. Until then~

Bran stood and turned slowly to face her, his face hidden in shadow. He extended his hand to her and bowed.
“In that case, may I have this dance, Miss Godwin?”
Kylee felt the blood rising in her face.
“Er, of course.” She said awkwardly, hesitantly putting her hand in his. “But I warn you, Bran, I can’t dance.”
“Of course you can,” he said, and drew her to her feet. “Everyone can dance, they just have to remember that they know how.” His arm around her waist, he guided her into the great empty space of the ballroom. The moonlight filtered down in silver drops, caressing the crumbling room as though it were a priceless jewel. The steps were familiar to her, though she couldn’t remember when she had ever learned them. She closed her eyes and let him lead where he would, and it seemed to her as she did that a strain of half-forgotten music floated up through the darkness to twine itself about them. Her rough boots felt like evening-slippers on the broken floor, and her long coat seemed to swirl about her as she twirled.
It wasn’t just a feeling, she realized, opening her eyes as these sensations solidified. She was in a gown. It was of a delicate shade of green and of considerable beauty, as were the pale gems that shone on her wrists and fingers. Bran himself had changed as well—gone were the lines of pain and sorrow that had so marked his face. He was an innocent again, his deep green eyes shining as they passed through the soft light in the pattern of a waltz. His coat was the colour of claret, and a ruby the size of her watch-face glistened in the crisp folds of his cravat. His raven hair was tied back and held in a crimson ribbon, and Kylee could feel her own blonde hair curling around her ears where it had escaped here and there from a fabulous up-sweep.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Bran only shook his head, a sad smile quirking his mouth.
“It is simply a dream,” he said softly, and his hands tightened suddenly around hers.
“Is this...” she said at last, and couldn’t bring herself to finish the question. He nodded, spinning her through another complex pass of the dance.
“My home,” he said simply. “Not as it was, I’m sure, but as I remember it. It was a happy place—” he turned his face away abruptly.
“Home,” Kylee repeated softly. “Those must be your parents.” She caught a glimpse of a heart-breakingly lovely lady and a strikingly handsome man standing together watching them, their faces wreathed in smiles.
Bran made no answer, but spun her a final time and stepped back, sweeping her a low bow. Kylee curtsied in response, then stepped back into his arms as the music began again.
The warm light of the candles gradually faded away and she felt the room and herself return to what it had been before. Her throat suddenly closed as she felt the rough stone under her scuffed boots once again, and she stopped, blinking rapidly. Bran’s hands closed on her shoulders almost painfully, and they held each other in the silence. Kylee could taste his tears on her lips—copper and salt, and bitter as death.
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Mista-Heesh's avatar
So beautiful!! :love: And I absolutely love the writing along with it--geeeeeee, you're amazing!!! :iconeeeeeplz: