Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Angels and Demons ❯ Reawakenings ( Chapter 7 )

A/N: Next Chapter! On with the fluffiness!

 

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Dante's eyes flew open and he looked around. He half expected to see himself surrounded by soldiers. He'd had another dream of his past. He had been on a battlefield, and he watched as his fellow soldiers fell, dead and wounded.

 

He pounded his fist on the top of the crypt. Who am I, damn it all?

 

He rested his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the sun that filtered through the cracks of the crypt. He couldn't wait for the night to arrive. He closed his eyes, drifting into a light sleep, but woke soon. He couldn't shake the memories from his mind. He turned his thoughts to Amber.

 

He had begun to think that perhaps she was correct in her thinking. Could I be this Gavin she speaks of? He shook his head, wanting to dismiss the thought. How could I even be certain? He sighed. It was of no consequence. Not at this precise moment anyway.

 

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Amber slept soundly again. She woke when a servant brought her dinner. She opened her eyes and looked at it as it sat on the night stand. She mentally growled, then rolled over. She wasn't hungry, and she felt sick thinking about food.

 

She glanced out the window as she lay on her stomach. She thought briefly about Dante, then her thoughts shifted to how terrible she felt. She was certain she had a fever again. She buried her face in her pillow, hiding from the light that came from the candle that sat on the bedside table.

 

After a moment she blew it out, frustrated by it. It burned at her retinas, and the darkness was welcome. The moonlight shone in through the window. A warm, soft breeze blew through the open balcony doors.

 

Amber closed her eyes, feeling content. She was almost asleep again when a noise made her jump. She sat up quickly, looking toward the noise. It came from the balcony. She thought she caught movement, and she felt fear grip her.

 

“Who's there?” she choked, those being the only words she could think of. Her voice was barely a whisper.

 

A shadow stepped into her room silently. Silver hair cascaded around his shoulders, and his green eyes searched the room curiously.

 

“Dante,” Amber said, sighing with relief.

 

“Did I startle you?” he asked, his footsteps silent as he neared.

 

She nodded, watching him sit on the end of the bed. The faint smell of rain and wet earth tickled her nose. “How did you find me?” she asked, gazing at him, her hazel eyes wide and surprised.

 

He gave a little smile. “I just followed my nose,” he said. He looked around the room thoughtfully. “You know, you smell good.”

 

Amber smiled. Suddenly a cough shook her.

 

Dante turned to look at her, his good nature gone. Worry was on his face. “I was correct,” he said, mostly to himself. “You have fallen ill.” He looked at her. “Will you be alright?”

 

She nodded as the coughs subsided. She took a deep breath. “I'm fine,” she said breathlessly.

 

Dante watched her a moment longer, doubt on his face. Then he looked away. “I've been thinking about what you said,” he said softly. “About Gavin.”

 

She leaned back against her pillow, thinking a moment. What had she said about him? “What about him?” she asked.

 

“Maybe there is some parallel between his identity and mine,” he said hesitantly.

 

Amber felt her heart leap. “How do you know?” she asked.

 

“I don't,” he said. He looked at her. “But I keep remembering things that coincide with what you've told me about him.” He paused, glancing at the floor. “I even remember you.”

 

Amber sat up. “Me?” she asked. “What do you remember about me?”

 

“It was summer,” he said slowly. “And you were sitting under a willow tree. There was a river, and you were crying. I think it was something I said.” He looked at her, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

 

“That was the last time I saw him,” she whispered. “The day he left. He said he loved me, but that we couldn't be together. Then he walked away.”

 

Dante looked away, nodding. “Do you think I could be him?” he asked tentatively. He looked back at her, seeing the tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.

 

She shook her head. “I don't know,” she said quietly. She blinked, trying not to remember the scene that haunted her dreams.

 

He leaned across the bed to wipe the tears from her face. A pained look crossed his eyes. “Please don't cry,” he whispered.

 

She took his hand, holding it to her cheek. “What else do you remember?” she asked.

 

He suppressed a gasp as her hazel eyes held his electric green ones. He was speechless for a moment. “War,” he whispered softly when he found his voice. “And death.”

 

Amber looked away. She knew what war did to men. The way it twisted their mentality and their view of the world.

 

“I know what you're thinking,” he said softly. He moved slightly closer to her. He let his eyes shift to meet hers.

 

She brushed at a stray tear. “Do you?” she asked.

 

He nodded, his shoulder brushing hers. He felt her shiver at the contact. “Many come away from war scarred far worse than just physically,” he said.

 

She turned her face away. “And what does that have to do with Gavin?” she whispered.

 

He shrugged. “You said he went away and that the rumors were that he left with Richard,” he said.

 

She looked at him, trying to think of something to say. When she couldn't think of anything she looked away again. “And how,” she challenged, “do you suppose we should test your theory?”

 

“I have some ideas,” he said. His face was expressionless, but his voice sounded humored.

 

“And what if you are him?” she asked, voicing his thoughts. “Then what will you do?”

 

He gazed at her for a moment. “Then I suppose I will at least know what this attraction to you is that I feel,” he said finally.

 

Her hazel eyes caught his. “Attraction?” she asked.

 

He nodded. “Perhaps fate has a way of reuniting people,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

 

“But how do you know?” she asked. “You don't remember anything. How do you know we are supposed to meet?” She turned away, hiding the tears in her eyes. She longed for Gavin to return to her more than anything, and it hurt to think about what Dante was saying. What if he isn't Gavin, though?

 

“I don't know,” he said. He felt wounded at the sight of her tears, but he understood her fear. He wasn't even really sure he was this Gavin she spoke of. He watched her a moment longer, and the need to console her overtook him. He moved closer to her, gently grasping her chin and turning her to look at him.

 

Her eyes met his for a second, then moved away. She blinked as another tear slipped from her hazel depths. She felt Dante's thumb lightly on her cheek, brushing it away. She brought her eyes back to meet his. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

 

His eyes moved slowly over her face, taking her in. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly. He heard her gasp, and he met her eyes. “Will you trust me?”

 

Amber felt her eyes widen with surprise. She searched his electric eyes for any sign of deceit, then slowly nodded.

 

Dante was silent as he let his eyes slip from hers to gaze over her face again. He let his thumb lightly trace her lips, before slowly bringing his own to brush against hers.

 

Amber felt her breathing quicken as she realized what he was doing. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, unsure if she should let him or push him away. He asked me to trust him, she thought. She closed her eyes. I do. I trust him. She felt their lips brush lightly at first, and it sent a shiver down her spine. He's so warm, she thought. She felt a tingling sensation as he moved away from her. She opened her eyes to meet his.

 

They seemed questioning, checking her reaction. When he saw that she was watching him with curiosity and surprise, he smirked.

 

Amber felt a blush come to her cheeks. He was so handsome, and the smirk only made him more dashing. She started to turn away, but he caught her lips with his again. She felt him place his hand on the back of her neck and tilt her head back, deepening the kiss. His silver bangs fell against her forehead, brushing her skin lightly. She shivered at the sensation and pulled away.

 

She felt her blush deepen, and she avoided his gaze.

 

“Amber?”

 

She looked up at his voice, only to see him watching her, his expression unreadable.

 

“Do you remember that summer?” he asked suddenly.

 

She stared at him. “What summer?” she asked.

 

His eyes met hers, their intensity a little frightening. “The summer that I first kissed you?” he asked. A little smile tried to appear at the corner of his lips. “Under the willow tree.”

 

She stared at him, feeling as if someone had doused her in ice water. “Next to the river,” she whispered. She brought her fingers to her lips. “It was my first kiss.”

 

He nodded, his eyes falling from hers. “I was Gavin,” he whispered. “I remember everything about you, and about me. And I remember working for your father, and the day your mother died.” He met her hazel eyes.

 

Amber stared at him speechlessly. “That was years ago,” she whispered finally. Her eyes widened in shock. “You are him.”

 

He shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “I was him.”

 

“You were?” she asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“I'm more than just Gavin,” he said, lost in thought. “I can't go back to being him any more.”

 

Amber felt her heart skip a beat. Fear started to creep into her eyes. “I'm afraid I don't understand,” she said quietly.

 

“Just now,” he said, looking at her. “When we kissed, I remembered everything. I remember me and you, and I remember loving you with all my heart. I remember why I left too.” He started to touch her cheek, but pulled away.

 

“Why did you leave?” Amber whispered. She was almost afraid to know.

 

“I wanted to make a life for myself,” he said thoughtfully. “I wanted to be a knight.” He hid the beginnings of a smile. “And I wanted you to be my lady.”

 

She stared at him. “You wanted to marry me?” she asked.

 

He nodded. “But the battles scarred me,” he said. “I'm not the man I left home as.” He looked away, falling into his own thoughts. “To see your friends and comrades fall—“ He cut himself off. “I suppose not remembering was less of a curse than I thought.”

 

“And then Morgra got her hands on you,” Amber whispered. “She changed you.”

 

Dante shook his head. “No, you don't understand,” he said. “I was changed before she got to me. I'm a terrible person; I've done such terrible things.” He bowed his head, his silver hair falling in front of his face.

 

Amber was silent as she watched him. Her thoughts rumbled loudly in her mind, but she tried to block them out. Finally, a single thread caught her attention. “I think I see,” she said. “You're no longer a child. That innocence is gone. Gavin is gone. Now you are more in your thinking and actions. You are Dante.”

 

He looked up at her, his expression unreadable.

 

She brushed the silver waterfall from his eyes. “Am I right?” she asked. “Is that what you mean? You can no longer be Gavin?”

 

He nodded.

 

She felt her heart fall suddenly. “Then can I ask you something?” she asked.

 

His eyes watched her expectantly.

 

“Do you, Dante,” she paused, taking a deep breath.

 

“Do I love you?” he asked before she could speak. His voice was quiet.

 

She nodded, almost afraid of the answer.

 

He held her gaze steadily. “Before I answer, I want you to know something,” he said. “The man you knew and loved is dead. I am merely an expression of his thoughts, which have been altered. I don't see the world as summer days and laughter.” His voice quieted. “Not any more. I've seen too much death to know that it never really was. Innocence is a hindrance to reality.” His gaze had become steely. He looked away. “But I do still love you. With as much of my being is left. And that will never change.”

 

Amber looked away, considering his words. He was right. Suddenly she remembered the Baron's proposal, feeling guilty. She didn't want to tell him no if she did not love Dante, but she did not want to admit that she no longer loved him. She wasn't sure if the being before her was really the man she loved or if he was changed, possibly into something she couldn't love.

 

Dante saw the conflicting emotions flickering across her face. “What's wrong?” he asked, his voice soft.

 

She wouldn't look at him.

 

He touched her cheek. “Amber,” he whispered.

 

She slowly let her gaze meet his. Her hazel eyes were tired and troubled.

 

He kissed her forehead gently. “Don't you trust me?” he asked. “You can tell me anything.”

 

Amber sighed, her heart heavy. “I don't know how I feel anymore,” she said. Her voice was a soft whisper, but she knew he heard her.

 

“I understand,” he said simply. He started to say more, but she stopped him.

 

“Please,” she whispered. She turned her head away as a cough shook her.

 

Dante's brow furrowed in concern. “Perhaps you should rest.”

 

She shook her head. “No,” she said. “The Baron asked me to marry him.”

 

Dante grew still. A sudden, fierce jealously rose in him. He tried to hide it, but when he spoke, his voice held an unintended edge. “What did you say?”

 

Amber let her gaze fall to the floor. “I told him to return tomorrow for my answer,” she said quietly.

 

Dante looked out the window. “I see,” he said. His silver bangs hid his eyes from view.

 

“I don't know what to tell him,” she said. “At first, I thought I'd say yes, but now I'm not so sure. I want to make sure of every thing before I give my answer.”

 

Dante was silent as he listened to her. He knew what she meant. She wanted to know if she could love him as he was.

 

“Dante?” she whispered, her voice uncertain.

 

He looked at her, his green eyes light. “I want you to choose what's best for you,” he said quietly. “I wish you nothing but happiness, no matter your decision. And I will always come for you. Whenever you need me.” He pulled an object from his pocket. He gently placed it in her hands, folding her fingers over it. “Use this when you need me and I will find you.”

 

She unfolded her fingers as he drew away. “A whistle?” she whispered.

 

He nodded.

 

She met his eyes. “You will come?” she asked, hope in her eyes.

 

He nodded. “I promise,” he said. “Always.” A look of longing crossed his eyes as he watched her, but he repressed it.

 

“What is it?” she asked, catching it.

 

“Nothing,” he whispered. He felt her questioning thoughts. The slight feel of her conscience against his made him shiver. He wanted to be near her always. He suddenly turned away, toward the balcony, trying to brush away the feeling. He blinked suddenly, feeling something move in the distance, near the cemetery.

 

Amber saw his shoulders tense. “Do you sense something?” she whispered.

 

He stood, his silver hair falling behind him, brushing his waist. “Dramuela,” he breathed. His back was to Amber, but she saw him shudder. Dramuela was afraid, and she needed him.

 

Amber watched him, unnerved by his behavior. She wanted to speak, but her voice was muted by fear. Something was really wrong if he was acting so strangely.

 

Suddenly he turned to her. “I must go,” he said, his voice level. “Dramuela could be in danger.”

 

Amber stared at him as he met her gaze.

 

“Don't look so gloomy,” he said, his eyes light as before. “I'll return.” His brow furrowed. “It may not be tonight, though.”

 

She nodded, her eyes sullen. She watched him leave. “Bye,” she whispered.

 

Once he had vanished the way he came, she leaned back against her pillow. She looked at the silver whistle in her hands. It glinted like ivory in the moonlight, and she recognized it as a falconer's whistle. She had seen them used to call birds back to their handlers. She smiled, holding it near her heart. She felt a strange sense of security knowing Dante was only a call away.