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voids-colourful-creations · 2 years ago

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I'll Never Sleep (So You Can Dream) - a Witch's Heart fic

[Read on Ao3!]

Rated T - Choose not to Use Warnings Witch's Heart Noel/Claire, Noel&Claire (Open to interpretation) 1917 Words

Summary: Four demons in a low stakes betting match. Half a monster, half a magician, and the angel with the crystalline wishing heart he loves. (Or, Noel will do anything for Claire, even if the demons don't understand why)

Notes: In my mind, Noel's feelings for Claire are the definition of a Pure love, which manifests itself in every way it can. More than just romantic love, if that makes sense. I hope you find this idea of their dynamic interesting.

Noel sincerely hopes that none of them, not Wilardo, not Ashe, not Sirius, and especially not Claire, ever have to enter Hell.

Not because it’s rife with demons. He knows well that Claire can more than hold her own against them, as could Wilardo and Ashe. Sirius… Potentially not in a pure strength battle, but he’s got enough wit to arm himself with.

It’s simply that Hell is a dreadful place to spend one's time.

Noel would know.

Hell is lukewarm for the record. It doesn’t really smell like anything most of the time, unless it smells like smoke and burning flesh, smells like medical supplies and blood, like alcohol, very faintly of gunpowder. Unless it smells like thousands of corpses, like melting skin.

Being within it feels like having the life, the energy, slowly syphoned out of him.

More and more slits in reality tear themselves open, revealing miniature worlds of candy, oceans, cookie cutter towns and yet thankfully none of them seem to lead to Hell.

Noel wonders if it’s only a matter of time until Hell and the house melt into one.

The house is turning in on itself, squirming and oozing. It tears holes into itself, bleeds realities into others. Some pockets seem to pulsate, beat even.

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” It seems to say.

“Don’t get bored of me,” It seems to ask.

“We can have everything you want here.”

Except one, never-ending wish. A wish you’d be willing to kill for.

Zizel had it right after all.

“If you continue down this path, we’ll all be trapped in here, as everything distorts, forever. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Of course not. It can’t be. There’d be no getting out that way. Claire needs to get out. She has to. Even if Noel can’t, especially because he can’t, Claire has to.

Zizel smiles at him, in a way that makes her seem very tall. “Aren’t you tired yet?”

Her voice is moist with curiosity, her face only displaying mild amusement.

“Not yet.”

She shrugs.

“You’ll have to learn to compromise eventually.”

Perhaps, but this sort of ending is not something Noel can accept. Not yet.

Lime’s voice is bubbly bright and cheerful when she talks to him, about ripping his limbs off, teasing and mocking over this and that. It’s funny to her, he assumes. No mind of course, no mind.

He’s used to dealing with her by now. Simple rejections of her foolish ideas are all that’s needed, no matter how she whines about how boring he is. It’s not like Noel can’t read between the lines of her childish jabs.

“Aren’t you tired of being all goody-goody, yet? Playing the hero like that is no fun at all! Give up already and let’s have some real fun.”

He can tell. He doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter what Lime thinks.

There’s only one person who’s opinion Noel wants to know.

“You should join us.” Charlotte suggests nonchalantly.

The words still ring in Noel’s ears, but it's the reason that snags on his brain.

“Hating is easy.”

And on some level, Noel believes that Charlotte is right. But hating and loving, emotions in their purest form, can be no easier than one another. It’s no easier to breathe in than it is to breathe out.

It’s the actions driven by hatred and love that require all the effort.

Purely speaking, Noel loves Claire. Without question, without logic, without desire for anything in return. This sort of pure love, not untainted by bloodshed and sorrow, is all Noel can offer. A return for all she has done for him.

And he’ll manifest this love the only way he knows how. His love is a strenuous one, more effort required than anything. There’s no need to think of anything else when filled with hate, true, but Noel has found himself driven by love with no end.

He laughs lightly and smiles at her words, something he knows he wouldn’t have been able to do if not for her. It was all because of her, that’s why everything is for her.

“Isn’t it tiring to think like that? Isn’t it painful?” Charlotte asks.

“As long as I’m the one in pain, it’s fine.” He answers.

Charlotte shakes her head, looking over at Noel like some sort of foolish child.

In a way, Noel supposes he is.

“It’s all your fault!” The grinning shape laughs. Noel doesn’t even have to touch it before it implodes on itself. A bang that doesn’t reverberate.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers. And he means it. Has meant it, every night, every time. Will continue to, until the house turns itself inside out and distorts its contents into stardust.

Noel wonders occasionally if the weight of his guilt will continue to compress his heart even after his soul is torn apart.

It’s slashing, burning red pain when his skin slits itself open, when dry bloody eyes bubble to the surface.

“Curses curse cursed!”

Noel grits his teeth, he doesn’t need the reminder. Not that it doesn’t come to him every day, in hoards of monsters crashing out of existence before his eyes. He deserves it, in part. This way, there will be no ignoring them. No way to bid them adieu without letting them speak a final piece.

“Aren’t you tired yet?”

The wriggling creature smells like charred flesh as it groans out its question.

“…”

Somehow, it’s form seems to contort into a grin, the split second before it bids it’s violent goodbye to the space.

“I can’t give up. Not now.”

The empty space has no reply for Noel. He doesn’t have one either.

Noel doesn’t lack self awareness, part of his efforts are out of a wish to not be left alone.

It’s not like he doesn’t already know the stories will unravel soon. He’s already accepted his own sealed fate.

But if he’s fated to be sealed into the abyss with the mansion regardless…

He can’t accept an ending like this.

If it can protect Claire… if he can do this for her…

Not if. No, Noel knows he won’t accept an ending like this.

Regardless of his actions, Noel knows he’ll be condemned, so at the least, he owes it to Claire to repay her for the salvation she brought him.

The air tastes sweet, Claire herself feels lighter. Not as though she weighs less but as if she was created from stardust.

It feels like a memory she hadn’t lived. Manufactured, but handcrafted. Different than the other pockets of reality she had wandered into.

The edges of reality seem blurred, like those fading memories she has of waking up for a moment and watching the specks of dust refract in sunrise's early beams, before drifting off away into quiet dreams.

It looks like a dream, actually. Genuinely.

Claire’s hand raises to her cheek, as if to grab it and pinch it to confirm if she was awake. When it reaches its target, Claire’s hand merely rests against her lips, slightly parted, as she observes in awe.

It looks exactly like a dream Claire can’t remember having.

It feels like her little moon boat slides through the water, gently pulled in the direction she wishes, even as she rows along with her tiny oar. Claire lets her fingers skim the surface of the glowing water, giggles lightly. It’s smooth as silk, comfortingly warm to the touch.

She’s convinced that if she tipped too far and fell into the water, she’d simply float across it, gently drifting to shore. Similarly, she’s convinced her fancy little boat is steady, won’t let her fall.

The colours shift and flow with the gentle pull of the waves. Specks of sugar seem to scatter across the candy landscape. Claire nudges a floating star with the tip of her moon boat, laughing as it replies to her with a shower of star-speckled sparks.

The little monster in the matching boat is right, it truly is a romantic place. The boats, the landscape, the tea bath and cotton candy bed; all of it fills Claire with a lovey-dovey feeling.

It’s saccharine perfection, even if it’s suspicious.

“… is this a dream…?” Claire murmurs sleepily.

And when she blinks, there’s a smiling face standing at her side.

It’s fine if Claire thinks everything is all a dream, Noel decides. Better that way actually. Selfishly, it allows him to be less reserved. Claire was good at writing off nonsensical things as part of her dreams, so surely she’d forgive him acting a bit strange.

He grins with a sort of childish glee as he shows Claire his creations. It takes a lot of work to manifest a dream space like this, of course. Not that it wasn’t worth it, for Claire. Anything was worth it, for Claire.

Selfishly, this is as much a gift to Claire as it is for himself. His guilty pleasure, listening to her words again. Anything she had to say, so long as she was here, so long as her mouth was still moving with a smile, so long as that glint in her eyes remained.

It was all worth it. Noel would never grow tired of that.

Warm and glowing, happy, vibrant, Claire. Nothing like a demon, Claire. Not like Noel, Claire.

Her pure dreams of candy, tea, and wedding dresses are far too idyllic for Noel’s bloodstained wish.

Claire, like an angel. Noel, a not-quite demon. The two of them chatting over tea and cake.

Even these pure dreams of Claire’s are not untrained by the twisting reality of this house. There are no true wishes without sacrifice. Is it alright to grant Claire’s wishes knowing the only reason they could be granted at all was as a result of writhing walls?

Claire doesn’t have to worry about that. Noel won’t let her worry about that. He can bear the compounding weight of all his efforts, this is a small strain on top of all that.

A magician is the perfect role for him.

An advisor, an assistant, a shoulder to lean on. Anything, everything, whatever she wanted him to be.

Noel is not her prince.

“That sounds wonderful,” he says, and “of course,” he laughs, because he’ll tell her anything she wants to hear but he won’t say what he wants.

“I love you, ” He’d say.

“Don’t die.” He’d wail.

“Stay safe, let me stay with you.”

“I don’t want to die, I’m a monster- I’m sorry.”

“I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember me- will you remember me- please don’t forget when you’re happy-don’t-forget-I-love-you-and-I’m-sorry.”

He can tuck her in with magic spells that bash against the inside of his brain until his head aches and his mind splits, he can clutch onto bloody jagged crystal, he can spend 100 years and more living the same day, and he can’t tell her a word of it.

But it won’t matter. Not as long as Claire, sweet angelic Claire, lives something close to the life she deserves. As long as she’s happy, above all else.

And he can almost hear her say it, brash concern clear as day.

“Are you tired, Noel?”

What can he say? Nothing about loving Claire is tiring. Everything about this existence is draining. It’s all worth it. It’s too late to stop now. He doesn’t care. It’s all he’ll ever do. His eternal feelings, his love without boundaries.

Is Noel tired?

“Sweet dreams, Claire.”

That is his answer.

[End]

#witch's heart fanfic #witch's heart charlotte #witch's heart lime #whnoc #noel levine #claire elford #noclaire #claiel #what the heck is the pair name #fanfic #fanfiction #voids fic

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