So, I'm using first-person narrative. That's, like, okay, right? –panics-

Yay for this couple! YAY! I'm up to speed on the manga now, and gosh, can you say OTP?

And I'm not even sure what's up with this wedding. But she doesn't either!

Not sure if this will be a oneshot or more. But for now, enjoy, okay!

…Rating may change? :D We'll see, sonny boy.

I closed my eyes from the constant night, and began to dream.

White, white everywhere. The walls are strung with it, figures flit in and out of view gaudily dressed in it, and it's on me.

Oh, yes, it's all over me. I spin, and a fan of white cloth splays out like an ocean wave. It's a graceful dress, and on any other day I'd feel foreign in its care.

But not today.

It's a wedding dress, you see.

Careful, agile hands run a brush though my hair. Completely wrung out, painstakingly dried pulled back up, letting it rest low but contract on my neck, flowers pinned in. Oohs and Aahs. Smiles.

A sisterly voice that I can't place chimes, and a hand wraps around to pull a minute corner of the collar into place. It dips wide across exposed shoulders, more wide than low. People flutter in and out: laughing, spinning, and they slowly filter out of the room.

I shift to face my reflection in the mirror, and a delicate face gazes back. Delicate, cautious, but unafraid. I have no desire to run back, to reconsider her choice.

Hmm. That…that may be new.

I stand up, fuss my dress into place, and lay confident steps out of the room. A staircase that runs down endlessly, covered in red fabric and white petals. It's like something out of a fairy tale, some little-girl dream that never quite died.

One foot after another, and I don't stumble.

After a long while of walking, there's a rise of noise, and people become visible. I see familiar shapes, and hear strains of voices, yet still nothing is recognizable. The people are ghostlike, but they comfort me all the same.

The end of the stairs is in sight now, abruptly ending its odyssey. At its end, the room opens up like a cavern. People dot its floor, clustering around a thin path.

A soft hum of noise surrounds: a warm mix of muted conversations, a soft strain of something like music, the smooth swish of fabric. It's nothing exotic.

I pass the mass of faces, move past the noise, and am nearly all alone.

Nearly.

He waits at the end of the carpeted walk. He cuts a strong, dark line from his shoulders though his legs that almost looks frightening, but careful contours of his face are soft. He reaches out a hand, and she takes it, molding his palm to mine.

His other hand winds out, and it settles into the smallest arch of my back, and reels me in with a small fireburst of nerves. It's a surprise, and I flex back and raise my eyes to search his face.

There's no soft brown here, only a chilling, brilliant green.

My hands scramble and cling to the sheets, and I bolt awake. I gulp down air as fast as I can get it, and stare into the darkened room, letting my eyes adjust.

In. Out. Gradually, the breaths slow. But I'm reeling in surprise, and I can't wrap my head around the fact that it was…

"Woman?" A soft, inquisitive voice calls. I wheel around, and Ulquiorra is standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe easily, green eyes tilted at me. I realize that I don't know how long he's been there. For all I know, he could have fallen out of the dream with me, and seen everything.

"I…I just…" Nothing comes to my jammed mind; my face is almost as frozen as his.

"Tell me, girl. It's not like I could guess. My knowledge of odd human behaviors is limited.

"It was a dream," and I choke for breath and pray he doesn't notice. Around him, I've felt fear, panic, and alienated; but never this nervous sensation.

He shifts in the doorframe, looking down. "I've heard of those. And, to be honest, I don't understand why they're so terrifying."

I fix my hand on the bed, and steady myself. "They're terrifying because they seem so real. Before you know it, you believe it. Even after you wake up."

"Even though they're just illusions?"

"Yes. You believe it, however briefly."

"But," and here he looks halfway up the wall as if the answer is written there but it can't seem as if he's looking, "It's not a…" He looks as if the word just escaped him.

"A nightmare?" I offer.

"Yes. That."

I curl my fingers, folding the sheet into a thousand rays. "No. Not a nightmare."

He seems satisfied with this answer, and straightens himself up in the doorway. "Well then. It seems that there's nothing I can do. See to it that you don't wake up half of the whole Hueco Mundo, woman?"

"Yes. Sir."

He could turn and walk away, and should by all rules of propriety. Rules that he usually follows to the letter. Instead, he looks straight at me, and bows his head a minute centimeter, the barest sign of respect.

Then he leaves, with a flourish of white robe marking his exit.

I start to shake. I stare in my folded hands in horror.

I don't sleep again for the rest of the night.