The Raven [England x Reader] Poe/APH poemfic

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more."



Arthur had come home late from work again. Every day, the stress became greater. Closing his eyes, he tried to relax and calm down his nerves. It seems like his life had unraveled ever since that day. He thought of her every passing second. Collapsing into the armchair, he settled down and released a long, deep sigh. It's funny the things one remembers. Her light bubbly laugh. The sunlight caressing her soft, delicate hair. Her radiant smile that lit up the room.



The agony in her eyes the day he said, "I'm sorry."



He could do nothing.



All of a sudden, he heard a knock at his door. Startled, Arthur figured it had to be a visitor. But this late?


Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.



He could recall that unfortunate December morning, how she was bundled up in a scarf and mittens. His expression softened as he thought of the event that took place then, so long ago. The fireplace crackled as it started to die. Oh, how short life is.



Tomorrow… tomorrow was her birthday. A small smile spread across his face. He could go to the florist and pick up a bundle of her favorite flowers to bring to the graveyard for her. Yes, she would like that. She would be happy.



Arthur reached for the book on the small table next to the chair and opened it, setting it in his lap. Maybe, he should try to forget. Constantly thinking of what he was helpless to prevent can't be good for him. But he couldn't forget. He couldn't concentrate, as he found himself struggling to focus, reading the same sentence over and over. He couldn't forget the sight of her, lying in the hospital bed, breathing her dying breaths. He felt he had to apologize, for he had promised to protect her, but he had failed.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more."



A gust of wind burst through the ajar window, unsettling the violet curtains. Arthur's heartbeat sped up, unreasonably terrified. The night was so still… too still. A visitor…. Just a visitor. He found himself repeating, his mind racing.


Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"- here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.



Mustering up the courage, Arthur stood up, clearing his throat. "E-excuse me," His gaze bored into the door. "I can't be sure I heard you knocking, you see, I was beginning to doze off."  He arrived at the door in one swift stride, grabbed the doorknob, and flung the door open. But there was nothing there.


Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" -
Merely this, and nothing more.



Gazing into the darkness, he stood there for a long time, trying to come up with a rational explanation, his imagination conjuring up many horrific images. Silence. "[Name]?" He whispered, trying not to let the fear be present in his voice.



"[Name]!" The echo shot back.


Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more."



Arthur turned, reentering his room, his eyes still wide. Then, the tapping began again. Tap, tap. Figuring it was something at his window, perhaps a branch driven by the wind, he crossed the room.


Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.



He slammed open the window, when curiously, a sleek black bird entered, quickly flying through the room and stopping to rest above the door.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."



Arthur turned toward the bird, refusing to be fooled any more. "W-what is your name?" He questioned it, desperate for answers.



"Nevermore."


Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."



Though it made little sense, and Arthur was very surprised indeed, he found himself wondering if he was dreaming. Because, who has ever seen a raven with a name like "Nevermore"?


But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said, "Nevermore."



The bird said no more, so Arthur spoke. "You know, everyone I ever loved has left me, whether they wanted to or not. Surely you will leave, too, when the morning comes."



"Nevermore." The raven cawed, cocking its head as it gazed at him.


Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never - nevermore'."



"This… this doesn't mean anything… it's just a bird…" Arthur desperately tried to reassure himself that he was not becoming utterly mad.


But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."



He dragged the armchair to face the door, staring at the raven as he sat down into the cushioned fabric. What is it trying to say….?


This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!



Feeling the bird's small beady black eyes drilling into him, as if it was peering into his very soul, Arthur sat there, letting his mind wander. He found comfort there as he let himself unwind. This was her favorite chair… she would often sit here reading for hours on end. But that's all gone now….


Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore:
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."



An idea sprang into his head, and his eyes widened as he shot to his feet. "Cursed! You're cursed!" He screamed at the raven. "You were sent here, weren't you?! You were sent here because of [Name]!"



"Nevermore."


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."



"Why? Why are you here?! Tell me! The devil sent you, didn't he? Don't go after [Name]'s spirit, then! Go find the jerk who caused that blasted car accident!"



"Nevermore."


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."



Calming down, Arthur muttered. "Tell me," his gaze fell to the floor. "Is… is she in heaven? Will I see her again?"



"Nevermore."


"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend," I shrieked, upstarting -
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."



"Is that all you say?!" Arthur cried, waving his hands around the bird, trying to shoo it away. "Leave! I don't need you!"


And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!



But the raven didn't leave. In fact, it is still sitting there, above Arthur's door, watching, watching him, until the very day that he will join [Name] for eternity.