Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts belong to Square and Disney, not me.

Title: Conquest (named for no reason whatsoever)

Summary: (AU. RS) Sora does not believe in fairy tales until he finds himself living in one. Now he must deal with a culture and language not of his own and face the dangers of civil war and a mysterious silver-haired man.

Pairing: Riku x Sora. Warning! This story contains YAOI – male/male love – not your thing? Then don't read this.

Rating: This is rated T (PG-13) for suggestive themes. grin I'm not going to say what it is because it'll spoil the story.

A/N: This story is your basic boy (or girl) goes to a new world to find their destiny. Hey, I love those stories, but what I find to be lacking in most of them is how the hero adjusts to the culture and language of said world. I would like to focus on that. Sora may have a hard time communicating and understanding a lot of things for a very long time. So that means this is an Alternate Universe. There is still heartless and the keyblade and stuff. No Destiny Islands.

Also, there is romance here but I can't guarantee any smut. If you are looking for smut, you will not find it here. However, there is plenty of adventure and drama. There is no Kairi bashing.

Everything will be from Sora's point-of-view. I want everything to be new to him as well as the reader. Also, this story is very much a work-in-progress. I would probably revise many things, without notice. Some may be important.

FEEDBACK is very much appreciated. I want to know if anyone is reading this junk. Something like, "I'd like to see the next chapter," is fine.

The first chapter is not much. The action is in the next chapter.

Mother believed in fairies.

She also said that I will become a knight, and with a sword or lance, win any battles that came my way. I will catch the heart of a princess, and I too will fall deeply in love; she will play hard-to-get, but it will only fuel my desire for her more. Eventually, we will kiss; a kiss more lovely than any I ever receive and marry. She will have flowers in her hair and a beautiful smile and my heart will warm whenever I lay eyes upon her.

Mother said this when I was too young to realize the truth.

There are no such things as fairies or knights or princess. They are only in fairy tales; tales that children swallow up like delicious honey. It will be done without question, without second thought.

Then, parents will fuel your imagination when they see you are caught. They will say that it is true. You will have hopes and dreams and wish upon a star that you may be a princess or a prince and live in a magical castle, only to realize, as you grow older, that they are not real.

It will be disappointing.

You will wonder why they have lied to you, why they have tricked you all these years. You will think that they found it laughable – your naivety. They have fed you nothing but stories, and you have believed them! It will be embarrassing and you will wonder what else they have hid from you. What other lies have they told?

You will now realize things you have not before; they are suddenly hesitant to answer you, or may change the subject. They will also give a vague answer, and sometimes, they still lie.

It will be frustrating. You will wonder if they were really your parents. You will study them and find there appearance slightly different from yours. They seem foreign now, they could not be related to you, could they?

You will try to understand them, and fail.

You will soon give up and accept the difference, but with bitterness.

This was something I had to deal with. I did not like it. I was always the happy, cheerful guy, and when I hit the age of fourteen, my world began to expand. I realized many things I had miss when I was young, and I was starting to see the injustice of the world – an injustice that had my heart bursting.

I was still the optimistic from my childhood, but I had withdrawn slightly, and the imagination I held – of princess and knights – were crushed. It was something I cherished, and now it was gone. I would never become and knight, or a hero, win a princess's heart, and gallop off to the sunset.

It felt like a light had vanish from my heart.

But I could not know of the adventure that awaited me; an adventure that will top all fairy tales. But it will not be in the way I imagined in my childhood. What happened to me could never be imagined by any mind.

On March the thirteenth, when I was fourteen, Father died. I did not know him very well for he was a business man and believed in providing for the family in the traditional way; he would go to work from dawn until dusk while mother waited anxiously at home while taking care of me.

Mother had always been a house wife. A house wife was not a profession favored upon women, but mother was very prideful in her work and always boasted on how well of a son I was turning out to be; after all, I had good grades in my honor classes (minus Spanish), was popular with my teachers and pupils, and a star in the school's hockey team.

But there was always a sadness that shadowed her eyes; a shadow by the name of neglect. Mother knew the importance it was for father to be at work, but that didn't mean she liked it. She would make a huge dinner in hopes he'd return early, but it was rare he ever did; so he's dinner always sat waiting, cold.

It pained me to see her so sad. I would always try to find ways to cheer her up. I'd buy her presents and take her out; I'd always tell her what was on my mind and we'd talk for hours. It gave her eyes the light it needed but it did not last long as she would still make a huge dinner and sit by the living room window in hopes of catching a glimpse of a car.

Those times I would feel an anger that had my stomach churning, and wished that she would just divorce him and marry another man -- one who will shower attention. She needed the attention, and he was not providing it for her. I did not care if I never saw my father again; I barely knew him.

Before I knew it, Father died of a heart attack, caused from stress. Mother was horrified and would spend days in her room, never coming out. I would just spend time at a friends house; but now I knew the feeling of neglect when mother never came out of her room. I would knock on the door and ask her to come out, but she never did and I'd feel hollow.

Then the hollowness would turn to outrage when I thought of how unfair life had turned for mother. I have never cared for the man, but mother did and now she was paying a price for it? She just wanted attention from the man she loved; she wanted to be a princess loved by the handsome prince just like in the fairy tales she always told me with a passion. The tales were ones I love the best but when I look at how mother's marriage turned out, I realize it was nothing like a fairy tale. Mother was never loved by the prince; the prince only loved his career and left the princess to pine after him.

Now the prince was dead.

This was not a fairy tale. Fairy tales are not real. Not when the princess continued to pine after the prince for years afterward, to never find her own true love.

She'd stopped believing in fairies.

Shadows followed me.

I would be doing something as simple as homework, and then see movement to my left. I would turn around to see nothing.

I would be walking home from school, just after an exhilarating game, and I'd feel eyes on me. My skin would prickle; I'd turn around to see nothing there. But I'd swear I felt eyes on me.

I'd be staring underneath the bed, inside a closet, around an alleyway, and the air itself shifted. The shadows moved.

I'd see glowing eyes in my dreams; their long glows reaching for me – reaching for my blood, my life? -- I did not know. But the dreams haunted me.

It all happened after my father died.

I didn't think much of it. It was just my imagination. I fear that I was beginning to become afraid of the dark.

The first clue I had that my conclusions may be wrong came two years later when I met a girl at the local cafe I worked at.

Of course, I did not know that an adventure awaited me when I laid eyes upon her; she looked normal enough. Long red hair fell just below her shoulders framing a heart-shaped face; large blue eyes peered at me beneath long dark lashes and her smile showed dimples forming in cheeks the color of rosebuds.

She was very beautiful, I had to admit, and there were times when she caught me staring at her, and I would duck my head with a blush and be on my way. She was always alone and ordered a french-vanilla latte with extra whip cream, and a spoon with it, thank you very much. She'd sip the latte carefully, eyes watching other customers talk and drink. She was never in a hurry and had a ready smile for anyone who came up to her.

Like me.

She new almost everything about me. I could never escape her curious questions when I bring the latte to her, but I never minded for I liked being in her presence. She had the type of aura that was calming and gentle; it spoke of friendship and it was easy to talk to her. I would go on and on, like usual, and she laughed at the jokes I told; her laugh sounded like a sweet chime of a bell.

There were times when I wanted to get to know her, but every time a question formed on my lips, I'd watch her sip her drink, waiting patiently for what I had to say, and I'd feel embarrassed. She seemed so perfect in many ways – always so calm and I felt like a buffoon near her. After all, I was different from her in many ways, and her personality pointed to the flaws of my own. I was loud and talkative and I never thought before I spoke. Sometimes, it got me in trouble, and she seemed to always be in control of her words; she spoke softly, soothingly.

But I kept trying; I wanted to know were she was from (she had an accent), what she loved to do, and everything else you wanted to know in a friend, but I kept messing up. She would just smile at me and not comment on what I may have said.

Because of her gentle nature, she was a favorite. But she always had time for me and I felt flattered enough that I'd feel warm. I couldn't understand why she seemed so interested in me, unless she believed in opposites attract?

And then one day, she asked a curious question.

I sat her usual latte down on the table and placed a spoon beside it with a smile. "Enjoy."

She smiled back at me, a dimple showing, and grabbed to spoon to dab at the whip cream piled upon the latte. I couldn't help notice how her eyes brighten when she ate the cream, as if it was the most delicious treat she could ever have. "Now, this is real cream – not the crap they have in stores."

I laughed; she said this every day, and I had to agree. Homemade cream can make a treat better. "Yes I think so too," I said, and was about to make a leave when she asked the question.

"Ah, Sora, do you believe in fairy tales?" As she said it, her accent seem more pronounced than ever. I could never place the accent – not that I'm an expert, for the only language I had any knowledge of was Spanish, and that itself, was not much. I was never any good with Spanish, but her accent did not sound like a Spanish accent. There were times when I thought it too sharp and then it would sound very soft; it was never both at the same time. I would blink and the accent would change, leaving me more confused than ever. It was very odd.

I thought of her question; I had believed in fairy tales when I was younger, but as I grew older, I knew they were not true – a fact that had crushed me. It was what I dreamed of when I was younger and I felt as if I lost a best friend when reality had set in. I blamed it all on my father. I had not realized how deep into my thoughts I was, for Kairi gave me a concerned look; her blue eyes narrowed. "Are you alright?"

"Eh?" I was snapped out of my thoughts, and realized she was waiting for my answer. I avoid her other question. "I don't believe in fairy tales," I said.

Her eyes widen; her mouth formed an "o."

She seemed surprised about my answer, and now curious, I asked, "Why?"

Her eyes widen further, if possible, and she made a small noise within her throat. Her eyes lowered to the mug in her hands and she shifted slightly in her sit. I was a little startled by all of this; I have never seen her lose her calm. It gave a slight, dark crack in her perfect personalty, a warning that told me not everyone was perfect. And yet, I could not understand why she seemed so nervous. My answer could not have been surprising; not everyone believed in fairy tales, surely?

Concerned, I asked, "Are you alright?"

Her eyes lifted from the mug to my face. Was it my imagination, or did her rosy cheeks seem pale? "I'm just feeling a little sick. I haven't been feeling well at all this morning."

It was a lie, I knew. A couple of minutes ago, I would not think her capable of lying, but I have seen a different side to her – one that I did not like. So I decided to let it drop and went back to my work, trying not to think about what had happened. It was too disturbing.

But Kairi seemed even more so, for she didn't talk to anyone else that day. She finished her latte hurriedly, and left the cafe, leaving me with a nervous twitter in my stomach. I will not see her for some time.

It wasn't until later that I realized I asked her question. I wonder if that was what have disturbed her, and not the fact I didn't believe in fairy tales.

tbc

Also, a beta, please? I fear my grammar is ghastly. looks at verb tenses and shakes her head