I do not own Kingdom Hearts, or any characters that appear in that game. Nor do I own any Final Fantasy characters that might wander through this story. The only things in this story that are not shamelessly swiped from elsewhere are Brennan and the names of the books. Any books that might appear that aren't directly mentioned by name but are immediately recognizable by plot obviously don't belong to me either.
This is a sequel to Foolish Apprentice.Like almost everything else I've written, spoiler warnings for any and all Kingdom Hearts games.
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He was curled against a pillow on the window ledge, basking in the warm sunlight as he read. It was a rare opportunity to indulge in one of his fiction books, and Ansem intended to take full advantage. His golden eyes skimmed the pages eagerly. He'd just gotten to one of his favorite parts, where the hero was playing a riddle game for his freedom against the slimy underground creature he'd met, when Ansem became aware of a presence next to him. Looking up, he met the gaze of his father.
Brennan looked less than impressed. "Your tutor waited nearly an hour before sending word that you failed to arrive, Ansem. She is on the verge of resigning because you insist on hiding away and not attending your lessons."
Ansem fiddled with the page between his fingers. "I am sorry, Father," he mumbled.
Brennan sighed. "You're always sorry, Ansem, and yet you continue like this. What am I to do with you?"
Ansem's cheeks burned, and he looked down at his book instead of answering. It wasn't that he minded the lessons, especially with the new tutor who was much better than the last one, but he'd started reading and everything else slipped his mind. Nine-year-olds were prone to forgetting things, weren't they? A thought struck him. "Maybe, instead of having them in the middle of the afternoon, I should have them after lunch? I won't have time to forget that way," he said.
Brennan tilted his head to the side and studied his son. "Very well, then," he said. "Let's go have a talk with Mrs. Kramer and see what she says."
Fortunately for Ansem, Mrs. Kramer was more than willing to change times for him. "After all," she said with a smile, "we can't have our future ruler growing up ignorant because he forgets to go to his lessons, can we?"
"No, ma'am," Ansem said.
He spent the rest of the afternoon trailing his father; Brennan's afternoons were usually devoted to making sure the castle was running smoothly. It was interesting to watch him prowl the castle and its grounds, speaking with this guard or that maid, stopping to chat with one of the gardeners about the state of the vegetables that were to be served that night. Brennan knew quite a bit about his domain, and it was obvious that the people he spoke to knew and appreciated this.
Time passed. The moved lessons worked out perfectly, though Mrs. Kramer often had to call Ansem back to reality when his mind wandered. Though that did happen less as he grew older and his concentration improved, he thought he'd never see his lessons as anything but a duty he had to endure.
On the other hand, the afternoon sessions with his father became a regular occurrence that he always looked forward to. He hardly noticed how thoroughly the walks tied him into the lives of the people, until he found himself chatting away with a pair of the cook's assistants and was late to dinner as a consequence. It was, he thought, an eye-opening experience.
His father died late one winter while Ansem was away, visiting his mother's family. He'd caught pneumonia, and had denied it was anything but a cold until it was too late, the healers told him when he returned. As much as the late king hated admitting that he was ill, Ansem was not surprised he'd delayed treatment. I wish you could have lived longer, Father, he thought as the coffin was lowered into the cold ground. I don't know that I'm ready for this.
He supposed he should be grateful that seventeen was considered old enough not to require a regent. That would have made it even more intolerable. As it was, more than once he woke up with a crick in his neck from sleeping with his back against the door, trying to shut out the world.
His own coronation took place nearly a month later, as the farmers were beginning to ready their fields for spring. It was a simple ceremony, like most performed in Radiant Garden. The real excitement was to see the types of gifts others sent, both from other areas of the world and different worlds that had contact with them. Most were ornate things, gold and jewels and rich cloth that Ansem made the appropriate sounds of appreciation for.
Disney Castle sent a box of books, along with a letter with their king's regrets that he could not afford to be there in person. These are some of the things I read when I first became king, along with others I've collected over the years, it said. I do hope they serve you as well as they've served me. While some of the texts looked interesting, especially the science ones and History of the Keyblades and Their Wielders, Ansem had to wonder what the other king had gotten out of Marcus Mouse's 101 Tips for Farmers. It was this curiosity that made him open that book first, before he went to sleep that night.
The very next day found him discussing the book with the head gardener, and by afternoon Ansem was directing some of the staff into developing an experimental plot of land to try out a few of Marcus's techniques. It would take some time before they would know which of the suggestions would work on their world and which would require adjustment, as it was still too cold to even begin planting. Still, it was a start.
Besides, there were other books, and other things to try. Maybe he could make Radiant Garden truly live up to the name. It wasn't very long before the remaining books were eagerly devoured, and he started on the castle library's holdings in earnest.
By twenty he was a known researcher, willing to try locating an answer to nearly any question he was presented with, and a few he wasn't. By thirty, he had had a personal research center built in the lower levels of the castle, and his subjects had titled him "Ansem the Wise", much to his embarrassment.
At thirty-six, he found a white-haired boy collapsed in the street.
