Fairytale Promises

Kairi may have been the real Princess of Heart, but to him Naminé would always be the true princess. His own tragic fairytale puppet-girl locked high up in the tower of Castle Oblivion. Guarded, manipulated by the cruel thirteen Nobodies who claimed her as one of their own. He didn't agree with them though. Despite his angel not having a heart, she was kind and gentle and a mere echo of what she should've been.

Naminé was an angel of white, with a waterfall of silver-blonde locks forever spilling over her small fragile shoulders. She drew vague, colourful pictures of far-off memories she could only wish were hers.

That's all she could do really. Wish. Without a heart she couldn't feel sadness or anger or happiness or worst of all, the love he felt for her.

She just sat there in the white room, blended in with her marble surroundings, pencil in hand, completely still. Apart from her hand drawing and the faint, faint whisper of breath that he could only hear when he leant over her shoulder to see what vision she'd formed on the blank paper.

They would normally be pictures of him, or Sora, or Kairi. This time she had drawn them with wings. Sora's wings were bright and large, strong, shielding all the friends that stood behind him. Kairi's wings were long and flighty, white and tipped with pink. The Replica's wings were a dark mix of purples and blues, streaked with light-silver slashes. He floated further away from the others, in an isolated corner, holding in his arms a ghostly figure who had not been coloured in.

Gently, the Replica tugged Naminé's hand away from the piece and brought it up to his face for further inspection. The faintest strokes of yellow made up her blonde hair, two slight pools of blue for her eyes, and her wings- pale grey, were drawn so vaguely they were barely even there. But he could just about make them out- torn, small, crumbling… That's why he was holding her- she couldn't fly by herself.

"Naminé," the Replica said, putting the paper back down. She inclined her head to look at him, her large doll-eyes staring prettily and emptily. Her voice was soft, quiet.

"Yes?"

The way she looked at him made his fabricated heart flood with tears. His thumb brushed back her silken locks, as he searched her blank face for any signs of emotions.

"Why is it that we have wings and yours are faded?"

"Because they're imaginary wings, they're not really there."

"…like your heart?"

She nodded and something flashed behind her blue eyes like a ghostly flicker. Not emotions, for that was impossible, but a yearning. A tangled web of thoughts linked to that one desire. She tried to hide the dream by lowering her eyelashes, but he had caught it.

With a sudden burst of emotion, he pulled the frail Nobody into a tight embrace, half-crushing the pale doll in his desperation to keep her as close as possible.

"I'll get you your wings, Naminé."

He hadn't expected the doll to respond. His words probably meant nothing, they couldn't affect her. They were like paper flowers, pretty while they lasted, but otherwise unimportant. Nothing was important when you were an empty shell.

… but that didn't mean she wasn't important to him. He'd do anything to get her to smile and her next words only strengthened his resolve.

"Is this… what a heartbeat sounds like?"

She said it quietly, as though speaking might shatter the moment.

"Yes, Naminé. And soon you'll have your very own. Then you can listen to it whenever you want to…"

But she was too busy dreaming to hear his words. She was listening to the strong, steady rhythm that was getting faster and faster as her head rested against his chest. She wondered what it meant.

He watched her empty, curious, doll-face and stroked her silken hair.

"I'll get you a heart, Naminé. I promise," then under his breath, "even if it takes an eternity."

But as we all know, fairytale promises were never meant to come true…