That man not supposed to exist.
The cloaked figure had his arms around the teenager, a weapon of some strange build against her neck. His voice was deep and his speech slow, as if he was afraid that the girl couldn't understand a word he was saying.
"You are correct, child." The weapon scrapped some skin off his victim's neck. "I do not exist. I will never exist in this world of yours. What will you do now?"
A paper thin string of red began to wound its way around the teenager's neck.
He was right.
Who in the world would believe her if she were to run out there and tell the cops that the Organization XIII was freely running around in their town while the sun slept?
xXx
The event portrayed in this story is an alternate and fictional take of how the Organization XIII functions. The author takes no responsibilities for any inconsistency between Square Enix's and this fic's version of the Organization or the canon events of KINGDOM HEARTS.
KINGDOM HEARTS is a rightful property of DISNEY and SQUARE ENIX. No personal profit has been made from this work of fiction.
Written for Nanowrimo 2010.
xXx
Chapter ONE: Wedding gown
When the music starts
You will vow to spend
The rest of your life with him
How I prayed every night
This day would never come
- Wedding Dress by Taeyang
The bride was clad in a gown of pristine white. A layer of cosmetic products adorned the bride's skin, making her appear just as flawless as her dress. A frown appeared on her delicately trimmed eyebrows as she surveyed her reflection in front of a mirror.
A wall completely made up of mirrors, served the bride's simple purpose.
That room was probably a contemporary dance studio of some sort. It held no warmth. It was absent of those typical wooden tiles in the average dance studios. Like the rest of the entire place, the manor was cold (even with heating units placed strategically around odd ends and corners) and white.
There was barely any color apart from the occasional splashes of barely visible grey streaks on the marble floorings and mechanical devices.
The entire manor resembled a futuristic space station of some sort at times, complete with squiggly little grey servants which could've passed off as aliens. Said squiggly little servants were currently toddling up to her, a veil in their clawed, overly elongated 'arms'. It was difficult to describe what their appearance really were for they defied all laws of logic and had their master made them walk around in the dark in a blood spilled corridor, a normal human being could've sworn that it was a sight that should've stayed within the boundaries of the cinema screen.
The very first time she laid eyes upon those creatures, she screamed and in turn, they backed away, their actions resembling frightened little children.
Someone was behind her, helping her with her dress. A male and he bore no sense of shame when he had commanded her to strip behind the changing screen. Gloved fingers had tied her corset shut, zipped her dress up and dolled her up. He had made no comments about her disheveled appearance when she had been brought to him.
He was by no means, a servant for he certainly wasn't dressed in white and he appeared quite like an ordinary human being.
The man draped the veil around her head, securing the thick organza material in place with the aid of several hair pins. The bride's world was shrouded in white, the veil obscuring her sight.
"Can't…see…" She spoke, slowly, voice harboring a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
She wasn't a prisoner here, was she?
"I know my pretty egret flower." The man replied, his voice rich and deep with a distinct Canadian French accent.
She could hear him moving around her, the metallic clasps of his cloak produced a light sound as he observed her from all sides. She felt like a venerable prey – a sacrifice all dolled up for the altar.
It took quite a while before the man was satisfied with his handy work before his vague figure appeared in front of her hazy vision. It wasn't really a grand wedding gown, it was simple and plain, the kind someone would find in a typical boutique. Sleeveless with an A-line cut to its skirt, the dress looked as if it was being cut from the very white walls that surrounded her. Simple court shoes covered her feet and her hair had been tightly tied up to a simple bun. There was nothing unusual about the bride, except for her thick veil.
The man, who was given responsibility with the task of preparing their virgin sacrifice for the altar, wore a black cloak made out of skin. The bride assumed it was leather for the very same material that was on his cloak, adorned his hands in the form of gloves as well. A hood covered his face but she could see several strands of …strangely colored hair spilling out from the folds of the fabric and it was in the shade of cherry blossoms.
He bowed before her, the very same way a prince would've done to his princess in fairytales. He extended his hand towards her. The bride hesitated for a good few minutes but the man before her showed no signs of being one bit annoyed by this act. Then again, it was difficult to tell if he was really annoyed for the cloak perfectly concealed his features.
After a few minutes of hesitation, the soon to be wedded woman accepted the cloaked stranger's hand. Some of the strange squiggly creatures scrambled behind her for a while. At a wave of the man's hand, they disappeared into thin air.
The bride had to rely entirely on the stranger who had dolled her up for her sense of direction. It was like playing blind man's buff. She hated it. She hated the dress; she hated everything about this wedding. Her footsteps echoed throughout the empty manor as the man led her off to the ceremony, which was held somewhere.
A hazy image of two grand looking doors flew open at the man's command. The bride took a step forward. A gust of cold, night wind blew violently against her skin. Thunder rumbled overheard, a storm was approaching this strange place.
The door slammed shut behind them in a loud, sudden manner that made her jump slightly. The man's grip on her hand tightened slightly, as if fearing that she would escape. Darkness shrouded her vision all of a sudden, causing her to unconsciously tighten her grip on the man's hand.
Surely he didn't plan on leaving her here, all alone in the dark, would he?
Was she some sort of food for a demonic creature that lurks within these dark walls?
Much to her relief, the man tugged on her arm, pulling her with him. A faint chuckle was heard, giving the bride the impression that the man knew what she was thinking about.
Her free hand wanted to rip the veil apart so that she could at least see where the hell she was at but the man kept pulling her along, tightening his grip on her hand.
"I would keep that on if I were you, my lovely orchid." He said, his firm grip became a bone crushing one.
No doubt, the man was far stronger than her and he could probably kill her right then, if he wished her dead. So far, the man had been quite polite (albeit in a very strange, detached way) and she wouldn't want to see the angry side of him.
She felt like a blind woman, walking around in pitch black darkness. The man however, had no problem walking around for he was able to lead her out of this endless, black hole in just a matter of minutes.
The bride blinked her brown eyes. Sparkling silver eye shadow and midnight blue liquid eyeliner had adorned her eye lids, not that anyone (apart from her and the man who'd dressed her up) could see beyond that irritating thin veil.
They were no longer in that dark, scary place. Looking down, the bride saw that they were standing on floors, made out entirely of glass. Acrophobia washed over her. If the floor should shatter, they would both plummet down 20 floors down to their unfortunate deaths. The man showed no signs of fear as he paid no heed to the seemingly delicate glass floor beneath him.
His footsteps were light and graceful, making the bride feel like a giant ogre next to him.
Her grip on his hand tightened as they make their way along the slippery floor.
Suddenly, the floor began to tip upwards in a slight manner. The faint scent of electricity and live wires filled her senses.
This must be the elevator. She told herself.
It was a strange elevator though, it had no doors and the wall of the elevator was completely made of glass. The bride wasn't too sure as her veil was clouding her view.
As the elevator made its way up towards their designated storey, the man took hold of her hands. A questionable look graced her hidden face as the man began caressing them. Her hands weren't dainty; she wasn't a dainty person to begin with. This man's hands were bigger than hers and they reek of immense strength.
Once again, the man sensed a question escaping the woman's lips.
"Shh…" He spoke in a quiet tone. "I'm merely offering you a gift."
A gift? The bride thought as leather gloved fingers intertwined her silk covered ones.
Her line of sight travelled towards both their hands. The man found a strange interest in her gloved hands, delicately winding his fingers through hers.
Was he planning to break her fingers into tiny bits?
"You have hands that speak of untapped powers."
Untapped powers?
"You're probably mistaking me for some other person; I'm just your average plain Jane. A very plain Jane." She replied truthfully, fighting the urge to pull her hands away from this strange man.
"You will know what I speak of, my pretty egret flower." A warm, tingling sensation filled the bride's hands. "Your time to bloom, to show the world how unique your petals are, is yet to come."
The bride blinked again, and felt a light weight in her hands. Her silk covered skin registered the vague texture of lace and silk ribbons, as well as the firm stems of a plant.
A small round wedding bouquet was in her hands.
How in the world did he do that? She wondered.
She was pretty sure that he wasn't holding onto any blooms a while ago. Was it hidden underneath his coat?
Before she could question him, the elevator grinds to a gentle halt before yet another metal and glass filled hallway.
The man pulled her out by the arm, albeit in a gentle manner, but the bride could clearly imagine that had she been quite the disobedient person, he would've probably used extreme force on her.
The hall that leads towards the elevator was dim, its walls, ceilings and floors were constructed entirely out of metal. The air was extremely sterile, giving the bride the impression that she was somewhat like a patient of some kind of correctional facility.
Maybe the person, whom she was fated to marry, was some sort of nutcase.
Stop it. The bride scolded herself. Asylums do not stuff their workers in hooded black robes!
Or maybe it was some sort of special facility.
A tiny alarm went off inside of her head.
She was dreaming. She had to be. There was no way such a place existed and there was definitely no way in hell would she get married in such an ugly dress.
Who was she even getting married to!
The art of lucid dreaming began to kick in. The bride realized that she was dreaming yet again.
That same dream.
Gripping onto the small bouquet, the bride watched as the man lead her up another set of glass staircase. This staircase lead them to a rather spacious hallway where an army of clocked people stood, facing an open air balcony.
The moon was shining brightly upon them all, but yet its illumination did very little in the way of showing her what lay underneath the hoods of these men.
Were they even human?
Were they all men?
A lone figure in white stood in the middle of the huge balcony, his gaze fixed on the moon in a respectful manner. Were they worshippers of the moon?
Why was he in white?
As the man led her towards him, she realized that this was the man she was probably meant to marry.
Her vision began to cloud over, as if there was something horribly wrong with her eyes.
The man, who had been holding onto her left hand, dropped his grip. The bride's hand fell limply to her side. Her right hand was still clutching onto her bouquet.
White robes clad her groom and in the moonlight, he gave off the illusion that he was a wise mage. His hood concealed his face entirely, just like the rest of his coven.
The bride's consciousness was starting to slip once again. She had no idea how much longer could she continue to stay 'awake' in this state of lucid dreaming.
No, I want to see your face… She willed herself to look up, watching with bated breath as the groom lifted her thick veil up.
xXx
Emily Dawson's eyes snapped open as her alarm clock filled her entire room with a loud, pealing shrill.
"Damnit! I was that close!" Emily's arm swung upwards, throwing the innocent alarm clock off the bedside table.
The little plastic gadget crashed to the floor, spilling tiny components and gear parts onto the cluttered tiled surface.
"Oh man, now I have to get a new alarm clock!" She yelled at the shattered pieces.
"Emily! You better get up now or else you'll be late for school!" was the only reply she got, not from the shattered device, but from her father.
"I'm up!" Emily yelled back, as she dumped the broken alarm clock into the waste paper basket under her writing desk.
Grabbing her bath towel off the back of her desk's chair, the 17 year old went about with her usual morning routine.
Just who are you?
If there was one thing Emily was great at, it was dream recollection. She could remember intricate details of her dream throughout the day. She remembered every single thing that took place in that alternate pocket of time the night before.
It was the same dream that had been plaguing her for a month straight; black hooded figures gathering a place resembling a cathedral of some sort, a wedding in which she played the role of the bride, a husband to be whom she never saw face to face and a male with rose colored hair.
"I think I'm probably losing my mind….." Emily groaned as she stuffed some fried rice into her pink and white lunch box. "I really am…"
"Emily! Are you done cooking yet!" Her father barked from the living room.
"Yeh, there's still some fried rice in the container at the counter if you or mom wants any of it!" Emily yelled back as she stuffed her lunch box into her school bag before pulling the white apron from her school uniform. "I'm going! Bye!"
Emily grabbed her ipod and dashed out of the door. If there was anything the dreams were good for, it was waking her up on time for school. With her music blasting away in her ears, the 17 year old boarded the bus. After dumping fifty cents into the coin box, the girl began to hunt for a seat in the dingy air conditioned vehicle.
"Over here!" Vixie waved her hand around. She had a seat reserved for her at the back of the bus. Right next to her was another one of her classmate, Ashton.
Emily gripped onto the side seats as she slowly made her way towards them. The jerky bus ride was both a blessing and curse in disguise. The jerky movements of the bus made it impossible to fall asleep but it was darn difficult to move towards one's desired destination while the bus was traveling.
Crowford was situated along a hill, therefore car and bus rides could get quite trippy. The local train line would run underground and it was the fastest and smoothest way to get to the next town, where Vixie lived at. However, it was also the most expensive route, henceforth, many would settle for the bumpy bus ride.
Situating herself right beside Vixie, Emily pulled out her headphones.
"Another boring day to come, eh?" Ashton grinned.
"Tell me about it, Ash." Vixie flipped open her compact powder's casing. "We have P.E later on with that butch of a teacher."
"You're giving a bad name to hot lesbian girls….." Ashton complained as Vixie nonchalantly checked on her make up.
"You guys better stop arguing." Emily stared at the two. "It's bad enough that there's rumors about you either dating each other or something."
"Suddenly, the lesbo route seems like a fine idea." Vixie smirked.
"Am I so undesirable?"
"Just a bit." Vixie punched Ashton in the arm playfully. "I like my men in bed, not in front of his PS3."
"It was a PSP!" Ashton protested. "Birth by sleep is on PSP!"
"Yeh, yeh, yeh." Vixie stuffed her compact powder's casing into her bag. "Come on, we're almost at the gates of hell."
Emily couldn't help but crack a smile.
What would she have done without her two best friends?
As the school gates loom closer in the students' view, Emily's thoughts gradually drifted further away from the strange dream.