A/N: My third and final piece for kh-worldsconnected on tumblr. My first time writing any of the BBS characters, this was written to accompany the art created by my good friend princess-wasabi. She gave me a lot of fodder for this fic, and I dedicate it to her. I really enjoyed working on this, and I took a different approach compared to other works. I hope everyone enjoys it. Also, check out the accompanying art on tumblr!
statera
Castle Oblivion had, for a long time, been silent. Ventus had grown used to the silence.
Once, the silence had been disturbed by those that sought him, but even then it had been brief, just a moment of static that quickly faded away. Their search had been fruitless, anyway, their objective hidden so well that even those that were meant to find it couldn't, not without help.
And that help never came.
So the room where Ven slept remained undiscovered, and the world met its fate, even as he waited. And waited. And still, neither Aqua nor Terra came to wake him, and really, without his friends, he had no reason to wake. So he slumbered on.
No matter how well protected a place, or a person, there was always one thing that would find a way, past wards, and locked doors.
Time.
Time eroded, encroached, and drove nature into places where no person or creature could access. The foundations of Castle Oblivion weakened, walls and ceilings crumbling in places, letting sunlight filter through. Plants found their way in, roots taking hold in the smallest cracks, until trees and vegetation overran what had once been the audience chamber, stairways, corridors.
And something curious happened to the boy who rested there, where he had taken refuge from the cataclysms that had shaken his world. While the stone structure around him weakened, he, himself, turned to stone, becoming one with his resting place. And time and nature continued their march, until what had once been Ventus was as covered in vines and moss as the rest of the castle.
It was long after the events of Kingdom Hearts, long after the word "keyblade" was forgotten, before Castle Oblivion was discovered again. Whether because the forces that protected it had finally given way, or because the world was once again in balance, or even because nature had, after all, reclaimed it, and wanderers would sometimes find themselves in the forested corridors of Castle Oblivion. Still, there was little to disturb the hush of Ven's sanctuary.
More and more began to find a way to the heart of the place, where the petrified boy still sat, succeeding where the seven lights and thirteen darknesses had failed. More time passed, and more feet wound their way through the vegetation, until there was a beaten path, and Ventus received more visitors than an occasional interloper.
Visitors mistook him for a statue, perhaps as a likeness of a forgotten god, in the inner sanctum of a temple. And perhaps they weren't entirely wrong. The looked upon the stone throne and the stone boy with reverence, and spoke in low voices, little more than murmurs, and maybe that was what caused him to stir, finally.
Ventus found himself paying attention to the sound of the wind—his namesake—whispering through the trees, to the patter of rain, and the hum of human voices. It was peaceful. Calm.
He was unperturbed when he realized he couldn't return to his body. Between the serenity of his surroundings, and the time his heart had spent resting next to Sora's, it wasn't so strange, to be little more than a consciousness. More strange was that he was, in fact, conscious, when he had spent so much time deaf and blind to the world.
He drifted. Wandered through the remains of Castle Oblivion—it was more forest, than castle, now—and it was so familiar, and yet, so different than he'd remembered. He had a sense that time had passed, but how much, he wasn't sure. This bothered him less than it might have, if he could remember why it mattered that time had passed. He was sure there was something important, but whenever he tried to think about it, the thought slipped through his grasp.
When it rained, Ventus lingered near his petrified body, watching the water pool in what had once been his hand, turned palm-up. He could almost feel it again, cool and wet against skin, and it reminded him of something. Someone. He wondered if her memory was clearer than his, and if she would ever come back. She had promised she would.
When it rained, the air was heavy with the scent of the earth, and that, too, reminded Ventus of something, someone. The smell troubled him, because something awful had happened, but still, there was a flicker of hope. If she was still around, then maybe, just maybe, so was he.
Sometimes, he thought he saw a familiar face among those that wandered the forested corridors he called home.
They were all fleeting things, little more than impressions, gone even faster than the rain itself, sometimes. After all, they were things that made him feel, things that disturbed his peace, and after all, wasn't that how he had ended up here, by avoiding all those things? If he were to really think about it—if he was capable—he would realize that Castle Oblivion's ruin was his own will at work.
If Ventus was stone, then he could never be used against the world, as had once been intended.
Because he knew, deep down, that Vanitas would return to him. It was inevitable. Vanitas and him were, after all, two parts to a whole. He'd accepted that, long ago. Less acceptable was that he could be anything other than—Ventus. The part that only knew light, the part that was void of the darkness that Vanitas embodied. He'd forgotten, then, what it was like to be whole, and now, in his current state, the idea was even more unfathomable.
He hadn't been whole in such a very long time.
o - o
Ventus knew his other half even before Vanitas stepped through what had once been the entrance of Castle Oblivion.
In another life, he hadn't recognized him, but then, there'd been so many other things to distract him. So much confusion, and turmoil.
But they were both free of all that, now, both only pieces of wandering consciousness, and everything was much clearer than it once was. They knew each other, because they were, after all, complements to each other.
Ventus. Vanitas's voice was a breath in the wind, the low susurrus of rustling branches before a storm. It was less sound, and more feeling, one that swept through the forest fortress. It was, as Ventus remembered, everything dark and negative, all that he'd tried to escape.
But sadness and loneliness and pain were all negative emotions, all the things that led down the path to darkness, and yet, they were signs that a person had a heart, were capable of something more than just evil. And Vanitas felt tired. Ventus knew it, because that, too, was in his voice.
I understand now.
They brushed together, both hesitant, for different reasons. Ventus, remembering before, hostile and overpowering. Vanitas, also remembering—and isn't fear a trait of darkness?—but he's afraid of rejection.
In that briefest of touches, Ventus can see it, too. How much Vanitas feels, a crushing wall of darkness, and that it's become clear that it needs to be balanced. That Vanitas longs to be whole, to be fixed, because all that darkness without light is so heavy, so awful and unrelenting. Gone are Xehanort's manipulations, the designs for Kingdom Hearts, and all that remains is Vanitas's unbearable brokenness.
It's selfish—but is it?
Perhaps it's more selfish that Ven doesn't want to bear all of that darkness. That he wants to stay in this quiet place, wandering among the trees and listening to the wind humming through their branches. After all, what is out there for him? What good would it do, to be whole?
If Vanitas had a form still, his eyes would've narrowed, in that contemptuous way of his, and Ven almost sees it. The hatred that boils up, the jealousy. What is out there—who—doesn't Ventus know how lucky he is, to be loved? And yet he's willing to abandon them? It's not so much words, as a wave of heat, seething, and Ven flinches away.
Abandon…but wasn't he…protecting…them…?
From himself. From the whole being that he would make, with Vanitas.
And who would protect Vanitas, then?
The question hung in the air between them, heavy, and which of them had offered it, neither could say.
The storm that had come at Vanitas's heels released its first wet drops of rain, and with it, Ventus could smell that earthy smell. As the sky opened up, he knew the water would be pooling in his hand. A wind made it come down in a slant.
Wind.
Water. Earth.
Aqua. Terra.
They were still out there. He knew they must be, and if they hadn't come to him yet, then there was a reason. There had to be. Perhaps, for once, Ventus was the one meant to do the saving.
But he wouldn't be strong enough to do it alone—no. Not alone. Incomplete.
Vanitas knew, when the decision was made. They were both scared, unsure of the outcome of a mutual melding, but they came together, nonetheless.
There was no flash of light, no bubbling darkness, nothing to indicate that something momentous had occurred. No X-blade come to wreak havoc on the worlds.
They just were. He was.
Complete again.
It was a strange feeling, Vanitas and Ventus; at first it was a shock, to them both, to have the two halves together again. Vanitas, reveling in Ventus's light, and Ventus, trying to make sense of the darkness. But it was how they were meant to be. One being.
Whole.
And, bit by bit, they accepted it, until there was no telling where Ventus ended and Vanitas began, because they were the same.
Balanced, like the world around them.
It took some effort to reclaim the body that Ventus had abandoned, taking it back from nature, and breathing life into it, but together, they managed. And once restored to a physical form, they could call it.
The X-blade.
It wasn't meant for destruction. In truth, it never had been, except by Xehanort's manipulations, but a memory was all that remained of him, one darkness among many, to balance the light. Instead, they called it so they could travel, in between worlds, and in the darkness, and in the light. They would find them. Terra and Aqua.
Ventus spared one last, lingering look for the forest of Castle Oblivion.
They could all return here, and make it their home again. And he could, for once, be truly happy. With all of his being.