Those big, wet, deer-in-a-headlight eyes were almost more than the Savage Nymph could stomach.

Every time the helpless creature opened her mouth, Larxene was consumed by the desire to break her. Her words fell out of her mouth like cotton balls, hitting the floor with an inaudible thud. She was a being to be abused, jeered, or exploited—all of which were Larxene's area of expertise.

A bored child and her toy. Nothing more.

"How's our little puppet today?"

Namine rarely responded to Larxene's jeers, opting to stare with an unwavering gaze; her eyes were an abyss of blue that only fanned the flames of Larxene's wrath. When she did speak, it was equally vexing. Her words were always short, soft, and profusely confusing.

"If I am a marionette, it is by strings I tied myself."

A swift leap and an effortless, powerful blow from the nymph's knives left Namine gasping, a thin line of crimson slowly forming on her arm. The more fragile of the two clutched at the wound, biting her lip fiercely. The puppeteer threw back her head and laughed, savoring the pain etching across her victim's face.

"You're fated to be miserable and alone, little Namine. Not all Nobodies get to have as much fun as me."

Red stained bright against her small, pale hands, but Namine managed a small smile.

"I'm not miserable, Larxene. I'm not alone."

Larxene scowled. The little witch loved to spit those stupid riddles.

"You're weak," Larxene hissed, this time connecting a tight fist with Namine's stomach. Namine fell to her knees instantly, struggling for breath.

Weak.

Every part of the girl—from her gentle face to her pale golden hair to her fragile fingertips and dainty feet—reeked of weakness. It was as though she was designed to be battered. Larxene hated every piece of her with more vigor than she'd ever hated anything.

But why?

Her eyes traced the fallen Namine, watching her reel with pain. Something throbbed within her—a strange sensation, like being in pain, though she hadn't been in battle or received any sort of injury. It was odd, out of place in the midst of the cold and loathing inside her. If she didn't know any better, she might have confused it with emotion.

For a moment, the coldness slipped from her nonexistent heart just long enough to answer the question that had bothered her since the moment she'd laid eyes on the pathetic child.

Why did that weakness bother her so badly?

The answer came clear, and it caught Larxene badly off guard.

When Marluxia had first introduced her to the memory witch, his hand had gripped tightly around the girl's thin arm, digging into the skin. There was no need for such a grasp though; the girl didn't even struggle.

And, within Larxene, a small, silent voice had whispered something.

"Fight!"

Day after day, Namine stared with doleful eyes out of a castle window, envying the rest of the world for its freedom. Larxene's stomach turned at the sight of it.

"Fight!"

Namine's weakness was maddening because it caused her so much anguish. If she'd only fight—if she only showed some sort of spine and fought back! There were so many chances for escape, if only she weren't so weak. But it was because of this weakness that Namine spent her days alone and miserable.

That was why Larxene hated her.

She was too weak.

"You have nothing," Larxene shouted shrilly. She wanted the sound of her voice to drown out the noise of the answer.

"That's not true," Namine whispered, looking up and meeting Larxene's gaze directly. "I'm not weak. I don't have nothing."

"When have you ever showed anything but weakness?" Larxene snarled. Namine turned away, staring at the floor.

Larxene knelt before Namine, grabbing her chin with a powerful grip and forcing Namine to look at her. Namine sighed.

"Every day I'm strong Larxene. I stay here, and face your abuse and follow your orders. I'm strong enough to stay."

"How is that strength?" the 11th member demanded.

"Strength," Namine said, quietly, "is the ability to do whatever you have to for the person you love."

"What?"

"I'm not alone, and I'm not miserable," Namine said, barely audible now.

"I have you."