OVER THE RAILING

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Chapter One
Black Christmas

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It was six in the afternoon, an hour before the anticipated announcement would be made (the only reason why any sane person would come to such a gloomy location in the first place), and already over a hundred curious guests had immediately begun to unload from their private ships onto the drab quay of Leonhart Island. Although it was Christmas Eve, no snow had fallen in this tropical climate; no cold shivers anyone's spine. Men and their wives pushed together, arm in arm. A light touch of chaos erupted onto the man-made platform as more and more left their exorbitant boats and squished together like sardines. People fused, shoved, and jostled into one another, until one bright young lad decided to carry on up the steps leading away from the water.

The lacing and ribbons from female's wide-brimmed hats and finest dresses smacked everyone left and right, fluttering in the strong trade wind coming from the sea and hitting against them. Gossip erupted as the crowd followed on up the narrow staircase carved into the large mass of rock that led upward. The males were all in less fancy attire, carrying suits of gray and black with fine ruffled shirts. They all stood with their hands firmly down by their sides, if not one of their arms accompanied by a chatting woman, stern and staring at one other, man to man, sending silent questions to one another: What is this all about?

Xemnas Leonhart was the richest in all of Destiny Islands, the ship owner and many would come to him with pleads for loans. Hell, he did have the money, and lent it out he did. Although the man was known for his party-going attitude (a gathering was not a gathering without his political head), Xemnas was no adolescent; in fact, he was the complete opposite, and he would have to pass the fortune along sometime, and without any known offspring, he would have to chose from one of his associates. Eyes began to twitch in the crowd. What if the winner of his profits were not capable of being in such a business of trade and loans?

This brought on a rapid fit of panic throughout them all. Their society would surely suffer! Taxes would skyrocket as ships would become scarce and so would food and luxuries. Each step they took closer to the stairs only gave them more reason to sweat, and white handkerchiefs popped out like popcorn and were spread all over like party favors to wipe off their worry. No, many thought, I'm just thinking of the worst—nothing like that would ever happen. There was a great deal of other qualified men. It's best that I no longer ponder on about it...

It's a wonder why no one moving on up those steps became frightened when they looked down towards the wharf and the ocean crashing against the rocks, the fear of falling off the rail-deprived staircase filling their minds.

New ones coming off of boats gaped at the view, staring at the march on up the steep rock staircase. From the wharf—the bottom of the mountain-tall rock structure—to the top appeared over seventy feet tall! Just above the trees the spectators could see the flat roof of the Leonhart Mansion and the milk colored, brick lighthouse towering above it, gasping and becoming anxious to hurry up and get up there.

It's a peculiar thing in the first place that the mansion be located on the most isolated and tallest island in Destiny Islands, but a wall of forest was also planted in order to separate the estate from the rest of the world, especially the other islands, which were just on the horizon between the vibrant sky and the sea.

And as the front of the trudge up the stairs traveled upward and onward, the sky grew darker, and storm clouds swarmed in. Once the group completed the never-ending staircase, the forest hit them like a brick wall. Complaints filled the musky air with the sounds of boots and heels breaking twigs. At least, whines from the women on how the kicked up dirt would surely ruin their fine clothing, but through the forest they went, through the tangled branches up above their heads, blocking all sunlight. The multicolored party gowns looked like butterflies flying through out the darkness, unlike the men, who blended in with their blacks and grays into the scenery around them. Their eyes searched through the vague mist swirling around the trunks of trees, which may or may have not been just their imagination getting the best of them.

This was hardly the entrance they were thinking of to the great Leonhart Mansion, but as soon as they topped the rise shortly after the end of the forest line, there it was—the gorgeous white house reared its perfect size before their commoner eyes (compared to the grand house), decorated with elaborate tall columns, a leveled roof, and extremely wide verandas, covered in Yule grass garland wrapped in between the rails. The mansion was massive. Considering that there was no use for a driveway since there were no roads on this tall, but small island, there wasn't one; the bottom of the front steps of the sunny, promising front veranda immediately touched the thriving green grass, laid out before them. The impending lighthouse glared down at them like a malignant murderer.

The people were silent, but as more were catching up from the stroll up the stairs in the back pushed them forward, the glass doors briskly swept open, slightly squeaking, revealing a pitch-black darkness from inside. They squinted in the sunlight, craning to see. Creeping out of the darkness moments later came a public petite maid from the shadows inside the house. She moved forward with a taut posture, her sickly pallid hands strictly by her sides. The guests silenced themselves, "Shh!" and waited for her to speak.

She combed back a misplaced strand of her golden hair with her finger. The older teenage girls whispered to each other, clasping their hands together, "Look at her hair! She has antennae!"

The crowd slowly pushed forward, holding out their hands at the first drops of rain. The maid glared in the direction of the girls, waiting for them to quit their giggles before speaking. Larxene cleared her throat, placing her hands neatly behind her back.

"Welcome, honored guests," she said, her voice raspy and emotionless, but clear. She stepped aside, holding out her arm towards the inside. "If you'd please come inside."

Exchanging glances, the front row hesitated, but the maid's piercing blue eyes made them come forward, silently sauntering steadily up the steps, as if they were intruders and were trying to sneak in. Through the open French windows one could see the entrance, a ballroom in itself. The town folk gasped when they entered, the inside more beautiful than the outside. The main hall was bigger than any room most of them had ever seen before—an extremely high, flat ceiling that held four floors, and as wide as five or six of most of their houses put together.

As soon as you stepped in, on the opposite side was one straight, broad staircase, which stopped in the middle of the second floor level wall, and split, connected ends left and right up to the fourth floor. Hanging on the patterned wall was a portrait, also abnormally large in size, of the family—four unkind bodies painted together. One was very familiar to them all; Xemnas, but the rest were unknown, two brunettes and one blonde. To the left of the stairs, a medium-sized pine tree was placed, adorned in silver and blue ornaments.

A team of servants scurried around the snowy white marble floors, going in and out of rooms with silver food trays to be placed on the tables on either sides of the room, and some rushing up and down the staircase. The smell of freshly barbequed food, chicken and perhaps steak, dug its way into their stomachs, and the need to eat grew. Conversations began to arise as they calmly settled in, knowing that the room was fitting for them all, not to mention the other four floors of house space on each side of said room. The decorations did everything but traduce Leonhart's reputation for dignity, the house a mighty high power of beauty.

The center of the hall hung a colossal auburn lamp, hanging from the ceiling by golden chains, similar to the drapes of the front French Windows and the banisters in which maroon-looping festoons dangled under the fourth floor hallway railing. The musicians in their alcove to the right of the stairs, already perspiring, sawed on their instruments, playing the soft melody of a melancholy waltz, the haunting music drawing the crowd in more through the door.

Reluctant girls in their butterfly bright dresses spread across the room, and the hall burst into life, the steady twirls of hooped, radiant dresses under the reflection of the lamp while the music transitioned into a lighter, yet keen succession of notes. Hands tied together, arms around waists, moving along to the beat of the music. The hall had seemed such a large place a few minutes before, and now it was packed, heated with the odor of cologne, cinnamon, and burning incense candles.

Others spent their time around the bar, sipping fine wine from their crystal glasses while giggling over nonsense or fretting over stocks and how they would introduce themselves when the time came. Over the commotion and conversations of the social crowd, most suspicious of the arrival of the host, it was hard to hear anything. A couple of young girls found themselves drawing closer to the staircase, moving closer towards the family portrait. "Who are they, Kairi?" the blonde asked the other, a puzzled look upon her milky face. The other reddish-brown brunette shrugged, resting a polished finger upon her chin.

"Let us go see, Naminé!" They accompanied each other on the staircase, abandoning the rest of the party on the floor and past the musicians. At the second floor, they paused at the portrait, a many times bigger than them. The blonde wiped her finger on the painting, following the outline of one of the male's pant leg. Blue eyes from the youngest boy shone back into hers from the picture, their expressions blank and stern in the picture.

"I wonder who they are?" Kairi whispered, her fingers lightly drumming against the portrait. Naminé shrugged. She girl grinned, withdrawing her hand from the art, only to be taken into the dry hands of another. The girl gasped, pulling back her hand, but the man's firm one kept it close.

"All in good time, milady," told the silver manned gentleman to her, pecking her skin with his lips. She grimaced, but held it in the best she could. Kairi nodded and the blonde pulled on her other arm, removing her friend's hand from the man's grasp and back down the staircase desperately. He looked pleased beneath his tired, furrowed features, shaking his head brightfully at their youth as he held on to the handrail, overlooking the function in his ballroom.

Some drinkers and dancers had already noticed his presence, having seen him from previous socials surrounded by political figures and other rich men. They looked up towards him, which started a domino effect, one person stopping what they were doing to look at him after another. Kairi and Naminé hid behind one of the round, thick columns that stood from near the front of the hall to the top of the ceiling, poking their scarred heads out from the back of it.

As soon as he noticed that much of the crowd was staring up at him, he followed the wooden banister with his hand and stepped down the staircase, until he was on the very last step in the middle. Xemnas raised his hand, quieting the already silent crowd before him.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome, my guests," he said, placing said hand behind his black, tailored ensemble. "I'm so glad you all have made it, on this unfortunately rainy holiday. I hope you enjoy your first time in my home, since you all are the first ones here. I just hope it isn't too dirty."

The crowd forced a polite chuckle, glass cups clinking. He smiled, taking a wine goblet from a maid, and sipped it. He sighed from the taste, licking his lips, and raised his glass. "To our health and safety on this beautful Christmas!" Xemnas said, his voice clangoring throughout the stateroom. The crowd followed suit, holding up their refreshments in a toast.

"To health!"

They drank in unison, the younger children guzzed down cider.

"Now back to dancing!" Xemnas shouted, handing off his drink to the same servant. She scurried off into the kitchen next to the musicians, who had stopped momentarily for the toast, but resumed playing as soon as Xemnas gave the cue to continue. The people recommenced their discussions and partnered minuet, the level of sound going up once again.

Around the middle of the night, about seven-thirty, when the relaxed, leisurely waltzes were taking place, Xemnas made his way up the staircase again, standing in front of the portrait. Unlike before, he had to tap his spoon against his cup to get the attention he wanted. Couples separated arms, stopping their movements quickly until all was silent once again in the hall. He beamed, giving the glass to Larxene, who was standing right beside him.

"It's that time of the night, my guests, where I make that announcement I've been dying to tell you."

The males began to sweat, glancing at each other once again, while the women gazed up at him with anticipation. Xemnas flashed an evil smile as someone stepped down from the fourth floor on to the carpeted staircase from the left, the crowd's eyes following him down. Involuntary gasps and giggles from girls sounded throughout the room as they watched this attractive young man lithely carry on down the steps. He had a head of combed brown hair dangling down roughly to his shoulders, muscular, virile arms defined in the fitting silk ruffled shirt he had on. His hands stayed firmly by his black trousers while his pair of fine gray eyes scanned the floored people, a slight grin pushing through on his lips. He was around twenty years of age, and his manner bespoke that air of self-confidence--one of a narcissistic nature, although he can't be blamed for that particular attitude.

And following behind him, the one young Kairi remembered from the painting, another male, much shorter than the first, with hair as golden as the sun and feathered so that it stuck straight up. He seemed ungainly--clumsy--his physique extremely slim and bony. He was scrawny, nothing compared to the first, dressed in trimmed clothing copied from the brunette, who stopped next to Xemnas and Larxene. His deep blue eyes stared at his feet and the floor as he walked, holding onto the handrail for support. He seemed shy and reserved, soft and immature in nature with a button nose and thin, pink lips, although he was about fifteen or sixteen in age. He sent a fleeting impression towards the throng of people, felt himself become alarmed inside, and glanced back down at the rug as another came down from the fourth floor.

Last to come down the stairs, this one was also as young as the timid sandy-haired fellow, just as gaunt and submissive under his fitting ebony clothing, but he had spiked chestnut hair under the same wide sapphire orbs. He seemed troubled and provoked, one of his hands a tight fist. He stared contemptuously at his targets: the blonde in front of him, the brunette, and Xemnas, blind to the rest of the curious eyes around him. He came to a rest beside the other four at the bottom of the stairs, not tearing his eyes away from them.

"These, my friends..." Xemnas said, "...are my sons."

Larxene stared at the floor.

Complete, utter stillness. The men's' jaws dropped, the women's' eyebrows raised, and the young girls giggled at the sudden, ridiculous thought of marriage and courtship, waving themselves with their fans to take the ring of money out from their ears.

"Leon."

He cocked his head to the side, hiding his scornful look behind his hair.

"Roxas."

He refused to look up.

"...and Sora."

He looked dazed. His royal blue eyes glimmered, on the brink of tears.

BOOM! The sound of a gunshot pierced the air, and confusion and chaos erupted in the hall; women screamed, the crowd pushing out of the doors. Glasses broke as they slammed onto the floor. The hall was slowly being deserted.

And on the staircase, Xemnas in a pool of his blood--a small hole in his heart. The shot had come from the hallway opposite the staircase on the fourth floor above the doors. All Cloud could see was a hand slip away from the banister, the gun grasped in it. He froze.

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Author's Note: Yeah, here's chapter one, my first actual chapter story since like..the Stepford Husands? I'll work on all those other stories later, but this I had to get out after reading Gone With the Wind, watching The Count of Monte Cristo and A Tale of Two Sisters, and playing Haunting Ground. Heh.

Special Thanks: Riku-stalker, my completey awesome beta for this one. Much love to you, Natalie-chan!

Dedicated To: Ame-chan. Here's my anniversary present to you, bestest buddy! Wuv woo!