Author's Note: Cross posting from AO3. A fusion of Beauty and the Beast and Cinderella.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Eating disorders, violence, PTSD, depression, and anxiety.
Chapter One: Meet the Skades
Swimming in the ocean should have repulsed him, but all he found was wonder.
The world above the surface rippled, lazy rays of light swaying to and fro across the sandy bottom of the bay, turning his skin a motley blue that was somehow beautiful. A lurch in his stomach told him what he was doing was wrong, but the smile that spread across his face—a barring of teeth—told him it was absolutely right.
A swish of a tail, sand going up in plumes. It was gritty against his skin, tasting like copper in his teeth. He followed the flow of cooler water into a darker part of the bay, swerving around the dock support columns. Thumps of movement from above echoed through the water, muffled and hazy. People were stowing and unhooking ships, some finished with morning with fishing, others sailing for the thrilling freedom of the waves.
He coiled in the shadowy depths, keen eyes watching a man unwind rope with practiced ease, chatting amiably with his friend. Green eyes, honey-tanned skin, sun-bleached hair. Webbed fingers tapped along the floor, thick silt clouding the area.
Waiting wasn't such a pleasant experience, but he did so for the man. The friend eventually wandered off with a parting shot that had the man bellowing with laughter, and then turned toward the cove.
Another flick of his tail sent him in that same direction, following green eyes and honey skin, a secret smile on his lips. The cove was dark and cold, the waters chilling him to the point of discomfort, but rising towards the surface thawed him out enough.
He breached the surface of the ocean, the quiet lapping of water against stone echoing though the cove, webbed hands slapping against the end of a lone dock. A pair of green eyes awaited him, crinkled in a loving smile.
He returned it with a beaming one of his own.
"Hello, Myde."
The prettiest roses had the deadliest thorns.
Surrounded by rolling hills, a spattering of sizable ponds, and boasting one of the most well-cared gardens in the country, Skade Manor was a jewel. A successful business in children's toys kept the family vault full.
A paradise in the countryside, some called it.
Isa had another name for it:
Chores.
He cleaned after Lord Fendle's messes, kept Larxene's room fresh and aired, and made sure Lady Sennor wanted for nothing. Marluxia, for all his silk shirts and gourmet taste, preferred self-sufficiency. He was low maintenance.
Long ago, Isa hadn't been a servant. He was an eyesore to the family, turning into an ornament that no one wanted, but couldn't exactly leave on the roadside. So he was shoved into an attic and forgotten.
When an unexpected dip in the Skade fortune forced them to release all their payed servants, all heads turned to the one sorry schmuck in the family that wasn't worth anything. Little blue Isa, lonely and unloved, had been overjoyed to be useful. As all things did with time, he changed.
"Champagne," said Lady Sennor, not for celebration, but because decadence was her lifestyle and she loved the taste of champagne.
"Up twenty percent," rumbled Lord Fendle, a barrel-chested man who had more hair on one square inch of his arms than Isa did on his entire body. He was squinting at a slip of paper. "Not good, but we're recovering."
"I suppose that means new servants," said Larxene, delicately pushing away her glass of champagne, wrinkling her nose in an unflattering way.
"Not quite yet," said Lord Fendle, dashing Isa's hopes before they were even born. He took the wine glass from Isa, eyes fixed on the report. "We've a ways to go."
"Shame. We need a new one. The old one's pitiful."
"Marluxia, dear, why don't you put some of that back?" said Lady Sennor, smiling charmingly. "Do leave some of the meal for us."
Larxene cackled.
There wasn't an ounce of spare fat on Marluxia's willowy body, but that didn't stop him from putting away most of his food and nibbling weakly the rest of the meal. Isa felt a rare burst of sympathy for him. It lasted about two seconds, then died when he remembered the time Marluxia tried to force him to eat a mud cake. Common sense said they were eleven; everything else said screw that guy.
Mostly, he was annoyed. Marluxia not eating now meant he would undoubtedly call Isa for a snack at an inopportune time.
Eventually, the dull conversation petered out. The plates were cleared of food, seconds and thirds gone (with the exception of Marluxia), before Larxene pushed hers away.
"I'm going to check on the horses."
At least Isa never had to worry about being trampled to death by the horses. They were the one thing in the universe Larxene cared about.
Lady Sennor tutted once Larxene was out of earshot, disapproval in the sharp line of her lips. The pasty facsimile of a smile she sent Marluxia when he excused himself from the table would have turned Isa's gut inside out. As it was, Marluxia's returning smile was strained.
The clink of glasses and utensils filled the dining hall, as Isa waited for Lord Fendle and Lady Sennor to finish. They languidly picked at their plates, a polite chatter of conversation rolling over Isa's head. Eventually, they couldn't force themselves to eat—even for Isa's discomfort. He collected the plates, piling them in the sinks in the kitchen.
He would need to wash them, checking on the dwindling supply of soap. They would need more soon. Before he could get started on that, Larxene complained about the state of the entrance hall. Isa spent most of the evening mopping the floors and dusting, while she made a show of blowing her nose from the flurries of dust. By the time the floors were to her liking, Isa's shoulders were aching.
An overcast of dark blue was crawling over the sky, the first few stars blinking awake. He sighed, allowing him the briefest second to gaze at the moon, imprinting it into his memory. He drew the curtains closed.
Lady Sennor wanted an evening cup of tea. Marluxia was nowhere to be seen, so Isa scratched off a midnight snack. Lord Fendle was already asleep.
Halfway through brewing the tea, Lady Sennor changed her mind, and he was sent to the basement to fetch bottles of wine.
"Oh, I don't know what to do with your father," she mumbled around the rim of her cup.
She sat in the library, a pile of books on the table to her right, a fireplace crackling with warmth. The wine seemed to glow in the light.
"He sees nothing but numbers. I fear he's grown greedy."
She held out the glass. Isa poured her more.
"And your brother—pah! That boy can't do anything. Tending the flowers all day, hugging trees," she said, shaking her head. She gave a light giggle. "You do know I love all of you, though? Oh, I tease, dear, but you're all my children."
Tease was a nice way to put it. Marluxia was likely going to bed hungry again. Sometimes Isa wondered what went through his head when he looked in a mirror. It was probably better Isa didn't know.
"My darling Larxene, though, has a future! Pretty as a rose, quick as lightning, that one. She's my clever little girl."
Lady Sennor giggled again, her cheeks pink from the wine.
"More, more, dear."
The glass wobbled in her hand.
He poured the wine.
By the time Lady Sennor had fallen asleep, the night had steeped into Isa's bones. He thought of the dishes that lay unwashed in the sink, of the carpets that still needed sweeping, and of the breakfast that needed preparing. His heart weighed heavy in his chest. Heavier still were his steps as he dragged himself to the kitchens to at least prepare for breakfast.
He found the shattered remains of a broken vase on the floor instead. With a sigh, he set to picking up the shards, plucking them up carefully. He dropped the shards, wrapped in a cloth, into the garbage. The flowers once housed in the vase were tossed outside to become fertilizer for the ground.
The dishes, Isa decided, could wait. So could preparing breakfast. Just that once, he could get away with it.
Pandemonium reigned. Lady Sennor suffered a terrible migraine, Larxene couldn't find her best dress, Marluxia had already disappeared into the expansive gardens, and Lord Fendle left early for a hunt, leaving the manor and business to everyone else.
Isa woke late.
For a normal person, such an occurrence would not be a horrible thing. However, seeing as breakfast was not prepared, the dishes were not cleaned, and the entire Skade family was in a dark mood, it was a catastrophe. Because Isa was late, Larxene wasn't fed. Because Isa was late, Lady Sennor didn't get her migraine relief in time. Because Isa was late, the family fell apart.
He hurried through breakfast, left eggshells in the omlettes, and spilled most of the milk. Lady Sennor roared at him to get a move on, to get them their clothes and prepare their jewelry and shine their shoes.
However, despite what the Skades might say, the fault for the pandemonium that gripped the family didn't solely lie at Isa's feet. A messenger had arrived from the kingdom a short few hours ago with grave news.
In a little over two weeks, there would be a party to celebrate the princess's birthday.
Of course, the real reason for the party was obvious to everyone. She was coming of age and King Ansem, her father, would be looking for worthy suitors. Such a gathering could not be missed and as such, the Skade Family was in an uproar.
"You must speak with Lord Monfort," said Lady Sennor to Larxene over their breakfast. "Charm him. He's in possession of a rather impressive amount of wealth and I'd rather your father stop worrying about acquisitions."
Larxene nodded halfheartedly.
"Perhaps Lord Dechardes will take a liking to Marluxia-speaking of which, where is that boy?"
"The gardens," said Larxene.
"Pah!"
The scrapes of utensils against plates grated on Isa's nerves, the silence always allowing for the most annoying of noises to filter through. Lady Sennor's fork paused, her keen eyes turning to Isa.
"You will need to go back into town. The garbs we own now is not fitting for a royal party," she said. "See to it that the seamstresses—you know the ones, yes? The three women in town—have us made new ones. Larxene will need a dress fitting of a princess. Marluxia needs—well, he needs much, but the boy cleans up well. He'll need a suit. I will need something eye-catching, but not boorishly so. Same for your father."
She tapped her fork against the wine glass already half empty.
"Have you got this down?"
"I've got it memorized."
A tension headache radiated through his skull. He smiled through the pain.
There was no use putting off the visit to town, so he finished up the morning chores—drawing the curtains, dusting the entrance hall again (dust collected so quickly), setting aside a bottle of wine for Lady Sennor—and slipped into a pair of boots. It wasn't a very far walk to town, the road carrying him through the forest.
He enjoyed stealing away at night for walks down the road, soaking in the soft moonlight and watching as the forest twinkled at him, hundreds of fireflies putting on a private show. When he was younger, he imagined faeries watching over him.
Now, he was hurrying, unwilling to risk more ire than was already aimed at him. Even if he had time to tarry, the throbbing pain threatening to squeeze his brains out of his skull would have made it impossible. Walking alone was a hassle, each step sending another dull pulse through his head.
By the time he reached town, the sun was high in the sky, and his headache had evolved into a full migraine. Seeing as there was a party in the air, every bakery was preparing their best. A blend of aromas in the air that would have been heavenly at any other time, tormented his abused stomach. He swallowed a bout of nausea, making a beeline for the three seamstresses, Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather, also known as the Good Fairies.
After much tittering, giggles, pinching his cheeks, and "Oh, noes," he was out of their establishment with four new designs for the clothing. They were confident in their work, but Isa knew Lady Sennor and Larxene. They would complain about something, even if they had to find it.
He strayed through the market, ending up by the fountain by predestined instinct. Two children sat on the edge, biting into ice cream, giggling quietly to themselves. A smile lifted the corners of his lips despite himself.
Then he spotted a flash of silver.
Riku stood out in a crowd. Tall, pale for someone who spent every waking hour in the ocean, and silver-haired, it was impossible to miss him. Isa cut across the crowd, forgetting the children—what did they remind him of, again?—and rushed to catch up with him before he disappeared.
"Riku!"
He slowed to a stop. Isa leaned against a low wall, out of breath. He really needed to do something about his cardio. Chores weren't exactly great for body-building.
"Oh, hey," said Riku, eyeing him with a wry smile. "You okay?"
"Getting there," said Isa, returning the smile weakly. "I actually wanted to ask about Sora."
"Still sleeping," said Riku.
Six months ago, that statement would have been delivered with a rueful laugh, a light flush of his cheeks. A pall hung over Riku, his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes desperate. Sora had fallen into a coma months ago and had yet to awaken.
"No changes?"
"The doctors can't figure it out. He's just—sleeping."
Riku rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"We're getting by, day to day. But it's weighing on the others."
Toward the back of the market, the sounds of arguments drew their attention. Ventus and Vanitas, the twins, and the living personification of good and evil. The oldest of the two, Ventus, was a ball of sunshine; the younger was Vanitas, who probably drowned puppies on his free time.
A new voice joined them, light and exasperated, "They always argue."
"Xion," said Isa in greeting.
She smiled, offering him an ice cream.
"Do you just randomly buy these things?" said Isa, accepting the treat regardless. It was cold and perfect for the heat, and served to ease the tension in his head. "Too much sugar isn't good for you, you know."
"I'm still young," said Xion, as Riku took the third ice cream.
They let the hum of town life flow around them as they enjoyed the ice cream. Eventually, it was disturbed by Vanitas dumping a bucket of water over a woman's head, running away with wild laughter. More dismaying was Ventus, running with him, also grinning in triumph. They were a bad influence on each other.
Water-drenched, the woman charged after them a short distance, before giving up. She stewed hotly, yelling that she planned to tell their guardians how they were acting, and then they would be sorry.
Xion took a bite out of her ice cream and with a muffled voice said, "Think she really knows where we live?"
"Doesn't really matter," said Riku. "Aqua doesn't believe Ventus can do wrong, and Terra wouldn't do anything even if he did."
"I can't get over how many people you have living under that one roof," Isa laughed incredulously.
"Can't be much worse than taking care of four people," said Xion, her tone light, but her gaze was hard and focused on nothing in the plaza.
The papers crinkled as Isa shifted them in his arms, angling the ice cream away so it wouldn't melt on them. He took another bite, avoiding the eyes that turned to him. Sometimes, he wished he didn't have friends that were so nice and helpful, wanting to pull him out of an impossible situation. Sometimes they were so kind, it was overwhelming. Yes, he wanted to leave. No, he couldn't. He was well aware it didn't make sense.
It had started years ago, when Isa was a boy and just met Riku and Sora. The two boys were carefree as any other, unable to understand why Isa didn't just spend all day with them around the bay. He didn't go to school, nor did he train with anyone for specialized skills. So, then, why couldn't Isa play?
"I must be getting back now," said Isa.
Xion let out a hum in response, looking for all the world to not be listening. She wasn't happy.
"They aren't terrible," he said, which proved to be a mistake.
"They make you do everything," she said. "A family is supposed to work together."
"We do," he protested, even as he berated himself for sounding so weak.
Riku rested a hand on his shoulder, the callouses rough against Isa's bare shoulders. A strong part of him wanted to lean into the touch.
"Just remember, don't hesitate if you need a place to crash for a couple days. We'd be glad to have you."
Between the stress of Sora's coma, Terra's inability to hold down a job, and Ventus and Vanitas's antics, he knew they all had far too much on their plate to handle another mouth to feed. He nodded regardless, accepting the offer as it was, and excused himself with a slight bow. He could feel their eyes on his back as he left the plaza, and ironed the warmth of Riku's hand into his memory.
Along the way, he bumped into a man with sandy hair, drawing a hasty apology from the stranger, before he disappeared down the road in the direction of the bay. He stared after the man's rapidly retreating back, and then continued toward the edge of town.
With the designs secured, he half-walked, half-jogged the rest of the way to the manor. A chorus of birds sang cheerfully. He yearned to stop and listen, picking out each bird and identifying the species. Colorful wild flowers flourished along the road's edge, the forest line kissed by magic. It was the knowledge that he'd lingered long enough speaking to Xion and Riku that had him passing by the birds and flowers.
He tried jogging up the sloping hill to the manor, but stopped a quarter of the way, his lungs heaving painfully. He glared balefully at the sun.
Inside the manor was blessedly cool. He heard Larxene yelling about something, heading to her room with great, angry strides. A sigh escaped him. Inside the library, as usual, he found Lady Sennor, already halfway to drunk.
"Mother, I have—"
"Not now," she snapped. "Where is your father? I need him."
"I haven't—"
"Well, then, get him!"
He laid the designs on a table by the wall, heaving another tired sigh ("Stop that huffing before you blow the manor down!"), and set to finding Lord Fendle. Last Isa knew, he was a hunting, so that meant he could have been anywhere on the grounds. He searched the manor out of vain hope he was indoors.
"Isa!" barked Larxene when she saw him peering around curtains. "Where are those designs?"
"They're with Mother," he replied absently, looking inside a broom closet. No Lord Fendle there, either.
"What the devil are you doing?"
"Looking for Father."
"Ugh."
At the barest mention of Lord Fendle, she vanished. Larxene didn't get along well with anyone, least of all their parents. Had she not been Lady Sennor's favored, Isa might sympathize with her, but she was and had no reason to hate them.
Bitter and defeated by the manor, Isa poked his head outside. The sun threatened to beat him into the ground. He groaned, closing the door behind him. Despite the intense heat, he looked up and down the grounds thoroughly, by every pond and tree and place he knew Lord Fendle frequented during his hunts. He even stopped by the birding range, cringing at the remains of recently shot pigeons. Pity drove him to collect their bodies and set them aside, away from the area of massacre.
Isa circled the manor three times and was forced to admit it: he had lost Lord Fendle.
There was one last place he could have gone, but—
Isa stared into the murky depths of the forest. The summertime sun had darkened the leaves to the point the canopy blocked out nearly all light. Inside, there was a thick tangle of underbrush. Gnarled branches grasped at nothing. His eyes were tired from the sun and searching, giving movement to the shadows. He looked away quickly.
He would search for Lord Fendle later. It was getting nigh time for him to prepare dinner.
Turning on his heels, he headed back for the manor.
A crack shot through the air, followed by the cascading sound of an enormous tree falling. There wasn't even the slightest wisp of a breeze, nor had there been heavy rain recently. The forest groaned.
Isa never looked back, though he did walk a little faster.