Author's Note: This story is set in a world similar to ours but different. Think of our world in the 1920s and then add a little spice of paganism and magic to it. Also, I have played about with characters roles, those that were 'bad guys' in Kingdom Hearts, may well be on the good side here, and of course, vice versa. Please read with an open mind.
I
The Princess was a short girl, with a round cute face and a rakishly thin body. She had nothing about her that marked her out as 'beautiful' in the fairytale sense, but there was a certain freshness to her looks and she might yet grow into her over-long limbs. Tidus bowed and opened the door. She smiled at him, thanked him, and slipped in, her pink silk dress making a soft hissing sound over the leather of the seat.
Ever since he could drive, Tidus had been the Princess' personal chauffeur, and yet, in all that time, he'd never seen her looking so naturally radiant. It may have been because of the recent announcement of her marriage, the ring shining on her finger, but Tidus wasn't so convinced that it was the only cause.
He hoped it wasn't what he suspected, though as the driver he was always going to be the first to know if an affair was taking place.
He started the engine and awaited instructions. Her voice was cheerful as she instructed him to drive to the station. He nodded and made sure that she had locked her door and put on her seat belt before he pulled out. He had grown more cautious since the last kidnapping of the Princess.
The other two princesses, Namine and Yuffie, ran out of the garden to the roadside, waving and grinning. Namine was the Crown Princess' twin, younger by a mere two minutes, and Yuffie was their half-sister through a concubine and a year their junior. The King had hoped for a son, but after three daughters, he had settled for his lot and formally adopted his illegitimate daughter. Tidus often thought that if the Queen had lived longer, he would have never given up on a son, but her death in childbirth had been hard on the King, and it was rumoured he feared pregnancy more than anything.
The Princesses' matching white dresses pulled against them in a sudden gust of wind and the giggled, holding them down with one hand while waving with the other. Princess Kairi waved back, a little more restrainedly, before sinking back into the upholstery.
"You must not tell anyone about who we are meeting today," Kairi said. Tidus nodded, already having had assumed that.
They drove out of the Royal Precinct and into the town proper. At the theatre there were large posters showing a man with bright green eyes and silver hair with a blonde haired woman who looked like she could freeze you with her eyes. It was the Royal Ballet's performance of 'Shiva and Ifrit' and it would, no doubt, be the talk of the aristocrats for months. The lead was being played by a famous ballerina who had apparently trained in Treno, the night city.
They passed it with only a brief comment by the Princess on how green the ballet dancer, Sephiroth's, eyes were.
Tidus heard the patter of rain begin on the windscreen and automatically checked in the passenger seat for the umbrella. It was there, as he had expected it to be. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and noted that the Princess' dress was incredibly lightweight and would probably turn see-through in the rain. He wondered why the Princess had chosen such a flimsy thing for an October day.
They got to the road that ran along the Promenade. Here the traffic was less heavy, the long road without traffic lights or turnings to hold the vehicles up. The Princess gazed out towards the sea, which was grey and rough, mimicking the sky.
"I wonder what stories that ocean would tell?" she asked. Tidus had been a chauffeur long enough to know that it was a rhetorical question he didn't need to answer.
"What would it whisper to me on a day like today?"
Riku cursed and fell over his own feet. It was raining. Pouring in fact. His hair stuck to his face, his silk shirt clung to his skin and the wool trousers he was wearing were heavy with water. His shoes had rubbed his feet raw and his hands were sore with cold, but he still gripped onto the purse as though his life depended on it.
His sides ached and occasionally when he breathed a sharp pain would spasm through his entire body. Prince Riku had been run over by a car, and he was lucky that the maximum speed on them was only thirty miles per hour.
He didn't see the root, and he didn't see the clearing through the rain. He landed on the ground hard, his mouth filled with mud and his eye stung from blood getting into it from where his eyebrow had split.
"You didn't even put your hand out," someone commented, sounding vaguely impressed. Riku looked up in alarm, trying to scramble up. He didn't get very far however, as the stranger was walking forward.
He was naked, despite the cold, and he didn't seem to be in a hurry to cover up either. His clothes were discarded in a pile to one side, a simple vest and pair of jeans. The man's hair was long and roughly cut, like it had been done with a knife. A scar ran down between his blue-grey eyes that were strangely devoid of emotion. Riku wondered if this was one of the frontier men he'd heard about, but didn't have the breath to ask.
"Your ribs are broken…" the man said with certainty. Riku wanted to know how he knew, but he was being painfully dragged to his feet. He felt something cool on his forehead and realised it was the man's hand. How the man could be even colder than he was Riku couldn't comprehend.
"I should let you die of these injuries, but I've seen enough death today," the man said cryptically. Riku began to lose consciousness.
"Thank you…" he managed to force out. The man smiled, though the smile held no warmth.
"Thank Shiva, not me."
Yuna usually wasn't one for course language, but she couldn't help the profanity that slipped from her lips. They were losing him, she could tell that, and no god-given power was going to save him. He was slipping into darkness, with that sheen of sweat on his skin and those glassy eyes, and none of her magic or remedies could do anything to prevent it.
"I'm sorry," she said, turning to the father. She had known him for a long time. She knew that Ansem wasn't Xehanort's true father, but just his adoptive one. She knew that this would probably make the death even harder to take.
There had been an explosion in the lab. It had been just like any other explosion, Yuna had thought, and her laxness meant that she hadn't checked for any chemicals in the cuts as she healed them. But within twenty-four hours, Ansem had called her, anxious that Xehanort had a fever.
By the time Yuna had arrived he had been speaking in tongues, barely even conscious. She had done her best, and she believed she had made it easier for the man, but she could do nothing now to save him from death.
"Have you done all you can?" Ansem asked. Yuna nodded, turning to wash her hands in case, just in case, this was a disease that was contagious, though she had a feeling it was not.
"Then it is in the hands of the gods," Ansem said. Yuna pursed her lips, not feeling it was her place to correct Ansem. She knew that Ansem still believed in the ancient stories of Hyne, Ifrit, Shiva and Ramuh, and that he considered it his religion. Most people had shifted to the worship of Yevon by now, with its more considerate teachings and all-encompassing message. Still, in the rural areas, she supposed that pagan rituals of fertility and marriage were easier to perform than the long, highly ceremonialised Yevonite ones.
"If he gets to be in too much pain, please give him this tea," Yuna said, placing the packet of herbs on the bedside table. "Hot or cold, it will ease his pain." She did not mention that it was an addictive painkiller. There seemed little point in this circumstance.
"Thank you, Healer," Ansem said. "For all my powers, I have no gift for healing." Ansem turned haunted amber eyes to the young man on the bed, his greying beard soaked with tears.
"Yevon bestows powers where he believes they'll be best used," was all Yuna could think to reply. Ansem smiled bitterly and shrugged, sitting on the end of his son's bed.
"Goodnight, Healer," he said quietly.
"Goodnight, sir," Yuna replied softly, stepping out into the corridor and closing the door behind her quietly. She heard a noise behind her and started, peering into the dark for a moment before a blond boy stepped into the light.
"Roxas… You frightened me," she said, putting her hand on her chest. The boy had large bags under his eyes and Yuna wondered if he'd been taking the calming tea she'd given him to help with his insomnia.
"He's dying, isn't he?" Roxas asked. Yuna sighed, nodding lightly. Roxas' blue eyes seemed to dim, even in the candlelight.
"I did all I could-" Yuna tried to protest but Roxas turned his blue eyes to her, flashing in accusation.
"You did all Yevon would allow. I know you have the power to grant life! I've seen you-" Yuna felt her heart beat faster in her chest. If a Yevonite heard Roxas talking like this…
"Sh! Shhh now!" she said, her voice panicked and hushed. "You shouldn't even suggest such things. That spell… What comes back is not human!"
Roxas' eyes narrowed. Yuna could tell that he didn't believe her, but she didn't care. She knew that the soul, the heart, a person's essence, could not be brought back through mere magic or potions. She knew that what came back was just a living husk and… they were frightening.
"What do you mean?" Roxas asked. Yuna just shook her head.
"Xehanort will go to the Farplane. The alternative is unthinkable…." she whispered. Roxas didn't look convinced, by Yuna knew he wouldn't force her to go against her religion, even if he was a pagan savage.
"He's my friend," Roxas said finally. "I hate to see him suffer…" Yuna sighed in relief and nodded, placing her hand on Roxas' shoulder before leaving. Behind her, Roxas blew out his candle and went down the corridor to his room in darkness.
Sora usually would have steered clear of Black Mages, but at the moment he was tied to one and facing criminal charges that would lead to his eventual execution, so he supposed that any objection he might have would have been ignored.
"Are you afraid?" the mage asked. Sora bit his lip. The truth was he was terrified. He had never expected this to happen, though in the back of his mind he'd understood that what he was doing was wrong.
"You're going to die," the mage pointed out.
"I know that!" Sora snapped, not needing his prison guard to taunt him as well. The little mage just looked up at him with his yellow, glowing eyes. Sora had always thought that if he got up close to one, he'd be able to distinguish its features, but it seemed that an aura of complete darkness completely shrouded its face.
"Us mages… the ones that are conscious anyway… We call it 'to stop moving'. It's more accurate to what happens…" the little mage said. Sora put his hands over his ears, the leather leash that attached him to his guard tautening.
"I am not like the others, Mister Sora. I 'woke up'," the mage said. Sora looked up, slightly confused as to what that could mean. The mage looked up at him, and for some reason Sora thought he was smiling. "My name is Vivi."
"Black Mages don't have names," Sora retorted almost immediately. The little black mage didn't reply, but continued to look at him with those staring yellow eyes.
"I'm Sora… but you already knew that didn't you?" Sora asked. Vivi nodded and began to fiddle with his hat in a gesture that Sora didn't associate with the ominous Black Mages, the guards of the King.
"What is your crime, Mister Sora?" Vivi asked. Sora began to laugh bitterly.
"It's just Sora. I'm only seventeen years old after all…" he sobered after that. "I was caught in the Princess' bed chamber in… a particular position… The penalty for the seduction of the Crown Princess is death…"
"Seduction…? But I thought it took two people to-"
"It does. But… it's the Princess… Aaaaaagh! I was so stupid!" Sora said, holding his head in his hands. Vivi had jumped away when he'd screamed and now had tilted his head to one side.
"You don't deserve to die…"
That was the last thing Sora heard before the wall in front of him exploded under the force of a meteor and he stared at the perfect escape route.
"Did you do that?" he asked.
"… Let's go," the little mage said. Sora could do nothing but nod.
Kairi saw a red-haired man sitting with a woman at the train station. They were snacking on apples and cheese. He fed her with a tenderness that made Kairi's heart swell with emotion. Poor Sora… Poor, poor Sora… Why couldn't their relationship have been so open?
"Say 'Aaaaaah' Namine…"
"Oh be quiet Axel and give me the cheese."
"But it's more fun to see your eyes go googly as you try to follow it- OW! You didn't have to hit me!"
She waited patiently as the train rolled into the station, filling it with smoke. The person she was waiting for wasn't coming in on the train but had arranged to meet her here anyway. She just had to save Sora…
"Holy cow! He's got a bomb!" someone shouted. Kairi blinked and looked up but then there was a boom, a long resounding thunderclap and she was thrown backwards by the force of the blast. She couldn't see, she couldn't feel, and slowly she found herself slipping away, deafened by the blast.
Sephiroth stared impassively at the headline. A small smile crept up his features and he turned back to his dancers, who were stood in shocked silence.
"The Princess is dead. Long live the Princess," he said. The others nodded and stared at the newspaper, its picture of complete devastation on the front and the headline 'Princess Assassinated' on the top in large, bold letters.
"Who are they blaming?" Cloud asked, stepping forward to take the newspaper from Sephiroth's hand. Sephiroth took a moment to admire the blonde's expression, his pretty blue eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Seems there are a number of suspects. The Princess's lover escaped from prison that morning, her fiancée Prince Riku is missing, her chauffeur's body hasn't been recovered, the person she was meeting off the train… Some even blame the King for murdering his own daughter for her affair with a commoner. The usual conspiracy theories," Sephiroth replied. Cloud nodded, before looking behind him and handing the paper to Quistis and Aerith, who both began to scour the article.
"I don't believe any of them," Cloud announced, and his eyes seemed to shine with a knowledge that Sephiroth knew that he didn't possess.
"Well if it's not those suspects, who would you say it was?" he asked. Cloud seemed about to make an accusation, but then he just shrugged and walked to the door, putting on his coat and removing his ballet slippers to put on his boots.
"I think we have some interesting times ahead," he said, before waving goodbye to Quistis and Aerith and slamming the door behind him.