Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue. -.-

A/N: No real warnings for this chapter, nothing major

Ebony Rain

II: Lessons Learned

"Is he in?" I asked the guards stationed outside my father's room. It was late, all the guests had long ago returned to their comfortable down beds and I was looking forward to hitting my own. I could feel the effects of the heavy wine causing the room to waver, and I wondered how many times Anathasia had filled my goblet.

"Yes, young master," the bulky guard responded in his deep voice. "And the slave has already been brought in."

The slave?

"My father told me to come tonight; do you know what's going on?"

The guard shook his head, but unlocked and opened the door for me. When I stepped in, he pulled it closed and bolted it.

"Sir," I greeted respectfully when I saw my father, seated on a velvet couch. "Is there something you need?"

Various candles lit my father's sitting room elegantly, giving it a warm, comfortable glow. The cushions of burgundy were welcoming, and the polished oak furniture reflected the light of the dancing fire, seated lovingly in the hearth. The slave the guard had mentioned turned out to be the Phantasm, who was standing in front of my father. I appeared to have interrupted a conversation.

My father rose and beckoned me to take his place on the couch, which I did. Sitting directly in front of the slave, I could see him much better...he really was beautiful; I've never even seen even a woman that could compare.

Despite everything I was taught about the northerners...I couldn't hate him.

"What do you know about…Phantasms?" My father asked me, standing behind the slave and running his fingers lightly along the boy's bare shoulder. I shifted on the couch, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Only what…everyone knows…"

The lord moved back swiftly, seizing something off the desk and lashing it across the slave's back. With a startled cry, the boy stumbled forward, falling to his knees, and I instantly moved to help him. No sooner had I touched his arm, however, than he jerked from my grasp.

"Fa-Father!" I exclaimed, turning my wide eyes towards the man, who held a vicious whip in one hand. "Wh-what…?"

"Take a look." He answered calmly, stepping towards the Phantasm and I. "What do you see?"

"What…?" I shifted my gaze back to the boy, who was breathing heavily, his teeth clenched. This was the first time I had seen him up close, I was almost mesmerized by—

"Look." My father cut into my thoughts, touching the fresh wound on the boy's back. I saw him wince a little at the contact, but my father didn't seem to notice. He held up his fingers, and I could see a small bit of crimson staining the pale flesh.

"It's…blood…" I said dumbly, not understanding the point of this exercise. My father's crystalline eyes narrowed in that slightly exasperated look, the look that asked if he had to spell it out for me.

Another silent moment and I understood.

"It's…red!" My father nodded at my comprehension. "But...I've always heard that Phantasms have blue blood."

I heard the slave scoff softly beside me, and I shot him an indignant look – one that he couldn't see with the blindfold. My father ignored that and continued.

"They bleed the same blood as us, Sora, never be afraid of them. They are just as mortal."

I looked back at the slave, studying him a little more closely. He was a Phantasm…a northerner…a subhuman…but he was human. Same as me…

"But…why does it matter?" I questioned, not taking my eyes off the other boy. "I mean…all the northerners are dead, aren't they?"

I saw the slave start a little as if this information was new to him, but I looked up at my father, still sitting on the floor next to the boy.

"Not by a long shot, Sora." He answered smoothly, chuckling a little. "There are three full cities we have yet to find."

Three full cities! How come no one seemed to know?

"Everyone important is aware." My father continued, as if reading my thoughts. "It's easier on the public if they continue to believe all the Phantasms are gone. But if you ever need to deal with one, you need to be prepared."

Prepared? I knew I would one day inherit Raelius, and with it Raelius' army, but…

"I guarantee you, a Phantasm will be faster, stronger, and more skilled than anyone in the Solastrian military, save the legendary generals themselves." The lord grabbed his slave by the wrist and pulled him up, away from me, only to slam him against the opposite wall and force him back to his knees. I could hear the boy struggle a bit and I had the strongest desire to aid him – anything – but…

"Do you know their weakness is?" He asked, and I rose shakily to my feet. "Do you know how to cause the most damage?"

Unable to find my voice, I shook my head a little.

"Fire." Still gripping the boy's wrist, my father pulled his hand over the fire in the hearth, letting the flames lick the sensitive skin, and the slave released a painful cry, fighting to pull his hand back.

"S-stop!" I yelled, stepping towards them, but hesitated when my father turned his cold eyes towards me. "…I…I get it. You don't have to show me…"

Fire.

I saw the lord smile but he released the slave all the same, and the boy jerked his arm back, cradling it against his chest.

"You know how it feels to be burned, don't you, Sora?" Unconsciously, I rubbed my own hand a little, but nodded slightly when my father spoke. "For a Phantasm, it's much worse."

Low tolerance for heat…

"Let's move on to a different subject," my father said, much to my relief, and stood, bringing the slave up with him. It was then, basking in the firelight, that I noticed the boy's collar had been altered slightly. A silver ring now adorned the front – which my father used to pull him up – and the silver studs had been replaced by ten, finely cut diamonds that glittered enticingly. "You're almost old enough to have slaves, but do you know how to handle one?"

I shifted once more in discomfort. Well…what was there to know? All I had to do is give them commands…

He pulled the Phantasm against him, stroking the collar lovingly. "Do you know how a slave loses a stud?"

"What?" I considered the question, but having grown up around slaves I never really gave it much thought. I knew the studs represented their individual value, but…

The slave seemed to know more than I did, he struggled harshly against the lord. However, there was little doubt that my father was the stronger one, and he shoved the boy down against the plush couch, straddling his hips and fighting to restrain his hands.

I was completely stunned, trying to figure out what to do. My instincts said this was wrong, it had to be wrong! But my mind said…

This boy…he was my father's slave. How could I argue with that?

"Fa-Father…!"

"If you're uncomfortable, Sora, you may leave." He said nonchalantly, kissing the writhing boy's neck gently. For a moment, I could do nothing. I wanted to leave…to go to bed…to forget the look on the slave's beautiful face. And yet…

I couldn't leave him here alone.

"Then make yourself useful," the lord snapped, growing slightly impatient. "Hold his wrists."

I moved to obey without thinking, standing at the head of the couch and taking the boy's wrists firmly. I wanted to protest, but…if I did, my father would simply kick me out of the room and carry on…

I guess I thought, if I stayed, I could find a way to make things better.

The slave continued to writhe and fight, snarling threats in a strange tongue, but I could hear – feel – the boy's growing panic. The struggling seemed only to invigorate my father, whose hands trailed slowly down the slave's stomach, already slick with sweat, and moved to toy with the clasp of the leather pants.

I averted my gaze at this point, feeling very sick.

Suddenly, as if answering both the slave's and my own silent prayers, a heavy rapping emitted from the other side of the oaken door.

"M'lord," one of the guards called gruffly, "I'm very sorry to disturb you, but Commander Xaldin has returned unexpectedly. There seems to be a problem, he requests your immediate presence in the main hall."

Father sat up, seeming to consider this, but responded with a 'very well'. I let out an audible breath and he gave me a dark look, but he nevertheless straightened his elaborate attire and headed to the door.

Once his footsteps had completely receded I helped the shaky slave up, keeping a firm grip on the boy's uninjured hand. "He's gone – let get out of here before he comes back."

There was a hesitant moment, then the Phantasm questioned, "….where?"

"Anywhere that's not here," I answered easily, pulling him up a little and leading him towards the door. "Does anything else matter?"

Apparently he decided my company was preferable to my father's, because he didn't argue as I guided him through various halls. It was late and they were dimly lit, but I knew this place like the back of my hand. Ascending a set of stone stairs, I decided to take him to my private room – just in case my father decided to go looking for him.

But I had the sinking feeling I was only delaying the inevitable. What bothered me so much about this particular slave? Was it because…he was just like me? The same age…both aristocrats in our respective countries…

"Hey…" I said to the boy, slowing my pace when we reached the upper corridor and releasing his hand. "Your name…is Riku, right?"

He paused again, as if trying to figure out whether or not I was playing some game with him, then gave a slight nod. I regarded him for a long moment, amazed that he could move around so well with that blindfold on.

Turning my attention back to the path, I smiled a little. "I'm Sora."

Silence reigned, but I didn't feel it was too uncomfortable. It was really uncanny, but…there was something strangely natural about the other boy's presence. Like…we had known each other for a long time, and I was looking forward to learning more about this mysterious Phantasm.

Riku.

"Just a little further," I said, taking his hand again to lead him up a flight of steep, curving stairs. He didn't protest, just followed silently, his hand strangely cool in mine.

"To where?" He asked, and I could tell he was relaxing in my company.

"To my tower," I responded simply, pushing open the door at the top of the stairs. "I don't think anyone even knows it's here except Anathasia."

No one will find us tonight.

Riku stopped suddenly, pulling his hand free. "Tower?" He questioned suspiciously.

I sighed and grabbed his hand again. "I'm not going to do anything to you," I said with a hint of indignation. "Besides, you could probably overpower me if you wanted to anyway."

Realizing the truth of my words, he followed me the rest of the way to the room without much reluctance.

Once at the end of yet another hall, this one lit by nothing but the occasional stream of moonlight, I pushed back a heavy tapestry and opened a wooden door, pulling Riku inside with me.

The semi-circular room was lovingly decorated with furnishings of crimson and gold, a warm fireplace at one end and a set of plush armchairs placed around an oak table that sported a checkered playing board. A medium-sized, four poster bed sat opposite, bedded with satin sheets and down blankets.

"This is my favorite room in the manor," I said, flopping down in one of the chairs. The fire was fresh in the hearth, and I wondered how Anathasia knew I was going to be here this evening. "I come here when I don't want anyone to find me."

Having already one hand on the arm of the other chair, Riku also sat down, though not as casually. I couldn't blame him for being tense, considering everything that was happening.

"Why are you…?" He started to ask, but seemed to have trouble voicing what he wanted to say. "I'm a…"

"You're the same as me." I cut in with a small smile, picking up an ivory piece from the game board and playing with it a little. "I mean, just because you're a Phant—"

I bit my lip; 'Phantasm' was such a derogatory term.

"Just because you're Sorthish…we're both humans, right?"

Riku paused, digesting my words. "…most Sols don't think so."

"Well...I think so. And I realized...if Sorthiens ever took Raelius, I could be in the same position as you."

A captive for my enemies. The very thought made me shudder.

"We don't keep slaves in Sorthiel." The boy replied simply. "War prisoners are fed to the wolves."

Yummy. I had heard about the ferocious Sorthish wolves, and the thought was not pleasant at all. Then again, it was probably merciful compared to what we did with our prisoners. It made me question…who the real barbarians were.

There was another moment of the only noise being the crackling hearth, then I finally asked something that had been poking my curiosity ever since the boy arrived.

"Why do you wear that cloth? Are you…blind?"

I could see the faintest glimmer of a smile on Riku's lips, and he shook his head. "No, but my eyes are…sensitive to the light."

Without even giving it a second thought I jumped up, picking up the bucket of water left by the hearth and dousing the flames, extinguishing them completely. The smoldering logs hissed in protest, but the room was instantly cloaked in darkness. Once my own eyes adjusted, though, I saw that the moonlight flowing in from the large window was ample light on its own.

"There." I said, walking back to Riku and stopping in front of his chair. "It's dark now so it should be okay, right?"

He didn't respond, but I leaned down a little to untie the cloth. I could see him shifting…as if he was nervous.

But about what?

The black blindfold dropped to the floor but Riku didn't open his eyes right away. Touching his chin, I tilted his head up so I could get a better look, then smiled a little. His expression was blank, as usual when I looked at him, but he appeared incredibly serene in the moonlight. "Okay, let's see them."

Slowly, his eyes opened. At first they looked unseeing, as if he really was blind, but they slowly focused.

Once more, I was amazed. His irises…they were the most beautiful I had ever seen. No exaggeration, either – they were the most indescribable shade of sea-green, and in the moonlight…they seemed to emit their own luminance, like the eyes of a cat.

I stepped back, giving him space to explore the room. The night had robbed it of almost all color, transforming the rich crimson into the darkest blood, but he didn't seem any less interested in the trappings or the ornate paintings. I watched him, transfixed, and came to the realization that Riku had been deprived of his sight for longer than a couple of days.

"How long…has it been?"

He knew what I meant, but he still paused a little, not turning his attention from a stone bust resting on my mantle. "…I think…about three…"

Three…?

"Months!" I half-exclaimed, half-questioned incredulously, and he turned to look at me, giving me another faint, enigmatic smile.

No, that was wrong.

"Three…years…?" I sank to the floor in disbelief. Three years…without seeing anything, even though his eyes were perfectly fine… "Why…?"

I watched him as he walked around the room, considering how to answer my question.

"During the first battle of the war, my brother and I were captured by Commander Xaldin." He explained softly, stepping towards me. He tried to keep his voice indifferent, but I could detect the note of deep melancholy. "Xaldin threw us in prison, he thought our status would make us valuable hostages. Apparently he was wrong, I didn't see him again until just a couple weeks ago."

I took all this in slowly, nodding a little for him to continue.

"I think he forgot I was there…but when passing by my cage, decided I would make a nice gift for your father." His voice darkened noticeably, and I saw his eyes narrow a bit. I was an empathic person by nature, but I couldn't help feeling a particularly strong sense of despair for Riku.

And anger.

"He's not my father," I snapped, more harshly than I meant. I didn't mean it to come out like that, but…after tonight, I didn't want Riku to associate me so closely with that man. Riku raised a brow in curiosity and I stood up, realizing how late it was and suddenly feeling very tired. And more than a little embarrassed for my sudden outburst.

"I mean…" Pacing the room a little, I pulled off my fancy overcoat and vest and draped them over the back of one of the chairs. "My parents died when I was an infant, and Xehanort adopted me."

I don't even think we share the same blood…

Riku regarded me for a silent moment and I felt strangely self-conscious, fumbling with the buttons of my ruffled dress shirt. I hated these things, they were so itchy and uncomfortable. I could've sworn they were designed to make formal occasions as torturous as possible...

"That explains why you two are nothing alike."

"What?" I voiced, still fighting a losing battle with the intricate buttons, but I realized he was right. Xehanort and I had little, if anything, in common.

The Sorthien sighed a little and walked over to me, taking the button from my fingers and deftly unclasping it. "Hold still." He said sternly, working his way down my shirt, button by button. I let him do it for me, distracted slightly by the way he moved his injured hand. It was obviously still painful for him.

"You Sols really are worthless."

Detecting the teasing note in his voice, I grinned.

"And that's why you Sorthiens feed us to the wolves."

A/N: Yep, okay, chapter two is complete, making this the longest fic I've ever attempted. Sad, isn't it? This chapter is a bit longer than the first, a fact I'm quite proud of. . It took me a little longer than I thought, mostly because I changed my idea halfway through…deciding to let poor Riku keep all his pretty studs. For now. And if anyone is confused about the place names, don't fret, it'll be explained soon.

Thanks to missgoo93 for being my first reviewer! And to Moonyasha and S.A, your enthusiastic comments motivated me to work hard to continue.

Mizuki hikari The principal pairing will be Riku/Sora, I'll try to clarify that in my summary. Thanks for the review!

And thanks to Metallica for composing such an inspiring song as Orion, which I've had on repeat for the duration of writing this chapter. Much luv!

--Bharune