Disclaimer: Neither Trilies or AnakhaSilver on Deviantart own any of the characters in the following fic save for the original characters Rise and Malachi, who only get brief mentions. This is made for fun and enjoyment of the series, not for profit. The plot is also ours.

Author's Notes: Uh oh.... The news is out... What does this mean for Aerith? The apprentices? And Xehanort most of all...

Yet another part from dearest Ana. Thank the nice writer who deals with the crazy muses, everyone!

FamilyTies-Xehanort'sSide-2


Music fills the air of the dark room in the castle, an old phonograph playing a velvet melody. The silver-haired man happily dusts off the shelves and the counters, dull gold eyes flickering to the doll over in the corner. A wide grin tugs at his lips, and he pauses.

"Did you know, Rise," he begins, all too casually for one speaking to an inanimate object, "that Aerith is with child?"

At the moment he mentions it, his smile darkens. The rag is put down as he walks over to the doll. He gently pulls the doll up into his arms, and begins to waltz with it. A mad dance, punctuated by the humming and plotting of the strange man.

"I went to see her today. I knew there was something off about her lately, but I never expected this…" he whispers, holding the doll to him and running slender fingers through silver hair. It's a gentle but deranged action, for he is treating the doll like a person.

"Aeleus is gaining a bright future… A woman who will be an adoring wife, a child on the way, he's moved up to an apprentice from just being a simple guard…" he says, setting the doll back in place. He's holding a glass ball yet, an old award for something.

"Yes, the perfect life is in store for him…"

Suddenly, he turns around, slamming the glass award into a wall. It leaves a visible dent there, and the thing shatters. His face is twisted, contorted with rage. There are so many things running through his mind, and he's just…

"…He gets everything, and I lose it all." Xehanort laughs, resting a hand across his forehead. There's a slightly insane edge to it, but he hardly notices. No, he just sits down at his little desk, mapping things out.

"One day, Rise. One day, we'll be together again. And then, together, we'll find Malachi."

It's a promise, one can tell by the softness and sadness in his face. He wants so badly to keep it, to hold the flesh and blood woman in his arms again instead of a lifeless doll.

"…I simply need to unlock the secrets of the heart."

He begins to draw now, complicated equations on white paper. Nothing makes sense. They always deal with hearts full of memories and experiences. What they need is a blank heart, but no technology exists yet to wipe a heart of everything.

…Wait. Blank? Eyes shoot up to the photograph on the desk, one of all the apprentices plus Aerith, Rise and a few others. His eyes linger on Aerith, and his mind turns to her situation at hand.

"…Yes, of course. A blank slate…" he whispers to himself, a maddened grin stretching across his face.

"How could I have been so blind?" he asks himself with a laugh. He hides his face with his hand, laughing lightly. He's got it. And so, he begins to draw out plans on the tests he'll want to perform.

~*~

Why is he doing this again? Oh, yes, something about short straws. He's not sure why he expected anything different. He's always drawing the short straw, which is technically a statistical impossibility… But he'll rant on that later. He's arrived.

Even Marling stares at the door to Xehanort's room, blanking. What should he say or do? He's never dealt with anything like this. He was never particularly close with his family, really, so there's no real sense of loss. In fact, he's rather glad to be away from them. Still, he drew the short straw.

So, he knocks once. Twice. …Nothing. Nothing at all. There's nothing. A third knock. …Still nothing. What the heck is going on? Norty hardly leaves his room… Which is bothersome itself, but now that he's not answering?

Fearing the worst, Even braces himself as he opens the door. What he finds both relieves and disturbs him. Xehanort is nowhere inside, but the walls are, instead, plastered up with sheets of paper outlining what he can only guess are experiments.

But worst of all is lying on the bed, like some fairytale princess awaiting her true love's kiss or something. An exact look-alike of Rise, down to every last detail. It's a rather disturbing thing, and so he tries to ignore it, instead turning his mind to the plans. Those will likely be less disturbing.

…

Or he could be wrong about that.

The only reason he finishes going through these is to confirm his own fears: that Xehanort has finally gone mad. Really, he's sure it would have happened eventually, but this is just… It's a tad too far.

He has to tell someone, has to bring this to the attention of Master Ansem. He turns to leave, and gets halfway to the door when he freezes. Said door has just opened, and yellow-orange eyes are staring at him in a bewildered fashion.

Immediately, he senses danger. But at the moment, he's not going to give a damn. This is crossing the line. And, really, he's not about let Xehanort destroy himself like this. Once you cross the line, there's no going back.

"How much did you see?" the silveret asks in a daze, taking a few steps forward. Even backs up a few paces, blinking a few times. Tough situation. Lie and say he saw nothing, or tell the truth and get out unscathed?

But his hesitance speaks for him, and within moments, he suddenly finds fingers wrapped around his neck. He's picked up off the floor, thrown across the room to land on the bed beside that damned creepy doll. He sputters a bit, eyes wide.

He's always known Xehanort to have superhuman strength, but he never expected it to be turn on him. Thousands upon thousands of scenarios run through his mind, none of them good for him. And it's in the midst of these calculations that he finds those slender, dark fingers gripping around his neck once more.

All of his air supply is cut off in one move.

"You will tell no one." Xehanort hisses, something almost bestial about the way he speaks. There's a low growl to his voice, and his eyes speak of danger.

Even immediately fears for his life, which is something he never expected. He claws at the hands holding his neck, gasping for breath, but they only grip tighter—threatening to snap his neck like a twig and oh light he's going to die and Xehanort's going to murder him and then no one will be able to save the poor child and poor Aeleus and—

The fingers loosen, and he's left to curl up with fingers rubbing at his aching neck. This is going to bruise, he just knows it, but he's not going to spill—no, there had been murderous intent in those orange eyes. He treasures his life, thank you very much.

At least alive, he can work to subtly counteract this madman.

Parting Notes: In some fanfiction, there might be a request or a raise of hands type of scenario where we'd ask you what would happen next. Does Even succeed in thwarting Xehanort? Does Aeleus find out due to secret messages? Does Aerith beam Xehanort in the face with a rake? Or does Xehanort accomplish his nefarious schemes?

...This is not one of those fanfiction. You'll just have to wait for the next chapter, dear reader! Until then, thank you for reading thus far! Reviews are adored, but not mandatory.