I don't own anything associated with Kingdom Hearts. It belongs to Square Enix/Disney.
Opportunities
The moonlight shone through Aqua's window, illuminating the side of her face as she slept. From there, it spilled onto the wooden floor, growing dimmer the closer it got to the opposite wall, finally vanishing as it met the tip of a boot. Crouched in the shadows, Vanitas watched the steady rise and fall of Aqua's chest, muscles coiled in anticipation.
He'd had a good day. While releasing the unversed in Neverland, he'd come across a certain blond boy. Not only did he proceed to beat the living daylights out of Ventus, but he'd managed to hint that Aqua had betrayed him. Laughing, he'd left the useless apprentice properly freaked out and teleported away.
However, while fighting Ventus, Vanitas' eyes had been drawn to one thing: the Wayfinder. That, and its two brothers, had been created by Aqua, and anyone with a brain knew how precious it used to be to her. It may still be important to her. Whether it was or not, Vanitas couldn't let her keep it. It was symbolic of her friends, of her past and as long as he had it his way, Aqua would have zero opportunities to discover her roots.
Some tiny part of him felt odd, but he ignored it.
He approached and peeled back the covers. The Wayfinder rested on the bed next to her, chained to the links of a necklace. He hadn't seen that before; she must have bought it today. With quick, nimble fingers, he reached around and undid the clasp, working the Wayfinder loose. The glass was warm from the heat of her body, and he could feel it even after it was buried deep in his pocket.
He slipped out of the room and perched atop the roof. Smirking, he twirled the Wayfinder between his fingers, and it cast a bright blue reflection on the shingles. She hadn't even stirred. He wondered if she didn't wake because she was a sound sleeper, or because she had sensed and trusted him.
Trust. What an amusing part of their relationship.
He should smash this worthless piece of glass. Whatever magic lay in it, he was sure that it wouldn't survive a two-story drop. He held it up over the edge, between his thumb and his index finger. It swayed back and forth, almost hypnotizing, begging him to spare it.
He held it there for much longer than he should have. Some part of him was retreating from the idea of smashing it, and he didn't know why.
So, before he actually became worried about these abnormal feelings, he justified it. The Wayfinder meant everything to Aqua. If she regained her memories and found out that he destroyed it, it might push her over the edge, and he counted on her ingrained kindness to defeat her. Destroying the Wayfinder would be counterproductive.
He didn't know what he was going to do with it, but he would figure something out.
The next morning, he watched, expressionless, as Aqua frantically searched.