Disclaimer: As ever, Kingdom Hearts isn't my property.

* * *

Ons

* * *

Ramza and Sora felt the presence long before they saw it, and in many ways the waiting made it worse. The black pillar of fire soared and seared, expanding out into an unnatural blaze precluding its maker. On the other side, Quasimodo carefully deposited Esmerelda's body back in his bed before returning to the roof with all the speed his legs could muster, for not even he could ignore this, eyes wide with amazement and fear even as he joined ranks with his friends. "...Frollo?"

For indeed that was the closest resemblance. The floating figure still retained Claude Frollo's large nose, long face and upturned lip, but that was where the similarities ended. The creature that looked so much like the late Minister had been bleached of all colour, his closed eyes a matte black while his flesh was a universally pale death-white. Hair longer and more youthful than Frollo had seen in twenty years draped his shoulders in shimmering silver that would have been attractive under other circumstances.

The fact that he was floating also called further attention to his most noticeable change; magnificent robes in contrasting white and black patterns. Longer and more regal than anything worn in the church or royalty, the one-piece coat draped down for an entire meter past his waist, obscuring his legs... If he had those at all.

"Not-Frollo", Sora corrected him, raising his weapon. "A Nobody, and a powerful one. It looks like his heart was consumed, and his will was strong enough to make one."

"How?", Ramza asked confusedly. "Quasimodo saw him fall; there's no way he could have lived through it, much less created this demon."

"Like it or not, he's back", the hunchback proclaimed, stretching both of his massive hay baler's arms. "But he won't hurt anyone else. I won't allow it."

'Not-Frollo' waited before them, floating aimlessly for several seconds before opening both eyes- white globes without pupils- and twisting its face into an expression of fury. Distorted as though underwater, the voice of its 'past life' was still recognizable: "And ye shall ordeal to destroy all who stand against justice. Victory shall be yours... And ye shall be as Gods."

That wasn't just an imposing taunt, the three of them realized too late. Sorcerer Nobodies were rising up beside Not-Frollo, each one with a white ring over its head that indicated invincibility even as they brought up their barriers to strike with. Wasting no more time, they attacked.

Not-Frollo was not anywhere near as large as many of the Heartless Sora remembered- Nobodies seemed to shy away from the 'bigger is better' approach- but still enough of a target to face strikes in three different places. Quasimodo, placing righteous anger into pummeling fists. Ramza, screaming a battle cry, striking methodically at the spots that would kill a human foe with one grisly strike. Sora, approaching with a practiced confidence and inflicting the most damage of all with the weapon both Nobodies and Heartless were right to fear.

The injuries were genuine, yet still Not-Frollo took several seconds to figure that these strange beings of flesh before him were not just going to sit back and die. When that deduction was made, it raised both hands, releasing a titanic blast of light that blew Quasimodo and Ramza clear even as it burned Sora's flesh like fire.

"The Holyspell", Ramza identified the blast once his comrade had recovered enough to be lucid. "It's not going to just sit still and let us kill it."

"True", Quasi acknowledged, placing his palm to a spot where a Sorcerer had blasted his tunic. "But we did the right thing in rushing him and not the others. Look." He pointed.

Sure enough, the strikes they'd made had taken their toll not only on Not-Frollo. Nearly all the Sorcerers had been affected as well, deprived of the magic rings that kept them alive. Encouraged, Sora raised his key to launch a massive chunk of solid ice, making Not-Frollo flinch and dropping the other minions too.

Acting as though nothing had happened, Not-Frollo raised his arms for another spell, and every injury they'd just given him sealed itself with a pearlescent glow. "Curaja", Ramza identified this spell as well, scowling. "Damn it. Suddenly this just got a lot more complicated."

"Not really", Sora countered smoothly, throwing the Keyblade into the light several times to distract the Nobody for another assault by his comrades. "It's still three against one. Take it from me; Cure spells aren't perfect. We just have to keep beating him down, and he'll eventually tire out." With that, he joined the fray himself, tearing into the creature's chest and releasing another Blizzaga in transit. Not-Frollo's counter of several speedy pillars of light was hard on the eyes, but Sora was more than familiar with such tactics by now and dodged each one flawlessly. To his right, Ramza shouted and slashed into the robes with his own blade, agile enough to keep up with Not-Frollo's evasive moves, yet heavy enough to do some damage even without his armor.

Then Not-Frollo did a peculiar thing. Floating away from his attackers, the Nobody raised one slender hand towards Ramza without any attack resulting; only a scant flash of the eyes indicating anything at all had transpired.

Ramza Beoluve shrieked, this time not the soul-chilling battle cries he had made his habit, but genuine pain as he fell back clutching at his head. Neither of the others believed it to be anything other than a normal attack until Sora, still settling to the ground from a lengthy aerial combination, had to dodge Ramza's descending sword, and barely at that.

"Hey! What are you...?" He trailed off. The Beoluve seemed stretched between pain and madness, occasionally flinching but otherwise totally intent on slashing his former allies to pieces. "Destroy", he whispered feverishly, "Destroy the monsters, destroy the demons!"

Quasimodo still seemed confused, but Sora had seen enough to realize what was happening. "Stick with Not-Frollo!", he shouted over his shoulder at the hunchback. "He's controlling Ramza's mind somehow! I'll keep him off you!" If I can, a niggling doubt spoke to him as he turned the Keyblade against a friend for a second time. I didn't think he'd have so many tricks. How can I snap Ramza out of this without hurting him?

The screaming blond warrior did not seem interested in being 'snapped out of it'. He lunged again and again, giving Sora no time to even look over and see Quasimodo's punches missing nearly every time, or the deadly blasts of light Not-Frollo unleashed against him now. I'm going to regret this later, Sora told himself as he darted about, gathering mental energy for another spell. But there's no other way. Now's not the time to fret about using too much magic, not with our lives at stake.

"Stopga!"

Just in time, his attacker froze in place, the plain sword inches from his neck. Not missing a beat, Sora snatched the sword up and ran for Not-Frollo with both weapons. The floating Nobody had managed to avoid most of Quasimodo's strong but sluggish attacks, but it could not evade a foe as nimble as the Keyblade master. Or perhaps Quasi was still unwilling to put all his strength into attacking something that looked so much like his guardian. Whatever the case, the mistake had been corrected; now Sora laid into Not-Frollo with all haste, recognizing the gathering white light spell the moment it formed.

"Reflega!" The round barrier looked like a collection of tiny mirrors from within it, but in reality it was far stronger, capable of deflecting the Holy spell back to sender even as it shattered, leaving Sora to follow up with swift Keyblade slashes. Fast and deadly, but predictable- Not-Frollo's arm finally caught him in the leg and blew him back to where Ramza had regained normal speed.

All at once, Ramza ran up too fast and kicked Sora down, taking his sword back to bring it to bear on the frightened Quasimodo. Not-Frollo raised his arms, again erasing all the damage in a flash. The one who had caused it gathered his mind again, and knew that he could not repeat what he had just done. They were stuck.

"And ye shall smite the wicked", Not-Frollo repeated to his unwilling servant, not revealing any relish in his face at the situation. "And plunge them into the firey pit!"

* * *

The lucavi were everywhere. No matter much the last Beoluve slashed and hacked at their grotesque forms and wicked faces, no visible culling of their numbers came about. He was all alone now, for once devoutly missing his new found comrades. He could hear their shrieks, cackles of unearthly delight at the chance to taste his flesh.

Seeing a particularly nimble one dodge back, he let out another battle cry, silencing them. Something about that primal release always helped him fight better, though whether it was a mental thing or if it simply stunned his opponents had never been made clear. This time, the demon was a notch too slow, and Ramza's sword left a messy gash across his leg. A larger, muscular demon with spiraling horns and long teeth charged him, foul breath on his neck, and he blocked with the pommel of the blade before kicking him away- he still had the spiky-haired one to deal with.

That demon attempted to vault back to his feet, only to meet Ramza's blade with his own weapon, some kind of twisted-looking sword not unlike the one Delita had carried.

Delita…

He paused for reasons that escaped him a second after, giving the spiky-haired lucavi time to rise and try to grab Ramza's sword from his hands. I don't think so, demon. He cut down sharply at the freak's talons and beat him back with rapid slashes across the mid-length. "Damned creatures. What does it take to drive you back?!"

One of the demons snarled something at him, but he paid it no heed. There was another lucavi coming to his attention now, a female one with shadowed eyes and attractive shape looking every bit like the comely succubus described in stories. It seemed disoriented, not trying to charm him into letting his guard down or even attacking him. Either he'd struck this one before and neglected to finish it off, or there were other heroes stuck fighting this horde of vile demons as well. He'd seen enough of demonic temptresses like Celia and Lede to know not to let this one recover, and ran over to finish the job.

All at once, the large spiral-horned demon was in his face, taking the blade in her place. The blade sank in with an unwholesome squish, and the brute finally fell to the ground, causing the succubus to shriek.

Why? It wasn't like demons had any affection for each other. They existed to corrupt and destroy mortals and nothing more. And yet… This one's cry was unmistakably one of despair. Enough musing. Kill them. Kill them and be done with it. "Back to the pits that spawned you, lucavi."

He raised his blade to strike, and so saved himself with only a glance at it.

There was blood on the blade. Red human blood, not the black sludge he'd become accustomed to seeing from demons. Eyes wide, he stopped again, fully expecting the succubus or one of the other demons to take that moment of weakness to rend him with their claws, but no such blow fell. The succubus snarled something else in the demons' guttural tongue, but made no move to attack, simply cradling the brute in her spiked arms.

And all at once, the illusion began to break down around him. Looking around and seeing only one other demon remaining besides the two before him, Ramza lowered his blade, feeling aggression drain from his hand like so much soup. "I… This isn't…!"

The spiky-haired demon walked over to the brute's body with no sign of threat. Snarling, he raised one hand to emit a sparkle of light. The two seemed to trade conditions- even as the breaches in the big one's flesh restored themselves and he returned to a standing position, the spiky-haired one tumbled to the ground.

"Ramza?" the brute asked tenderly, still weak but for once recognizable, halfway between human and demon. "Are you sane again?"

"Who…? Quasimodo?!"

Before the three were even halfway reverted, their eyes still slitted and yellow and mouths still bristling with fangs, he could make out their true identities now. Esmerelda, Quasimodo, and Sora. The latter two were covered in blood and burn injuries, and Sora had clearly exhausted himself casting the healing spell which had restored Quasimodo to life. Ramza nearly joined him on the floor, knees threatening to give way entirely as he grasped what he'd almost done. Grasped what he'd been doing.

God forgive me, I've nearly killed three of my friends tonight. Or, might the previous reality be the true one all along?

It didn't take a noble-level education to figure out who had gotten into his head and created that unbelievably realistic illusion of slavering demons. Screaming in vengeful anger, Ramza turned on the only possible guilty party, his outrage matched by Not-Frollo's own fury at having his control thrown off. "You tricked me once", the warrior's grated out while charging, his voice for once devoid of the compassion that everyone claimed slowed him down against most opponents, "never again. Now you die."

For all the dramatics, this didn't work out quite as he'd hoped. He got only two slashes in on the powerful Nobody before familiar pillars of light appeared to burn him, often too fast for anyone but Sora to avoid. A follow-up blast of light would have knocked him clean off the tower if Quasimodo hadn't jumped to full-body catch him. "We can't defeat him separately", the hunchback whispered in his ears tersely. "Our hearts have to be in alignment. It's the only way we'll be able to resist his illusions."

Seeing he'd lost him, the bell ringer raised one eye to Ramza's, the large misshapen one, to try and get his point across. "Rememberus, master Beoluve. Or if not us, then those you are closest to."

Skeptical, but willing to try anything to avoid a repeat performance, Ramza knelt and concentrated, keeping one eye on the floating nightmare they still had to bring down. Contrary to belief, war had not yet robbed him of the ability to feel compassion for others. It was as much as surprise to him as anyone else that he could also feel it for his enemies. Even Frollo had been innocent once, before being consumed with darkness just as any human could, Delita being the prime example in his life.

Delita… Alma… Zalbag… and even Dycendarg. Wherever you all are, I hope you are safe.

Staunch and calm, he charged with Quasimodo, taking the Nobody across the hem of its robes where its knees should have been. More rays of light slammed home, but he and the hunchback soaked them up with a grim tolerance.

Angered further still, Not-Frollo turned its attention back to Quasimodo, gesturing in the same way it had before. Mayhap it had only been his imagination, but then he'd witnessed stranger things; Ramza swore he could actually see traces of the illusion being forced into the hunchback's mind, intended to turn him against his comrades just as it had Ramza.

He was surrounded by everyone he knew, each one not distorted into an evil-looking demon this time, but instead enhanced into more handsome and luridly beautiful versions of themselves. All of them laughed mockingly, deriding Quasi as little more than an animal; the torture of the Feast of Fools cranked up to eleven, made all the worse because Sora, Esmerelda, and he himself were among those pointing and laughing. As if he could ever be the same as them. As if Esmerelda could ever love such a pathetic, malformed wretch. He could never belong. He was a monster, meant to be sealed away forever. Just like the Tonnsectere.

Not this time. Even with eyes closed and head aching like he'd gone on a drinking binge, the hunchback ultimately shook the illusion off, clearing his head of his waking nightmares. Five seconds after, he buried fists in white robes anew, striking his tormentor in the head. Following his lead, Ramza reopened the Keyblade wounds Not-Frollo's cure spells had fixed.

Incensed further still, the Nobody unleashed another wave of burning light to blast both men away to the edge of the rooftop. He'd raised his hands to follow up with another healing spell when a Keyblade came flying into his face. Disappearing, it returned to the outstretched hand of its sender, still battered and weary but grinning at the successful surprise attack.

"Sora!" Ramza couldn't help but cry out in shocked relief. "I thought you were finished!"

"For a while", the youth replied cheekily. "Then Roxas woke me up. Besides, we're not done yet."

Never mind who 'Roxas' was. Now their foe was gesturing, attempting to seize control over the one who had been doing him the most harm.

Unfamiliar with the spiky-haired boy's career, Ramza could not say for sure what the illusion was this time, only that it was compelling enough to paralyze the Keyblade Master with indecision for ten whole seconds before he opened his blue eyes again... And laughed. "Nice try. Maybe in a hundred years of that you could convince me to attack my friends. But I wouldn't count on it. It's over. You're going down."

Following the boy's lead, the other two stood and faced Not-Frollo as a single entity. Sora threw off the false hatreds and enmities it tried to poison their teamwork with. Quasimodo kept on their minds their purpose here on this ruined bell tower, of the great destructive potential of their foe if ever he escaped. Ramza brought forth his knowledge of charm magicks and how their various forms could be used to turn allies upon each other in battle.

Perhaps they imagined the brief look of fear flitting across the face of the thing that had once been a man. Perhaps not. They certainly did not imagine the titanic sphere of light it desperately brought up to separate them, striking Ramza with the brunt of it so he was finally unable to rise up, only able to watch as it faced down his two comrades. His chest and head burned numbly, but he did not turn his gaze for a second.

"This is going to be close." Sora admitted grimly upon seeing some of the larger injuries on Not-Frollo diminish, but not disappear. He was, as ever, a fountain of optimism, but even he sounded as though he was about to collapse from exhaustion now. "One more good blow might do it, but I noticed he's too quick for you."

"Yes", the hunchback replied lamely. "I'm sorry, but I'm just not as fast as you two, and he keeps flying around. Maybe I should just try to block him for you. I can take it."

Idly dodging several light pillars- this time without getting hit once- he shook his head. "I have a better idea. Can you give me a ride?"

Quasi's thick brow rose, but he did not hesitate long. "O-of course. What are you going to do, Sora?"

Noticing Ramza's pained stare, Sora smiled. Not the innocent smile of the carefree child who had played in the sands with Riku and Kairi way back when, but the unstoppable warrior who had saved the Worlds from darkness twice over. "Teach him a lesson about teamwork. Just hold on tight, okay?"

Taking advantage of a break in attacks, he climbed atop the hunchback's wide frame, and raised the Keyblade to the burning skies. "Now! Let's fly together! Bellringer!"

Of all the many impossible sights Ramza had seen in Notre Dame, this one might have been the most incredible. With a brief flicker of light the two rose into the air, a pastiche of Keyblade, wielder, and muscled hunchback on the bottom. Floating up to Not-Frollo's level suspended on the blade, they began to swing.

Quasimodo did not catch on immediately, but when he did his fists laid into what remained of his old master with renewed energy. Back and forth and back and forth they swung, a gigantic chime that brought a mighty blow with every ring. The slow but powerful strikes of the hunchback hit home every time, even stronger than the Keyblade Master's, dodging increasingly feeble counterattacks with the best of Sora's agility.

"And ye... Shall be... As Gods..."

Finally, Not-Frollo had had enough. No longer able to heal itself, control one of them, or do anything else to stop the nonstop barrage, it faltered. A final ring knocked it back towards a tower edge, and a finishing slash from Sora across the top portion knocked it clean off the roof, exploding even as it fell. Ramza could even feel a brief surge and extinguishment of darkness as it died. Across the way, the two warriors slumped to the ground, breathing heavily.

Ten seconds after, Sora stood. "Phew… One more time, then. Curaga!"

Rising up with half-closed injuries, Ramza beheld the younger man with a new-found respect. He'd seen stronger attacks, but not many, and certainly none that made enough of an impact to sound like a heavy bell chime with every strike, or involved two people working in tandem. Truly, this boy has a remarkable talent for synchronizing with his allies, not to mention a talent for making said allies in the first place.

"Here", Esmerelda called to them, rushing over, ironically having regained enough strength to be in the best shape among them. "Let me see. I might be able to do something about those."

"It's fine", Ramza insisted, brushing her off and ignoring the pain. "Sora needs it worse than I do. Without his healing magicks we would have died for certain. Sir Sora, I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for letting him control me that way."

"It's fine", the younger man repeated back to him. "If it makes you feel any better, he almost did that to me too."

Helping the hunchback to his feet, the Beoluve scoffed, recognizing a well-meaning lie. "But youdidn't go around attacking us. I almost slew the lady Esmerelda. I nearly cut our friend Quasimodo in half. I am… dishonoured."

Sora blinked, not sure what to make of that. Ramza was again reminded that he came from a world where things like 'honour' and matters of the soul were not mentioned much. "Perhaps I should be apologizing to the lady, instead."

"Think nothing of it", the woman he'd been tricked into believing was a succubus replied curtly, sounding better all the time but still refusing to look directly at Ramza. "I saw what he was doing to each of you. Old trick. Something the original was very good at."

Ramza coughed, realizing what she meant. He'd certainly born witness to many people in his World who had the vocal eloquence needed to trick other people into fighting each other, even if none could do so as forcefully. "All the same, you have my eternal contrition, milady."

Chuckling at his fancy, she winked at him before trying to restore Sora to walking condition. None of them were willing to elaborate on why they were refusing to look him in the eye, so preoccupied with recovering from the battle and returning to the city square that a less observant or self-aware warrior would not have noticed.

Ramza Beoluve did, though. He could not help it. There was one injury no spell would remove; something had happened on this day to drive an invisible wedge between himself and his comrades, and only heaven knew when it would go away.

* * *

To Sora, the rest of that day seemed to blow by in no time.

Kept in makeshift cots fashioned in the square to treat the injured from the battle, he drifted in and out of sleep in the campsite, each time presented with news from Clopin or Esmerelda or someone else of how things were progressing. A large-scale reconstruction was already in the offering, with a number of carpenters and stonemasons summoned by the request of ex-Captain Jacques du Salera. More importantly, letters had been dispatched to the king of France informing him of the current situation, and thus the word would spread, inviting those who had fled Notre Dame back to their rightful home.

He'd initially had trouble adapting to this sedate, unstructured lifestyle, and then come to wonder why that was. It wasn't as though Destiny Islands had been a bastion of discipline, he mused, remembering a time when Tidus and Wakka had set off fireworks in one of the shops. Only the adults and Riku had said anything at all about it, yet now he felt like the one who should have addressed it.

"It has been a long two years of fighting demonic creatures", Ramza Beoluve consoled him when asked about it, only now recovered enough to walk normally again. "Even if you've never once killed a human, or anything other than Nobodies or Heartless, the way of the battlefield has already made its effects known upon you. Your body rebels against lying still when there are people in need of your help, regardless of how exhausted you are both physically and mentally. I have felt it, too. We're just made that way."

Rejecting the notion at first, he shook his head, still not looking directly at him out of unconscious habit. "I never wanted this", he protested faintly. "When I got back home with Riku, I never wanted to go out again and destroy more Heartless. Believe me, I'd had enough of that."

"Not until your home faced a new threat?" the youngest Beoluve reasoned simply, palming his sword against his mail glove. "Can you honestly say you did not feel even the slightest bit of satisfaction at being able to use the Keyblade to help people once again? That weapon was not meant to remain there in peace forever, I am sure."

He sighed, swinging idly in the cot as a horse and wagon with relief supplies came by. Ramza always made things so complicated whenever they talked. It was frustrating sometimes. "I don't know what 'satisfacting' means, but even if I didn't need it to travel between Worlds now, I can't just pass it on", he explained helplessly. "It never leaves me, just disappears whenever I don't need it. Here, try holding it."

Sheathing his own weapon, Ramza took the large key with predictable results, having it vanish and reappear in Sora's hand a moment later. "I see what you mean", the blond boy said. "I've never seen a weapon like that before. You have no clue as to who or what created it?"

"None. It just came to me when I first met the Heartless, and I went on from there. No, wait…" his eyes narrowed, flashing back to a particularly bad memory. "There was just one time when it left me, and went to Riku for a while. I'm not sure why, but back then it looked like he was the real Keyblade Master."

Understanding there was no way they would figure out the Keyblade's many mysteries with such little information, Ramza took a moment to help an injured peasant before returning to Sora's tent. "I denied it too, when I first realized it, sir Sora. But I could not deny my aptitude for battle, nor the fact that going long periods without a foe to face made me itch. You and I, we are the same. Brilliant young swordsmen who don't actually like to fight, yet we've both seen enough bloodshed to feel like a part of us is missing without it."

The Keyblade Master waited, not sure what to say to that. One of those rare moments when he stopped to look back on what he'd done in the past, and marveled. For all the power of the Keyblade helping him, it was he who had truly defeated both Nobodies and Heartless that no one else could, creatures of unfathomable power, not to mention a host of villains with hearts blackened with malice enough to direct them. Shan Yu, Hook, Jafar, Barbossa… Xehanort. Twice. And now Claude Frollo could be added to that formidable list, all without including the ones who weren't human.

Not that he'd regretted defeating those ones any less. They'd made their choices in full knowledge of the evil they directed, allowing the darkness in their own hearts to dominate them. But to the unfamiliar, his own skills and powers might seem just as monstrous. He could even feel Ramza's fear of his power; faint, but there.

Ramza was leaving, but now Sora clasped his hands on his gloved arm. "I meant what I said before. I use the Keyblade to help people. Nothing else. And if you're itching for another fight that bad, then just wait a few more days."

"La Tonnsectere", Ramza guessed, chuckling dryly as he strode from the tent. "Clopin told me. Till then, my friend."

And so at last, Sora slept.

* * *

My Sanctuary

Yeah...

* * *

M: My virus problems aside, such a long fight scene took forever to write. Hopefully it was worth it. I have some other issues to deal with right now, but should update again within the next two weeks. Please review.