Chapter Twenty-Eight
Axel agrees to let me go see my brother on the condition he goes with me. Not having a problem with this suggestion, I immediately agree. We set off in the morning, having to take the train to get to Radiant Gardens. I'm shocked when we get off the train. If I thought Traverse Town was a mess, it's nothing compared to what's become of Radiant Gardens. It's definitely not very radiant anymore. The buildings and homes are all dilapidated, the streets are dirty, and none of the passerby will look up at anyone else. There are people of all ages in the streets, sleeping, wearing rags, begging for change. I furrow my brow, very upset.
"At the first sign of things getting sour, we leave," Axel mutters. I smile weakly up at him, feigning nonchalance, and nod. On the inside, I'm freaking out. I haven't actually thought about what I want to say or what I should do. I'm going in blind.
A shiver runs down my spine as we reach the gates to the castle. A guard asks us our business there, and I don't recognize him. Of course you don't. All the guards you knew are dead. I shiver again and let Axel do the talking, per our agreement.
"We need to speak with the king, if his majesty will allow."
"Pertaining?" the guard asks. Axel's eyes slide to me and the guard's follow.
"Tell him it's a … family matter," Axel drawls. Comprehension dawns on the guard's face momentarily.
"Of course. I'll return shortly with his answer," he says, not taking his eyes from me before turning to walk into the castle. I fiddle nervously with the edges of my sleeves.
"You okay?" Axel asks. I nod.
"Nervous. I haven't thought of what I'm going to say," I explain.
"We could always turn around and leave right now," Axel suggests lightly, and I glare at him.
"Not happening," I say. He goes silent. It feels like a century before the guard comes back. Even Axel had started to get impatient. The guard unlocks the gate.
"His majesty will see you. Follow me, please," he says, beckoning us forward. I gulp nervously and follow behind him. Looking at the immaculate lawn makes my stomach clench. The images of the mangled guards strewn about causes me to pale. We pass into the main foyer, and my eyes slide towards the living room. There are no signs of it, but I can still see my parents' bodies, the blood splattered on the wall. My breath catches, and my hands start shaking.
As we continue through the castle, I try to steel myself for whatever's about to happen, but I can't seem to stop the quivering in my legs as we stop outside the main throne room.
"It'll be fine," Axel says, but I can't tell if he's try to reassure me or himself. The guard throws the double doors open and steps aside to grant us entry. Hesitantly, I walk into the room with Axel, and the doors shut behind us momentarily. I clench my fists tightly and head deeper into the room at a quick pace, keeping my eyes trained forward. I stop at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne, Axel just a few feet behind me, and lift my eyes to my brother.
My heart skips, my stomach drops, and I want to cry. He looks exactly as I remember, his sandy hair still in that stupid half-mullet-half-mohawk style. His eyes still bright blue and swimming with an expression I'm sure mirrors mine. We have the same bone structure, and it always gave him a bit of a feminine looking face. After staring at one another for a moment, he finally breaks the silence.
"I-Iris," he mutters softly. It's like he can't believe his eyes.
"Demyx," I whisper. I try for a smile. "Me-Me." The nickname causes him to start slightly, and he looks pained.
"Why did you come here, Iris?" he asks, his voice quivery.
"I need answers," I say strongly. "I've been told that you had our parents killed and had me and Lars kidnapped so you could take over the throne. People say you're supporting all these terrible policies and laws." My voice is gaining even more strength as the ridiculousness of the situation sets in. I grin slightly. "None of that can be true, right? You must've gotten a burst of courage and fought off those attackers, right? You took over because no one else was around to. You haven't done any of those things people are saying," I say. He's looking at me stonily, though. He's not speaking or telling me how right I am. He's just staring at me, his eyes swimming with emotions I can't place. "Me-Me? I'm right, aren't I? Y-You didn't get rid of all of use to get to the throne…right?" I ask, silently begging for him to answer me with that goofy grin of his. He doesn't, and fear starts coiling in me. "Demyx! Please, answer me!" I say loudly, starting to panic.
"Iris," he starts out softly. "You shouldn't have-"
"Answer me, Demyx! You answer me right now!" I shout. A guard steps forward, but he dismisses them with a raised hand.
"You don't know what it was like," he dead-pans. "You don't know what it was like for me, the only male child in the family to be denied the throne. I mean, it's supposed to go to the firstborn son, but that's not how mom and dad saw it. No, they didn't leave it to their firstborn son or even their firstborn child; they planned to have you inherit the kingdom. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have what should be your birthright given to your baby sister?" He finishes with a glare at me. There's something in his voice and expression, though…something wrong.
"Demyx," I start carefully. "You never wanted to rule. You said so yourself."
"And what else was I supposed to say? If I had said anything at all, it would've been whiny. Everyone in the family and the surrounding villages thought you ruling the kingdom after mom and dad seemed like a great idea. Sweet, gentle, diplomatic, strong-willed Iris. Everything about you screamed ideal ruler, and everyone knew it. Sometimes, you have to do whatever it takes to get what's yours," he says in the same tone as before.
"No," I say, narrowing my eyes. "No, you tried to hide me that night. You tried to keep me safe."
"Some people are good at acting, Iris," he says while fixing me with a very intense stare.
"Are you acting right now, Demyx?" I whisper with a glare. He holds my gaze a moment longer before signaling to the guards.
"Remove them," he orders. I'm shocked; this is not supposed to be happening. I lunge up the steps to get to my brother and grab onto his hand.
"Demyx," I whisper quickly, intently. "What's really happening, Demyx? I know you can't be behind all this, so tell me who is. Let me help you, Me-Me." A guard rips me from him, but I keep my eyes on his, searching. I find nothing.
"You don't know the first thing about me," he answers apathetically. Rage courses through my veins.
"This is my kingdom, Demyx! Do you hear me? It's mine, and you can be damn sure I will be on that throne!" I shout, fighting against the guard holding me. The guards almost have me and Axel out of the room when something strikes me. "Where's Lars, Demyx? Demyx, where's Larxene?" I yell. He bites his bottom lip, but doesn't answer me.
"Well, that went better than I thought it would," Axel grumbles. "You're alive." I'm not paying attention to him, though. I'm glaring down into my beef stew as though it holds the answers I'm looking for. We're sitting at a little café in town for a bite to eat before getting back on the train. My mind is too frazzled to eat, though.
"Something's not right," I say quietly.
"What? Your stew not hot enough?" Axel asks. I glare up at him.
"It's not the stew. I'm talking about Demyx," I hiss. Axel sighs.
"Iris, you came in, heard him confirm everything I told you. It's time to let it go."
"But that's the thing, Axel; he didn't confirm anything. He never once said that yes, he had our parents killed. He talked circles around my actual questions. And I don't know if you noticed, but everything he said seemed very…"
"Forced?" he offers, and I nod.
"Yeah, forced. Rehearsed, even," I mumble.
"I noticed," Axel says grumpily.
"Someone else is behind all of this. Someone's controlling him to run the kingdom themselves… Someone's…" I falter, trying to find the words. The waitress, a dumpy little old woman comes over to fill up my water glass even though I've barely touched it.
"Bullying him?" the waitress suggests. I snap my eyes up to hers. Her familiar face fixes me with a significant stare before walking away.
"Bullying him," I repeat, surprised how correct the phrase feels. I furrow my eyebrows. I don't want to think about this anymore. No, the voice in my head starts. You just don't want to think about the possibilities behind it.
The voice is right; I really don't.
