Roxas hurries down the hall, Roxas' mind racing. He tries to think of all of the hidden rooms or safe places tucked away in corners of the estate but he can't remember any. He has always been a rambunctious boy, and curious too. If there is any, he would've known.
Unless Cloud added more, that is, Roxas thinks. With five years of secret war, he would've had plenty of time to build and remodel.
His path leads him to the dining hall, which looks naked with the empty chairs, covered table, and unlit chandelier. Then shouts of guards grow loud from down the hall. Alerted. Of course, because Roxas isn't even trying to be sneaky.
Then the bare wall next to him, basically dissolved. What should have been solid stone crumbled and curled, red smoke wafting off it. Inside is a room of which he has no memory. The walls are grey plaster, undecorated and leading further into the mansion. Filling the room are more than twenty cloaked members, armored with plate mail and swords. Capes emblazoned with their guild sigil – Serpents, Sharks, Shadow – covers their backs.
Roxas snarls and draws his dagger and sword, and lunges the men. The loyal guild members attempt to flood into the room, but they are quickly held back at the narrow exit. Those in front battle with Roxas, but their movements are slow compared to the grace of Roxas' movements. Instead of struggling with the numbers of twenty against one, his daggers slice through the mail as if it is butter. The metal sings and sears, staining with blood seconds after, helpless against Roxas' skills.
He holds strong, but he's pushing back a river with only daggers. Seven die at his feet, but the rest press forward, shoving aside their dying comrades. As the cloaked men spread out to surround him, the young assassin flips back and away, his body curling around sword strikes as if his bones are made of water.
Roxas grabs one of the many small black balls – about the size of a marble – and slams it to the ground and up erupts smoke. Roxas covers his nose with the collar of his shirt and sprints down the hall. Looking back he can see the men's skin already blooming with red welts and their coughing becomes dry and they start to gasp. A rouge cloak of dark green comes charging down the hall and Roxas skids to an immediate halt and rams his shoulder into the man's chest. He heaves and Roxas whirls around and drives his bloodied dagger into the man's sternum. As he collapses to the floor, Roxas snatches the man's cloak and wraps it around his shoulder, drawing the hood. Roxas then takes the body and hauls it at and through one of the many windows and waits until he hears the crack of pavement before moving on.
Looking out the row of the windows, his heart shudders at the sight. Pouring through the front gates in frightening numbers are various knights, dressed in shining armor with the emblem of the King on their tabards. How?! Why?! Roxas' feels his heart thrum like a jackrabbit caught in the sights of his predator. He thought he had everything accounted for, but this sudden attack of the King's knights is so, abrupt. Why are they here? Roxas can only assume that they are here for the recent, episode in the Square, thinking that the guilds have picked their time to strike. Roxas' stolen cloak will offer him temporary protection from the other guild members, but the King's guards is another story. No doubt they will be shooting at any sign of cloak. And then there's the matter of Roxas' bounty still out there, probably increased by his father by now. Whatever his punishment would have been for the murder of the guards, Roxas realizes that his attempt to escape and supplant his father will increase tenfold.
Roxas is not safe.
Screams soon chase him down the hall. Escape is all that matters now, he realizes. There will be no grab for power, no careful bartering for his life. The thought of returning to his father spurs him. He reaches the grand staircase and looks behind him. No one had come in peruse yet.
Glass shatters, and Roxas drops to one knee, covering his head and grunting as shards of it cuts across his face. He feels arms wrap around his body. Roxas screams and speedily rams his head back and feels it crash against the metal surface of a helmet. The hard material rattles and Roxas wrenches himself loose enough that he can raise one arm up and wrap it around the head of whoever is holding him, and placing his foot on the inside of his assailant's, he flips the metal-geared man over him and just as he hits the floor, slams his foot into the man's head.
Without stopping, Roxas immediately sprints down the hallway, the cloak being too big for him, flaps behind him, the front of it rippling and Roxas fears he will trip. At the second shattering of glass, Roxas halts abruptly and ducks into the nearest hallway closet. This time he can see the cause. Armored guards stand before the windows, swinging enormous mauls that easily bash through the glass and layer the carpet with shards. Soldiers flow in through the unguarded windows. Roxas feels torn between relief and worry. Relief because the King's involvement would certainly prevent his father's plans of takeover from going as they should. Worry because they'd kill him just as easily as any other member of the thief guilds.
Well, maybe not as easily, Roxas thinks with a wry smile. His daggers in hand, he waits until the men have passed by his hiding spot before quietly climbing out and bolting deeper into the mansion. If there is any hope of escape, he'd have to take Vanitas by the hair and find it in the back sections. If he is lucky, they might slip out through an unwatched window, as he has when fleeing the Oblivion's mansion.
Roxas is too fast for the initial wave in the hallway to catch him, but as he bursts through the door at the end he find himself in the middle of an armory. Three soldiers approach, their shields ready. Roxas rolls to one side, lashing underneath the shield at the closest guard's ankle. His dagger strikes armor and clinks off, doing no damage. When his roll ends, Roxas kicks hard, leaping into the very center of the three. They turn on him, but their shields are large and the room small. Roxas twirls like a dancer, his dagger punching through creases in armor. He jumps, kicks off a shield, and slams into the chest of another. As they roll to the ground Roxas' dagger cuts into the man's neck, once, twice, three times. Blood splatters across his face once more.
The other two soldiers, their arms and legs bleeding from several deep cuts, try to stab Roxas as he lies there. Their blades strike air. Roxas rolls off and onto his knees, then kicks back. He slides between the remaining two, and this time his daggers find open spots just above their greaves. To make sure they stay down, Roxas twists his daggers when he pulls them out. One dead and two others crumpled to the ground, Roxas runs out of the armory and into a corridor.
Recognizing where he is, Roxas hurries to the end and kicks open the door. He has entered the library, or at least one end of it. Sheathing his daggers, he closes and braces the doors sternly. Without caring who else could be in the room, and even with Vanitas' still unable to reply, Roxas takes a few steps out from under the awning of the upper floor and calls out.
"Vanitas!" he calls. Roxas lowers his hood and keeps his hand on his gun. The only thing he misses about his cloak is that is conceals his movements and leaves his intentions unpredictable to his enemies. "Vanitas!"
The sound of patting footsteps on the stairs makes Roxas whirls around and he finds Vanitas with one hand on the railing, the other holding the strap of Roxas' hunting bag, now stuffed with thick stack of papers and books. His neck is free of the collar from the hospital, but still his neck has deep purple and blue bruising like Terra predicted. Roxas winces as the ugly purple and black bruising spreading like decaying blossoms across his neck. Whether his voice still is able for usage is still left to be decided.
"Oh, Vanitas." Roxas breathes in relief as he bounds up the steps and wraps Vanitas up in a hug, careful not to spill the papers and books. His eyes widen at the blood on Roxas' face and the dark cloak that seems out of place for him given it's not his usual color. Roxas quickly checks to make sure that nothing is more out of place and once he's sure nothing else on Vanitas is broken, Roxas gives him an angry shake. "What were you thinking?!" Vanitas is about to reply when Roxas stops him with an open palm. "You know what, skip it. We need to get out of here."
"I needed to make sure I had all of your dad's information on the Faceless." Vanitas explains. His voice is hoarse and rough, possibly a little bit deeper than Roxas remembers.
Roxas whirls around and gives surprised glare. "How are you talking?! Terra said you weren't supposed to talk for another two days."
"Zexion injected me with a healing serum just before four o'clock. It's working pretty good."
"Your throat displays otherwise. But enough, we need to get going." Roxas says as he readies to take Vanitas' wrist. In protest, Vanitas digs his heels into the floor.
"Not yet."
Fury quickly coursing through him, Roxas' voice booms around the large space. "Vanitas this isn't the time for arguments! And since I know you can, that automatically makes you invalid." He yells. "The King's guards are here and they are killing every living, cloaked figure they see. And you've already endangered your life by coming back here!"
"Every ounce of information we can gather will be useful in the longrun!" Vanitas shouts, his voice cracking making his argument less valid.
Roxas shushes him and tries to calm his voice so that it doesn't provoke Vanitas to shout back. "Look, our time is very, very minimal right now. So just gather what you can, and let's go."
Vanitas nods and turns, motioning Roxas to follow him. Rolling his eyes impatiently, Roxas quickly follows and snaps his fingers in the cue to hurry. Vanitas points to a book that's too high up for him to grab. Roxas, without grabbing a ladder, climbs the shelf and fetches the book, getting him and Vanitas out of the way as it comes crashing down.
"Alright, come on." Roxas hurries.
"Okay, oka -"
Roxas whirls around. Vanitas' body shudders and lurches forward. His open mouth in shock, and it is only then he feels the pain. Blood seeps down the front of his grey tunic as he falls, a small arrow shaft sticking out of his back.
"No!" Roxas screams, catching Vanitas in his arms. The gathering of paper and books crumble to the floor and scatter about. Quickly without care, Roxas pulls out the arrow and turns Vanitas over, feeling Vanitas' neck. He nearly cries in relief when he feels the slow pulse. He's still alive.
Over from the far back left corner of the room, Cloud lowers his handheld crossbow and hops down from the architrave. He approaches and Roxas clenches his jaw tight. He can't stay to fight. All that matters is getting Vanitas out before his stops breathing.
"Stay away from me!" Roxas shrieks, holding Vanitas in one arm, and drawing his dagger with the other. He can't show off his gun yet, should his father get his hands on it . . . Cloud closes the distance between them, he still holds the crossbow.
"You have disobeyed me for the last time." Cloud says. His voice is overwhelmed with rage. "Secret dungeon visits? Defending their names? What is the matter with you!"
"You're one to talk about keeping secret, father!" Roxas screams again. "It's okay when you do it, but I can't?! That's bullshit and so are you!" Roxas has to bite the inside of his lip to keep tears from streaming down his face.
Cloud lunges for Roxas and Roxas quickly sets Vanitas' body on his back and leaps back out of Cloud's oncoming hand that seemed too reach for his throat. But the motion is inevitable as Cloud's other hand grabs Roxas' throat and Roxas feels his spine slam against the shelving. His father glares at him, his lip snarling. Roxas wraps his hand around Cloud's wrist to try and relent his grip. It's not enough to completely choke the life out of him, but Roxas struggles to breathe.
"You disappoint me." he says.
"Fuck you." Roxas hisses and brings both his feet up and pushes them into his father's stomach as hard as he can. It shoves Cloud back, but his grip tightens on Roxas' throat, bringing him down with him. They both roll with the momentum and Roxas reaches for his dagger and goes to slash at Cloud's wrist. He manages to get Cloud to release him as he anticipated the attack, but before he can retract, Roxas still grips one and slashes it across Cloud's entire forearm. Cloud immediately protests with a harsh backhand at Roxas. He then harshly turns and goes towards Vanitas.
"Get away from him!" Roxas screams and he charges with his daggers.
Roxas leaps up and charges his father who whirls around and slams his fist in Roxas' stomach, but Roxas grabs it and twists his body, kicking so his father is far from Vanitas. While so Roxas wrenches Cloud's wrist to the side, hearing a pop and hard crack. Cloud screams and uses his other hand to punch and fling Roxas across the titled floor.
Rolling with it, Roxas pushes to his feet and scrambles over to Vanitas. Pain rushes through Roxas as it travels up his spine and pounds at Roxas' head. He stumbles down and reaches behind him. He feels the shaft of a small arrow. Roxas is trying to pry it when he senses the pursuit. Roxas whips out of the way as his father's blade slashes mere inches from his face, a few strands of hair chopped off. The blade catches the end of the cloak and as Roxas rolls out of range, the button unclasps, the harsh whipping burning his neck. His father turns to him with brows angled in rage. His one wrist is limp, Roxas broke it.
"You could've been perfect." Cloud growls.
Roxas quickly angles his back and yanks the arrow loose, unleashing his ungodly scream of pain. He collapses he his knees as black dots swirl around his vision.
You were so close to perfect, so close." He says behind a deep guttural growl at the back of his throat."
"Well the boy you dealt with is gone."
"Every living man and woman would quake in fear of your name!"
"You lost him yourself! It's your fault! You ruined your future when you made me spill Ventus' blood!" Roxas screams.
"Who?" Cloud says as he draws his sword. "That stupid kid?"
"He's not stupid!" Roxas screams.
Roxas runs at Cloud, grabbing his wrist. Roxas feels his father's muscles shift as he positions himself and Roxas ducks just in time. The sword whizzes over his head. Gasping, Roxas kicks Cloud in the ribs and twists his wrist to the side as hard as he can. Cloud drops the sword. But as Roxas spins to stab Cloud's diaphragm, Cloud grabs Roxas by his head, fisting his hair and punches him in the stomach, then takes Roxas by the wrists and flings him in the air. Roxas crashes into another bookshelf, spilling a few thin novels down, pain rupturing his spine as his arrow hole is right over his spine thanks to the accuracy of his father's marksman eye.
Pushing up to his hands and knees, the pain makes his vision go black around the edges. Cloud grabs Roxas by the hair and yanks Roxas to the side. He stares into the dark conflicted eyes of his father for an instant before Cloud punches him in the jaw. Roxas' head jerks to the side and he cringes away from Cloud, flinging his hands up to protect this face. Ignoring the throbbing in his jaw, Roxas goes and stares up at his father.
"What kind of man would do this to his own son?" Roxas softly asks.
Cloud's expression softens ever so slightly. Did his grip falter? Roxas twists and kicks back, his heel hitting his father in the leg. When his hair slips through Cloud's fingers, Roxas scrambles backwards, his shaking fingers fumbling for the gun. They close around the cool metal and Roxas flips over onto his back and points the gun at Cloud.
That's when the first explosion hits. There's an initial sense of impact prior to the explosion, of which resonates in Roxas' bones and the roots of his teeth. His eyes turn upward, and there are giant cracks that race across the ceiling, massive chunks of stone rain down on them.
Cloud looks to Roxas who aims the gun at him, and Roxas can see that he's debating. Thinking. Struggling. Roxas can't help but give a wry smile as he's now caught his father off guard.
The foundation of the mansion shakes again and once again both Roxas and Cloud look above to check for falling debris, but Roxas only glances as he has to keep an eye on his father. On the far end, smoke billows and belches into the room from underneath the main double doors. They're eyes meet again and Roxas hears a groan from Vanitas. Roxas can see him out of the corner of his peripherals and keeps the gun aimed at his father.
Despite everything he has done, Roxas can't help but see his own reflection of himself. This is his father. Even with the torture and pain and blood and sweat and tears, Roxas found himself unable to pull the trigger, at least not while aimed at his chest. Roxas shifts his aim and fires.
The sound makes Cloud cringe only seconds until he holds his leg. Roxas watched as a bullet hole made an appearance in Cloud's calf. Pushing to his feet, Roxas steadies himself and his hand and fires again, aiming this time at an arm. No hole appears, but Cloud grabs his bicep from a braise wound. He stumbles over a pile of rubble and with his limbs in searing pain he can't catch himself. Roxas runs up and kicks aside the sword that Cloud tries to reach for and aims the muzzle at Cloud's head.
They stare at one another, and Roxas can't help but count their similarities. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Face smeared with blood. Bruises and scratches mauling their skin. Vicious looks of defiance.
Cloud glares at Roxas, and yells. "Do it!"
Roxas swallows and takes a breath to have his hands grow steady.
He pulls the trigger.
A bullet hole appears in the floor next to Cloud's head.
Cloud's expression grows more enraged. "What? That's it?! You're not my son! I can't believe I raised a coward like you!"
Roxas lowers his gun. "I didn't do it because I'm too weak. It's because I'm strong enough not to." he speaks softly. "I'm not going to have your last moments be filled with pleasure and joy as you watch me become what you wanted."
"I wouldn't have done the same. You, are not my son." Cloud coldly speaks.
Roxas carefully kneels down next to his father.
"I know you care, don't even try to deny it. You've longed proven yourself wrong the moment I was taken." His eyes glisten with tears. "I know you love me, but this isn't the proper way to show it. You can be better. You can do better. And despite everything you've done . . . I forgive you."
A single tear escapes and streams down Roxas' cheek, cutting a clean trail through his blood splattered cheeks.
". . . and I am going to pray, that the gods have mercy on your soul."
Roxas sheathes his gun and runs for Vanitas. He has managed to hoist Vanitas on his shoulder, the pain emanating no matter where he will put him since the arrow hit near or even hit his spine. He looks out the available window and finds more of the King's army flooding into the property of the mansion. The men have catapults that fling flaming rocks at the house.
Cloud pushes to his feet and feels his anger irrationally grows more and aims at Roxas. Still a faint cry escapes him. It grows into a yell, which transforms into a scream, and then he's wailing until his throat burns. Roxas adjusts Vanitas as his father turns and charges at him in a full sprint.
Panicked, Roxas fumbles for his gun and pulls it out, activating the trigger with his trembling fingers. The recoil thrusts the gun upwards, the muzzle pointing at the ceiling. With it being already weak from the entourage of boulders, the bullet pierces into one of the giant fissures and the entire upper floor collapses. The entire upper level above them breaks and spills down burning bits of furniture, wood clothing, curtains and sparks. Burning floorboards crack from the mass and fall in showers of sparks in front of them.
Roxas instinctively jumps over Vanitas who is fighting consciousness. The heat is horrible. Even with still no smoke in sight, the thickening air threatens to suffocate Roxas at any moment. He looks over his shoulder.
Cloud's lower half of his body is buried in debris. Blood spills over Cloud's hands and the color drains from his face.
"Father." Roxas says. He means for it to be a shout, but it is just a wheeze.
Cloud slumps to the ground. Their eyes meet like the yards between them is nothing.
His mouth opens like he's about to say something, but then his chin drops to his chest and his body relaxes.
"Dad?! Dad!" Roxas screams.
The heat is now suffocating and the embers scatter about onto the carpet, instantly starting up another flame. Roxas' eyes burn and he is too weak to rise; the scent of sweat and blood and charred wood fills the air and makes him feel sick. He wants o rest his head on the ground and let that be the end of it. He wants to sleep now and never wake up. In a matter of minutes, his throat and nose are burning. Discomfort turns to distress until each breath sends a searing pain through Roxas' chest.
Roxas' blood cries out to him. He pushes to his feet and goes to his father, but another explosion rocks the foundation and Roxas is rocked back. He regains balance and makes it to the pile where he helplessly starts to claw and rake against the stones and wood that seem to fill the more he desperately tries to dig it away. The house shakes again.
"Stop it! Stop!" he screams to the open air. His cheeks are wet with tears but he keeps blindly clawing at the pile. His father's body still unmoving. With them being on the second floor of the library, the ceiling collapses over the open space near the entrance and it crashes, stirring up clouds of dust, gravel wood and sparks fly everywhere and the wood hisses like the a pit of vipers.
Get out! Roxas orders himself. He pushes to his feet and goes over to Vanitas.
By now the window has broken open, the glass shattering on either sides, coating the floor in diamond shaped shards that glisten in the flames light. Roxas sticks his head out the window to take a look. A massive crowd gathers about, a mixture of guards, onlookers and desperate neighbors organizing bucket brigades to ensure the mansions fire doesn't spread. In the chaos he can certainly slip away.
Roxas looks over his shoulder to his father, half buried in the rubble and burned wood. This could be his final resting place. Roxas gasps for air, desperate as his sobs leave him breathless. "I love you!" Roxas hollers with a quaking and cracking voice.
Behind him he hears a groan so loud Roxas can feel it in his chest. Roxas whips his head around and finds his father dragging his one free arm. Roxas rushes over, carefully positioning Vanitas before and slides to his knees as he digs through. this time he manages to pull his father free, his one leg still bleeding rather heavily from the bullet wound.
Fumbling his fingers to Cloud's nose, he feels shallow breathes and Roxas suddenly laughs with manic joy. But at his surroundings, he swears, running his fingers through his hair. He feels his throat constrict and his chest tighten. His heartbeat speeds to triple time. The fire is spreading and the heat is enough to make him convulse from exhaustion.
He can't leave Cloud for dead.
The fire is already crawling its way up the stairs, its smoke billowing. He has two minutes.
Roxas desperately looks around and finds a thick tapestry with a sufficient length bolted on the wall and quickly rushes over to it. He gives it a few tugs and using all his adrenaline-fueled strength, manages to pull it free with bolts and all. He drags it over to Cloud and ties one corner to his wrists. The other half Roxas wraps around his arm, adding length with his father's cloak of which he used the remains. He prays for the best. If Cloud was lucky, he will survive the fall, and those who found him – which Roxas just knows will be the remaining guild members – they will bring him to safety and nurse him back to health. That is if there are any left, of any guild. If the crushing debris and the flame didn't get them, the smoke did. And if guards find him, he will be mad, thinking his son turned him in, but the thought alone that he's still alive should be enough without saying. And besides, it's Cloud, he'll break out.
Roxas almost leaves him for the calm, quiet death from the smoke. Almost.
"I'm not you." Roxas whispers as he pushes Cloud's body out the window. He braces his feet against the wall and holds on with all his might. The clot pulls tight, and he lets a bit of is unspool before clamping down again. He nearly goes flying out with Cloud, he so badly underestimated the pull. About halfway down Cloud stops, and Roxas hoists Vanitas on his shoulder again, the adrenaline the only thing keeping Roxas from collapsing in pain.
He finds the nearest, lower ledge and pushes off with his feet. He grunts loudly as he lands, careful not to hit Vanitas' head or have his father bang against the brick wall. Roxas' hand loosens, and he starts to slide down. He can't grip. His hands are full. Roxas clenches his teeth and hisses.
The hand gripping the cloth holding his father opens and Roxas reaches for his dagger, rolling and stabbing it into the roof, it sticks. Roxas hoists himself up, placing a Vanitas on the roof carefully – who by some miracle is still breathing. Roxas counts to three before looking.
A couple of black cloaked men have already gathered around him. It appears someone had caught him. Roxas can't hear the voices from far, but he sees them pointing to his wounds and one man shakes his head, his look a mixture of anger and pity. Roxas sighs. The wounds, blood on his wrists and tattered clothing tell them a story they expected from such a wreckage. Now for Roxas' own safety.
He hauls Vanitas once again into his arms, trying to put the pain out of his mind, and leaps to a nearby tree, slides down, and vanishes amid the mob.
The streets are relatively clear except for those who are rushing towards the direction of the chaos, carrying empty buckets and white cloths. As Roxas runs, there's a searing pain just above his right knee. He grunts of pain every time his right leg takes the weight of his body. The arrow wound in his back hurts with sharp bursts of pain that match the rhythm of his pounding feet. But he keeps moving. No time to examine any of the injuries.
The sun is in the sky now, but the sky itself is a gorgeous red and orange blaze, the clouds a soft lavender purple. The golden clock tower chimes, the sound deep and roaring as it emanates through the bricks and stones as it announces the hour of eight.
Roxas forces himself into a sprint as the seconds tick away. His vision begins to spot with blackness, similar to the feeling of getting something in your eye. Roxas holds Vanitas' head with on hand close to his chest, his other arm tucked under his knees. Unable to take the throbbing, Roxas slows to a normal run and though his gaze is ahead, his eyes seem to now focus as something clicks. Flicking them around, Roxas finds the southern gates. Up until now, fueled by the adrenaline, his body was almost on autopilot; but now he's starting to see again and his heart sinks as he sees no one by the gates.
Roxas slows to a jog then starts to walk the last five yards. He looks all around and tries to find someone, but no one is around.
Just as he's about to collapse from hope exhaustion, he hears his name shouted with glee. Roxas stops abruptly, nearly slipping when a hand presses into his back. Roxas whirls around and finds Lexaeus. He gets a firm lock on Roxas' one arm while Leon comes up and takes Vanitas from his arms. For a moment, Roxas forgets that he's out of the mansion and having an animal instinct, only sees Leon as another threat and feels that Vanitas is unsafe in anyone else's arms but his own. Roxas' grip is so tight that Leon has to carefully try and pull Vanitas away, his voice cooing to Roxas gently. When he finally succeeds, a good size portion of Vanitas' clothing rips, leaving Roxas with a fistful of pale fabric. The only thing stopping Roxas from screaming and lunging for him is that he is so suddenly exhausted that he doesn't protest, and he knows that he won't be able to hold Vanitas anymore.
As Lexaeus holds Roxas steady, Roxas' name is called once again. He carefully adjusts his head and finds Axel running up to him. Lexaeus is about to say something and extends out a hand to stop him, but Roxas pushes it aside and takes a step forward. But he winces as he becomes more aware of the pain behind his right knee and burning his back. The adrenaline rush that overrode him the sensation has passed and his body parts join in a chorus of complaints. Roxas is banged up and bloody and it feels as if someone is taking a pickaxe and pounding at his left temple from the inside of his skull.
Still, Roxas lets Axel grab his shoulders – too hard though, Axel's fingers digging into Roxas' skin where the arrow was. Roxas cries out in pain as Axel pulls him in.
"Roxas." He says again, and his mouth collides with Roxas.
Axel's arms wrap around Roxas and he lifts Roxas up, holding Roxas against him, Axel's hands clutching the blonde's back. Roxas' hands rest on Axel's shoulders and he opens his eyes slightly to take in Axel's appearance. There's splatters of blood on his clothing - of which he has obtained once again – a white blouse with poufy sleeves, a vest that extends long in the back, his hair a tangled mat, only tamed by his one black headband, dark green trousers and brown boots with belts and buckles across his hips. Axel's face and the back of his neck is slick with sweat, his body is shaking, and Roxas' shoulder blazes with pain, but Roxas doesn't care, he doesn't care, he doesn't care.
Over Axel's shoulder, Roxas can see Leon carry Vanitas over to Zexion, who comes running up with Demyx behind him.
Axel sets him down and stares at him, his fingers brushing over Roxas' forehead, his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips. Roxas watches as shock punches frissons of panic through Axel.
Roxas' pale skin is smudged with what looks like ash and soot. His jacket is battered and smeared with blackened dust. And his hands. His hands are covered in dirt and dried blood, and he clutches Axel's shirt like he's going to disappear if he lets go.
But worst of all is the look on his face. Cold. Fierce. Empty. Like someone has snuffed out the Roxas Axel had grown accustomed to and sent out a hollow shell in his place. His still beautiful blue eyes are so wounded, swimming with grief and exhaustion. Axel just wants to hold him until some of the pain recedes.
Something like a sob and a sigh and a moan escapes Axel, and he kisses Roxas again. His eyes are bright with tears. Roxas never thought he would see Axel cry. It makes Roxas hurt.
Axel sniffs before he talks. "Your father?"
Roxas looks up to him. He should tell him. In fact Roxas wants to tell him. But he's tired. So tired. The words won't come, though. Maybe they don't exist. Roxas strains to feel something. To let it cut into him so he can cry. So he can share the grief with one person who will understand the depth of what he's lost. Axel drags Roxas against him and cups the blonde's face in one hand and rubs his cheek with his thumb as if he can transfer his living, breathing grief into Roxas' skin, shattering the icy silence within him into something he can understand.
But Roxas can't allow it. If he grieves now, how will he ever find his way out again in time to keep his promises?
Roxas cries into Axel's shirt.
Axel rubs his back and kisses Roxas' head repeatedly while still stroking his cheek. The blood of those that Roxas has lost, it now stains beneath his skin, entered his veins, and has become a part of what's left of him. No amount of blessings or water or forgiveness can erase it.
Roxas manages to gather himself enough to answer Axel's question; at least as best he can. "I'm not ready to talk about it, yet." He answers. When really he just doesn't know how to get past the silence consuming him and find anything that feels like hope. His father has disowned him. The bounty is still out there, tripled in reward. And now it's not safe for him to live in his own town anymore.
"That's fine." Axel says. He pulls away and kisses Roxas' forehead. "Whenever you're ready."
Roxas nods and wipes his nose.
"We need to leave." Terra's voice speaks.
Roxas looks up to him as he motions the gathering of rebel guild members and they start to walk out of the gates and towards the road at a quick pace. Roxas follows with Axel next to him. Demyx comes up on Roxas other side and wraps his arms around him. Roxas leans in and gently lays his hand over Demyx's, afraid to touch him with bloodied hands.
They've gone at least fifty yards, the wall of the city still in sight as they set their stuff down near a small gathering of trees. Their leafy canopy suppressing the sun's light, the chill of autumn now fully casting over the land. Roxas stays as close to Axel as possible. Leon comes up and hands him a burlap sack and Roxas takes it. He crouches with his back supported by the tree behind him and rummages through what Leon managed to save. Meanwhile he overhears the rebel members talking about the sudden flow of the king's guards.
As Roxas assumed, his stunt in the marketplace and killing off the guards had prompted the King into thinking that the guilds were then using the moment to strike and launch their assault on the kingdom. The King finally decided to take action and attack the mansion of which the Shadow Guild lived, knowing already that it was the central hub of all the guilds plotting. Terra, Leon and Cid as well as nearly all of their men saved and escorted most of the citizens into their homes before slipping away from the chaos as the bucket brigades ran into action to suppress the fire. Demyx makes a joke meant for Roxas, on how terrified Axel was and how Leon had to physically drag him away from the direction of the mansion. Marluxia tried to promote himself to one of the guildmasters, described as who can only be Larxene, but none of them stayed in time to see the end result. Roxas assumes he is dead, and can't seem to find any form of grief for him whatsoever. He tried to get into the gilds, and he failed. They all then gathered at the south gate, but had to slip out and walk a few yards away to elude suspicion of guards. After the explosion at the mansion, Axel and Demyx were the first to charge back into the city. That was when they spotted Roxas carrying Vanitas.
"Master Roxas." Cid's voice speaks.
Roxas looks up to him and finds him wearing a white t-shirt with two buttons descending from the neck. His baggy pants are blue and have a very wide, orange waistband with thin vertical stripes on it. They're won rather high, with the waistband coming up to just under his ribcage. Then grey socks and black boots. Roxas also sees he wears a necklace with a rectangular charm, and he chews on a toothpick as a replacement for a cigarette.
"If I may ask, what shall we do now?" he asks.
Roxas stares at him, almost blankly. He knows the answer, they need to get to the Faceless, but with the guilds rebelling against his father, and him no doubt going to reach out to other guilds, Roxas feel conflicted on what's the right thing to do. It's not safe to enter the cities with the risk of getting caught, and yet he can't keep dragging them all around the wilderness in hoping that they'll stumble across the Faceless Headquarters. The burlap sack filled with Vanitas' research and findings Roxas managed to spare, but he has little to no knowledge of how to locate them. Only Vanitas, and he is still out cold and under critical care of Zexion to check for smoke inhalation in worry his vocal chords and trachea were affected.
Roxas really doesn't know what to do. And he has people here depending on him for leadership.
If he was still Cloud's son, he would've easily managed to handle this with all of the teachings and ideas set into him on how to rule with an iron fist and a guarantee that no one will argue or prod him in unfaithfulness.
But he is not Cloud's son anymore. The heir to the Darkness is dead, and Roxas is supposed to be a whole new person. And yet the gnawing pain of loss and rage has hollowed him to someone . . . to something, he doesn't know how to use or control.
He looks up and sees Demyx, his face resolute, a newfound gravity carved into him by everything he's endured. Beside him, Xigbar stands tall and steady, his arm curved around Demyx's shoulder. Luxord, Xaldin, and Lexaeus are next to him, looking fierce and ready. Zack, Terra and Leon stand slightly beside them, their eyes trained on Roxas. Zexion is hovered over Vanitas, but he spares Roxas a glance and a small smile. Behind them are teams of survivors that are armed with what weapons they could spare and all wearing individual clothes instead of the matching cloaks that would divide them. Roxas looks over them and realizes he sees something he'd never thought he'd see again.
Hope.
They're broken, but they aren't beaten. They want to live. Not just breathe in and out, watching one day fade into the next. They want to live.
And they want Roxas to help the do it.
Roxas is so tired. He wants to lie down, sink beneath the ashes and dirt, let it all slide gently into his lungs and carry him to Ventus. He wants to, but he can't. Because his debt has not yet been paid. Roxas is unsure if Ventus would've approved of what he did back at the mansion. A part of him thinks he would, as is Ventus' nature. And yet the other half of him, the assassin part of Roxas hates himself for it, as Cloud didn't deserve the kindness. But that's also why he did it. He's not his father, and he doesn't want to become him. Cloud said it himself he wouldn't' have done the same thing.
But despite his years of training, Roxas could tell he was lying.
Now Roxas has been elected the new leader of this new group. Many of them reason because he publically stood up against Cloud not only in his own home, but in the Square as well, an unprecedented act of courage he then trumped by escaping from the mansion as well as singlehandedly taking out any loyal guild members in his wake. It's not something Roxas wishes to take credit for anymore, but it's all the motivation he has. He is too young. Too inexperienced. He has always thought that the guildmasters only agreed to have him lead because he was the heir to Cloud, and because Cloud would have it no other way. But it would seem that more than half of them truly did see something that Roxas didn't, and still doesn't. he feels an unwelcomed stab of understanding for his father's absolute refusal to entertain any discussion on his decisions. Trying to get one hundred and seventy-five people opinionated people to agree on a course of action is harder than trying to herd a bunch of tomcats out of an alley.
Roxas rises to stand and takes a couple steps towards the group. He decides to speak the truth.
"We need to find a safe place. We need to get to the Faceless." The crowd shifts restlessly, and people begin whispering to one another. "Because of my bounty, I cannot risk bringing all of you into the cities without fear and expectancy of danger. And with my father – with Cloud's – connections, it is risky to be walking around the wilderness. We are a big group, an easy target, but we have skills of which can be shared. That can and will be passed on. As of today, the allegiance between the guilds are broken, their members scattered. We are like outcasts now. I do not know what life will be like, separated from our city – it feels disengaged, like a leaf divided from the tree that gives it sustenance. We are creatures of loss; we have left behind, everything. And it is with a great gratitude, that I thank each and every one of you for choosing me. For choosing a cause that I didn't even know existed, until now. I have no home, no path, and no certainty. I am no longer Roxas, the son of Cloud Skyes. I can't guarantee that I will meet our expectations. I can't guarantee that I will make decisions that meet all of your needs. But I can only hope that your faith in me will carry through for however long we have together. This will be the hardest days, weeks, maybe even months of our lives. But today is the start of something new. Something beyond our world of poison, daggers, and the iron rule of my father. Today, we begin a new organization; a new brotherhood. And together we will show Cloud what it truly means, to be loyal, and faithful and united!"
The whole crowd bursts into cheers and punches the air with their fists, hollering and hooting as they slowly disperse. Roxas can only hope they've managed to grab money and personally belongings.
As he turns to Axel, he sees the shadows of the leaves decorating across his features, still Roxas can spot the smile on his lips. "Not bad for your first try." He grins. He holds out his hand and when Roxas takes it, he can feel the boy shaking. Axel smiles and gives a soft chuckle. "Hey, come here." he pulls Roxas against him and feels the boy exhale deeply. "You did great."
"I feel sick." Roxas mumbles into Axel's shirt.
"It's okay." Axel coos, kissing the crown of Roxas' head. His lips brush against Roxas' hair as he speaks. "You kept your promise."
Roxas looks up, his chin resting on Axel's chest. It takes a moment for the words to hit, but when they do, Roxas' eyes widen. He's right. Axel's safe. Alive. Warm and steady beneath Roxas right now. And Vanitas is bound to make a recovery. But there's Ventus . . .
As if connected to his thoughts, Axel speaks. "He would've been proud. You made the right choices."
Roxas runs his fingers along the tendons in Axel's hand and looks back at him.
"You know, I still remember when you said you loved me. I play those four beautiful words over and over again."
"Well that's thoughtful of you." Roxas says, smiling.
He feels Axel's laughter against his side, his nose sliding along Roxas' jaw, his lips pressing behind his ear.
"I'd like you to say it again." Axel says. "But I was afraid to ask."
Roxas laughs a little. "Then you should know better."
"So will you?"
Roxas kisses him as Leon calls for the men to make their final checks on their supplies. Then he turns with Vanitas' map in hand and starts to trudge forward. As the group slowly starts to move, Roxas still kisses Axel for as long as he wants, for longer than he should since Demyx has to come back down and call them forward.
Roxas and Axel walk together with Demyx on the other side. Looking down, Roxas finds Axel's hand and his fingers slowly tickle their way through until they're laced together, intertwined like the tendril vines of wild flowers. Demyx hooks his arm with Roxas and the three walk together behind the group as they trudge up the hill.
Leaving one family behind, Roxas hopes that he can somehow build a new one, and vows to protect it until his dying breath.