4.
He wakes slowly.
He's in a bed, a bed not his own, in a strange, blank, barren room. He sits up.
"Ah, friend, you're awake," says the voice.
He turns towards the source of it. Xehanort is dressed in all black, but it's different than the lab coats they've worn; it's got beading, zippers instead of a catch.
He blinks, once. His mind is curiously clear. He reaches up to his jugular to take his pulse, noting first that there is one, then that it's almost unnervingly slow and steady. "I suppose it worked?" he asks, his voice flat. "We've no hearts?"
"Quite-we are Nobodies." He tilts his head slightly. "We've been worried about you. You're the last one to wake. I thought you may not have made it."
He stares down at his hands; they look the same, and so does the long blonde hair on his shoulder, freed of its usual restraint. "I see."
"How do you feel?"
"Very much alert," he admits. Less physically tired than he can remember.
"Emotionally?"
It's an odd word to hear out loud. He realizes he is numb, but not a human numbness; moreso an emptiness, but a very bearable one. A comfortable one. "My head is clear," he says instead. It's true; unfettered by emotion, he processes this all easily, without stress.
Xehanort smiles, but there's nothing in it. "Excellent. Seems this experiment was a success. While you were resting, we've chosen a sign of brotherhood, new names to usher us into this new life. I've chosen one for you-should you want it."
"And what is that?"
"Vexen," he says slowly. "The Recusant's Sigil is said to be good luck. I've added it to all our names-anagrammed them."
"How creative of you." There's no sarcasm behind it; nothing at all. "Very well. I suppose that is who I'll be." He sits up, bringing his legs over the side of the bed. "Where is Ien-the little one?"
"He goes by Zexion now," Xehanort says. "He was the first to wake, after myself, of course. The boy seems to have taken to this new life easier than I ever could have guessed. It suits him. He has no more fear, no more sensory overload. He's purely himself."
Hearing this, Vexen feels nothing for the boy; no concern. It's liberating, he realizes. "That is good news indeed. Your name already contains an X. Though I don't suppose only that will do."
He shakes his head slowly. "They call me Xemnas."
There's much to do, and it's all so much easier than it used to be.
They're somewhere else now, a place still taking shape. What starts as a two-story building morphs into something far larger than Radiant Garden's castle ever was. As soon as he craves a resource, it seems to appear, seemingly out of nowhere; soon he's able to identify this morphing substance as the same that the lesser Nobodies were made of. They study their new bodies for weeks, months; they discover their immense capabilities for magic. Zexion, in a very short amount of time, becomes a rather skilled mage; necessary, as the Heartless target him mercilessly, despite Lexeaus's best efforts to protect him. While he and Vexen continue to spend time together, for studies, they're beginning to drift, but Vexen doesn't care much. There's nothing behind the boy's eyes aside from a cold calculation.
They find that they have weapons, extensions of their wills, each personalized to its user; more exciting yet, they have their own magics, in alignment with their personalities, a sort of expression of the deepest essences of the self. Vexen's newfound command over ice is infinitely useful in his experiments, though it is disappointing that it is just ice, not water.
It seems every time they come to a momentous discovery-of worlds, of hearts, of matter-Xemnas always dangles something out of reach. For this Organization, Kingdom Hearts will be the key to all knowledge. Vexen works towards this goal with pleasure. In the chaotic, entropic nothingness-something entirely different than darkness or light-his experiments thrive, and after years, the replicas begin to take shape, form. They incubate.
Six years have passed in a blink; for the first time Xemnas speaks on his desire to gather more members. He needs a Keyblade wielder, so he says, to reap hearts. So they all, in their own ways, go searching across the worlds. And they do find someone, a humanoid Nobody, a seventeen-year-old boy they call Demyx. But the disappointments come hard and fast with this one. Initially, Vexen is hopeful; the boy's power over water seems to be something nearly prodigal. But he is not very academically bright. He's lazy, he would rather fool around with his weapon, an instrument called a sitar. They all can barely tolerate him, though inexplicably, Xigbar strikes up a rapport with the boy. Very well. If someone of high rank can keep him in line, all the better.
Because they have ranked themselves. Of course, Xemnas is the leader; as the youngest, it's only natural for Zexion to be the sixth of the six original apprentices; Saïx, Axel, and Demyx follow when the latter arrives; but internally there's some squabbling over the rest of the numbers. Vexen is beyond disappointed with his own designation of only fourth, but no matter, he works alone the majority of the time anyway.
In quick succession, they're joined by three more-Luxord, Marluxia, Larxene. Not one is a Keyblade wielder, and aside from the passing intrigue of studying the first humanoid Nobody that is a biological woman, they are nothing but a thorn in Vexen's side. Xemnas's frustration is obvious, and Vexen feels mostly the same.
All of a sudden Zexion is no longer a little boy, but a young man. He had, more or less, what seemed to be a normal puberty. He never expresses interest in sex or sexuality, unlike some of the other members; but then again, Zexion was never a people person, and while Vexen knows that the scientist in him should want to investigate this potential quirk of Nobody biology, the part of him that once raised Ienzo is repulsed at questioning the young man farther about these matters.
One of these days, when Zexion's about fifteen, he arrives in Vexen's lab. "Six," he says. "It's a pleasure to see you. Do you require assistance?"
Zexion smiles politely. "I hope to have a word, if that's alright. I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." It's easy now for him to speak, to compose himself; as Xemnas said, purely himself. If anything, the boy is too talkative.
"I can spare a few moments."
"Very well. Then I'll be brief. I'm aware our tutoring sessions take up a good deal of our time, time both of us could use more efficiently. I feel I'm far enough in my education to pursue it on my own. Though I must thank you for your years of working with me." He bows a little. The sight of this old custom unnerves Vexen.
He says it so quickly, so simply. For some reason, Vexen is surprised-though shouldn't he have seen this coming?
(And is he crazy, or is he feeling hurt? No-mustn't. Nobodies cannot feel, though the neophytes love to pretend, especially Demyx. The miscreant must be rubbing off on him more than he thought. He curses the fact that they are both part of the reconnaissance team.)
Vexen smiles. "It was my pleasure. You know you're very intelligent. I have the utmost faith in you. My door is always open for you, Zexion, should you have questions."
"Thank you, Vexen. Good day."
The years pass-they cannot find their Keyblade wielder, no matter how hard they try. The others are frustrated too, especially the neophytes, as they're sent on the most search missions. At least there is some progress-Heartless made, worlds brought under control of darkness, his replicas becoming more stable yet. Vexen hopes he may be able to get one to wield a Keyblade.
Zexion turns eighteen. Vexen's initial prediction was right; the young man is relatively small, slight, and probably always will be. While his face still is a bit soft, he'll lose the babyishness in time. As the first person to truly come of age as a Nobody, he allows Vexen to prod him, somewhat indulgently. "I suppose it is interesting, though it would be more interesting if I knew the difference," he admits, in a moment of unusual candor.
Vexen looks up at him on the table. He gently pulls free the needle that was taking his blood, and heals the tiny wound. Magic has made his doctoring less barbaric, simpler. "Would you rather have been human?" he asks.
He thinks about it. "I've been a Nobody ten years-longer than I was ever a human."
"Yet, not a direct answer to my question."
He rolls down the sleeve of his cloak. "I don't believe so," he says. "What I remember from that time is mostly negative-the panic attacks, the constant inundation of stimuli interpreted as pain, the nightmares, the untreated PTSD. But now… now I am stable, and in control of myself. I do not feel I've missed anything-though the neophytes insist the opposite." He rolls his eyes. "As if I would ever find any of those shenanigans of interest."
Vexen nods. "As long as you are fulfilled."
"I am." He pauses, smiles a bit. "I'm not the one who told you this, but the superior might soon have a mission for us. One elsewhere."
His interest is piqued; but at the same time, he feels another wave of frustration that number six is more privy to this information than he. "Elsewhere?"
Zexion shakes his head. "That's all he said. Though who knows-he's become more and more enigmatic over the years. It is… trying."
Vexen chuckles. "Well, I doubt I'll find anything different about these samples, but should there be anything of note, I'll contact you."
"Keep it for posterity," he says, with a wave of his hand. "Who knows, I could be the first of many, to live this way."
"Child, you have a strange sense of humor."
Two things happen in quick succession-they find their Keyblade wielder, and Castle Oblivion is established as a second base. Roxas is an amnesiac, utterly zombified, more than just Nobody numbness. But considering the stories they've heard of Sora from Xemnas, that they were able to capture his Nobody is a feat in and of itself.
He's forced to release his first successful replica to Xemnas. It really is a puppet-it will walk, talk, perform bodily functions-but it has no sense of self, not yet. He knows it's too soon to let No. i into the field-it needs more extensive testing. Xemnas insists. They need insurance in case something were to happen to Roxas, mostly because Sora's allies are searching for him. Not when they are so close to finally making progress on Kingdom Hearts. With it, knowledge and, perhaps for those interested, humanity again.
Vexen isn't sure of his own opinion on the matter. To be a Nobody is a sort of freedom; he can research, experiment without guilt, without the need for social interaction. But as Nobodies they do not technically exist, literally speaking; doesn't that in itself negate everything that's been discovered?
So with what is almost anxiety, No. i is christened Xion, and welcomed into their ranks. But Vexen is not allowed to stay and observe it; he, and another replica, are needed in Castle Oblivion. He, Zexion, and Lexeaus are given dominion over the lower floors; Larxene, Axel, and Marluxia the upper. Most galling yet, Marluxia, number eleven for god's sake, is made their tentative leader. While Marluxia has proven himself time and again in the field and at the table, why does this man deserve such a rank?
But Zexion and Lexeaus do not want to hear him complain about it. "Everyone's work is important here," Zexion says softly, huddled over his lexicon, poetically called "Book of Retribution"-Vexen does not pretend to understand that boy's mind. "Yours especially. Focus on the task at hand."
It's a big task for the boy (the man, Vexen reminds himself, he's nineteen); they would be using Zexion's extensive illusions on Sora, as Naminé leaches his memories. They cannot afford a heart that special to remain out in the wide world; not when he actually has the power to put an end to them. Vexen knows Zexion's powerful, knows of his stamina; but maintaining so many complex illusions for so long was a lot to ask of him. Castle Oblivion seems to like the boy's magic, to hold its shape. Even so.
But they discover more is afoot; namely, that the neophytes have insane ideas to overthrow Xemnas, using Sora. Quickly, Zexion, Lexeaus, and Vexen devise a plan. While Sora has arrived, Riku soon follows, lured there by a carefully placed clue in the realm of darkness. They'd use Riku-or some semblance of him-to stop Marluxia from using the boy. It takes a bit of cleverness. They have to make Marluxia think they're on his side, so the replica again changes hands.
But something goes wrong. The replica isn't acting under their control, it's developed its own will (what did they expect, forcing him into this so quickly). Marluxia, oh so casually, says that, unless Vexen can pacify the boy himself, he'll report him and his failure, which can only go one way. Vexen's long had a feeling that he'd be eliminated once he outgrew his usefulness.
Very well.
So he fights the boy, and it's much more difficult than he would have thought. The boy truly is something prodigal, something nearly godlike. He's defeated, but is still alive. He already knows what's coming, and something gives way. He tells the boy how to get his memories back, how to discover Roxas, giving him the key to a Twilight Town. When they meet again, the boy's almost worked it out, what they are.
And then, to be crass, it hits the shit.
But he doesn't expect Axel to be the one to execute him.