Disclaimer: The rock-hard, very hot characters belong to Squaresoft; the fluffy-soft, very cute characters belong to Disney. If I owned Kingdom Hearts, I've made Sephiroth easier. ^^v Just to spite my girlfriend by calling him a puppy. :D Huzzah!

Light, light shounen-ai, SPOILERS. Other FF characters added. Slight AU, meaning whatever's in here is my opinion, and may or may not be true to the actual game (because I've beaten the game, but I sort of believe there was still many unanswered questions). So no fingers saying, "But that's not right! Such-and-such happened and Cloud's searching for Aerith!" XP Fuu. My imagination, my story.

Run, Run, From These Halls of Stone
{ Antelogium Unum }

"H-hey! Yuffie! Squall! Get back here!"

The two young delinquents, one seven and the other sixteen, only turned their bright, mischievous faces before running off, and Locke Cole fell to his knees, panting. How many times had he been stuck taking care of Laguna's brats? Why was he stuck with /them/, of all tortures?? To stretch one's limbs on the rack was less painful. "If you two kids don't get back here," he cried out feebly, "then I'm telling Sir Laguna about that cat!"

There was no reply and the sandy-haired man groaned loudly, shoulders slumping down. "Oh man, why me??"

There was a light chuckle behind him; he bent backwards to see who it was. The flipped image of a smiling Terra Branford graced his sight, who laughed slightly louder when Locke fell onto his back in embarrassment. "Miss-Miss Terra!"

The woman with cascading green wore a face of high amusement as Locke scampered to get onto his feet and look dignified. "Hello, marauder."

He didn't bother to correct her; instead, his cheeks flushed. "What brings you this deep into the castle, m'lady?"

"Sir Laguna sympathizes with you and I volunteered to offered to lightly unburden your punishment...if you would allow me to assist you in rounding up Squall and Yuffie?"

Locke held his breath. Miss Terra?? Help /me/?! What do I do, whatdoIdo?! He opened his mouth to speak, but the only sounds to roll off his tongue were small, choking noises.

"Hey Locke! You look like a fish out of water!"

"Locke and Terra sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

The two voices sent the hairs on his nape to stand on end, and Locke swung around just in time to watch the two terrors duck back into the doorway they had emerged from. "You-you.. you disrepectful little monsters!" he cried, waving his arms about frantically. "Do not insult Miss Terra like that!"

Terra, on the other hand, blushed as Yuffie sang the age-old chant and put her hand to her face to hid the pink tints. It was easy to flirt with and tease Locke, but when others teased back.. well.. Terra cleared her throat, rotating Locke's attention back onto her. She smiled slightly. "I don't think they'll respect you if you call them 'monsters', Locke. Maybe if you were nicer...?"

Locke's eyes nearly crossed. "No offense, m'lady, but I can be nice all I want; they'll still run me ragged."

The green-haired maiden nodded in acknowledgement and grasped his hand to lead him down the hall. "We can still try. Come on, marauder, let's go find your wayward quarry."

Locke followed silently, his face hot enough to sizzle eggs.

Several pairs of eyes were wide and impressed with the display of control and power as two swords, ridiculously different as night and day, whistled through the air and clashed with the sound of thunder and silver. They were living extensions of their wielders, alive and vivid with strength that transended words. Only actions were wanted, only free movement was desired.

Thrust, guard, swipe...the dance was hardly describable, but dazing in a true testament of acquired skill. But it all ended a single moment, where the long sword, as long as its owner, flew threw the air as its grip was released, and the broadsword's tip pointed at a pale Adam's apple.

A burst of applause rounded the clearing and Zachary Loire, younger brother to the famed knight Laguna Loire, turned fox eyed on his opponent, shouldered the oversized slab of steel, and tapped the floor with a heavily booted foot, grinning triumphantly. The pale man across from him, Sephiroth Valentine, smiled wearily back and wiped the sweat from his brow.

They couldn't have been any more different than black and white. They were barely two years apart in age and never seen out of the other's company, as though they were physically joined. Best of friends, partners, and one trying to help the other obtain what the first already gained: knighthood.

And one child looked upon them, green with envy at the ease of their bout. The way they moved was like water being poured, fire raging, and wind spiraling into a storm. How he wished he could be like that, graceful and perfect, with no limitations or restrictions on the soul...

"Will you be like that one day, Cloud?"

Startled out of his reverie, the blonde teen snapped his attention to his companion. "Huh?-- What d'you say, Aerith?"

Aerith Gainsborough giggled, like it was a joke, and shook her head, dismissing him with a wave. "Nothing, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Cloud nodded, undoubtedly baffled over what she said, but decided to forget and locked his eyes back to the contrasting pair on the field with an expression of commitment and longing.

The Way of the Knight seemed like a dream come true, in Cloud's eyes. You had strength, defense, a place beside royalty, and possibly even fame. But anyone who lived within the rooms of Hollow Bastion was famous, for they were either the children of celebrated people or 'earned' it by taking hold with their bare hands. Such was Miss Terra, who was Lord Ansem's neice, Lady Kairi, his young daughter, or Locke Cole, the thief who was spared death to serve His Lord.

But he.... he was just some lowly little child, Zack's pupil and squire. People commented on his abilities, but Cloud felt the praises were empty, that they were only spoken to make 'that poor boy' feel adequate. ...He'd never be worthy of the crowd that now began dispersing to whereabouts unknown.

"Strife."

Cloud's head snapped up, turning his interrupted attention towards the one person who would ever call him that. What greeted him was the smirking-- and amused-- face of Sephiroth. Short, silver hair wavered in strands behind him, but bangs identical to flopped rabbit ears framed his face. The blonde immediately grew cross. "Don't call me that. My name isn't 'Strife'."

Aerith looked upset as well. "Really, Sephiroth, you shouldn't tease him like that. It's not proper."

The older man just made a noise of disbelief, but remained smug all the same. "There are many things that aren't proper, Miss Aerith. Like you skipping out on riding lessons with Miss Garnet."

A blush stained her cheeks and Aerith hopped down off the wall, excused herself hastily, and ran towards the chocobo pasture, but not before calling out, "I'll see you at dinner, Cloud!"

All Cloud mustered was a weak wave in her direction; it didn't matter that she couldn't see it.

"C'mon, Cloud," said Sephiroth curtly, rolling his right shoulder as though it ached. "It's time for your own lesson."

"Oh, Ci~id! I'm a mage, not a mechanic!" whined Vivi Ornitier, sitting on the wing of the ship poutishly. He resembled nothing more than a child in raggy clothes. A mop of sandy-blonde hair covered his face and his eyes shone lime-yellow. "Why are you making me do a job that requires physical labor when I'm a hundred times better at magical labor??"

Cid Highwind's face popped into view, startling Vivi. "You're also a hundred times more /mature/ when you're in Ansem's presense as his vizier," he stated. "Why does everyone else get your bratty attitude?"

Insulted, Vivi huffed and threw his pointed hat back onto his head, casting his face in an opaque shadow. "For your information, I only expected you to make use of my gifts, not exploit my handicaps!"

"And that's why your fussin', huh?" Cid looked ready to spit. "Me tryin' to make you into a man, an' you're complainin'. That's gratitude for yah."

Vivi sniffed with indignance, jumping down to the floor with a squeak. "I said I'd help, but if you're gonna keep insulting me, you can find that help somewhere else!"

Cid sighed, and watched the short mage start to walk away. "Oi, Vivi! Come back here. M'sorry!"

Vivi turned around on his heels, arms folded over the front of his much-too-large blue coat. "Are you really sorry?"

Cid rolled his eyes and began climbing down the ladder that propped itself up against the hull of the ship. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry. Do I need to twist my own arm to prove it?"

"Well," drawled Vivi, "it would be more convincing if you did."

Cid snorted. "You're killing me. ...If ya still wanna help, I'll put your 'talents' to use and not 'exploit your handicaps'."

Vivi giggled, as he strolled on back. "You keep talking like that, and I'll get Edea to turn you into a toad."

The blonde mechanic grimaced. "That's a talent I /am/ afraid of."

He was always there, if not in his room or inside the chapel. Laguna Loire worried about him, after spending so much time together, side by side protecting Lord Ansem; Vincent Valentine was like a friend acting as a teacher to him, like a brother trying hard to be a father.. but those were the old days and now he was here, sitting on the railing of the great crest, looking out towards the waterfalls that half surrounded the lower part of the castle.

No one feared him falling; he defied gravity with billowy, leather wings tucked torturously beneath his red cloak. He spoke nothing of them, and no one asked out of courtesy. They would have been forgotten, for he never revealed them to anyone and kept them carefully hidden, but the brazen claw on the man's left arm was a constant reminder that Vincent was no longer human.

Ansem knew the story; so did Cid, Edea Kramer, Django, and Laguna himself. And they kept it secret, to themselves, harboring the greatest tragedy the assassin ever faced.

"Stop hiding in the doorway, Laguna. I know you're there."

Laguna didn't even flinch as he was called out and approached the guarding silently. "I saw Sephiroth sparring with Zack just now," he said, his voice hushed. "He's getting very good at the sword."

Vincent didn't reply immediately. The way he remained a still as stone gave Laguna the impression of a wingless gargoyle, the prettiest he'd ever seen (compared to the ugly-as-hell ones).

"It's starting to happen, Laguna."

Laguna blinked. "Eh?"

The raven-haired man turned to face Laguna, his eyes hard and guarding against the sorrow. "The last end of my sin is beginning to show on him... When he hits 30, it'll be fully mature and so will his hate for me."

Laguna's eyes fell downcast, unable to stare into those blood-red eyes too much longer. "Zack told me that it's easy to hide under his trench so far, but.... I hear it's feathered, not like yours."

Vincent nodded once. "Maybe I should be thankful for your brother, Laguna.... Sephiroth can depend on him."

Laguna frowned. "Stop beating yourself up. ...It took a lot of courage to--... do what you did."

The enigmatic man snorted in distain, the clawed hand digging tightly into the railing. His tone was thick with self-loathing. "It was a /coward's act/, Laguna. Don't confuse your own experience to mine."

Laguna raised his head with a sigh. They had more in common than just the guns at their side. But before he could retort, the bell atop the tallest tower tolled for dinner. "...Are you coming, Vin?"

Vincent shook his head. "No... I'm not hungry, but I might come down sooner or later."

"Alright. ...Just don't waste away on us now." Laguna put a warm hand on Vincent's shoulder-- the red cloak shuddered under the touch; The wings, Laguna assumed-- and a hesitant, human hand rested itself above it.

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

Lulu wasn't angry.

Rinoa Heartilly was intent on showing up the older wizard, going out of her way to literally sabotage Lulu's spells and brews. And when Miss Edea's head was turned away from the pair, Rinoa had the habit of throwing her nasty glares and smirks. ...No, Lulu wasn't angry. Not at all.

She was exceedingly pissed off.

The raven-haired girl strolled briskly down the corridor to the dinning area, automatically and expertly evading several havoc-causing children-- she identified one as Reno-- that ran past her in the opposite direction of the hall.

Such foolishness. I can't see why Lord Ansem takes in so many orphans; all they do it get in the way and vandalize property.

But you're forgetting. ..You're one of those orphans yourself. A twisted frown graced her delicate features, touched with a slight twitch in the corner. "How can I forget?" she muttered under her breath. "I'm constantly reminded."

Inside the castle barriers, having no family name separated the important folk from the dirty street children found in the town churches and alleys. She could name many of them, such as Cloud, Marlene, Reno and Elena, herself.. Someday, I'll prove I'm better than that lowlife angel-brat, that I'm better than a high-bred courtier. Mark my words, Rinoa. I will be a superior mage to your frivolous magicks.

The dinning hall was accommodated to seat every occupant that resided in the bowels of Hollow Bastion. It was grand and splendid, a craftman's dream and nightmare all the same. A giant, crystal chandalier tinkled in the center of the ceiling, encircled by six smaller ones; it bathed the entire room in a soft, golden-white light with the power of the cyberlights. The walls were decorated with slight arch-like buttresses and ionic columns not only braced up between the arches, they were posed also along the edges of the high tier, an uplifted area in the very center were the most honored lords and ladies sat.

Half of Bastion's dwellers were already seated, and Lulu took solace at an empty table far from anyone else. She liked being alone, away from eyes who sought to stare at her.... With her cream-white complextion, cold eyes, dark hair, curvaceous body, and unique fashion wear, she'd become apart of the juvenile rumor mill.

No, she wasn't a whore (her heavy make-up, her body, her tight clothing), a lesbian (her boyish attire, her many belts), a barbarian (her hairstyle, her anger), or a demon (her eyes, her sharp tongue, her hellish aura). She was only... Lulu.

"Mind if I join you?"

The voice was quiet, and muffled as though its owner was several tables away. But she looked up anyway, only to see the cursed dark knight of Bastion's walls at her side, asking for permission-- a hint of pink accented her pale cheeks. "Of-- of course. ..It's a free table."

He nodded politely and sat a chair away from her and Lulu went back to looking around the hall. However, it wasn't due to boredom, this time around at least. ...Vincent Valentine was a mystery to everyone of the youngest generation. Even the bluntest, the craftiest of teens and children tried to pry the story from the older ones, but not a word was spilt. And they feared him for it, believing he had done something so wicked and terrible that his power alone held Lord Ansem at bay.

...It couldn't be true.

Beasts and monsters craved power; were Vincent like the horrible monster people assumed him to be, then wouldn't he be in Ansem's seat? But no, he kept to himself, and occasionally she heard his name in a casual conversation. And through the brief glimpses of the shadowy man, she'd gained a slight crush. ...An encounter like this was, without a doubt, priceless.

Which is why she kept her eyes away from him.

"Wouldn't you say it was rude for one to visibly ignore another who joined you for company?"

Lulu cast him a shy side-glance. "It's also rude for one to stare, Sir Vincent. And either way, I would be insulting you."

Vincent chuckled and gave her a wiry grin from behind the collar of his cloak; Lulu could just make it out. "Well Miss Lulu, that's very courteous logic, but I feel that it would do no good... I have this bad habit of associating with people in pain, but if I make you uncomfortable--"

"Uh, no, no!" She turned wide, hazel eyes to face him in surprise. "It's.. just.... I'm sorry," she said, flushing in embarrassment. "I've been insensitive to many things lately....But I guess you knew that."

"Indeed."

More voices began to gather around them, ignoring and subconsciously avoiding the table where the angry teenager and almost invisible knight took refuge; they hardly minded. Supper was soon served by the moogles, holding platters and trays in their tiny paws. They offered all they had to every attendant, and waited patiently for the person to take however much they wanted.

But not everyone was there, as the people soon realized when Squall and Yuffie ran howling in. The diners fell quiet as the two children hurriedly made their way to a table composed of other children. But they weren't worried about trouble. This act of tardiness was almost routine, as was the second act of the display. And as was expected, Locke stumbled in, beat red and short winded from the chase. The twist was Terra appeared behind him, a little tired herself.

To the nobles, this was amusing. To the naive children, this was amusing. To the ones who were neither, this was heart breaking.

They all chuckled and snickered, knowing this was a just punishment to the thief who thought he could steal from Hollow Bastion. Locke leaned up against the frame to the entrance, pushing the snide comments aside. He didn't want to hear them, didn't care. What he cared about now was Terra's soft hand on his shoulder...

That's all that mattered to him--

"Serves you right, thief," said Seifer Almasy, the ten-year-old heir of Hyperion Keep, from his place between Rinoa Heartilly and Rufus Shinra. A smirk plastered itself onto his expression. "Hollow Bastion never let's criminals go unpunished, and humiliation is the worst one can endure."

Locke opened him mouth to give the child a piece of his mind, but someone else beat him to it. From atop the tier, two seats away from the amused Lord Ansem and across from his brother, Zack had turned in his seat to look down at the dark-blonde noble. "Hey Almasy, eat your food and keep out of adult business like a toddler should."

Sour-faced, Seifer grumbled something best not repeated and trained his eyes down to his plate, but grinned nastily when Rinoa whispered something into his ear. Zack, on the other hand, looked to Locke with laughing eyes. "But it /is/ kinna embarrassing, Locke. Every night, our prized monsters--"

Insulted, Yuffie huffed and Squall glared. "Hey!"

"--get the better of you." Zack waved his hand around, indicating an airy boredom. "You'd think a thief would be faster and craftier then a couple of scruffy mongrels who have nothing better to do than torment the populace. Oh wait." Zack grinned suddenly, fox-eyed and teasing. "That's why you were caught, weren'tcha?"

And the hall laughed. Locke flushed, in shame and-- finally-- the very humiliation he fought against. Gently brushing Terra aside, the grey-blonde turned around and dragged himself down the corridor, defeated. The sounds of mirth haunted him, long after it died away from the echoes over stone. It was his own fault, yes, he knew that... and yet....

They never saw the tears that touched his cheeks.

And from where she sat, Lulu watched Terra slowly climb the stairs of the tier in sympathy.

"That was pretty low, little brother," stated Laguna, rising up to help Terra into her seat beside his own. "I never took you the type to verbally attack someone." All Zack did was wave him off, his spiked hair fraying as he cackled. "Aw, c'mon. Have some fun once in a while, 'Guna! I'll apologize to him later."

"Immediately after dinner," said a light-hued brunette on Sephiroth's other side. "Under punishment or not, that boy still has it rough. Babysitting Squall and Yuffie has never been an easy job, even for Laguna."

Zack leaned forward-- Sephiroth sat between him and her-- to look the woman in the eye. "Only for you, Beatrix."

Beatrix Steiner rolled said eye and returned to her dinner. Zack, however, was not one to quit talking. And he blinked, gesturing to the two empty seats closest to Ansem; one also happened to be to his right. "Where's Kairi?"

"In bed," replied Ansem absently, sweeping one of his dark locks behind an ear. "She wasn't feeling too well earlier, so Babasan took her to her room."

Zack's nose wrinkled. "I'll have to go see her and cheer her up, then."

"How?" asked Edea Kramer, a thin eyebrow raised in his direction. "By opening your mouth and watching all the pretty words fall out? Because that's all you seem to be good at these days."

The majority of the table chuckled and Zack made a face at the elder mage. "Oh ha ha, very funny, Edee. See, that's what separates me from Mr. I'm-a-treasure-hunter Cole. /I/ can take a joke."

Suddenly, Terra cast the young knight a harsh glare. "That wasn't a /joke/, Zack. You hurt him! It's bad enough he's the butt of every bad comment that runs around the castle, but you have wound his pride while you were at it! How would you like it if /you/ were the one down there being made fun of?!"

The aristocrats on the tier all stared, silenced; even Ansem seemed a bit surpised. Terra Branford was one who never raised her voice... Zack blinked. And blinked again. He continued to do so, until he grinned again, watching her slyly with kitty lips and hands clasped together. "You have a crush on him, don't you?"

From angry-red to caught-red-handed, Terra's facial expression changed instantly. She shook her head, but it was too late to deny anything, even as she stuttered, "N-no! Of course not!"

"Ah, but you are a terrible liar, Miss Terra." Zack began to cackle again, until Sephiroth cuffed him upside the head without even sparing him a glance.

Terra didn't speak for the rest of the meal.

Dishes were being cleared away when it happened. People jumped in fright as the doors to the dining hall were thrown open, clashing against the metallic surface of the walls. Ansem and many others were out of their seats, hurrying to see who would dare disturb them all in such a way.

Ansem narrowed his eyes at the intruder. "Seymour..."

The master of Hollow Bastion had a right to be upset. Seymour Guado, a tall and pale man, had once been his vizier three years ago, before Ansem cast him out for trying to attack both him and Kairi. He was deemed mad and banished, but the uniquely-hairstyled man now returned.. "Lord Ansem, you must stop this!"

"Huhh," snorted Ansem, turning his head away from Seymour rudely; the dark-haired man glared past the intruder. "Cait Sith! How did he get past the guards?!"

From behind Seymor, a small, black and white cat appeared, running on his hind legs and short of breath. "Sir, he overpowered us! Came storming right in--"

"Ansem, please!" Seymour stepped forward, making those closest to him step away in fear. "You're meddling in affairs that could destroy Spira! You must stop!"

Ansem's expression twisted from annoyance to anger. "Whatever you speak of is nonsense, sir. Now, I advise you to get out of my home and back to the rock you crawled out of. The next time you ever show up here again, you will be thrown to the behemoth. This is your one warning."

"And I'm telling you to terminate your reasearch of the darkness or I will terminate /you/. Come, Anima!"

Anarchy ruled the hall. Human panic and terror pooled together to fuel the summoned creature's power, as they pressed themselves as far away from the madman as they could. The only exit was blocked, and they watched, in horror, as the ground before Seymour disappeared, and black whisps of evil seeped from the cracks.

But as Seymour called forth his monster and those atop the tier either sough safety or to guard Ansem, Anima never made it to the physical plane. The sorceror's spell was interrupted by a flitting shadow that grabbed the front of his tattered robes and lifted him clear off the floor. Demon red eyes blazed into Seymour's light blue ones and the metal grip tightened; Seymour Dismissed Anima with a thought. Dead silence.

Thin leather membrane rustled imposingly, stretched out from underneath the red cape; it only served to make Vincent more intimidating. But Seymour wasn't fooled... not much anyway. He shuddered in revulsion, but not at Vincent's appearance. "You follow him blindly, Valentine," he whispered between them.

Vincent's snarl turned vicious, but kept his voice just as hushed. "I follow him /loyally/, something you never did, traitor."

"You would be wise," he said, calm as though he knew Vincent wouldn't hurt him, "for you to at least know what your master is up to behind his library and laboratory doors. ..You don't frighten me Vincent.. because I no longer fear death."

Vincent narrowed his eyes, but lost his ferocious edge. With a disgusted sound, Vincent tossed Seymour onto the floor of the corridor. They stared each other down, until Seymour got to his feet, brushed himself off, and started to walk down the hall with a manner of casualness. Eyes never leaving Seymour's back, Vincent mentally summoned the phantom beasts to his side. They, Nanaki and Django, appeared out of nowhere, manifesting from somewhere high above, and bound to the knight's side on swift paws. "You called?"

'Escort' him out. If he does anything suspicious, you know what to do.

Jewelery clinked together as the felic-wolves did as they were commanded; Cait followed them as well as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. And Vincent turned back to his Lord, wings folding neatly beneath their cloak, and he bowed. "If you'll excuse me, sire, but I would like to retire."

As his subjects began to slowly breathe easier, Ansem regarded Vincent's request with a rovering eye. The dark knight was shaken, invisibly so, but Ansem knew Vincent. Very well. "Of course. ....And thank you."

"It's my duty." And Vincent left the same way Seymour and the felic-wolves did moments before, cautious eyes upon him. But three pairs wore different emotions then all the others: the dark eyes of his table-mate were saddened, but convinced now more than ever of his good intentions; the bright eyes of his blood seethed with betrayal, laced with an anger that lanced out to the dark knight; the light eyes of a friend weighed with the burden of weary self-blame, that this might be his fault. But it wasn't, and that made him feel even more guilty.

But as for the rest of them, relief drowned the people, and the story mill once again began as though nothing had transpired that could have cost them their lives, and yet it's what they spoke of. They believed it was over, a sliver of chaos among the long roads of naive peace.

How wrong they thought.

I know, don't scream OOC. Considering that Kingdom Hearts has a very different FF world, I'm allowed to play with bloodlines, pasts, and personalities. And if you must know, this takes place between Ansem's Report 4 and 5. So, if you have those.. ^^; you'll know where you stand.

*makes a face* And I didn't like how I did it. It was sloppily written and probably full of mistakes. Have to fix that soon. 'Course, x_T it only got worse with the discovery of Leon's real age. I hurt myself over it.