Bind to Thee

by Sugahlei

*(new name/reloaded)* A year or so has passed, and Sora's search for Riku comes to a conclusion. A collar unable to be removed, secret identities, and above all...a love. *yaoi-riku/sora*

4. four

**Warning/Disclaimer**  Kingdom Hearts and it's various characters do NOT belong to me.  They belong to Squaresoft, Disney, yadda yadda yadda. I can't get rich off of this sort of stuff—but it does give me all sorts of added bonus.  ^_~  Song lyrics below are from "Speculum" by Adema. They're good.  Heh…

Strictly R-rated for content, guys—overall content, I mean.  This chapter's pretty tame…

Except for the angst.  XD~   Enjoy your stay!

~Bind to Thee~

:: four ::

Know that I think of you
It's killing me
(How I feel)

He took one last look into the room, seeing the guttering candles in the silver sconces, the draping fabric over the windows before he shut the door.  A proper sitting room, complete with a sleeping inhabitant.  Ithian lay sprawled elegantly upon his oversized lounge, the grays of his dinner-wear flowing nicely with the pale cream of the duvet.  Belnak felt a chill invade his old heart, and he shut the door silently.  Such beauty on such a dangerous and cold heart.  His hands shook slightly.

~It's almost over,~ he thought, and slipped quietly down the hall, keeping close to the shadows.

Minutes passed as he waited, listening.  The sounds of the manor, the faint hissing of the boiler, the murmur of the people still awake.  A ringing laugh, the scent of a woman's perfume.  He noticed everything, but shoved it away to concentrate.  He had only a small time before Ithian would wake, and even less time to ensure that Iceheart would be gone.  He knew his fate would be death, welcomed the thought with fondness, and hurried faster.

But the part of him that was mage, the resourceful and half-conscious thoughts, whispered darkly that something might go wrong.  He would do best to expect the unexpected.  Belnak nodded to himself in a doddering fashion, smiling faintly.  His bones creaked, muscles stringy with age and joints that looked knobby, but still moved fairly well.  He was in good health, of somewhat sound mind—

But it would do well to prepare.

~*~

Behind the closed door, a small cruel smile played briefly on the face of Ithian, before he rose.  Anger burned within him, indignant selfish anger that drove everything but what he wanted from his mind.  Belnak, the foolish old man, was trying to outsmart him.

~I see that I must activate the final component,~ he thought, feeling delightfully vicious.  ~I should have done this years ago.~

~*~

 "Master Belnak!" a voice whispered.  A hand caught his arm, and the old man looked over with a bemused expression to see Miruki's young cautious face.  Without speaking the boy tugged him into a shadowed alcove.

 "Is it done?"

 "Hopefully," the old mage sighed.  "Ithian will sleep for several hours, and our young lovers will have the chance they need."  Then he paused, glanced cautiously around with vague eyes and thoughts focusing inward for a moment.

Miruki grabbed at his arm, struggling to keep his attention.  His face was concerned.  "What will you do? Ithian won't allow you to live…"

 "Then I am free," Belnak said simply.  "I will accept death if necessary, to erase my shame."

 "M-master—" Miruki looked down.  His hands shook where they rested on the thin arms.  "I haven't learned everything yet…how-how am I to live, half-trained?"

Belnak patted at his hands gently.  "There are other mages to learn from," he assured him quietly.  "I am old and I've lived far past my prime.  There are things I have done that I am not proud of—let me die doing something in the service of others, as it was intended."

 "But—"

 "Go and keep a watch.  They will be rising early, and I don't doubt Ice will need a change of wear."

Miruki nodded, amethyst eyes clouded with hidden emotion.  He sniffed, scrubbed a forearm over his eyes. "I don't want to—but I won't refuse you, Master.  May you find shade," he whispered.  Then he pulled back, disappearing around the edge of the alcove and down into the darkened hall.

~May you find peace,~ Belnak said silently, and watched him go until he was out of sight.  ~Now for the hard part.~

A hand clamped over his elbow, young and strong, as a sneering voice laughed in his ear.  "My my, such antics you old people get into."  Belnak felt himself tense with surprise, with a horrible sense of things falling apart.  He tried to wrench his arm free. Something dark and vile crept insidiously up his spine, delving with cold ice-pick fingers into his mind—

He tried one last time, summoning all his strength, unable to cry out. It was too soon, unexpected—

But Ithian was strong.  He was younger, and as a hand gripped the gleam of gold around Belnak's wizened neck—Ithian's lips formed unheard words.  His magic was stronger.

A moment later,  the old man tumbled to the floor.  Ithian stood watching with his head tilted in a curious manner, and smiled faintly.  His eyes were cold and reflected the light sharply.

 "Oh, get up."

An arm twitched.  Then a foot, and slowly, shuffling, the thin arms pushed the old body upwards until the mage stood swaying.  His eyes were clouded, his expression dull.  The only indication of his recent fall was a bruise which was forming on his forehead.  Around his throat, however, the gleaming collar of gold had brightened, its magic renewed.

 "How do you like it?  It took me ages to discover a way to use the collar against the mind.  I must say, it's a pity that it only takes the best effect on those already collared—anyone else would merely be…destroyed, so to speak.  But it's possible, with your skill…and I want him aware, of course.  Are you angry, old man?" Ithian sneered a victorious smile.  "Does it burn that I've taken control so easily?"

Belnak did nothing, could do nothing until given orders. 

 "I know you can hear me.  I know you're fighting it.  You shouldn't—it'll only make things worse." A pause as Ithian beckoned and stepped into the hallway, laughing softly.  "Come, now, look sharp.  We have minds to reform."

~*~

Dawn was peeking through the tightly-closed window in a single slatted bar.  Dustmotes swirled in their golden dances, in and out of the narrow light as the darkness faded.  Then a brief burst of warmth as the sun rose fully.

In the residual darkness, sheltered behind the layered canopies of the antiquated bed, Sora cracked an eye open.  He was still mostly asleep.   The memories of his dreams were vague and full of warm things.  The early dawn, as usual, was enough to send the necessary signals to his body that it was time to wake.

After a moment, he yawned, curled up on his side upon the musty-smelling coverlet.  A single thin sheet was pulled over him to trap the body-heat, and as he stirred, his waking mind settled upon two things.

One—he was still naked.  It wasn't uncomfortable—no, it was almost reassuring in a way, with the sheets against his skin and the areas of cool cotton when he stretched his legs out.  It felt nice.

Then the second—a presence of warmth curled up against his back. A body.  After a moment of muddy thought, he felt an arm flex around his middle, a hand splayed against his chest.  A murmur of sound, and a tickle of breath against his shoulders.

~…Riku…~ came the internal sigh and a moment where his heart thumped crazily.  ~Oh Riku—~  He glanced carefully down on the urge to see if the hand was really there. 

It was.  The nails were the blunt and chipped sort of the warrior, and even in the glimmer of light Sora could make out the tracings of white scars and fading bruises.   Unfamiliar marks on a more familiar arm, hands that he remembered from years before and still retained a trace of that childhood smallness.  The muscle was sleek under the skin—Riku had always looked strong, had worked and pulled his weight to get that way.  He never gave it a second thought, Riku's build, but now…

He didn't know how to feel about this, how to think or act.  A part of him was just relieved to have found him, alive and somewhat sane.  That he was normal now, and free of Ansem's taint—

And the other…the other parts of him were warring in confusion and desire.  He wasn't entirely comfortable with reassessing aspects of his childhood and re-defining memory to suit what he noticed now.  He wasn't sure if he liked noticing the golden tone of the skin, or the ragged haircut of the same silken fair locks.  He didn't know how he felt about having to sleep with him, having touched the sun-kissed skin and felt those lips on his body and—

Sora blushed, holding perfectly still.  ~We did that…and he's free.  I won't worry about it anymore—it's done.  Done.  So stop thinking about it!~

His mind didn't want to drop the subject, apparently.  It flashed a sensation of the skin underneath him, of the warmth of the mouth against his own and the strength in the fingers when they moved down his back—

~So what?~ Sora muttered to himself.  ~I'm only sixteen.  Hormones are natural.  Stupid body.~  His mind helpfully supplied him with a picture of the curving spine, the splay of the legs and the arching—Sora squeezed his eyes shut—and promptly thought of the sounds from the silver-haired boy's throat.  The moans.  The half-pants.

~Stop it!  It's not like we're lovers—it had to be done.  It was necessary!~  Sora gnawed on the inside of his cheek.  ~It was…just…~

A part of him was stirring into a flushing heat.  ~I'd do it again, if he wanted,~ he admitted finally, face burning.  His body felt tense, his lungs aching as he tried not to breathe too deeply.  Tried to keep still and not look back down at that imperfect beautiful hand still snugged against his waist—

~So what do I do when he wakes up?!~ came a panicking part of him, his rationale slipping by degrees with each moment. 

Sora swallowed.  ~Like I said, it's done.  I can't change it, but I'm not gonna act all stupid over it.~ But he blushed when he imagined the eyes glancing at him, the smile that suited the mouth. Memories of laughter like falling snow.  ~Nothing's changed.  We're still friends, so…~

His mind faltered under his determination, and gave him a last parting shot of the act itself, the sensation of actually being inside him, moving, and the almost sinful pleasure it caused.

Then a brief startling moment where he wondered what it would feel like to have Riku inside him—Sora shuddered, almost shamed by his insistent arousal, and drew in a ragged breath.  ~No,~ he thought softly.  ~…just friends.~

~*~

He woke abruptly from a dreamless sleep when the bed creaked, the mattress jouncing as a warm weight pulled away from him.  He frowned as it slipped away from under his arm, but he wasn't alarmed.  It took him a moment to remember where he was—he had expected the still-cooled breezes of the night, the bright light of day—

But when he inhaled a lazy breath, all he tasted was dust and the hinting scent of someone familiar.  Riku cracked his eyes a bit, seeing a blurry tan figure stretch, and blinked.

A warmth spread through him, rousing him faster than a splash of cold water.  ~Sora.~  The arm curled up under his chest flexed, fingers stretching.  They touched nothing but the bare skin of his neck.  ~It really happened.  It's really off—~

~I'm really free.~

Again he felt the surging sense of sweet pain as his emotions tried to tell him crying was the next thing on the list, but he merely swallowed.  His tongue tasted dry and somewhat sticky from the night's food.  His body felt heavy, and his mind strangely unabashed as he tracked the figure as it moved around in the dusty morning light.  Dust motes swirled in a furious dance as Sora moved past the light seeping in, the skin lit briefly into gold.

~He's so…~

A curse as Sora stumbled, tripping over something.

~he's so Sora…~ was the best his mind could think of.  He was everything Riku remembered and more than he thought.  He was taller, his skin a touch darker.  His face had lost none of the innocence—but he was more of a young man now, instead of the somewhat-soft boy he had seen over a year ago.  Eyes that were still vibrantly blue, a sweet mouth and even softer skin—he was still Sora and he wasn't.  There was a casual elegance to his stride, and a surety to his moves that left no doubt to his skill.  He had the pride and power and the same sweet innocence.  Somehow still innocent.  No, pure.  Sora was pure. 

Well—

Riku grinned a shadow of his wicked grin.  ~Not that pure.~  He stretched out legs that felt sore, muscles that protested moving.  He winced at the sharp wrench of pain between his legs, and felt a quiver of breathlessness.  It really had happened.  Skin prickled as a shiver swept over him.  His mouth dried slightly, and he had to swallow.  ~It's over.  I can go home now…~

Sora mumbled something under his breath—the sound itself deeper than expected—a hand raked through his untidy mass of brown hair and began tugging on the pants he had worn last night.  Riku watched him move, barely breathing, and struggled not to pinch himself.  It wasn't a dream, it was real.  Sora was really here, he had really saved him. Briefly, Riku wondered if he should be insulted…but considering Sora, considering his past—No, it didn't sting as much as he had thought it would.

He had to stifle a smile, as Sora wandered over to the small nightstand and began peering curiously at a small assortment of dust-free objects with the same curiosity he remembered.  ~Miruki must have arranged this room,~ Riku thought.  Sora picked up a vial of clear liquid, shaking it slightly, sniffing at the scent.

 "It's oil," he couldn't help whispering then.  "You know, for sex."

 "Wha—Riku!!" Jumping, and a delicious scandalized tone in his voice, Sora dropped the vial back onto the stand with a clatter and blinked at him.  A sudden blush stained his cheeks, and he was visibly struggling to keep his eyes from wandering.  "I d-didn't know you were awake," he blew out an awkward breath and bit his lip.  His eyes flickered away.

Riku stretched with a tiny frown.  ~He looked away…~ "Wish I wasn't," he replied.  "Mm…it must be dawn.  Do you always wake at such an evil hour?"

 "Yeah, actually."

 "…oh, joy," Riku muttered, and pulled the sheet over his head.  Inside he was shaking.  Sora was acting…different…

Sora was the same, and yet—there was a guardedness to his eyes, a wariness that had everything to do with long hours of battle and too little to depend on.  The same look he saw in his own eyes sometime…But, that couldn't be right—Sora was innocent! He had always been innocent!

~Don't be stupid—it's been a year.  People change…~ he closed his eyes in the soft darkness.  ~…people change and there's nothing you can do about it…~

~*~

Miruki ran down a dusty ill-used hall, a bundle of clothing in his arms, sandals dangling from his hands.  His breath came in short erratic bursts, and his heart pounded from a mix of fear and excitement.  It was almost over. 

~Just one more place,~ he thought.  ~His belongings—I have to find his things.~

He ran, absently wondering if he would need a bag, or another pair of arms.  All he had left to do was find the chest where someone before him—Belnak, most likely—had stored the small amount of belongings, and bring them to Ice.  The storerooms were just ahead, and his bare feet left no noise upon the floor.  Having explored nearly all of the corners and secrets of this manor, he had no fear of being caught.  Not even Ithian could control him, could harm him—

Only Belnak could command him.  Only his master.  Miruki smiled bitterly to himself, turning left and ducking under the dangling cobwebs.  ~Belnak's going to die,~ he thought sadly. ~He will be free regardless, and I'll have to find another way to finish my training.~ 

~I'm not supposed to be here, remember?~ he told himself.  He gritted his teeth, feeling the collar tighten against his neck.  The collar.  Deliberate theft had gained him this, and a chance to re-gain his teacher, his master and friend—a mere criminal act to keep a secret…

And now it was almost over.

~*~

Sora stared at the lump under the covers, heart thumping in his throat and tried to swallow. ~Is he…upset with me?~  "Uhm, Riku?"  Blinking, he peered at it, nibbling at a lip with uncertain hesitation.  "What are you doing?"

 "What does it look like?" came the muffled voice.  The irritation, the rough sleep-scratchy voice was familiar.  "Sleeping.  It's too early."

 "But—we've got to get going—my ship needs repairs yet, and if we don't leave soon…"

Riku made a not-quite audible noise, but didn't move.  Sora sighed and ran a hand over his hair.  His embarrassment was fading to the back of his mind.  He wasn't able to push it away entirely, but focusing on more pressing matters took his attention briefly.  ~Why is he being so stubborn?~

 "Oiy," he said finally, prodding the hidden shoulder with a finger.  "Come on, you.  We've gotta move, and you're not helping."

 "…no," Riku said.

 "Riku—I mean it!" the brunette grabbed a fistful of the blanket and yanked it away. His voice was obstinate. "You can sleep on the way back!"

The cover flew off with surprising ease.

Turning just enough to peer over the bare slope of his shoulder, Riku gave him an unreadable expression as Sora stumbled back with the entire square of cloth.  "I was using that," he said in a neutral voice. 

Sora could tell he was smirking on the inside as he flushed and looked away.  "Yeah, I noticed," he muttered, and dropped the blanket.  He turned away from the slant of the back—and more importantly, the skin and body exposed—and began to hunt for his shirt.  "Come on, Riku.  I'm serious—I don't wanna be here when Ithian finds out you're not his toy anymore.  So get up!" 

 "He won't be able to do anything," Riku told him.  He was watching Sora's bent back with uneasy worry.  "The collar is open and my debt is paid.  He can't do anything without causing the Council to take notice."

There was a darkness in his voice, a regret, that had Sora thinking he wasn't pleased with running off first thing in the morning.  ~…does he want him to find us?~

Sora glanced at him, ruffling his hair for a moment.  To Riku he looked troubled and frayed.  "Yeah, I figured that…I don't know—he's just—I don't trust him," he finished quietly.  "So I want to get you outta here first, okay?"

 "Didn't Miruki lock us in?" Riku yawned.  He sat up and caught the exasperated look Sora shot him.  "Oh—right.  You've got the Keyblade.  Stupid question."

 "Here," Without looking, Sora tossed him the bundle of gauze that had been his outfit. "Put this on, at least."  Then he bent and rummaged for his shirt again underneath the blanket.  When he found it, he dragged it out and shook it, grimacing at the dust. 

 "So, what do we do—" Riku began—and paused, frowning.  Sora shot him a look in the middle of tugging the shirt down around his torso, and regarded him cautiously.  The flaxen-haired young fighter was staring piercingly at the door. There was a gleam of alertness that he hadn't ever seen before in Riku's eyes—those clever careful eyes.

Even with the darkness, Riku had never looked so dangerous…he wasn't the boy Sora had known anymore.  He wasn't the boy that had looked brave in the face of despair even as the tall marble doors shut him away from the world.

~Riku…~ he thought.  ~Riku, I—~

 "Quiet," Riku breathed as the brunette opened his mouth.  He stood, his face closed off from any expression, staring at the door—but Sora didn't notice. Instead, faced with the very thing he was struggling to push aside, he jerked his head around.  His cheeks flushed pink as the silver-haired young man slid quickly into his gauzy trousers.

Riku didn't notice.  He walked to the door, hearing the clicking sound of the tumblers—

—and yanked it open.

~*~

 "It does not look good," an impassive voice echoed in the darkness.  "He has gone too far."

 "Agreed," said another.  "His obsession will trigger the collapse of the Council—if he's allowed to do as he wishes, and Belnak remains within his hands."

 "What measures shall we take, then?" the first voice mused.

 "We will wait," A third replied slowly.  "He is cunning.  It will not be easy."

~*~

Trying to balance the folded clothing, the sandals and other objects gathered in his mad dash throughout the palace—Miruki wasn't prepared in the least to have the handle of the door yanked from his precarious grip.  He gasped as the wooden chest began to tumble from his arms and clutched at the overbalanced load of fabric, struggling to keep it in his arms.  Half-bent, he missed the person beyond the doorway glancing down at his ungainly movements.

 "Miruki?"

The dark-haired slave looked up at the voice.  "I-Ice!" he exclaimed.

The older boy smiled down at him, a hand on one hip.  "Hey, Miru."  Sea-colored eyes took in the fallen items, and a narrow brow rose.  "Clothes?" Ice—Riku—assumed.

Miruki managed a relieved smile, his eyes taking in the relaxed stance and the amused glint in the eyes.  He nodded, and Riku hitched at the loose waist of his gauzy trousers.  He was bare-chested and in the shadows Miruki almost missed the lack of tell-tale glint of gold around the neck.

Exhilaration spun through him.  "Ice—you—"

 "Who is it?" a low wary voice murmured from behind Riku's shoulder.  Bright blue eyes peered over the bare curve of skin.  "Hey, Miruki!"

Riku caught the slave's hesitating expression and let a smile twist his lips as he stepped backward into the shadowed room. 

 "Come on," the fighter said as Sora edged around him to hold the door for Miruki.  Habit made the young man glance down the deserted hall as he began to close the door.  No one.  Sora pressed the door shut behind the slave as he kicked the box forward.

Then he turned to face the two settling down upon the rug as Miruki began placing clothing into neat piles.  "Hey! My stuff!" and bent to rummage through the folds.  "Hell yes—no more formal crap!"

Miruki smiled at him, sliding a battered wooden chest towards Riku.  "Here, your things.  I had to search for them…Belnak had them hidden." A moment later he dug the sandals out from under the trousers and handed them over as well.  Concern stabbed him as Riku nodded briefly, his gaze shuttered as it flicked over Sora.

Sora perked an ear in their direction as he slipped out of his too-fancy shirt and tried not to look like he was eavesdropping.  Riku made a noise of amusement, and uttered a 'Thank you' as Sora tugged on his old tee-shirt. 

~Much better,~ he stuck out a leg, debating—and decided that the black material was suitable enough for his line of work.

 "I am happy for your freedom, Ice," Miruki whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye Sora saw the silver-gilt hair shift in a nod, the face turning his way for a moment.  Something about Riku's expression seemed stiff—perhaps the set of his eyes—but Sora couldn't see that closely and he wasn't about to turn his head.  It was hard enough trying to act like everything was okay when he wasn't even sure what was going on.

 "Sora—here, your bag?" the silver-haired teen asked, and slid it along the floor.

 "Hmmm," he glanced inside, running a mental inventory.  "Yup!" He peered at Riku, shifted uncomfortably.  Riku was crouching there as he balled up his clothing, the taut lean muscles of his legs visible through the breezy fabric, and with the sight of the bare torso…

 "Shouldn't you change, or something?"

 "Why, you want to watch?" Riku teased, almost sounding like his fifteen year old self.

~But he's not fifteen anymore,~ Sora thought, glancing up.  He watched him for what seemed forever—looking for something—and felt himself blush at the direct contact.  He scowled to cover up his nervousness.  "Riku!  We have to go! Stop fooling around!"

A startled expression flashed through sea-colored eyes.  "I know that—" he began.

 "Do you!?" Sora snapped and ran a hand through his hair.  "You don't seem to get the point—I really don't trust this Ithian—He's just another Ansem, goddammit!" he ignored Riku's flinch at the name, and finished, "It's taken me a long time to find you, and I just want to go home!  I want you home!"

Miruki glanced back and forth, the silence thick with some tension.  He didn't know what their past had been like—he was still amazed that they even knew each other—but this unusual strain…he glanced warily at Riku, seeing the darkened gaze and the way his hands clenched on the fabric.

~Ansem?  Who was this…Ansem?~ 

Sora was standing there stiffly, his jaw clenched stubbornly as he glared down Riku, daring him to make eye contact.  "So are you going to stop being a jerk and listen to me for once?"

After a long moment Riku raised his eyes to Sora.  The expression was the same as the one he used when he was required to attend Ithian—the cold emotionless face that had earned him the name Iceheart.  Miruki bit his lip.

Riku spoke icily, "Okay.  Fine, whatever you say, Keyblade Master."

Sora flinched in almost the same way Riku had earlier when he heard the strange title, but his glaring expression didn't waver, and he didn't look away.

 "…R-Riku?" the slave whispered.  "Are you—"

 "I'm fine," the young man said coldly.  "But he's right—we don't have the time to waste."  The young man stood and began to dress with efficient movements out of long habit.  His spine straightened almost automatically, as if he was annoyed at something.

As Sora made a face at the other teen's rudeness—he had the cold and disconcerting senses that he was looking at a stranger.

~*~

 "Well?  Where are they?"

A pair of shaking hands smoothed fitfully over a smoky pane of glass.  The room was dark but for a single candle whose light gleamed in twisted flickers of the surface.  Belnak bent his head to peer into the glass, his fingers coming to rest on the wooden edges, and shook his head.  "They near the gates of the palace," he mumbled.

 "Hmmm," Ithian drawled, idly toying with a lock of his ebon hair.  "I see.  Perhaps they are smarter than I calculated—or Ice truly fears to confront me as threatened." A sly smile crossed his handsome face and he slipped the lock of hair over his shoulder.

Belnak didn't answer.

Ithian made a face of disgust.  ~The trouble with absolute control,~ he thought darkly, ~is that you have to do everything.  How irritating.~ 

 "Come, old man.  Do you have everything prepared?"

 "Yes, Master," Belnak replied.  He didn't move, however.

Ithian sighed.  "Turn around.  We are leaving—do try to act more like your pathetic self, would you?"

The old slave did as he was bid, turning and affecting a more 'aware' expression, but the eyes remained dull and blank.  Ithian mused that couldn't be helped in the situation, and time was everything, and smiled grimly.

Time to go.

~*~

Sora was in a silently irritated mood by the time they managed to reach the outer market.  He alone would not have brought any attention to himself, but with Miruki ducking his head several paces back, and—of course—Riku's stride all but shouting out his freedom while next to the brunette—

It wasn't surprising that people were turning to look with eyes wide.  Some of them had smiles, and whispered words just out of range of hearing.  Some were amused, and didn't seem to care.  Others were downright hostile as Riku lifted his head and glared about regardless of his former status.  His bared neck showed no gleam of gold, and by that telltale factor alone he was once more equal.

Sora wanted to hit him by the time they got through the market.  The walk was uneventful despite the tension.  No one dared to approach them, no vendors shouted their wares to them; Sora's glare and frequent side-glances were unknowingly possessive, a visual warning of 'back off' that no one was going to question.  To his discomfort, it seemed as if everyone there knew that he had bedded the renowned Iceheart—and now, walking before their very eyes and no doubt fueling years of gossip—Riku was living it up as though he knew each and every one of them. 

Sora had no idea why he was so angry, just that the center of his whirling emotions seemed to be a mix of confusion and fear and a worrisome sense of danger, of balancing on some unseen ledge.  ~All over Riku~, a part of him whispered.

It didn't help that he had no clue to why Riku was acting so pissed off, either.  Whatever he had said or done had turned that eerie frozen anger in his direction, and it seemed as if Riku wasn't going to stop any time soon.

Frustration stitched a line on his brow as he thought,~Everything is always over Riku.~

They took the turn that led down towards the caravan warehousing district, where the merchant ships were stored and unloaded.  Most of the large buildlings in the area were privately owned, decorated in bright colors and tapestries.  There were only a few for actual caravans; it seemed that the majority were used as food storage. 

Sora felt lucky that he had somehow managed to convince Donald to shift the gummi-ship into something resembling a caravan, one of the rare motorized ones of the rich that had been going around.  It wasn't hard, but time consuming, and it was stashed with a little of the precious money they had left at the time. 

~That reminds me. ~ Sora paused, digging out a fraction of the mythril, and handed it to Miruki.

 "Go to Devo down by the carriage stall and tell him Sora wants those parts," he said, a hint of command in his voice.  "You'll be able to carry them without a problem, okay?"

Miruki nodded, folding the silver into a secret pocket in his clothing, and darted off.

Sora sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair as he tried to think.  Riku was waiting ahead, arms crossed and face set in 'ignore' mode.  For the last twenty minutes Riku had done nothing but ignore the world in general.  ~He's acting so stuck up,~ a childish side of Sora pouted.  ~He doesn't act like anything happened…~

He glanced around for a moment, setting his thoughts in order and noticed a straggling group of people glancing frequently in their direction.  One of them pointed, and as one the entire group, turned to look frankly at Riku.

~So I guess he's a celebrity now,~ he thought.  ~Great.  If that's why he's acting all strange I'm going to kick him.  Repeatedly.~

The brunette looked past him to where the gummi-ship was stored, hoped his other two companions were there—he hadn't seen them on the way through the city or the inn to pick up the rest of his belongings—he could only hope they were waiting for him.

Idly, under the surface of all his frustration, he worried what they would say when they saw Riku and what Riku would say in return…Gods knew the last time they had met had ended badly.

~Well, I'm not letting him run off this time.  Even if I have to chain him to my belt, there's no way he's leaving my sight!~

Again, he stole a furtive glance to the arrogant young man and scowled.  Riku still hadn't spoken to him, had barely even looked in his direction.  He didn't know if it was something he did, if he had said something rude or…

~What if he…~ Sora shook his head, uncrossing arms he didn't remember crossing, and made a face.  ~Forget it.  Friends, remember?  If he wants to be a dick, let him. I don't care.~  He really wanted to hit him, to scream at him and shake him until he dropped the cold veneer, that damnable sneer, until they figured out whatever the hell was wrong—

~No use getting upset.  We're almost there, and I know Goofy will want at least one of us smiling…~

~*~

Ithian had to admire the way his Pet was acting.  So cold, so arrogant—all of the aspects he was so familiar with.  He wondered, as Belnak stood blankly at his side, if the boy named Key had forced him to follow—Ice didn't seem too pleased be there, he noted. 

The look on his face was almost murderous, if Ithian was any judge of his inner thoughts.  He supposed it didn't matter.  He was hidden in the shadows of the extended canopies above, far from sight and sound, but not far enough to lose track of them completely.  He smiled a simple delighted smile.

~Now, who to take first…~

~*~

 "You're late!" was the first thing he heard when he entered the warehouse yard.  The next thing he saw was a waddling bundle of white and blue coming towards him, hissing under his breath.

If Sora didn't know that this meant Donald had been worried, he would have yelled right back.  Instead he rolled his eyes, rubbed his forehead and said tiredly, "I know. I had something to deal with."

Donald grumbled and smoothed the feathers on his arms in an effort to relax.  "Well, you could have sent a message—what happened this time, that idiot from the ball try to hire you out?"

 "Um, no, actually—" Sora cast a glance behind him, face impassive, and saw Riku still in the shadows.  ~Why won't he say anything?!~

"Dammit," Sora snapped finally, hands on his hips and faced the other boy fully. Riku met his gaze emotionlessly, almost amused as he said, "Will you stop being such a doofus and get over here!"

 "Excuse me?" Riku's reply had more emotion in those two syllables than his face had shown during the lengthy walk through the city.

 "I don't know what the hell crawled up your ass and died but you're starting to piss me off! What the hell is your problem?! I don't even know what I did and you've been nothing but a brooding little bitch since this morning!"

Riku stalked forward, both of them heedless of Goofy and Donald exchanging surprised glances.  His face was emotionless, the set of his mouth firm.  It was only the blazing fury in his eyes that gave away the relentless tide of emotion he must have been feeling as he drew close to Sora, close until he could have tilted his head and kissed him again, if he wanted to.

 "If I recall, Keyblade Master—you had the privilege of crawling up my ass," the young man replied bitingly.  "But other than that, I'm perfectly fine."

Sora didn't back down, even though his cheeks went a bright red and something deeper than sadness pierced his heart.  "As I recall," he mimicked, furious. "That was the only way, right? Didn't you say that? I had to fuck you to free you, big deal—so unless you wanted to let that right go to Ithian, what the hell is your problem?"

Face suddenly white, his eyes more black than sea-blue, Riku stiffened.  "I would rather die than let him touch me!" he hissed.  "How dare you!  I spent a year here trying not to be raped, beaten or mugged, I spent a year bowing to the whim of a man I abhor—all for a stupid mistake—I spent a year wishing I had died in the darkness instead of waiting for you—"

Something whalloped into them with a stinging force at the knee-level, and both boys looked down. Donald glared up at them with his magus staff in one hand, and Goofy's current shield in the other.  "Are you done making a scene?" he asked waspishly.  "I don't know what happened and I don't wanna know—so both of you shut up!"

 "Still hanging around them, I see," Riku bit out, glaring at the duck.  He whirled in place before Sora could respond, stalking for the alcove housing the gummi-ship.

The brunette made a frustrated noise, stamping his foot almost childishly.  "Goddamit—" he snapped his mouth shut and began to follow the fair-haired boy.

 "Isn't that Riku?" Goofy whispered to Donald.

 "Looks like it," the fowl replied as he handed back the shield.  "It'll be a wonder if we even—"

The rest of his words where lost in an explosion as the two found themselves thrown forward with the force.  When the dust cleared and Donald managed to raise his head to see what had had attacked, mind screaming ' heartless! '—

He saw a figure, tall and imposing against the sun-laced air, standing in the entrance.

~Great,~ the fowl thought. ~More trouble.~

~*~

 " 'Carry them easily', he said.  'Won't be heavy', he said." Miruki grunted, shuffling his grip along a smooth plastic container that was easily as wide as him, and minced along.  He didn't know what was worse, carrying these hell-damned parts or worrying over the declining state of Sora and Riku's interaction.

~Interaction? Yeah, you can call that cold-shoulder stuff interaction…~

He forced his legs into a faster walk, arms aching with the strain of the pieces, and hurried on.  If he didn't get back soon, he worried, those two would probably tear the place down around themselves.

When the thunderous sound of the explosion rang through the air, sliced through with the wild taste of magic, he froze, startled into thinking ~Oh, for gods sake!~

He was only a few streets away, yet, still unseen as the clouds of dust and smoke billowed out.  The stench was acrid and biting, and he hunched, trying not to cough as the clouds passed.  ~That was nothing normal,~ he realized.  ~That was magic!~

Miruki drew in a ragged breath, straining with tearing eyes—and gasped. 

Ithian stood in the center of the square, dressed in clean white linen that was slashed with blood-red accents.  The magic-forged wind ruffled playfully around him, casting his hair out in gleaming locks.  His skin was a dark contrast to the pale color, his face was benign, even gentle, as he smiled and patted Belnak upon the shoulder.

~Oh shit,~ Miruki thought.  ~This is bad.  This is really bad,~ and did the only thing possible.  He slipped the container behind some fallen crates, spelling them to ensure their security, and hid himself away.

~*~

Sora pushed himself to his feet, furious on just about every level he could think of, and swung about to face the direction of the explosion.  "Whose brilliant idea was that?" he yelled, not caring that he was covered in the dull brown dirt.

All he saw at first was the dying swell of the dust-cloud the explosion had triggered. He glanced down to where his companions had stood and made sure that they were still functioning.  Donald was raising his head, spitting out some curse as Goofy swayed in a sitting position.

They seemed fine.  ~I'm still going to seriously hurt someone…~  He spat out a wad of dirty spit, face set in a way that resembled his youthful pout—only this expression was a bit more dangerous.  "You!"

 "Ah, young Key—I do hope you're well—" a mocking familiar voice called.  "I hadn't planned on such an entrance, really, the explosion was to have been much smaller."

Sora met the ebon eyes of the slavemaster Ithian, stared with all of the pent up anger and frustration and hurt inside him.  "What do you want?"

Ithian merely smiled faintly.  "What's mine, of course," and raked his eyes down, then up again in a mocking stare that left no doubt to Sora that he was privately amused at the now-disheveled state of his appearance.

A blur of thoughts ran through the brunette's mind at that moment, more emotion than clear thought.  A single strand of possessive anger at the implication Ithian was after Riku, a boiling hatred that the man would even try—and a more-than-happy thrill that he'd at least kick someone's ass on this planet.  Sora smiled grimly, running the back of his hand over his face.  "You won't get him," he said.  "I won't let you."

Ithian bared his teeth in a sharp grin. "How are you going to stop me, boy?" Dust flurried around him under the unseen wind, his own elegant clothing still unstained.  Off to the side a crouching figure stirred.  "You cannot match my mage, and you cannot match me…"

Sora grinned a wicked grin. "Do I look unarmed to you?" he said, and extended his hand, gesturing obscurely for the Keyblade.  It fell into his hand with it's heavy reassuring weight, sparkling around and through his hands as the power flickered away.

Brow raised, Ithian fluttered his hand in a mock-display of terror.  "That is a nice trick, boy—but how is a giant key supposed to harm me?"

 "Easy," Sora replied. "I'll just beat you with it."  ~Until you're a twitching lump on the ground, you bastard.~

From somewhere within his robes Ithian drew a gleaming slender blade, sharp and undeniably dangerous.  A casual shove sent the old man face-first into the choking dust—the mage, Sora assumed, thinking of the rumors he garnered in the previous days—and Ithian was striding forward.

 "You are a great annoyance," the man was declaring.  "I'll enjoy breaking you."

 "And you're a stuffed poncing idiot," Sora replied, swinging his blade. He grinned irritatingly, and gestured at himself. "By all means, you freak-show, let's dance—"

He only hoped that Riku was somewhere safe, and stay out of the way. He had no desire to work around a Riku that wouldn't listen to a word he said.

~*~

When the dust cleared for Riku, he beheld everything he feared in his dreams and waking nightmare before him.  He crouched there in ragged garments better suited to beggars, in a pride that crumbled swiftly as Sora—his Sora!—advanced with blade drawn to a smirking Ithian.

~not this, oh gods not this!~

His instincts screamed of a trap, of some trickery.  Ithian had finally made his move, and Riku could do nothing but watch as the two exchanged words—meaningless noise whisking in the conjured wind—and wait.  Fingers dug furrows into the packed earth, his muscles clenching painfully tight with his anxiety, he could only wait.

~No!~

In that brief moment—where panic flared up against all of his anger and confused hurt, where his urge to protect Sora from Ithian's horrible grasp rose without limit—Riku struggled to his feet and all of his fear, his love flashed across his face.

It settled into stubborn resolve.  Sora would have recognized that look, the way Riku held himself.  He would have known that now, no matter what, Riku was determined to do everything in his power to stop Ithian.

But he was too late.  Ithian and Sora were suddenly darting into battle, their moves fluid and almost blurring out of view as their blades clashed into sparks. 

 "No," Riku croaked. "No no no—"

Sora spun into a low crouch, his Keyblade aiming for the lower legs even as Ithian side-stepped, parrying with a disdainful snort.  Then he swept out the blade that Sora ducked, and kicked with surprisingly agility that Sora caught at the ankle, wrenching the leg.  Another parry, a barely-dodged punch.  Sora twisted into series of low deflecting blows that had the older man skittering back to avoid them.

~He's quick…he's…~

Ithian bent low, gripping the closest wrist of the brunette as their blades locked at the haft, whispering something with a devilish smile.

 "Like hell!" Sora shrieked and kicked at Ithian's knees, wrenching a hand free, and slammed a fist into that perfect face before Ithian could react. "You sick twisted monster—" he spat as Ithian struggled to keep his balance and wiped casually at the smear of blood on his mouth.

 "You're welcome to join," Ithian purred.  "You both would make quite the pair on my bed…"

Sora swept his Keyblade in a tight arc and sprang forward, the deadly look in his eyes making it quite clear what his answer was.

Riku cried out, his words lost in the ringing peal of metal, heart pounding.  He felt frozen in place. He wanted to run forward and stop them, wanted to rip Sora's Keyblade from his grasp and ram it through Ithian and make sure that he'd never take another slave again—wanted to scream out apologies and protect that damnable boy from everything—

 "I've fought worse than you," Sora ground out.  "and I'm not about to let you get your dirty hands on him!"

The ebon-haired man merely smiled, far enough away to pause and dust off his clothing while regarding Sora with a tolerant smile.  "Oh, who said I had to touch him to control him?" A glance in Riku's direction, a brief moment of eye contact that felt Riku feel suddenly slimy, hackles raised.

Something was wrong.

~Get out of there, get away from him—~ Riku thought in wild panic.  His mouth opened to cry out a warning, his hands reaching for weapons he didn't have—he'd take Ithian on with nothing but tooth and nail, if he had to—

And a vile cold touch slid around his neck.

Pain slammed into his mind and he arched taut as a bowstring as the clammy grip, a hand, pulled him backwards.  Words mumbled just beyond his hearing, the world itself turning and spinning until the ground held him upright.  It didn't matter—the pain was everything, a delicate burning pressure on his mind that ripped through his memories.  Laughter and a cool shadowy darkness, a presence that was both past and present, flashes of emotion and thought –

pain-pleasure-hate-affection-desire-love-fear-laughter-hope

 (…sora…oh sora i'm sorry…)

Riku was smashed flat, stretched and torn beyond recognition, falling in a space that screamed without words, a place that he couldn't see without being blind.

 (sora…)

He was screaming and couldn't hear himself scream, as a series of wards and restrictions flared into his mind—

There was a cry, a broken concerned wail of something, a name—it was the last thing he heard as he spiraled down out of sight, down into that wretched hateful darkness, down into the cold and absence of everything.

~*~

 "It is time," the First of the Council remarked softly. "He has transgressed the agreement of the Master."

Six others agreed with a slow nod of their respective heads.  Then, with a flicker of their gray robes, they vanished from the shadows.

~*~

Riku was screaming.

As he spun and blocked the jabbing edge of Ithian's sword, the strangled sound of Riku's voice broke through his concentration.  Riku was screaming. 

~The collar is off—he can't control him!~ his mind denied.  He pushed back, kicking out to give him some room, and glanced over to where Riku was, where an old man—the mage—was crouching over him.

Riku was screaming, back arched off the ground.  Power churned around the old man as his hands pressed against the white-faced Riku.  The dirt was ripping itself away, the air groaning in protest as the mage worked his spell.

 "Riku!" Sora cried, turning his furious gaze back to the slavemaster.  "What are you doing to him!"

Ithian laughed, the sound a rough shriek.  His eyes were a touch wild as he held out his arms, hair whipping around him in the windstorm.  "I am taking what is mine!" the man declared.  "Who will you stop, boy, me or the mage?" He swung his blade in lazy arcs.  "Can you afford to even take the time to decide?"

 "I'll kill you!" Sora roared in the cold breeze.  "If you've hurt him I'll kill you!"

 "That won't be necessary, child," a gentle and steely voice remarked.  "This is out of your jurisdiction."

In his anger he almost ignored the sound, ignored the way that he suddenly seemed surrounded by men dressed in gray bathrobes.  All he could think of was the whisper of Riku's gasping noises, all he could see was his fallen friend.  His fingers tightened upon the haft of the keyblade, his teeth bared in a snarl and his expression hateful.

He was barely aware of the sudden furious look that suffused his enemy's face, the disbelieving curses.

But his instincts told him not to move.

 "Ithian," the First began in the silence that fell.  "We have reached full consent to the removal of your status as Master."

 "What!?" the man hissed. "You dare to stand in my way?"

The elderly First slid smoothly between Sora and Ithian, face mild and disapproving.  "You overstep your bounds," the old mage remarked softly.  "Remove your clasps."

//He carries all of the locking mechanisms—// whispered suddenly in Sora's memory.

 "I refuse, you old fool—you have no power to stop me," Ithian cried in his outraged voice. "You and your entire Council cannot stop me!  I will have what is mine!"  The sword was flung from his hand as he stepped back from the First.

Sora could feel the power thrumming excitedly to life, dark squalling power that Ithian pulled from the very source of life, from everything around him.  The power sent the Council murmuring worriedly to themselves, watching with wary eyes, but they made no move to leave or go against him.  It seemed to be a stalemate, Sora thought.  The Council was made of men both old and powerful, but Ithian had the upper hand.  The Council, Sora realized, didn't have that kind of ability, they relied upon the honor to keep the law upheld.

Ithian had lost his honor.

~He's only Master when he's got slaves, right?~ the sudden realization flared into his mind. ~So let's get rid of the slaves.~

 "Get out of my way," he told the Mage in flat tones.  "Before he finishes his spell.  You can't stop him."

 "Child," the First somehow managed to give the impression of disapproval without looking at him as Sora stepped forward.  "You are not allowed to kill him—murder is an act we hold in strong loathing."

 "Who said anything about killing him?" Sora snapped.  "Oh, I'd love to kill him for what he did to Riku, for what he did to others—but I won't kill him—I'll just humiliate him!" he ended his words with a yell, swinging his Keyblade in front.  "Do you have any idea who I am, Ithian?"

The Keyblade went up over his head, then swung down into a loop and spun suddenly to the right.  A stylistic display of precise movements.  As the blade moved, a trail of glittering sparks began to fall.

 "Fool," Ithian began, laughing.  He mockingly raised his fist, the power pulsing around his arm and gestured rudely.  "Who are you, then, I you think you can defeat me?"

Sora spoke.  "I am the Master of the Keyblade.  I have sealed worlds upon worlds from the darkness Ansem released, I have fought and defeated the horrors left behind—" he paused to level a stare as his blade swung slowly back around on a horizontal level with his chest.  "What makes you think," he pointed the Keyblade straight for the man responsible for Riku's pain, for everything, "That unlocking the collar to every slave you have would be a challenge?"

Coruscating light flared from the edges of the Keyblade, a shining explosive force that sent the Council reeling backwards—but the light had one target, and it struck with a whisper of a sound on the hidden chain of clasps.  Ithian cried out in shock and staggered back, the spell he was summoning abandoned.

When the light faded from view, and Sora swung the blade down with a satisfied smirk, the loss of light left Ithian standing there motionless. 

The ebon-haired man stared down at himself, almost expecting to see his body burned and blistered, or bleeding—but there was nothing.  Ithian raised a hand and touched himself gingerly about the chest, an indrawn breath hovering in his chest.

Then he laughed breathlessly, prodding with a firmer touch at his chest.  "Stupid boy," he ground out in the euphoria of survival.  "I am invincible!"

Sora banished the blade with a grim smile.  "You weren't listening," he said—

—and the first of the unlocked rings of gold, one ring for each collar, slipped free to chime in the dust.  A second later, a rain of gold burst out upon the ground.

Ithian stared disbelievingly, grasping convulsively at the falling bits of gold, crying out with a raging wordless wail as they puffed into the dust like broken jewelry.  "No! No, impossible! How—" he fixed Sora with a wild stare, fallen to his knees to scrabble for bits of gold.  "You're not supposed to do that! You can't!"

 "I wield the Keyblade," Sora reminded him.  "It's part of the package."

The Council took that moment to step forward as one, each of them casting disbelieving wary glances in Sora's direction.  He wasn't sure of what they had planned for Ithian—he didn't care, frankly—but as they surrounded the man, he could hear him screaming out in protest. 

 "No! I won't! I refuse to be—stop it! No, no stop!"

No, it didn't bother Sora in the least.  His gaze shot to where Riku was fallen flat on the hard-packed earth, where the old mage was swaying in a crouch.  Despair and anxiety slammed into him like a stone, cold in his middle.  "Riku," he whispered under his breath, and began to run.  "Riku!  You—get away from him!"

All of his fear, his rage and bittersweet happiness at meeting up with Riku again, all if it erupted out in a fearsome cry as he skidded to a halt on stinging knees, gravel spraying from the force of his landing.  He pushing violently at the old man, sending him sprawling. He gathered Riku's motionless body close and glared up again through eyes that threatened to tear up.

 "What the hell were you doing?" he heard himself shriek at the old man.

The mage didn't move from his fallen position, only twitched.  His clothes were threadbare, his body the skinny gnarled form of the long-lived.  He looked battered and strung out, but Sora couldn't find it in himself to feel pity.  The man had hurt Riku, had done something horrible to him that made him scream—

 "Oh God oh god – Riku! Riku?  Come on, Riku, look at me!" he whispered.  He pushed his fingers under the silky strands of silver-gilt hair, pushing them away from the face.  Riku was pale under his hand, his eyes showing only glints of white and his skin clammy.  He shook minutely as if he was under a strain—

But there wasn't anything wrong with him! No wound, no bruise, nothing in the way that would make him scream like that—

~Get help, get Donald, maybe Donald will know what's wrong—that old man's a mage, right? Maybe Donald—~

 "Riku…Riku Riku Riku," he whispered under his breath, lugging up the limp body and cradling the head.  He rocked a bit, pressing his forehead the cool cheek.  "Riku, come on—you're all right, you've got to be alright—"

 "Belnak!" came a high agonized cry. 

The voice seemed to echo the knotted twisting emotions inside him perfectly.  Dazed, Sora looked up, eyes wide and painfully dry, a lump thick in the back of his throat.

~Miruki?~

From the same dazed place of disbelief he watched the dark-haired slave fall to his knees near the old mage and cradle him much the same way Sora had.  It was odd—he hadn't known that Miruki had known the man.  He watched Miruki smooth back a tendril of gray hair, wiping away a trickle of blood from under the ear.  A thin worn-out collar was resting loosely about the mage's neck, and as Miruki lifted the head carefully, the eyes in the pale face were blank and bloodshot.

 "Master Belnak!  Oh you stupid old man—what have you done? Master, please—look at me!"

~It's just the same,~ Sora thought.  ~The same.  He's someone special to Miruki…just as Riku's special to me…~

Miruki looked about, casting a desperate glance until he met the eyes of Sora.  In a single moment he took in the unconscious Riku and Sora's stricken face.  "Sora—did you see what he did?  Did you hear anything he said?" he asked anxiously.

Sora shook his head in a slowly.

 "Dammit," Miruki braced the grizzled head on one arm, sliding his right hand to his mouth and biting deep on his thumb.  His movements were quick and somewhat rushed—Miruki's hands were shaking.  Sora watched with numb fascination as the slave traced a strange mark on the wrinkled forehead.

 "V'rie T'alyn!  V'rie!" Miruki cried.  "Awaken, please!"

~What is he doing?~ Sora wondered.  ~What does it have to do with Riku?~  "Miruki…What are you doing?" Sora ventured.  "What—"

The old man shuddered, drawing in a raspy breath.  He coughed, spitting blood, and lolled his head to peer with bloodshot eyes up at Miruki.  "Ah," he said in a soft voice.  "It is over."

Sora could do nothing but listen.

 "Master Belnak," the dark-haired slave replied.  Tears from his eyes dripped slowly down his face.  "Please, don't die!  You have to stay and teach me!"

Belnak shifted his head into a painful shake of denial.  "I am done," his voice whispered coarsely.  A thread of worry entered his tone.  "Ice…I was too late, the spell must be finished…forgive me…"

 "What spell?" Sora whispered. "What spell?!"

Neither seemed to hear him.  Miruki pressed a shaking hand to Belnak's chest, leaning low to hear him.

 "The spell...  I could only change the debt…Ice must…he must…be shown…" the voice faded into a sigh.  "…don't worry, Miru.  You'll be okay…"

 'What spell!' Sora wanted to scream.

 "Master Belnak?  Belnak?"

Things seemed to happen in slow motion then.  Miruki cried out something, the tears falling faster down his cheeks.  They spattered darkly onto the ragged tunic.  Sora couldn't breathe, his gut was a tight mass of congealed hysteria.  If Belnak was going to die…did that mean…

 "Riku," Sora whispered, pulling the boy close to him again, attention refocused onto the boy.  "Riku please please don't die, don't die…please…"

Miruki bowed his body down over the prone old mage, sobbing out one heaving gust of tears.  "D-dammit," the boy choked.  "I can't do that! I'm not strong enough!"  After a moment, he pulled himself up, wiping at his face.  His bright gaze settled on Riku still clutched within Sora's arms, and his eyes narrowed.

 "Sora?"

Looking up with eyes that blinked back tears, Sora finally focused on Miruki.  "He won't wake up," he whispered.  "Is he going to die?  I've looked so long for him, and I'm in so much trouble—I wasn't supposed to show off like that—and…" he hiccupped.  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry!"

Miruki pulled himself over on hands and knees, reaching with tentative fingers.  The Council, he noticed, was still occupied with their treatment of Ithian, but as to what that was he couldn't tell.  He didn't care.  The last thing he had left to do was finish Belnak's final spell…

 "Sora, look at me," he asked.  "There's something I have to do.  If I don't…Riku won't wake up."  The dark-haired slave wiped a hand over his eyes again, swallowing.  He reached out again as Sora regarded him with exhausted eyes, watched the fighter nod, and tilted Riku's face towards his.

Then he leaned close, sensing the light tingle of the unfinished glyph and spoke a single word.

 "T'alyn."

The force of the word left him like a weight, cold and heavy.  The word was the single binding glyph of all finishing spells, of all binding spells.  It was the Seal upon the soul of a slave, the Seal used to control those who couldn't attone their crimes.

It was what would be used with Ithian, and what was now forced upon Riku.

Breath catching in a dry throat, Miruki watched the pale clammy face for signs of awareness.  "Sora," he said, even though the other boy was watching him with a sharp look.  He tilted the head back to face the brunette, smiled sadly through the tears on his face.

 "What did you do?" Sora breathed.  "Is he okay?"

 "He will be," Miruki began.  "When he wakes…"

Sora looked down as the voice trailed away, and his eyes widened suddenly.  "Riku?" he whispered.  He brushed fingers at the cheek, hovering over the fluttering eyes of one about to look, and waited with bated breath.

Cloudy sea-colored eyes opened fractionally, peering upward into Sora's face.  They seemed to focus suddenly, taking in every detail as Sora met his gaze.  For a long breathless moment Sora tried to tell him without words how glad he was to see him awake, to see him alive and well.  He tried to show him so hard that even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn't have been able to.

Riku blinked slowly, eyes fixed on his face…and slowly, so slowly that Sora was fascinated by the downward sweep of his lashes, he closed his eyes again.

 "Riku?" Sora ventured, but the eyes were closed, and Riku was fallen back into his induced sleep.  "Miruki—is he okay?"

 "He will be," Miruki repeated.  "But…he won't be Riku anymore.  It is a spell that Ithian devised…I think he used it on Belnak, and he wanted to use it on Riku—he did use it on Riku…"

//If I don't…Riku won't wake up//

 "And you had to finish it," Sora guessed.  A bitter laugh fell from his mouth.  He wanted to scream against the coldness invading his heart…but he couldn't.  He had to have hope. "Well, that's not so bad, is it?  What kind of spell is it?  How can we fix it?"

Miruki bowed his head and avoided that half-hopeful gaze, the fear of the worst shining deep in the blue depths.   "It is a control spell.  It isolates the center of the identity and replaces it with the preferred behavior. It is not irreversible…but the key to reversing it…" he paused, wetting his mouth.  "I don't know what the trigger is…"

Sora waited it the dark-haired boy's pause, feeling his world contract into sudden blinding coldness.

 "Until then...Riku will be a slave in every sense until it is reversed…"

~~

A/N -- - -- And if you are reading this again, under, dammit, a new name, there you are.  ^_^ it's really Sug, seriously.  This one hadn't done anything wrong, but apparently I have someone who hates me…

But…don't look at me like that! It was necessary!  The ending was planned from ch. 2, really!  _  And it's *kinda* cliché, really, but I don't care! *grin* it's all planned!  *looks at page number* jeebus! This was long!   

A shout-out to ALL of those who reviewed on FFnet—I saved your reviews! They mean so much!  *snugs everyone* I hope you loved this chapter too!  *giggle*  Some word explanations.  V'rie – life, T'alyn – Seal.  And, I'd like you guys to go a href=";here/a for other updates. (also in my profile)

otay—next chapter!  Sora returns to Traverse Town, Riku finally wakes up completely, and it's no surprise what happens next…well, wait—it might be! Hee!